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imagineslashers · 3 years

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First Words Soulmate AU

okay so i love this au, and i’m not sure if it’ve done it before, but i’m doing it now so enjoy! essentially, the first words you ever speak to your soulmate are imprinted on you somewhere and same for them, if you aren’t familiar with this au! x

WARNING for violence and death and swearing!

also sorry this is long yikes-

Jason

To be perfectly honest, you had lost all hope of ever meeting your soulmate, if going only by the words on your wrist - or rather, the lack of words. All you have imprinted on your skin is a dash, a wobbly line, and nothing else. From day one, you had merely accepted the fact that your soulmate was likely dead, or going to die, before you’d ever have the chance to meet them.

Your trip to an old camping ground was purely as an escape, to break away from all your friends who were happily in love and all met their soulmates. It was overwhelming, the joy they were suffocating your lonely self with, so you needed to get away.

Hiking through the cool afternoon air, your heart lays heavy in your chest, proving that even distance and ignorance can’t shield you from the pain. Anxiously, your fingers rub at your exposed wrist, and the crooked line across it. An owl hoots in the distant treetops, reminding you of your isolation.

You pause, taking a minute to breathe in deeply, stretching your sore muscles, and peering at the glimpse of the lake through the distant tree trunks. A slight sound distracts you, a brief snapping of a twig, and all the birds stop singing. A deer, perhaps? Your head turns slowly, taking in the surroundings. Even the insects seem to be holding their breath, the forest blanketed by a harsh silence.

The hairs stand up on the back of your neck and you exhale shakily, deciding to push on and try to reach a clearing where you may feel less trapped. It doesn’t help. The more steps you take, the more aware you become of the sensation, constantly looking over your shoulder.

When your nerves are entirely fried, the sudden flight of a startled crow sends you into a fully fledged panic, bolting through the trees. The quiet snapping of twigs becomes a heavy thudding, trembling the ground and you no longer waste time by looking back, powering through the forest.

There’s a looming shadow that falls over you and your voice escapes in a shriek, realising the inevitable. You’re not fast enough. The world spins as your shirt is grabbed, yanking you backwards and throwing you off your feet. Rolling across the dirt for a few seconds, you’re finally stopped staring up at the hulking masked figure. There’s a machete in his left hand, and a shred of your shirt in his right. He steps over you, feet either side of your hips and pulls back his arm.

You instinctively lift your hands to defend yourself, turning your head away and gasping for breath. “P-please!” You whimper, heart racing like a hummingbird. “Please don’t!”

He freezes, pulls back, and blinks at you from behind his mask. After a few painfully slow moments, he rotates his arm holding the machete, and you’re able to glimpse three words inscribed down his arm. They’re the words you spoke.

It all clicks and you realise he doesn’t, or can’t, speak. You shakily lift your wrist to show him your mark. He appears bewildered, stunned at the thought of having a real soulmate as much as you, then finally extends a wary hand. You take it.

Bubba

The road trip was a stupid idea, you said that from the start. However, you had been dragged along by your friends to celebrate a few milestones in your lives, and so succumbed to their pleading. Now, you sit rigidly in the back of their car, waiting anxiously. How long does it take to pay for fuel?

Your mind is racing, it’s been nearly half an hour and you haven’t heard anything. You elected to stay behind to keep an eye on the car while they went inside to get snacks, but that shouldn’t take too long, right?

A light flickers in the back of the old gas station, and with it the sound of a machine, perhaps a chainsaw or similar tool. You try to shrug it off. It’s a dilapidated country station, they’re probably fixing something or working at the back.

However, you can’t ignore the screaming, or the sudden bursting open of the door. Your friend’s boyfriend comes streaking out, face ashen, bolting past you. You lean out of the window, eyes wide, calling his name but he ignores you. A whoosh of air rushes past your head and an axe lands squarely in the back of his head. You scream, jerking yourself back into the car before kicking the door open and almost falling out.

You don’t have the keys, but running is obviously pointless. Instead, you bolt for the gas station, hoping to find a phone or a weapon or something! You don’t make it that far before the axe thrower steps out into the light, breathing heavily. He’s hard to make out, but you recognise the bloody apron and odd looking mask as immediately a threat, if you hadn’t already witnessed what he’d just done.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

Shocked by his appearance, you find your feet are sluggish and unresponsive. He notices you but doesn’t charge, instead making cautious steps towards you, dragging a large chainsaw. He mumbles something, just a string of sounds, as if trying to soothe you like an injured deer. It takes hearing more screaming for you to start stepping backwards quickly, unwilling to take your eyes off of him. Your back thuds into something solid and your hair is twisted into an iron grip, making you cry out.

“Got ‘em! Hurry up and finish it so we can go home already.” The man behind you reeks of blood and sweat, his accent almost masking his words. The one with the chainsaw makes a muffled noise of distress, closing the distance between you and shoves the one holding you backwards, releasing the grip on your hair.

“The hell, Bubba?” He growls, but the much taller male hisses, grabbing your arm and pulling you back with him. This captor, Bubba, starts desperately pulling up his pant leg, seemingly having forgotten where his mark is, but finally twists around to see the back of his calf. Your words in shaky handwriting are scrawled across his flesh.

Shocked, you pull down your shirt and try to inspect the nonsensical letters along your collarbone. Bubba makes a slight squeal, pulling you against his chest, delighted to finally have his soulmate! Still in shock, you allow him to lead you to their truck, your heart swelling but your head spinning. Oh well, not like you have much choice anyway!

Freddy

Bad dream would probably be an understatement, that’s what you think as you find yourself sprinting painfully slowly through a boiler room, steam burning your skin as you pass. Laughter rings out, bouncing off the walls and startling you. Bitterness creeps into your heart, a sour taste in your mouth as you try not to fall into the sick games you know are going to begin.

“Where are you, you prick?!” You yell, hands balled into fists, stomping your foot for effect. You’re terrified, naturally, but not going to die looking like a wimp or giving him the satisfaction. You know all about him from the teens in your neighbourhood.

Freddy comes bounding around a corner, looking expectantly gleeful and sadistic, his gloved hand dragging along the wall. His face breaks into a grin, but you recognise the flash of panic in his face, which confuses you all the more. Why would he be scared?

You step back, ready to throw yourself into a fight or flight, but he just looks at you dumbly, huffing, amusement fading. “What did you say?” Something clicks in his mind and he stalks towards you. “Say it again.”

You’re ready to tell him where he can shove his request when you understand the significance of his words. His first words to you.

“Oh, shit, no way!” Your words leave you a breathless rush and it makes him laugh. He’s so badly burnt that your words have been essentially destroyed from his wrist, but he’d never forget what they said. You carefully roll up your shorts and expose the slanted writing wrapped around your thigh. Freddy looks a little stunned, and annoyed, but he finally sighs dramatically in defeat.

“Okay, guess you’re mine then, baby!” He resigns himself to it like a child having to do chores, grabbing your hand in his exposed one, pulling you with him.

Michael

Halloween is arguably one of the best holidays, but you don’t agree with that statement anymore as you’re creeping through the dark streets, trying not to be noticed. The news headlines were that the killer was on a streak, getting more creative with every victim, and you’re determined not to be the next one.

Unfortunately, you live in his neighbourhood, so you didn’t have any options when the television at your work lit up with a warning to stay home. And your car broke down, so you’re now stuck walking home, jumping at the sound of every meow and car horn. Pulling your coat tighter around your frame, you hurry down the street, passing under a streetlamp which illuminates your white knuckles wrapped tightly around your bag.

There’s a siren in the distance and that assures you, just a little, that perhaps the killer is being brought down right now. With that in mind, you let out a breath which escapes you in a puff of smoke in the cold air. Clinging tightly to your reassurances, you speed up a little, having reached your street. Relief washes through you, as well as embarrassment at how terrified you’d been.

You chuckle to yourself, rounding the corner to your house when you see him. A huge black shadow, stepping out from the neighbouring house, his knife stained crimson. You both stand in silence, staring at one another, before you decide to try your luck at running.

You turn around and sprint the way you’d come, biting your lip so hard it draws blood. Your breath comes in short puffs as your body is pushed beyond the limits. He may have the advantage of being quicker, but you know this area. Ducking down an alleyway, you launch yourself onto a wooden fence, scrambling to get over. You’re just about to when a cold hand wraps around your ankle and yanks you back down.

The force of it knocks the wind from your lungs as you lay on your back, gasping. The stranger crouches over you, pressing the tip of his blade to the hollow of your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut. “Just do it!” You manage to force out.

The blade pulls away and you risk peeking one eye open to see the white mask. Your killer is shocked, looking almost like a stone figure, unable to move or breathe. He never wanted a soulmate, didn’t believe in it, but now you’re laying under him and he can’t kill you.

Angrily, he slams his fist into the concrete by your head and you flinch, eyes wide open now as he stares back at you. There’s a quiet word he mutters, just loud enough for you to catch it. “Fuck.”

You barely have time to question him, recognising that one word from the one that’s imprinted on your shoulder blade, before he’s hauling you up and carrying you off bridal style, one hand still tightly clutching his knife.

Beetlejuice

The motel room is kinda dingy- well, it’s very dingy if you’re honest, but you’re so exhausted you can’t bring yourself to do more than collapse on the bed. You’d been travelling for a few days on your way to a new town to start up your new career, passing through this idyllic little town. It’s cute, very homey, but the motel is pretty old.

Whatever, you just need to sleep. Rolling onto your stomach, you pull out your phone and check your messages. The television starts playing. Sitting up, you strain your ears but hear only some corny romance film. Rolling your eyes, you decide that you’re leaving as soon as the sun rises, but begrudgingly force yourself to walk into the living area to turn off the television.

Once you do, you put the remote on the coffee table, making sure it can’t fall or turn itself on again. Turning around, you start walking back to the bed when it turns on, louder this time. Your brows furrow in annoyance as you return and turn it off, smacking the side of the set for good measure.

After staring at the black screen for a few seconds, you decide it’s done being irritating and once again try to walk back to bed. You’ve just collapsed on your side when it turns on again.

Gritting your teeth, you rub your eyes and contemplate how much effort it would be to walk back to reception to ask for a new room. You’ve just decided on getting up when you feel the bed dip behind you, fingertips tracing your arm. Your heart nearly bursts in terror.

“You don’t like this movie?” The words come out dripping in sarcasm and amusement from the stranger behind you. Immediately, your body reacts defensively and you leap from the bed, whirling around to punch the intruder. He yelps in surprise, hand over his nose.

“You asshole! Get out of my room!” You yell, barely able to contain your emotions, completely glazing over the realisation that those words are on your lower back. However, the intruder does notice and sits up excitably, eyeing you like a prize. You’re not sure where to look first, the green hair or the dirty striped suit.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to find you in a motel room, but hey, can’t complain!” He grins, his expression resembling that of a wolf. He pops the buttons on his shirt and you’re stuck standing in confusion as you read back the words you just yelled at him, imprinted on his collar.

“No.” You point at him, then the door. “Not happening. Go away and come back at a decent hour.” He laughs, but then realises you’re serious, whining as he pulls himself from the bed.

“You’re mean. I like it. See you in the morning!” He disappears in a hazy cloud of purple smoke, leaving you coughing and wondering if you hallucinated.

Billy & Stu

School sucks. Not only because of the obvious; preppy kids, bullies, annoying teachers, homework. No, you’re annoyed because everyone is falling madly in love with their soulmates, throwing it in your face. You’re a freak to most, because you don’t have your soulmate mark. You have two.

Wearing long sleeves is how you conceal it, but everyone knows you’re different, the rumours started as soon as you walked in the door. Irritable, you resign yourself to having to deal with not only the first day at a new shitty school, but also being the object of much taunting on said first day.

You manage to sail through most of your classes by ignoring everyone else, but by lunch time, you can’t avoid it. Your feet carry you to an empty table where you hope to just have a quiet meal. That, of course, can never happen for you.

Two rather imposing looking teens slink over to you, and you recognise them as the school’s bad boys, popular kids if a little weird, Billy and Stu. You look down and continue picking at a sandwich, hoping that if you pretend they don’t exist, they’ll do the same for you and move onto someone else.

Once again, that doesn’t happen for you. “Hello, gorgeous.” Billy sits in the seat next to you and Stu sidles up on the opposite one, both of them grinning. “Why are you sat alone, baby?” Stu purrs. You’ve had enough of being taunted today and you stand up, causing your chair to scream in protest against the tacky floors.

“Can everyone just leave me the hell alone?” You scowl, grabbing your bag and missing the look that the boys exchange in surprise. Billy nods, and Stu grabs your arm.

“Hey!” You try to pull it back, but Billy takes your other one and they both pull up your sleeves. Sure enough, the words they just greeted you with are on your arms, one of each. Your cheeks burn with humiliation, and relief, at finding your soulmates.

Stu lets go first, practically bouncing on the spot as he lifts his shirt to show you what you said written angrily across his ribs. Billy’s next, he has the same words but wrapped around his ankle.

You’re in a state of shock when they coax you back into your seat, one hanging one each of your arms. There’s no way you’re getting away now, especially not with the way they’re looking at you like you’re their favourite toy.

The Man

The night was finally quietening down when you decided to sit on the porch for a bit, a hot drink cupped in your hands, listening to the crickets.

Your decision to live in a wooded area is probably one of the best you’ve made, or at least that’s what you believe as you enjoy the blissful peace of your surroundings. Blowing on your drink, you almost don’t notice the figure in the corner of your eye.

Expecting one of the neighbours checking in about something, you aren’t immediately alarmed, sitting up a bit straighter to try and make them out in the shadows. The stranger doesn’t speak, so neither do you, but the longer you both stare at one another, the worse the feeling in your gut becomes. Something isn’t quite right.

You’ve just decided to go back inside when he starts approaching. Coming nearer to your porch lights, you can finally see that he’s wearing a mask, and across his back he’s carrying a crossbow. Adrenaline shoots into your veins and you leap up, your mug smashing. The display of alertness doesn’t concern him, he continues approaching at a leisurely pace, dragging his hand across the side of your car as he comes up the driveway.

You walk backwards to the front door, making sure you can keep him in your sights at all times, your hand fumbling for the handle. He waves at you, and you sense he’s smiling under his mask, judging by the delighted, predatorial glint in his eyes. You simply scowl in response, attempting to hide the way your body trembles as you finally get the door open and jump backwards, slamming it shut.

He leaps up the porch steps and stands outside the door, his shadow spilling in from under the door. You step back, holding your breath. The shadow retreats with the sound of boots, leaving you frozen to the spot listening for him.

The silence becomes so painful that when he finally does make a noise, it startles you. Tracking it down, you find him stood outside your kitchen by the large window, head tilted as he peers inside at you, still jovial and content to be terrifying you.

Unwilling to show him your fear any further, you point at the alarm system, indicating you can set it off to alert authorities. Yelling to be heard through the glass, your words get his attention easily.

“You better leave, or I’m going to make sure they haul your sorry ass to prison!”

He steps back, much to your surprise, and then lifts his mask. You’re taken aback by his face - attractive - and don’t notice him pulling up his hoodie. There in cursive along his hip is your handwriting, and the threat you just gave him. His face breaks out into a grin as he jumps back to his position right up against the glass.

“Show me yours!” His voice is elevated by his delight and you step away, warily lifting your arm to reveal his demand written along your outer forearm. Like a kid given candy, he knocks excitably against the glass. “Let me in! You’re so mine!”

The Blissfield Butcher

What a shitty day. You missed the bus trying to get home from work, and then it started raining. By the time you’d made it to the next operating bus stop, your clothes had been successfully drenched, leaving you shivering under the meagre shelter provided.

Cursing your boss for lecturing you and in turn making you late to leave, you hug your arms around yourself. A ping goes off from your pocket, then another, and another, until you give up on trying to warm yourself and fish around in your pockets to find the source. Your phone lights up your face in the darkness. An amber alert prompts all residents to stay home if they can, following a string of murders.

You exhale sharply, trying to centre your thoughts on anything other than the anxiety creeping into the back of your mind. Your gaze lifts from the screen and is immediately drawn to a passing shadow, which halts the second you look at it. Unsure if you’re seeing things, you put your phone away and squint through the rain, attempting to distinguish whether it’s someone you know.

Likely just a passer-by, you resume huddling under the shelter. The shadow moves away, and your anxiety with it. However, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched. After a few minutes, the shadow reappears and you realise it’s circling you from a distance. The reality sets in and you curse, chancing up your options. Glancing over your shoulder, you can see your workplace still lit up a few blocks down. You could run there, but you’re not sure how fast the figure is.

When you tear your eyes away from your distant workplace, you realise that looking away had been a mistake, the shadow significantly closer and now more obviously a male. A very tall male, in a mask. You curse under your breath and decide to risk it, your aching legs once again forced into action. The bitterly cold rain makes running harder, and it’s worse trying to see where you’re going as it starts to come down heavier, masking the sounds of your stalker.

You shoot a quick look over your shoulder, your heart jumping at how close he is, within reaching distance. Your mind makes a quick decision and you jerk to the side so his grab misses you, whilst you run down another street onto a local sports field, now dark and silent.

The wet grass clings to your feet, slowing you down, but you don’t have time to reflect on this mistake because your shoved from behind. The force of your momentum and the power behind the shove sends you skidding on your front, grazing your cheek.

He’s on you before you can blink, pushing you onto your back, straddling your hips. His eyes are wild behind the mask as he uses one hand to keep your shoulder down, the other gripping a butcher’s knife. Your efforts at squirming are denied by his sheer weight and the force of his thighs trapping your lower half. Seeing no other option, you start to panic and gasp, the rain still soaking you both.

“Wait, please, don’t!” Your tears mix into the rain as your hands desperately push against him, one accidentally knocking his mask off. He’s distracted by this and you continue, your hands instead lowering to protect your face. “I know a lot of cops, I-I-” the excuse tumbles from your mouth, but cuts off when you notice the black writing on his neck. “Oh.” Your voice is reduced to a whimper, reading back what you’ve said to him.

He sighs, stabbing the grass and sitting back, looking at you expectantly. “Um, are you not going to kill me?” You curse the way your words shake as you look up at him. The ghost of a smile touches his lips and he grips your wrist, pulling you up. He doesn’t stop there, throwing you over his shoulder and stooping to pick up his knife. “I’m not gonna kill what’s mine.” He growls the words, sending a chill through you as those familiar words are etched onto your arm.

#soulmate au #slasher imagines #jason voorhees x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #freddy krueger x reader #michael myers x reader #hush 2016 #the man x reader #blissfield butcher x reader #billy x stu x reader #beetlejuice x reader #reader inserts

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hellogoodbye14 · 2 years

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Feysand Mafia Series (Part 7)

Warning ⚠️: Dark Feysand galore. No really, there is violence, blood and gore so thought to give caution! This part has some Nesta/Feyre bonding. A badass Boss Rhys who finally manages to break Feyre’s walls.

Heavily inspired by Ruthless People Series

There was a solid groan after a terrible thud. Nesta was done for, facing down on the mat as Gwyn stood above her.

“Come on, up and at em”, Gwyn poked Nesta with her bare toe.

Gwyn turned towards where Feyre stood and Arched up her eyebrows in question.

Feyre sighed. She had told Gwyn to go easy on Nesta but Gwyn had refused. She said, “She’s trying to break out of her shell. She wouldn’t have asked to be trained otherwise. Treat her as you would any other trainee. Offer her that respect.”

“I can’t do this Gwyn. I can’t”, Nesta whispered.

Feyre moved forward and Nesta’s head shot up. Feyre nodded for Gwyn to leave the room and she did so in an instant.

Feyre jumped up into the ring and offered Nesta a hand.

Nesta glared but accepted nonetheless.

“Get back in stance. Place your right foot at two o’ clock and the other at seven.”

Nesta scoffed, “I just said I don’t want to do this anymore. Especially not with you.”

Feyre pursed her lips and stepped back with her hands behind her back.

“You could have chosen any other way to remake yourself. But, you wanted to learn how to fight. People who choose that option are born differently than the rest of the world. It’s something that earns respect in my eyes.”

Feyre placed her fists up in fighting stance.

“You have a hunger in you, Nesta. Fucking feed it.”

A spark ignited in Nesta’s eyes and she surged forward to attack. Her fist perfectly formed, brushed against Feyre’s cheekbone. The closest she had ever gotten to hitting the Boss.

Feyre smiled, “That’s more like it, sister.”

————————————————————————

Feyre couldn’t remember the last time she felt so at peace. Bringing their men to Illyria for training camp was always a good idea. But this time around? It was a spectacular one because both the Zeravo and Archeron groups were finally getting along.

It had been a good few days and they would have been better had her husband not been sulking about.

Rhysand was still at a distance. No matter what she did, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t even tell why it bothered her so much. She was the one who always wanted it to be only business. But now… now, she missed his warmth and… and his friendship.

God she was acting pathetic.

She had just gotten done with overlooking archery training and thought to check in with Rhys was going. He was training the men in martial arts and each man’s attention was solely focused on him.

“You all were supposed to be rock solid, made of iron, and instead you all look weaker than a newborn calf. Rynar, get in,” he commanded.

The men parted and allowed Rynar to enter the ring.

“Hit me.”

Rynar positioned himself and within a second his fist went flying towards Rhysands face, fast. He was fast, but Rhys was faster. He blocked his fist, and punched him in the neck and chest before dropping low and kicking him off his feet. He pressed his foot into Rynar’s neck, and held him down.

“Get out of my ring,” he sneered, as he lifted his foot.

Coughing, Rynar rolled over and picked his sorry ass up off the ground.

“Next!” he called. One of my men, Eddie stepped in.

The second his arm came towards Rhys, he dodged it. Eddie kept punching and Rhys just kept moving. He was letting the idiot overexert himself, and like a fool, Eddie was letting him. His fist slowed as he drew in a breath, and in that second, Rhys’s arm curled back and his fist collided with his nose. We all heard the sickening pop as his head snapped backwards.

Moron.

“You’re an idiot, get the fuck out of my ring,” Rhys sighed.

“Next.”

On and on it went, until Rhys stood there shirtless, illuminated by the golden light sneaking in through a window. Sweat dripped down his body, one specific drop cascading its way down his honed muscles… further down his happy trail….

Feyre shook her head a bit.

Focus, Archeron.

Rhys started taking off the wraps from his hands, “After Briar had been set on fire, I assumed none of you would want to follow in his footsteps. But I was mistaken. You lot are adamant on fucking up just like he did. Well. I have news for you, disappoint me again and you will know true pain. l will find you and I will break you.”

Glancing outwards, Rhys met Feyre’s stare instantly. It was as if he knew this entire time exactly where she had stood. He nodded to her, asking silently if she wanted to add in anything.

“Things are going to change,” she said to them all as she walked towards the ring. “From now on, we will personally call on you at random. If you fail, you will die. I hope your vacation was well spent. You have streets to run, correct? If I were you, and I’m glad I’m not, I would start double checking them. I feel like I’m losing money. How about you, dear?”

Rhys raised an eyebrow and frowned. “My pockets do feel lighter.”

“So why are you all still here.” Feyre snapped at them. “Do your jobs and make us fucking happy.”

All of them scrammed instantly.

She jumped into the ring as Rhys ran a wet towel through his neck and arms.

“Can we talk?”

He glanced at her and nodded.

“Will you stop this?”

“Stop what?”

“Being like this? Distant.”

Rhys leaned against the ropes and crossed his arms.

“I thought you wanted it this way.”

“Yes, I do want it this way but you’re just being an absolute asshole for no reason.”

Rhys scoffed.

“All I asked was for you to let me in Feyre. All I asked was for you to admit you care.”

He moved to leave but Feyre grabbed his arm and sneered.

“You are asking me to care? I can’t and I’m not capable. I.am.all.I.have. That is how it has always been and always will be. You being absolutely childish and annoying is not going to change that!”

Rhys pulled his arm back and yelled, “Yes, I am childish and annoying but it’s only because I’m sick of being alone!”

“Rhys-“

“I’m sick of being alone, and I know you are, too, even if you don’t admit it to yourself.” Rhys sighed, looking at her once more before walking out.

————————————————————————

“Rhys is fucking insane”, Cassian whispered as Azriel sanitised the arrowhead for the 17th time.

“I’m not contesting that.”

“Feyre will kill us.”

Azriel sighed, “I’m not contesting that either.”

————————————————————————

“Did he ever make it back?”, Feyre asked Emerie as she looked out the Cabin window.

Sunrise was upon them and she hadn’t moved since she realised Rhys hadn’t made it back to camp. That had to be at least nine hours ago.

“No, Boss. Are you sure you don’t want anyone to search for him?”

I’m sick of being alone! His words echoed in her mind over and over again. Her gut told her something was going to happen.

“Boss?” Emerie asked again.

“No, we had an argument. He will find his way.”

“Boss, he’s back.” Emerie pointed. Feyre followed her hand to the man fighting to get lillies off of him as he broke through the tress.

The idiot fell asleep in the forest. But then again, it was Illyria. He was fine. Feyre rolled her eyes eyes at him and turned away from him just as his yell of pain rang through the air and the hair at the back of her neck rose.

————————————————————————

Fuck his neck was messed up.

Rhys groaned as he walked towards the noise. Part of him was so confused and tired that he really wished he had remained sleeping. Had it not been for the damn sun, he could have slept there all day.

One minute he’s stepping into the campsite and brushing off the flowers and the next minute an arrow finds its mark and he’s being thrown back. He let out a yell in pain but soon couldn’t even breathe.

God damn it, Azriel! Excellent fucking timing.

His body began to shake as chaos erupted around him. Cassian was beside him in a moment before a scream rippled through the air.

“Rhysand!”

That was the voice of his angel. Feyre pushed Cassian away from him before falling to her knees besides Rhys.

Lord, she looked so beautiful. Rhys reached up to touch her face, but when he did, all he could see was the blood on his hands.

Feyre grabbed the side of his face with one hand and gripped his hand with hers.

“You’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “I swear it.”

She was starting to blur as the pain took over.

He could feel Feyre and Cassian ripping his shirt. Feyre was worried, scared, and caring as she held onto him. He smiled at her as she worked to get the large ass arrow out of his chest.

“You’re not alone, Rhys,” she whispered, and he knew that the pain was totally worth it.

She cared.

Checkmate, Darling.

Taglist: @meher-sumedha @sunflowers-marigolds

@lysandra-emrald @sv0430 @highladysith @imakeangelscry @thyme2getrekt @heartless--aromantic @whoreforgwynriel @booksandlibraries @cretaceous-therapod @story-scribbler @kneelingsince2012 @whenyadoesntcutit @the-hospitality-of-knives

#acotar #acowar #acosf #acomaf #feyre #rhysand #feysand #feysand mafia #feyre archeron #nesta #gwyn #cassian #azriel #feysand fic

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thecolordemon · 4 years

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Short story: Belphegor kills MC

This is a angsty and sad short story about the MC during their dying process after Belphegor hurt them so bad...

⚠️❗Angst, Sadness, mentions of blood, wounds and death❗⚠️

Title: "I forgive you"

The nightly silence in the House of Lamentation was broken when Belphegor pushed you against a huge vase. The fragile object crashed to the ground and shattered into million pieces. The fragments on the black marble looked like spilled stars and there was a strange beauty in it. But you couln't care less about it right now because you couldn't breath. The marks which Belphegor's rough tail left on your sore throat just seconds ago were bright red and the sensitive skin was on fire.

You fell to the ground after your harsh collison with the vase and a painful gasp left your lips when the sharp shards burried themself deep inside your pink flesh. The pain was hot and jolted through your whole body like a lightning bolt. Crimson copper oozed from the many jagged wounds inside your palms and colored the floor like red rain. Your breath hitched in your throat and inhaling air was like swallowing knifes down your trachea. It felt like a hot blade sliced right through it and the pain made you feel nauseous.

Belphegors laugh ringed inside your ears from the room behind you. Sounding like a dark curse. "You humans really are foolish, idiotic, weak creatures, aren't you?" His evil snicker dripped from delight and you could hear his footsteps coming closer. "It's your own fault if you trust a demon. Don't blame me for your current situation, MC." His sing-sang voice scared you to death and you tried to crawl forward and away from the door. Away from the gates of hell... "That's all your fault."

But your hands couldn't carry your own weight and that's why you collapsed on the ground again. The adrenaline throbbed inside your ears and the sharps just pressed in further. Shakly you robbed forward and tried to get up on your knees. The fragments cut all through your clothes and left hurtful cuts all over your arms and legs. Some of them even sank into your kneecaps and made you cry out in pain.

Right at this moment Belphegor's long tail shot forward and wrapped itself around your left calf. All it needed was just one strong pull and you were on the ground again. Belphegor stood in the doorframe, all tall and drunk with power, when he dragged you over the black marble, over the the whole mess of broken glass and towards himself. He laughed like a maniac when the cutting continued and you cried because of the stinging pain. Being dragged all over the sharp shrads felt like you were being dragged over jagged gravel. Your legs already started to bruise from the impact before. The demon towered above you like a predator above it's prey and the sadistic grin on his lips bared his razor-sharp teeth.

"You smell delicious, you know that? Your blood really makes it even more fun." Now you laid right in front of his feet and his tightly wrapped tail cut of the blood supply to your leg. It already started to tingle and to feel weirdly numb. "Please-" you begged and the words stung in your throat, your voice being nothing more than a raspy whisper. "Please don't do this-"

"Oh MC, begging will get you nowhere." Belphegor kneeled down next you and grabbed your chin harshly. His dark, pointy nails burried themself inside your flushed cheeks and they drew blood. The smell of iron filled your nose and made your stomach twist with desperate protest. Tears watered in the corners of your eyes and dribbled over your flaming hot skin. Belphegor grinned and his rough tongue slid over your overheated flesh, catching all of the tears. He left sticky stripes of saliva on your right cheek and grinned even more when you crunched your nose in disgust.

"Who do you think you are to make such a face..." He licked over the red stains of blood that oozed down from your abused face. "You should be more grateful towards me, MC..." Suddenly his fist shot up and hit you violently on your right eye. You screamed in pain but he covered your mouth to shush the noise. He wanted to enjoy the show and he did not want to be interrupted too early. The hammering pain made you quiver and you were sure you heared some of your bones crack. You couldn't even see rigth with the eye anymore. Everything was a pounding, hurtful, black and red mess-you were pretty convinced that all the blood vessels in your right eye did burst because of the impact of his fist. But you were still losing tears.

Belphegor laughed louder as he examined your face closely. "Such a fragile creation! Useless! Utterly useless!" He laughed uncontrollably and his shoulders were shaking because it was so strong. His lilac eyes were those of a madman and he let go of your face with a painful twist of his wrist. His tail loosened a little bit and you were able to free your leg. You pulled yourself up but because of the lack of proper eyesight it was hard to keep a solid balance. Within mere seconds you grabbed one of the bigger shards and threw it at Belphegor. The demon flinched and dodged the thrown weapon which caused him to back away into the room from where he came.

Without looking back you stumbled away as fast as possible. The fear blinded you and all your nerves were on edge. You could hear him roaring viciously and staggered around the corner of the next floor. The pain was nearly taking over your body but you had to move further!

I can't give up- I can't- If I stop,I'll di--' Your legs gave in and you fell to the ground. The glass splinters pierced nerves and, muscles and caused your wounds to vomit even more blood. Like an hurt animal you crawled over the rough carpet beneath you. But you had to get up again-otherwise-

"YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT!!"

The blank anger in Belphegor's voice triggered you so much that you got up again. Fear can be a motivation-. You could feel a strange mixture of tears and something else dripping down from your abused eye and had to struggle with the feeling of throwing up. "-help-" you breathed out as you stumbled rashly along the never ending floor. "Somebody--help-" The beast was approaching. His thumbing steps were coming closer and closer within seconds. Furniture crashed behind you and a broken picture frame missed your head with mere inches/centimeters. You limped faster and wanted to scream but just as you opened your mouth, a heavy and powerful body smashed you to the ground.

You hit your head very hard on the black marble and again you heared a sickening cracking sound. You could feel something running down your neck, how something agglutinated your hair... You blinked dizzily and had a hard time to stay conscious. Your whole head was overwhelmed by the hot and dull throbbing pain and little black spots danced across your, already bad, vison. The heavy creature on top of you was growling dangerously and the monstrous shadow fell on your demolished features. It was hard to breath-

"I'll kill you, you know?" Belphegor's voice was a dark snarl and his teeth grazed the sensitive skin on your throat so carelessly that he drew more blood. "I'll will erase you from all the three realms and your soul will perish-" His hot breath made you sick and your weak attempts to push him away from you failed miserably. The power within you faded faster and faster... You wanted to say something but the words were like lava, heavy and gooey-You couldn't even understand them yourself.

"Don't you dare to look away MC! I want to see your eyes when their light fades away-" He laughed maniacally and grabbed your jaw violently. His nails dugged deep inside your chin and you could feel them claw over the bone beneath the skin. The hammering pain got more awful as his other hand slid to your hips to hold you in place. You tried to kick him away but your legs weren't listening to you anymore. His tail twitched threateningly above his head like a agressive snake and whipped through the air. It was hard to focus on anything else but the thickening atmosphere around both of you. The danger was so present, that it seemd like you could cut it with a knife. Belphegor hold your head in place with the other hand and his eyes glistened crazily and were glassy. It seemed like he wasn't there anymore...Like something overtook his body...

That wasn't the demon you knew-

"B-Belphie---pl-please-" you breathed. "Shh...don't waste your last breath, MC!" he replied happily. This was the biggest fun he had in years...He longed for this! "We were friends-" You could taste iron in your mouth. "Oh no. We never were friends. You're just a toy that I mobilized for my purposes." His lilac eyes pierced your dizzy vision and his long tongue curled in excitement. "I trusted you-" you whimpered. "Bad thing to do...Good bye, MC." And with this words he pierced your soft body with a harsh snap of his tail.

You wanted to scream but the only thing that left your lips was a sore whimper and a deep, aching breath of air. It felt like someone knocked the wind out of you and your lungs screamed in terror. Belphegor's tail was burried deep inside the pale flesh of your body and when he pulled out, he left a deep, bloody hole. Your heart went on a rampage and pumped the blood with all it's remaining energy through your veins. Calling out for help... It was like your heart was crying. It cried red tears of broken hopes and shattered promises, tears of despair and a lost love...

You didn't knew what hurt more...The fact that your life slowly faded away into the dark or the horrible reality that you've been so wrong about Belphie? Your hearbeat got weaker...you felt kinda cold and breathing in felt like inhaling razor-blades. "B-Belphie-" The demon above you frowned at your desperate whines. "Don't call me like that!" That was a thing only his twin was allowed to do, just him and nobody else! "You know nothing, you hear me? Your death means nothing to me! You're just like every other human being in this world."

Now, with your physical form broken, he tried to hurt you otherwise. And in a way more personal way. He was aiming for your psyche. He tried to break you in every possible way. He showed no mercy. He had no mercy. He was a wild beast driven mad by hatred and bad treatment. You winced and tried to calm your breath. "If-my death means nothing-then why are you-so eager to kill me anyway?" Belphegor blinked in confusion. "What's--the difference?-" You managed to look the avatar of Sloth right into his eyes. He stared at you like you insulted him. You could see his thoughts wild'n behind his head. He tried to find a valid reason. He tried to think of a justification why it would help him to kill you.

But there wasn't a valid reason. You helped him. He knew that. Without you he would be still stuck in the attic-locked away from the world like a caged animal. "Can't you see that you became the monster that Lucifer feared you could be?--" You coughed and spit blood all over your lips. Your breath lacked of power and the words sounded pretty slurry. "Shut up-I'm not a monster-" You interrupted his denial. "You are. -but that's okay--" You closed your eyes and hot tears poured over your lashes and cheeks.

You cried harder. "I forgive you-"

Belphegor's eyes widdened in shock and his fangs grew even sharper. Anger darkened his face like a dark cloud. "NO! YOU CAN'T FORGIVE ME! DON'T YOU DARE!" He grabbed your wrist and twisted it back in a sharp motion. Your bones cracked under his strong grip and you screamed in pain when he broke every single one of them. Your hand fell limp. Belphegor growled hatefully into your face. "You.won't.do.that!" His pupils were narrowed strongly and that made him look even more crazy.

This was his perfect moment, he wouldn't let you ruin it!

"You're nothing! A mere human like you does not have so much power over me! No one has! Your dumb and naive! Your dumb and naive if you think your stupid little words affect me!"

He was going insane. How could you not hate him?! How could you not beg for him to stop this torture?! Why were you still undermining his authority even though you were dying?!

You cried more and couldn't stop yourself from feeling sorry for the him. He was so lost in anger, so lost in his own mind that he lost all references to reality. "I forgive you, Belphie--"

"NO!" he roared and trew you across the whole floor. Again you hit your head hard but that didn't make such a big difference anymore. You were feeling awful anyway...

Belphegor kneeled on the floor, several metres away from you, crouched over and quivered like hell. His whole body shook from his jagged cries and his hands fisted into his bluish-grey strands of hair. His nails clawed over his face and left red stripes. He was fighting against himself, against the effects your words caused. It was like you put a spell on him and he tried to fight it off.

You were laying on your side and watched him apathetically. The blood colored the whole upper part of your uniform and stained the floor with it's red puddles. 'That's it...' you thought to yourself. 'It's going to be over soon...I am alone...'

That's when you heared a familiar sound.

Someone was talking-no...Lucifer was talking. You could here his voice growing louder as he came closer. He seemed to discuss something with Mammon. Powerlessly you rolled over to the other side, so that you could look down to the floor beneath you. You were lying on the balustrade on the second floor from which two stairs lead downstairs. Through the little pillars (that supported the railing)you were able to see Lucifer and Mammon coming closer. As you thought, they were busy with discussing something. Both of them totally clueless about the fight of life and death. That was your chance-

"L-Lucifer-" Saying his name was so exhausting... "M-Mammon-" They stopped right underneath the big chandelier but not because they heared your little pleas of help.

"-help-"

Lucifer spoke. "Mammon one last time, I'm not participating in your omnious bets. You'll lose all the money again because you do not learn from your failures." Mammon scoffed. "I'm not dumb, of course I learn!! It was just bad luck!"

You trembled and felt a strange cold approaching you. With your last ounce of strength you grabbed the railing with your good hand and pulled yourself up. It was hard and you had to balance your weight from one abused leg to another. Your body begged you to give in, to fall asleep-to give up-but your mind told you to keep on fighting. Now you were able to look down at Lucifer's raven hair and Mammon's white head. You were so close-

"Lu--cifer-m-mammon-"

One single drop of blood dripped from your chin and fell all the way down. You saw everything in slow motion. The little red drop brushed over Lucifer cheek and landed on his black shoulder pad. Mammon flinched and looked up. Lucifer did the same. When both their eyes land on you, you felt safe for a little moment.

Mammon smiled. "MC what--" He stopped right away when he noticed your terrible state of condition. His smile disappeared and turned into a shocked expression. All the color left his face and he looked like he saw a ghost. Lucifer's eyes widdened in shock, his mouth hung a little bit ajar.

Tears streamed down your face and the salty liquid mixed with blood and cold sweat. But you smiled powerlessly. They would help you-

"--thank yo-"

Suddenly something big appeared behind you. Before you could do anything else, claws digged deep inside your back and threw you over the railing. The next thing you remembered is that the whole room was rotating wildly. It all went so fast. You couldn't even scream. With a loud crash you fell to the hard ground.

Lucifer saw everything in slow motion. Your abused face, painted with dried blood and steamy tears, how hopefully your eyes lightened up when they noticed you, your broken hand which you pressed close to your body like a hurt little lamb...and Belphegor, his youngest brother, as he appeared behind you and hurled you over the balustrade like a doll.

Your fall was endless. But he couldn't do anything. But one thing was for sure. He would never forget the sound your body made when it crashed into the black marble ground. Your hair sprawled out around your head like a fading halo, sticky with blood and nearly all of your limbs were twisted in a sickenly wrong way.

Before Lucifer knew what to do, Mammon already started screaming in terror. "MC--NO--HELP!!!" He ran towards your body and crouched down beneath you. His screaming alerted the rest of his brothers and fast steps were coming from every direction. They all gasped in shock when they saw you laying there. You breath came in thin little gasps and you couldn't move. Everthing hurt so bad...at the same time you felt nothing at all. The crystal chandelier twinkled like a planet made of stars and mirrored your horrible reflection. You really looked awful...

That's you? The bloody mess with a smashed eye is supposed to be you?

Satan, Asmodeus, Leviathan and Beelzebub stared at you in shock. They couldn't move. They couldn't breath. They could just stare at you. Speechless. Hopeless. Clueless.

Lucifer fell to his knees and tried to stop the bleeding. He pulled his gloves off his hands and his long, slender fingers touched every cut, every bruise and every stab wound. "MC--stay with me-please-" His eyes were glassy with tears as he tried to heal the wounds but you already lost to much blood. Mammon sobbed. "MC--"

Belphegor stood on the balustrade and watched the whole thing going down. Pushing you over the edge seemed like the last possible thing to do. He watched how Lucifer failed to stop the bleeding and how your eyes wandered aimlessly over the ceiling. Your chest rose and lowered slower and slower with every passing second. Mammon cried loudly and hold you into his arms trying to protect you. "Dont do this MC-please-YOU CAN'T DIE!!"

Mammon's scream shook everyone to the core. You hiccuped blood and tried to say something but the red liquid drowned the words ruthlessly. Beel had to come forward and pulled his older brother to his chest. The big demon trembled and Mammon fought against his grip-screaming loudly and calling for help. But Beelzebub didn't let him go. He had to protect him. He had to protect MC-

Lucifer couldn't hold his tears back and he cried without any shame. "I'm so sorry MC--I'm trying b-but it's-it's not working--" Your eyes landed on his and he let out a shaky breath. You knew.

You knew you were going to die.

Lucifer embraced you in his arms and he pressed your fragile, abused body to his chest. "Please--someone--get Diavolo-he'll know what to do-he-" His voice broke as he lost his fight against the tears again. Diavolo was Lucifer's last hope--his only hope- After all he declared his loyal devotion to the demon prince. But he wasn't there. Diavolo wasn't there. And he wouldn't make it in time. Lucifer knew that. His brothers knew that. But it was impossible for him to just sit here and watch his beloved MC die in his arms-He had to do something, he-he is the oldest! He has to fix this, he has to find a solution, he-

"l-lucifer-"

His eyes shot back to you. You had lifted your good hand and managed to softly touch his cheek. Your fingers smeared blood all over his skin and the contact made him flinch. "-I'm sorry-" you whispered in a very thin voice. "I-should have-listened-to you-"

His hand found yours and Lucifer sobbed desperately. "MC-stop-don't say that-"

"it's--all my fault-" you explained with rasping breath. It was harder for you to focus your vison and big black spots interrupted the sight. You could feel your own life slipping through your fingers.

"-I'm-so grateful--for everything--you treated me like family-you welcomed me-I'll keep you in my heart-forever-"

Everything was going strangely numb...

You heared distant cries. They were from all the brothers. From all your beloved demons. You felt bad for leaving them. You felt bad for making them cry. You whished you could see them one more time.

Lucifer kissed your fingers softly and held onto you like his own life depended on it. His hands were shaky and he tried to keep his voice calm when he answered you.

"I love you-" he hiccuped and the tears streamed down without a stop.

Everthing was starting to black out.

You smiled sadly. "I--love you too--"

Your heart stopped.

"I---forgave---him---"

Your breathing stopped.

Your thoughts stopped.

Everything stopped.

Your hand fell to the ground. Lucifer could still feel your last touch lingering on his blood-smeared cheek. Time stopped.

And he screamed.

#obey me #obey me short fic #obey me sad #obey me angst #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me lord diavolo #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me story #obey me hc #angst #sad short story #obey me satan #obey me brothers #obey me beelzebub

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dark-under-belly · 2 years

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Yeah, but listen. Most fic is about the minotaur getting someone pregnant when they enter the labyrinth as a sacrifice. But the other way around sounds fun.

They send somebody in as a sacrifice, but they've got the favor of some god or whatever. And they not only fight the minotaur but manage to fuck him before make their escape, leaving the minotaur dazed on the stone floor of the labyrinth, seed down his thighs coming from a part of his body he wasn't quite sure he had.

Poor monster, soon he's so confused and his body is changing so fast. His belly is bowing outwards, his muscled chest is leaking from his nipples. All these emotions he's never felt come welling up. He feels lonely, moody, but also so desperate for touch, he keeps stroking his massive cock until he's dry orgasming but it's not enough. There's a place on his body, in his body, that needs satisfaction. He doesn't quite understand what's happening, no one's bothered to teach him anything about this. Something in him moves and kicks, very soft and first but then very hard until it hurts. He doesn't like this part. He doesn't like the ache in his back and knees, parts never really meant to carry the weight he now carries. On all fours, his belly presses on the ground. On instinct he sticks to shadows, afraid of something unnamed.

Then, one day, people outside the labyrinth hear the most pathetic, pained, terrified howling and crying and roaring they've ever heard in their lives.

Inside, the poor minotaur, unable to speak human language, is crying for help. For days now his belly has gotten tighter, then relaxed, then tightened again. He's used to pain, and he endured it. But slowly it's gotten so much worse and that place in his body he wanted touched again, like the youth did, now it hurts so much.

He doesn't think he can take it and he cries for help wordlessly but nobody comes. Everything between his thighs is on fire. Something is pressing down too hard and it's making him want to curl his body in and push it out. He's helpless to do anything but put his back to the wall and sink half way to sitting, holding onto the iron sconces above him. The thing, the torturer inside him just moves lower. He's so scared. Is this death? Are the gods punishing him? Is this a curse?

He tips his head back and screams as the thing moving slowly down tears him open slowly. He reaches down with one hand and feels...something round and then some blunt nub of a thing.

His belly squeezes down on itself so hard his eyes roll back in his head and his vision goes to solid gray but he pushes. Something pops out hard and he feels again. A face? A head? Horns? He cries for something that's pain but not painful.

He presses down more, snorting and panting and making pained animal noises. The thing turns and slides out in a spraying gush of fluid and a plop on the floor.

The relief turns his whole body liquid and he looks down. his stomach still huge but not quite so huge. Between his wet hooves is a squirming thing with a face like a man but little nubs of horns, with cloven hands but five toes on each foot. It cries, but bellows like a calf more than crying.

Calf? Baby? Child? Was inside him the whole time? He bellows, too, a roar compared to the thing? child? on the floor. He can't pick it up yet, can't move. Because there's another.

If he could say it, he'd say sorry to the baby child thing on the floor, he stares at even as the agony starts all over again. He begs the gods not to put him through it again, but they don't listen to things like him.

It happens all over again, the pains and the pressure that makes him want to die and nearly makes him pass out. The nubs that don't pass through easily and then touching the head. The head. Of a baby. It only occurs to him as he strains that he understands now. The youth that go the better of him did this. Put children inside of him, left him to endure all the months and now this.

The minotaur has so little strength left. He drops to his knees and it's enough. The horns and head pass through him and the baby keeps coming and then there's one more last rush of water from inside him.

The baby he manages to catch though it's slick with birth fluid. It's different from the other one. He lays it down on the floor. Horns, yes and but a perfect human body except the legs.

Babies. Children. Tiny little things that are like him. Came from him. He cries. Humans don't recognize the sound, they call it grunting, but it's crying. The tears come. Little things like him.

Are they good, bad? He bends down and the first one reaches up and touches a hoof to his nose. The other turns itself over with a long bray and tries to get up. The way animals of the field do. They're bigger than human babies, more the size of ones that already walk. The second one stumbles and the minotaur catches it before even thinking.

Then his chest throbs horribly. And he knows.

Outside, now that the worst of the bellowing is over, the people wonder. They pick a servant, give him a torch and send him in.

He finds the minotaur laying on rags and hay, with a belly still not gone down, after birth splattered on the floor, holding two children that aren't children at all. One sleeps in the crook of his arm, the other suckles at his chest. In the torchlight the servant doesn't know what the look on the minotaur's face means. Misery? Weariness? Confusion? Or maybe contentment.

#darkfantasy #darkpreg #mythpreg #pregbirth

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burntoutbabe628 · 3 years

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Journal entry, 10/6/21

When I fuck myself, it’s a deeply internal process. I’ve never been very performative, many times not bothering to take off barely any of my clothes, just unzipping my jeans just enough to get my hand underneath my panties to circle my clit with my fingertips.

You don’t see me pulling on my nipples, sliding my fingers in and out of myself except on rare occasions or gyrating my hips. Many times I barely move. I used to think this made me boring but inside it’s anything but. Yet when I fuck myself with my dildo, it’s a ceremony, a breaking of myself.

I make myself take everything off, my skin feeling too exposed, too vulnerable. Sometimes I feel already disposed of, past my prime like an old couch you know you need to replace but can’t bring yourself to which I hate. Life has barely begun I’m only twenty-four after all and what intimacy I have shared has been taken from me, twisted into pain. I make myself see desire.

When I fuck myself, I always picture a lover who loves me. They don’t have a face or a name but I can feel the firmness of their body, warm muscle, solid bone. It’s about 7.5-8”, my dildo though I’ll call it a cock as frankly dildo is too silly a word for me. It’s beautiful, realistic, veined except for its sky blue color rippled with white and the fact that though it’s close it doesn’t have the throb, the warmth, the soft give when it slides into me.

I always have to start by laying down, flat backed, spreading a bit of lube and stroking it in, feeling my fingers grip and massage. I spread my legs wide, close my eyes and breathe, trying to relax my muscles and the inches sometimes burn, a slight pain as they stretch me. I don’t waste time with slowness, getting right to the grind. It’s less painful this way.

I’m not sure if it’s with age or experience or listening to my body but the motion quickly makes me cum. I don’t buck my hips back. I whimper and gasp, every muscle I have tightened, silent screams marking my arrival as I fight biology to keep pushing despite the iron grip of myself refusing to move. My head tips back, I grip the sheets with my free hand, at times I tilt my hips up and push my legs into the air. Tonight, I felt a small miracle as I felt myself squirt slightly, surprisingly cold but full of energy like a river, involuntary contractions proving yes I can cum from just penetration. Debate settled.

When I fully fuck myself, I travel all around the house, picturing my lover carrying me place to place, biting my lip, neck, shoulder. I sink down to the floor, practice riding, sometimes in front of the mirror. It doesn’t make me cum but it’s starting to give me pleasure. I slam my back against my bedroom door, propping a leg up on a wall or dresser, making myself see God’s blessings and wrath all at once.

Tonight I got a little more physical. I tugged my hair, fucked this cock in me back though not long as I hate the bed creaking, pulled on my softly hard nipples which were probably more hard out of cold then arousal but I took it. I know I only do that with an actual partner. I safely choked my neck, tumbled on the wood tiled floor and braced either calf on the side of my doorframe. I lifted the lower half of me in the air with this support, felt a sharp wonderful pain as I hit my cervix and held it for minutes, as long as I could, covering my mouth to not be too loud.

When I let my legs back down I began sobbing while I kept fucking, not from physical pain but from a longing ache, a remembrance of how I know how to fuck but I long ago forgot how to make love and would be terrified to try. Warm tears dripping to cool in the dark waves of my hair, gasps mixed with wreaking sobs, love and hate, fear and freedom, pleasure and sting, my core cracked open like a pomegranate bleeding, the soul hemorrhaging, a shot Lana Del Rey would kill for.

I love the full and rich sound of my moans, I detest but need the crying. Finally spent, I lay half in the hallway, half in my bedroom, two places at once, cock still in me, but I can’t feel it, just empty. I go from spreading my arms wide to balling up one fist, placing it on my heart and covering it with the other hand, feeling it beat, proof I’m so alive while I died to get here.

When it’s over, I always picture my lover saying it’s ok. They get me a clean and worn pajama shirt and fresh underwear, they run the sink to wash the tear tracks from my face but can’t wash away my naked fierceness in my eyes. They trace each knob in my spine. Make me drink water, have a strawberry burst in my mouth. I knee jerk apology for this feeling though I’m the one doing all these things. I clean the cock, kiss it thankfully, set it to dry.

Sometimes with my mouth but not often anymore. I’m ashamed to say my taste is becoming bitter, not in a way that suggests defect but in a way that suggests pain like a mouthful of blood after a brawl or a shot of tequila. I used to taste sweet. I become a wild thing, a crackling pine on a stormy night. When I fuck myself, I become entirely too human.

#me #burnoutbabe628 #writing

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eternalstrigoii · 4 years

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For Posterity

Borra (Maleficent: Mistress of Evil) x Desert Warrior Dark Fey Reader

“Isn’t it morbid?” you wondered aloud as you sauntered into Ulstead palace’s great hall. “Even for you?”

Borra followed you, the quiet pad of your bare feet on marble floors accentuated by the soft brush of your dark pinfeathers. “Do you not want to?”

You pretended to consider it. He was intense. Always had been. It was an attractive quality even when it meant watching him clutch iron until he broke out in a sweat, pitting the expectation that he would be severely wounded in battle against his desire not to falter even if he was.

There were two chairs at the end of otherwise lightly furnished room. The larger was made of solid wood, slightly gilded, and well-cushioned, but it was the one beside it that held your interest. There was almost no chance that its glimmering plating wasn’t iron, though it had been done in ornamental dragon-scale. It was smaller, less well padded, though you imagined someone your size might be able to climb on it comfortably if you didn’t try to turn around after.

You lifted your hands to the leather buckle at the back of your neck. Even parted your hair over your shoulders to let him watch you undo it.

“I always want you, Borra.” You dropped your hands to the other leather fasten at your side, both part of the same beast that forged your chest-plate. And, before the approach of his feathers upon the stone reminded you too much of a sashaying ball gown, you dropped the top half of your armor to the floor.

Now you were on even ground, in your trousers and gauntlets and nothing else.

Well, nothing else but the bandage mortal healers wove around his arm and the one wrapped around your mid-back where someone’s bolt had broken skin. You were lucky it hadn’t clipped a wing.

Your back collided with his chest, his warm, rough palms settling at your hips. He pushed your hair back from the leaf of your ear with his lips and whispered, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

His touch trailed up your sides. Talons brushed your ribs. You were molten before he even reached your chest, and the place he found on your shoulder was one of his favorites – always exposed in the overlap of your armor, so every mark he left there was for all the world to see.

You purred your approval.

“Is this how you want me?” you whispered, letting your voice drop another octave. “Bared for you, on my knees?” You almost asked if he wanted you to pretend to be one of them so he could rut his aggression out, but you had the sense not to (and it wasn’t just because he’d gathered your hair in one of his hands to expose your newly-bared throat).

He growled, the low rumble in his chest making your hips shift against his. “You’re not on your knees yet.”

You knew what he wanted. If you agreed, it was to be of your own volition, not because he’d asked you to.

You turned your head. Brushed your lips over his. The summer heat of his breath caught between you, and you nearly purred again at the sight of his lowered eyelids – how readily both of you responded to the other.

You undid your trousers. Shucked them off even as the brush of his talons teased your sides. And, without missing a beat, you fanned out your large, dark wings and climbed onto the now-goat queen’s gilded throne.

Iron bit your flesh, even through the wrapping of your gauntlets. It stung the worst at your knees, which you settled on the edge. You made a pretty offering of yourself, your back deliberately arched so he could see the power of your muscles while you braced your weight on the arms of the ornamental chair.

He had no business letting his eyes linger on you. You thought they must’ve, even as you heard the rush of fabric collapsing to the floor.

He wrapped your hair around his hand, the other coming to rest on the iron throne in front of yours.

“I do like you like this,” he whispered, and the sudden snap of his hips joined you with him. You gasped with pleasure despite the burning of your skin.

There was no teasing preface. Not this time. You were not his conquest, but conquest was the objective all the same – no kingdom had fallen, though both sides knew loss. Your victory had come at a stalemate, and you hadn’t even been able to vanquish your enemy properly – dispatch her like the rabid animal she was. So he fucked you on her throne, laid claim to a symbol of your enemy’s power after she’d fallen since you could get satisfaction in no way else.

Not yet, anyhow. But that was a concern for another time.

The way he moved inside you made your claws screech against the iron scaling. You were both panting, the heat and the pain cropping up like afterthoughts, making your legs buck when one of the curved edges pressed into your calf and making him grip you tighter as you shifted to clutch the curved back, your nails digging trenches that made several iron scales chip away. They dropped to the floor with a musical sound, one after the other.

You made no effort to quiet yourself. Quiet growls became sharp, half-human cries when he hit that spot inside you, peeling your burning thighs off the rounded junction of the arms. “Ah, stars, come closer.”

He obliged, settling his weight between them. He boosted you better onto the cushions, as though that did much but help peel layers of your flesh off. You could’ve laughed, though you were more intent upon working your hips against his as the chair protested your collective weight. He settled his knee between yours, giving you the option to climb over him and make the bulk of the iron his problem.

You took it, paused just long enough to push him down onto the biting iron beneath so you could climb onto his lap.

He hissed in pleasure-pain.

“Is this what you wanted of your victory?” You gripped his chin. His eyes were ablaze as you moved, sinking onto him, grinding, withdrawing only to be pulled back down.

“Harder,” he growled.

You obliged. He moved with you like you were truly joined by your shared epicenter, his hips as fluid as yours even without the grip of your knees. His hands palmed the new burns on your legs, and you gripped him there, shielding only those parts of you while you rode him.

He arched off the back of it, pulling you down to work your hips in tighter circles. His wings flared, and yours beat once, unnecessarily hard.

“That’s it,” he coaxed. “So beautiful. I feel you nearing. Go on. Scream for me.”

Your talons bit trenches into the leather around his wrist. You did, and you let him rise to meet you when he reached his peak so the flutter of tension in his stomach made your body melt.

You stung. Actually, you hurt, and the wounds on your calves were only getting worse. You’d never be able to explain them, but there would be a few on the backs of his thighs that couldn’t be accounted for either.

Neither of you lingered. Not there. You gripped his shoulder and he, your back, and you let him lift you to rest on the cool, stone floor.

“Not bad,” you admitted. “Glad to have tried it, probably won’t do it again.”

He laughed. His body folded over yours, fingers laced in your hair. You got a generous amount of kissing for your trouble, not that it would magically erase the new round of bandages you’d both need, but you smiled into it anyway.

At least, until you heard footsteps. Then you grinned, and he caught the wickedness in your eyes and moved to gather the pile of your forgotten clothes.

“Why should we run off?” you whispered, grinning as he tossed you your clothes.

“Shrike is coming.” He flashed you a grin that you knew came with trouble, and you stifled your laughter long enough to pull on your trousers and make a swift departure with him at your back.

You heard the clamor of armor getting tossed into the royal throne, and then a long and painful silence.

“Suren!” she was angry. “Borra!”

Early birds and worms and all that, you thought, cackling as you took off into the night with the decoration of your well-earned scorch marks on display.

#Borra x Reader #M:MoE #Borra Maleficent #Maleficent Borra #Dark Fey #There Is No Plot Only Zuul (lemons)#Suren of the Cavernous Dark #Some lemon balm for those angst wounds I've inflicted?#part of the U.W. Universe

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diddlesanddoodles · 4 years

Text

DUMPLING ch 52

The further into forest they traveled, the older and larger the trees seemed to become. The naked branches of the deciduous slowly became less prevalent as coniferous took over and their path grew all the more dark. The forest floor was a mingled blanket of dried leaves, pine cones, and pine needles. As a result, the sound of the giants’ footsteps was accented by the crunching of the debris below.

It was far too easy to remember the fear,confusion, and hurt Nenani felt the last time she found herself in a forest, and those same feelings readily bubbled up to the surface. Though, there was no dead dragon floating in a river. Her mother was not there, but back in Vhasshal. Even with the solid presence of both Farris and Keral, she could not calm the worming anxiety in her brain. Though she did not expect a dragon to appear and attack them, there was still the deep fear that something was amiss.

“What’s wrong, lil’un?”

Farris’s question caught her off guard, having been too engrossed in her own thoughts to realize that her nervousness might have been perceptible. She had taken to watching the path behind them as Farris and Keral maneuvered through the trees, but when Farris broke the silence with his question, she gave a start.

“Nothing,” she answered, though the speed of her reply gave away the lie. “I’m fine.”

“Yer fidgetin’,” he pointed out, pinning her with a single expectant eye.

“…No I’m not,” Nenani protested, ducking down into the pack slightly. She did not want to try to explain her fears because she would first need to unravel them for herself, and in that moment she very much did not want to do that.

“Yes, ye are,” he pressed, and the same eye narrowed.

“This place is creepy,” she admitted, leaving all the rest unsaid. “I feel like we’re being watched.”

“Very well could be,” Keral commented. He was a pace or two ahead of Farris, having taken the lead, and pushed a branch out away from his face. The dry wood snapped in his hand and he tossed it away. “These woods are old. Older than the Blackwood certainly. Makes me think this might be Brennan’s estate. His family are big sportsmen. They love their hunting. Their ancestral home is supposed to be built on the last patch of ironwood left in all of Vhasshal. And I’d bet my left foot these are ironwoods.”

“What’s ironwood?” Haiyer asked, poking his head up from the folds of Keral’s pocket.

Keral looked down at the small face peeking up at him. “It’s a particular kind of tree. And since ye have a fairy friend, this might interest ye some. Thousands of years ago, all this land and most of the continent was ruled by elves.”

Jae rolled his eyes, propping his head in his hand and looking on in boredom. Keral either did not see or chose to ignore him and continued on with his story.

“Then there was some fightin’ between them and us big folk. Elves called us mountain men since we mostly lived up near the mountains in those days, but more and more we started moving into the valleys. The Elves didn’t like that and tried to drive us back. Skirmishes turned to battles and then to war.”

“There’s always a war in these old legends,” Jae muttered, picking at the bandage of his splinted arm that peeked out from his coat’s sleeve. “Why couldn’t they come up with something a little more original?”

Keral reached back over his shoulder, pressed his fingers onto the boy’s head and shoulders, and forced Jae back down into his pack. “Quiet. Yer interruptin’ my story.”

Jae popped back up, hair disheveled, and wore a fierce snarl, but was obediently silent as Keral continued.

“The elves allied themselves with the Fae,” Keral went on. “And the humans allied themselves with us. It weren’t just us that the Elves were pushin’ around. Humans got the short end of that particular stick too. So there was a war. Lasted a good hundred years they say. But somewhere along the line, someone got smart and began to plant ironwood saplings all across the land. Y’see, the Fae were the reason the Elves had the upper hand in the war. Without them, the Elves just didn’t have the numbers. But the thing with Fae creatures ye have to remember is that iron hurts ‘em.”

“Iron?” Nenani asked. “Why?”

“Just an old superstition,” Farris answered. “Though I suppose ye might be able to ask Ellis one day if it’s true.”

“And the Fae hate ironwood trees, because of the sap,” Keral said as he reached inside his coat and pulled a small knife from his belt. Stepping up to one of the larger trees, he sliced a long line across the bark. After only a few seconds, a thick dark red sap began to ooze from the wound. Keral wiped a finger across it, collecting the sap, and held his finger up with a grin. It was convincing enough that if Nenani had not seen him take the sap from the tree she would have believed it to be blood. He held the sap close so that Haiyer could get a good look. “Makes ‘em sick, ye see.”

The little boy reached out and poked his finger into the sticky glob. When he pulled it back out, a thin string of sap connected his finger and Keral’s. He waved his hand, trying to break the strand, but only managed to cover it in thin sticky tendrils. He stared at his hand in annoyance as though blaming it for the predicament.

“Well, ironwood trees take roughly a hundred years to mature,” Keral continued. “And suddenly the Fae weren’t as helpful in the war as before with so many of them all over the place. Couldn’t chop ‘em down fast enough. The tide turned in our favor and in the end we won. The elves sailed away across the sea to another continent and the land was divided between us and the humans.” He rapped his knuckles against the tree trunk. “Ironwood makes fer good for building lumber since it’s so sturdy. There ain’t a whole lot of ‘em around anymore, though. A good bit of the castle’s supports are ironwood.”

“All the wood in Warren’s office is made of it too,” Jae contributed, picking at his bandages again. He was playing with the idea of removing them completely. His arm didn’t hurt at all anymore, and between the weeks of healing and all the potions and tonics he had been forced to guzzle by both Maevis and Yaesha, he was more than confident his arm was finally mended. Enough to go without the splint, in any case.

From Keral’s pocket, Haiyer suddenly gagged and spat as he pulled a sap covered finger from his mouth. “Ugh–! Yuck!”

“Well don’t eat it!” the ranger exclaimed in exasperation. “Gods above, don’t go stickin’ weird shit in yer mouth ye lil’ git! Ye don’t know if it’s poisoned.”

Farris laughed and lightly slapped his brother’s shoulder. “It won’t hurt ‘em none. Ironwood sap ain’t poisonous. Just bitter as hell. Actually a useful antiseptic.”

“I know that, but I’m sure this one didn’t,” Keral shook his head as he regarded the little prince with a vexed eye. “Let that be a lesson to ye then. We keep our hands to ourselves and outta our mouths. Yeah?”

Haiyer nodded with a sullen expression, having been thoroughly rebuked. He stuck his tongue out and blew, as though it would help clear away the acrid taste. “Blegh.”

……………………………………….

Keral called for a rest and chose a clearing ringed by seven tall pine trees. Farris carefully slipped his pack off his shoulders, doing his best to not jostle Nenani too badly as he did so. Once she was on the ground, he placed the pack off to the side and sank down against the tree trunk, eyes closed. Though he had not complained at all during the day’s trek, Nenani could see the fatigue on his face. As though sensing her eyes on him, Farris opened one eye and quirked his eyebrow at her questioningly.

“Are you alright?” she asked, voice soft.

He waved a hand at her. “S’just what happens when ye get older. Ye get tired.”

“You’re not old,” she assured him, which earned her a thin smile from the giant.

“Tell that to my feet,” he replied and closed his eye again.

“Told ye to take my spare boots,” Keral berated mildly from the other side of the clearing where he was helping Haiyer down from his pocket. “Yer kitchen slippers aren’t meant fer hikin’ cross the wilderness.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with my boots,” Farris clapped back and then muttered under his breath in a salty grumble, “Hm. Kitchen slippers. Bah.”

A few steps away from Keral’s pack, Jae was stretching out his muscles. He bent himself in half to touch his naked toes and leaned one way and then the other to straighten out his back and sides. He pulled his leg up to stretch the calf, but when he placed it back onto the ground, he gave a sudden yelp when he stepped barefooted right onto a small pine cone.

Stifling a laugh, Keral began to rummage around in his pack, seeming to find whatever it was he was searching for. The ranger stood up, slipping something into his pocket, and then walked towards the edge of the clearing where he disappeared behind a cloister of trees. His voice called back at Jae jovially. “Careful there, lad. Lots ‘a pokey things out here.”

Jae glowered on after him. Keral was a far more convenient target for Jae’s irritation and all the more so for the fact that the ranger couldn’t see the rude gesture the boy threw in his direction.

Unlike Jae, Haiyer seemed perfectly fine with walking across the ground without any shoes, and the pine needles and leaves and cones did not seem to bother him one bit. Feeling just the slightest bit of jealousy, Jae went about clearing himself a spot on the ground. Once the debris had been carefully brushed away, Jae sat down with his blanket. He pulled his arms out from his coat and began to unravel the bandages of his splint. With his arm freed, he laid the messy ball of cloth and the two flat splints down beside him and slipped back into his coat. He wrapped himself back into his blanket and laid back onto the ground to stare up at the thick canopy above. The fading daylight was sparsely visible through the thicker branches of the evergreen’s needles and, if he squinted, he could almost believe he was looking up at the night’s sky full of stars.

Haiyer was ambling about and plucking up the stray pine cone or leaf, picking at it for a moment, and then discarding it once his interest had dissolved or been pulled on to the next object. Nenani followed Jae’s example and cleared herself a spot on the ground and took a seat. The day had maintained a steady chill, but as the light was beginning to fade she felt as though the warmth was beginning to fade in equal measure. Though, sitting nearer to Farris, she could feel the heat of his body, and with her wool dress and blanket, she was not cold save for face and nose. It was tolerable and did not bother her too much.

After a few minutes, Keral returned with several spindly branches tucked under his arm. “We’ll camp here tonight.”

“Thought we were just restin’,” Farris said, opening his eyes, and regarding his brother curiously. There was a slight edge to his tone, as though he suspected Keral might be pitying him and his sore feet.

“If it was just me, I’d be movin’ on,” he replied. “But with ye not being used to this and the little ones, I think it best we not push it. We’ll start a fire, have a bit of food and rest, then move on at first light.”

Having his suspicions confirmed, Farris snorted. “I ain’t a tenderfoot ye need to baby, Keral.”

“Be that as it may,” Keral replied, not rising to the taunt and in fact looking quite serious. “I don’t know these woods. Neither do ye. We have three children to keep alive and many more miles to cover before we’re anywhere familiar. So I’m playin’ it safe fer now.” His grim expression abruptly spun on its head and he grinned. “And besides, tenderfoot ye ain’t. But I’ll be bettin’ yer feet are tender enough.”

Farris grunted and rolled his shoulders. “Bah. Come off it.”

“I’ll get the fire goin’ and we’ll get some supper started,” Keral continued. Nenani perked up and, having spent most of the day trying to ignore her gnawing hunger, found the notion of food very appealing. Keral pulled out a sack from deep within his pack as well as a few parcels of waxed parchment. “Field rations ain’t anything like ye yer use to throwin’ together, but we’ll make do just fine.”

Mimicking his brother, Farris sat back up to rummage through his own pack. He pulled out a bundle of his own, wrapped in a dark blue tea towel, and sat it in his lap.

As he went about readying some kindling and wood for the fire, Keral eyed his brother curiously.

“What’s that there?”

“Bread,” Farried answered. Nenani marveled at it, realizing she had been likely standing on it the entire day and had even slept on it, all the while never knowing it was just below her. Pulling a metal tin from his pack and giving it a once over with his eyes, Farris looked surprised but pleased. Setting it down beside him, he said, “Bit of pepper here.”

“Pepper,” Keral echoed in a flat, disbelieving voice. “Ye brought fuckin’ pepper?”

“And just what’s wrong with that?”

“Who the fuck packs pepper in an emergency?” Keral demanded.

“It was in my bag from a time before and I just grabbed it without emptyin’ it first,” Farris replied with only a slight hint of defensiveness. He realized perfectly how silly it may seem, but it was a welcome find for him as he knew the sort of field rations that rangers were provided with. They were condensed versions of the same ones doled out to soldiers on a march: salted meats, smoked fish, and a sack of potatoes. Simple and nutrient dense food to replenish the body after a day of physical exertion. Boring to Farris’s mind.

He worked with spices and bright bold flavors. The idea of eating plain potatoes without even a bit of salt or pepper was nearly insulting. Keral might find fault or humor in his supplies, but Farris was content with the happy accident and was pleased even further when he found another tin, bigger than the first.

“What other useless supplies have ye brought along? Come on, let’s have a look,” Keral said, his manner more jovial than incredulous now.

Farris popped the tin open. “Salt, rosemary, and…” he paused and held the tin closer to his nose. “Paprika.”

Keral rolled his eyes. “Yer lucky none of the lads are here. They’d have a good ol’ rouse with ye and yer damn spices.”

Farris sent his brother a challenging glare. “Yer lucky they ain’t here. I’d break each and everyone one ‘a their noses.”

Keral shrugged, relenting, and went about the task of getting a fire started.

Farris began to rise from his seat and said, “I’ll help ye get it goin’.”

“Don’t bother,” Keral replied. “I’ll handle the fire and then ye can handle makin’ the food. That way, if it’s shit, ye can’t blame me fer it.”

Farris glared at his brother, but relented the point with a shrug. “Suit yerself.”

Keral had not quite finished building the fire when Farris began to search the ground around their clearing. At one point, he was lost from sight, but when he did return, he carried a wide flat rock that was slightly curved in the middle. Keral regarded his brother with a judgmental eye. “And just what do ye mean to do with that?”

“Cook on it, ye idiot,” Farris replied shortly. He placed the rock onto the ground near the fire pit, but took a few moments to clean it best he could with the hem of his coat. “I know how ye rangers cook yer food and ye might be fine with crunching on dirt and ash, but I ain’t.”

“Ye have yer spices,” Keral quipped with a grin. “And we have ours.”

Jae snorted a laugh. “Ranger’s famous dirt and ash potatoes. Yum.”

“Ah, a wee bit ‘a ash never hurt no one,” Keral replied, striking his flint and attempting to light the bundle of tinder.

“I can do that part,” Nenani offered, already rising to her feet. She stepped out from her blanket and walked closer to where Keral knelt. The ranger regarded her curiously for a moment before blinking in understanding.

“Ah,” he said. “Right. Yer a fire mage. Forgot about that fer a second.” He gestured to the firewood. “Have at it, lass.”

In moments, Nenani had the fire blazing, and Keral happily fed the rising flames more kindling until at last they had a proper campfire. Nenani returned to her blanket and nestled back down, basking in the additional light and warmth of the fire.

The flames crackled and moved within the stone ring. With the dying light, it cast elongated and strange shadows against the trees which Haiyer did not much care for. Jae had moved to sit closer to Nenani, but they were forced to make room when Haiyer pressed himself between them. They threw mildly irritated glances his way, but the boy was oblivious.. Now that he was suitably shielded from the scary shadows, he was content to watch the fire happily dancing.

As agreed, Keral released custody of the campfire to Farris as well as his field rations. The bag of potatoes was meant to last a single ranger a few days or up to a week if strict rationing was observed in addition to foraging or hunting. The addition of the salted pork and smoked fish meant that all together they could realistically make the supply last a few days. The children would not need nearly as much as their Vhasshalan guardians so their portions were not included into the calculations.

A fourth of the bread was cut from the loaf and the rest returned to Farris’s pack. Two handfuls of potatoes were placed onto the rock close to the fire where the flames would heat the rock and the potatoes, effectively roasting them. Once the food was cooked and adequately seasoned to Farris’s standards, each of the children had either one larger potato or two of the smaller ones, a sliver of salted pork or fish, and a piece of the bread. The giants shared the rest of the cooked potatoes and bread and a bit of smoked fish. The rest of the salted pork was returned to the pack.

The bread was a heartier dark rye and vastly different from the golden crusty loaves she was used to. It had a much stronger taste and rougher texture, but she was not going to complain. It went rather well with the smoked fish and she decided she rather liked it after all. The potatoes were speckled with salt and pepper and had a slight reddish tinge to them due to the addition of paprika. Haiyer’s mouth was stained red with it as the little boy munched happily on his food.

Nenani did feel a slight sting of guilt that she, Jae, and Haiyer were able to make a more bountiful dinner of the rations than either Farris or Keral, especially considering they were doing all of the walking. Jae seemed to have had a similar train of thought.

“You sure you guys shouldn’t have ours portions too?” he asked. “I mean, you are the ones carrying us around. You need it more then we do.”

“Lovely of ye to offer, lad,” Keral replied. “But it wouldn’t make any difference. Ye three don’t eat much at all. So eat up.”

“Besides,” Farris added. “There ain’t no chance in hell I’d let ye go hungry.”

Keral reached for the still hot rock and plucked up a few of the roasted and seasoned potatoes. He studied them with a critical eye, still seeming to find the addition of spices laughable. He popped them into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

“Alright,” Keral relented after a moment. He nodded to his brother. “Alright.”

Farris grinned at his brother knowingly. “Alright what?”

“Ye were right,” he said, reaching for more. “The spices help.”

Farris regarded his brother with a self-satisfied smirk.

Keral glared. “What? Ye waitin’ fer a medal?”

Farris shook his head, still grinning smugly, and took a bite from his bread. “Just enjoyin’ the moment is all.”

“Fer fuck sakes, Farris. It’s just some spiced potatoes, ye didn’t cure leprosy.”

Reference stock by @null-entity

#Dumpling #g/t #Giant/tiny #g/t story #fantasy giant #Nenani #Jae #Haiyer #Farris #Keral

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

Could you do a scenario with tanjirou from demon slayer catching his darling trying to escape or finding them after they do? Whichever seems more fun. Take your time and thank you!

Everyone always says he’d be so gentle, but I feel like Tanjirou would be *far* too devoted to realizing he was even hurting his Darling. It’s almost ironic, isn’t it?

TW: Graphic Violence and Delusional Behavior.

You hadn’t heard Tanjirou coming.

You never saw him draw his sword.

He was always quiet, always sneaking up on you and always coddling his ‘fragile flower’ when you flinched at his touch, but the familiar sensation of momentary shock followed by long, drawn-out dread did little to distract you from the pure pain soon rushing through your legs, followed by a warm, nearly comforting feeling of blood washing over your skin. You’d grown used to it, over time. Tanjirou always used the same method, the cuts shallow but persistent, strings of red soon lining everything from your thigh to your ankle. Instinctively, you froze, wondering if you should continue running or surrender, but you didn’t really have a choice.

The second you tried to take another step, you collapsed, light scrapes turning to burning gashes with the slightest bit of pressure. The scream was unconscious, inevitable, escaping your lips before you could choke it back down, turning to a whimper as you forced it back into your throat. The pain faded quickly, fortunately, turning to a dull, constant ache as the injuries began to clot. The idea of continuing made you dizzy, black spots littering your vision from the thought of moving alone, but facing the man who’d done this to you didn’t seem like the better alternative.

You didn’t think you could take another defeat, if you were being honest.

In the end, Tanjirou picked for you, making his presence more than apparent. He was still lethargic, not yet awake but moving nonetheless. Tomorrow, he would pout and rub his eyes and moan about how late you’d woken him up, and if you didn’t want to be gagged, you’d promise to stay in his arms for as long as he wanted you to. Not that he’d give you a choice. Last time, the chain had stayed on your ankle for two… three weeks before he agreed to take it off. Judging from the pure apathy that drew you out of your thoughts, he might stay strong for four, this time.

“(Y/n), is this where you’ve gone off to?” You couldn’t see him, the man continuing to stand at your side, but you knew there was a smile stretched across his lips, that wicked, awful grin. “If you wanted to go for a walk, you could’ve waited for me to wake up. You know you shouldn’t go into the mountains alone.”

You grunted as he took another step, letting your cheek press into the ground. “Fuck off, Kamado.”

“Or were you trying to descend the mountain? You’ve been asking about all the nearby villages an awful lot.” He didn’t acknowledge your insult, his tone less cheery, more curious. If he didn’t like something you said, you didn’t say it, not to him. You clawed at the dirt, the frustration suddenly overpowering your anger, but just as quickly, you caught a glimpse of the moonlight reflecting off his blade, your fear returning as swiftly as the hope of freedom abandoned you. “We’ve talked about that, too. I don’t like you being around that many people, not when every demon in Japan is targeting you. At least ask me to come with you.”

“I used to,” You replied, gritting your teeth. The statement was accompanied by an attempt to push yourself up, but your arms buckled easily, your strength waning with the slightest exertion. “You cry whenever I suggest wanting to leave the cottage.”

“Because you don’t need to when I’m around.” He was frowning now, crouching to trace small, slow circles into your back. The contact was as affectionate as possible, as loving as possible, his hands soon drifting towards your thigh. The prodding was short-lived, Tanjirou taking in the damage before letting out a disappointed sigh when he failed to find what he was looking for. “You ripped your favorite kimono… and you’re bleeding so much, love. Was running away worth it?”

This time, you didn’t respond, simply doing your best to curl into yourself. Tanjirou shook his head, standing and shifting just enough to crouch in front of you. Despite your attempts to move away, he reached down, taking your jaw and tilting your head back so gently, as if a movement made too suddenly would break you. Averting your eyes, you still attempted to avoid him, but it was difficult not to lull into his touch, his warmth. You didn’t see much of that, not from him, not anymore. “Are you ready to come inside and talk about this? Or do you want to sleep outside in the cold, again?”

You wanted to pick the latter. Submission never felt good, it never felt right, but your fingers were already going numb, rocks and twigs burrowing into your chest at awkward angles. Still, you deliberated for a moment, Tanjirou carding through your hair patiently, only making the idea of going back to a warm bed even more tempting. “I… I’ll come home,” You mumbled, leaning into his palm. “I don’t want to fight.”

You were forced to catch yourself as he dropped your chin, barely keeping yourself off the ground. But, you swallowed down your complaints as Tanjirou got to his feet, looking for the best angle to lift you. “Neither do I, (Y/n). I don’t like having to fight with you. I hate seeing you so angry with me, I’ve told you that, right?” He paused, stopping somewhere near your legs. “But, this is the third time you’ve tried to do something thoughtless. I can’t watch you put yourself in danger.”

This time, he didn’t try to hide himself, letting you feel something metallic run down your ankle. He didn’t push down, barely breaking the skin, planning his cut so carefully. The panic hit you before anything else, but you didn’t have the chance to scream, to move, to stop him.

In the blink of an eye, Tanjirou’s blade was embedded in your leg, the metal tearing through skin and muscle without the slightest hint of resistance. Solid bone gave-way like rotten wood, cracked and fractured and broken beyond repair by a single stroke, pain flaring as you thrashed and fought, secondary only to getting him away from you. A heel drove itself into your opposite calf, the next cut faster, reckless. You were too shocked to think, much less scream, but Tanjirou only pulled back, his promises and apologies and excuses falling on deaf ears.

You hadn’t even seen him raise his sword.

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mercurialmilk · 4 years

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quick little life update under the cut

putting this here because it might wiil get long. also bullet point because I find it easier to read. tw for: surgery, blood

got my breast reduction surgery done at the end of Febuary!!

it went well, but I learned I DO NOT handle anaesthesia well. It took me a solid 2 days before I could function again

You’re supposed to take a shower on day 3 so it was the first time I got to actually see what was going on and it was.... terrifying. They really dont warn you. Like, I’ve seen before and after photos but when it’s your own body its very scary.

things were going well, I thought, until about a week later.

I had this weird pain in my leg. Like when you pull a muscle? If it was any other time in my life I would have ignored it but since I hadnt exercised for a week it was weird. And because my anxiety revolves around my health, I researched everything that could go wrong with my surgery a few weeks prior.... and one of them was a deep vein thrombosis (DVT).

it’s extremely rare in someone my age and with such a short surgery that is on my upper body. It’s more common with ortho surgeries and older people

I also had NONE of the other symptoms. You’re supposed to have a swollen, red, warm leg bigger than the other leg.

I had an appointment with my endocrinologist a week after the surgery (I forgot to move the appointment) and while I was there to see her I told her I had a lot of anxiety about the leg and she said ‘lets take a look’ and said that it showed none of the signs BUT because she knows Im super anxious, so she’ll order an ultrasound because it’s a non invasive test and it will ease my mind (big thank you to her for that!!)

because guess what? I DID have a DVT in my calf. Got a call the next day from her telling me to get to an ER right away, which is... terrifying.

They put me on blood thinners for 3 months (so far) and it led to....

the WORST menstrual period of my life.

they’ve never been particularly heavy (with 2 notable exceptions) so this was new to me. It took 10 days and I lost about 6-8 cups of blood if my cup thingy is accurate. It was just shy of needing blood transfusions.

I am now signed up for IV iron supplementation, which I’ll need to go to the hospital for (I’m scheduled for April) and in the meantime I’m taking lots of iron supplements to try and help.

All of this happened right around when Covid19 started to become a big issue where I live so it’s been a wild ride to be worried about something COMPLETELY different while still stressing about the virus as well.

It’s now been almost a full month since the surgery and my incisions are starting to heal over and scar and i’m so excited!!! Everything looks amazing and I’m in way less pain already. Despite everything that happened, I’m still REALLY happy I got the surgery!!

I’m currently still on medical leave and will be for another few weeks and due to the quarantine I’ve been creating lots of art and catching up on projects I’ve been meaning to do for ages!!

some stuff I’ve done:

finally bleached/dyed a bunch of denim jackets I got on deep clearance that now look amazing!!!

learned how to bake really really good artisanal bread (I highly recommend a book called Flour, Water, Salt, Yeast if you want to try as well)

finished and started a ton of knitting projects. Currently on the needles: a bright yellow beanie hat and a blanket

tons of sewing projects including mending a bunch of clothing, making myself new PJ pants, and a bunch of knitting project bags!

speaking of that, I’ve started and launched my OWN shop!! It’s mercurialmilk.com and it took FOREVER to set up (the project bags are listed). Of course, it’s much harder to get to a mailbox and people are less inclined to spend money on non-essentials right now, which is completely fair, but I’m still proud of myself for setting it all up because it took forever!

cleaned out and polished my typewriters and replaced a bunch of ribbons so they’re all in great condition now

watched SO. MANY. SHOWS. and movies. the best so far: schitt’s creek, Troop Zero, Feel Good, The Morning Show, Sex Education and Birds of Prey were all great!

If you stuck around for all that, THANKS! and I’ll try to update more often than once a month lol.

Really hope you’re all doing OK and keeping healthy. Personally I’m a huge introvert so the quarantine is my daily life but it’s still a hugely stressful time and I really really hope this gets under control soon!!

#personal #pls dont reblog #tw blood #tw surgery

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tziska · 4 years

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TRP Flag: Tziska Shadowspite - Torment of Warwolf Row

Directory Information: Race: Sin’dorei Class: Death Knight Age: Dead Eye Color: Lichfire blue Height: 6′1″ Body Shape: 166 lbs. (Muscular) Birthplace: Sunsail Anchorage Residence: Silvermoon City

Additional Information: Pronunciation: “Zih-skah” Nicknames: Spite, Ka Tattoos: Geometric, runic designs in icy snowfall ink curl along her limbs and torso. Scars: Skin shows signs of fatal frostbite. Misshapen scar low on left abdomen. Affiliations: Ebon Blade, spellbreakers Vitality: Stone dead, but in good spirits. Languages: Thalassian, Common, Orcish, some Draconic

Personality Traits: Chaotic (17) > Lawful (3) Forgiving(7) < Vindictive (13) Altruistic (7) < Selfish (13) Gentle (3) < Brutal (17) Renegade (17) > Paragon (3) Swords (17) > Spells (3) Extroverted (3) < Introverted (17)

Physical Description: Tall and well-muscled, this elven woman has the watchful, wary bearing of a veteran of many battles. Her skin is shriveled and blackened over her form, frostbite run wild. She tends to keep her pale hair short and often favors armor or tops that show off her biceps. Pale blue ink shimmers on her bared skin in intricate runic designs both Ebon and arcane.

Though the clatter of her armor is noise enough, she often adds to it by tapping the flat of a dagger rhythmically against her thigh or the end of a pen in a rapid tattoo against the nearest flat surface.

History: If any recognize her these days, it's probably as the reclusive proprietor of a small tattoo shop on Warwolf Row in Orgrimmar called Ink and Spite. It's not a popular place; rumor has it that anything and everything she does hurts more than it ought and she'll toss out a client who presumes to tell her what to put on the canvas presented.

Scholars of rune magic may know her as a specialist in complex inked ward-work and graven spells. Though there is the expected Ebon Blade influence to her work, many of her incantations bear hallmarks of training with quel'dorei spellbreakers.

During the Siege of Orgrimmar, Ink and Spite was closed for nearly a year and she is rumored to have gone relic-hunting on the southern coast of Kalimdor.

Before death, she served as a mercenary loosely affiliated with the quel'dorei military and the spellbreakers in particular. Any who served under Kael'thas on his ill-fated expedition to Northrend, or among mercenary companies in Quel'thalas may recognize her.

At First Glance:

Smells like... A light jasmine perfume mixed with machine oil, crushed greenery, and old blood.

Runic tattoos. Tattoos inked in snowfall blue cover her arms, torso and legs, and partway up her neck.

Fidgety. She is often tapping her fingers or a pen or a knife blade against some surface.

Other Information (OOC): I like big words and I cannot lie. http://tziska.tumblr.com

Inventory:

Polar Bear Fur Cloak Armor Cloak “An off-white cloak of bear fur. This cloak was hunted, skinned, tanned, and sewn into a garment for her by her beloved.”

Portable Nether Pocket Container Bag “A small netherweave pouch with a flap that unfolds to give it a much wider opening than it seems. Might actually be a pocket dimension.” Spell-scroll Folio Container Wallet “A leather billfold that opens to reveal a half-dozen very tiny rolled scrolls for shattering and nullifying cast magic.” Healing Scroll Magic Spell-scroll “A scroll-like length of linen, inscribed with runes of healing and repair. But is that ink...blood?” Use: Heal a target. ----- Containment Scroll Magic Spell-scroll “A long, winding strip of parchment inscribed with runes of containment and conscription.” Use: Contain a magic spell inside the scroll’s boundaries. ----- Healing Spell-scroll Magic Spell-scroll “A long strip of linen parchment inscribed with gleaming golden runes of healing.” Use: Heal a target. ----- Nullification Scroll Magic Spell-scroll “A parchment scroll bearing anti-magic and spell nullification runes that activate upon contact with a spell.” Use: Nullify a spell. ----- Spell-shattering Scroll Magic Spell-scroll “A vellum scroll bearing harsh runes in iron grey ink that will shatter spells on objects when folded around them.” Use: Shatter a spell. ----- Sight Salve Magic Potion “A mix of beeswax, herbal extracts, two kinds of enchanting dust, and a wizard oil few remember how to make anymore - it allows the user to see the leylines and flows of mana for a short time.” ----- Runemaster’s Monthly Document Magazine “A copy of Runemaster’s Monthly, an esteemed scholarly journal of written magic. Typically circulated amongst the Ebon Blade.” Use: Read the document. ----- Sin’dorei Blood Gem Consumable “A highly dangerous and volatile crystal made with mana-infused blood.”

Black-handled Dagger Weapon Dagger “Nearly a foot long, it’s almost more of a small shortsword than a large dagger - kept in a calf sheath. The simple handle is carved of oiled ebon-wood with a pommel of truesilver and a cloudy blue sapphire a little over an inch in diameter set in the end. The quillion is dark iron and relatively minimal; it’s not designed to be a parrying dagger. The blade is high carbon steel and so heavily engraved with runes that it appears to have a damascus twist-steel pattern.”

Jewelry Box Container “A fine jewelry box such as one might find on a dresser in a modest estate.” Simple Bracelet Jewelry Bracelet “A leather bracelet with a hand-blown glass bead that looks like it contains smoldering embers in its depths.” ----- Jeweled Earrings Jewelry Earrings “A pair of elegant jeweled drops in sapphire or amethyst.”

Wardrobe Furniture “A large wardrobe, like one might find on a modest estate.”

Scribe’s Box Container Case “A cherrywood box about 18″ wide, 9″ deep, and 4.5″ tall. This box has several drawers and compartments for storing scribal tools and materials.” Silk Pouch Container Bag “A small pouch made from bright aqua silk.” Saffron Threads Reagent Cooking “A small bundle of dark red saffron threads.” ----- Hand-graver Tool “A four-inch length of hardened steel with a chisel-tip point.”

====================

Tonic - A feline skeleton in a cat-shaped cloud of bone dust.

Bones are exposed... ...And well, you know how that goes." - Aurelio Voltaire // This creature is an animated feline skeleton. Bones. You can see 'em.

Semi-solid cloud. Surrounding this feline skeleton is a semi-solid, semi-opaque cloud of bone dust. There's hints of tabby striping and some black and white blotches in the pattern. Why doesn't the dust blow away or out of cat shape? It is a mystery.

#TRP flag

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mensbodybuildingtips · 4 years

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Training Tips For Getting Big and Strong!

“Everyone Wan na Be a Body builder ... Do not Nobody Wan na Raise No Heavy-@ss Weight!”

The words are famous. Probably the most popular line uttered by one of the most famous body builders of all time. Ronnie Coleman would certainly shout this phrase in the gym prior to he tried some insane lift of a quarter-ton in the health club, and also many thanks to the appeal of his DVD, really well known among lifters worldwide. If you desire to be a bodybuilder, after that you should life heavy weight - it's that basic. Or is it?

Movement selection Let's start by checking out the workouts that must be used in the health club. It may be much easier to enter the fitness center and also order the very first vacant seat in a row of devices - however if you are looking for the most reliable means of ending up being larger as well as stronger, then dumbbells will certainly be the way to go. Base your upper body day after hefty sets with pinhead and also weights presses (of the incline, flat, and also decrease variety). You could choose deadlifts and barbell or dumbbell rows for your back training. Pinhead side raises as well as pinhead or barbell presses build up those shoulders. Weights as well as dumbbell biceps curls work the biceps, and also close-grip weights press and triceps presses function the triceps. Squats, stiff-legged deadlifts and also weights calf bone elevates work the legs. After you've dedicated two compound motions per muscle team, you can removal on to the makers. If you desire to get big as well as solid, then compounds always have to come first!

Set and rep scheme Go heavy, however not as well hefty! You ought to be using 4 to 5 sets of each workout, with one workout collection. Pyramid up the weight with each collection, making use of sets with repetition varieties of 5 to 10. Fewer compared to 5 associates per collection will offer you mass as well as toughness without brand-new muscle. If you train with greater than 10 reps per set, after that you are developing the muscle (as a result of blood flow) but you typically aren't mosting likely to grow much stronger. Your objective is to saturate the muscular tissue groups with blood, while at the exact same time making them relocate some heavy ass weight!

Make specific goals You will certainly intend to be very clear in your goals. Just mosting likely to the fitness center to obtain bigger and also more powerful is in fact a rather obscure objective. If you desire be a wonderful bodybuilder, compared to your details objectives need to be to obtain muscle while keeping fat reduced. If your goal is to be a powerlifter, then your certain goals ought to be making gains on your event satisfy lifts, while maintaining body weight regular. Understand specifically just what changes you would certainly like to make to your body as well as efficiency capacity, as well as change your training technique as necessary. It's not almost raising some hefty butt weight - you also have to look like you can relocate some weight!

Diet Finally, you should have your diet regimen in line to sustain your goal of ending up being a larger and stronger body builder. Ronnie Coleman really did not just turn out of bed and move some hefty iron to obtain that large. He took pleasure in a 20 egg white morning meal with a couple of cups of oat meal. His ruthless workout was notoriously followed with some Black Eyed Pea or Wilderness Steakhouse. Consume huge and also solid to obtain large and strong!

#fitness #fitness center #gain muscle mass #gym #health #health club #the fitness center #weight #workout

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a-gay-bloodmage · 5 years

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—Disaster—

Pairing: Josephine Montilyet x Female Adaar

Pairing Type: F/F

Words: 1,692

Warnings: Clark Kent and Lois Lane but make it Gay, Hopelessly in Love with a Beautiful Femme, Hopelessly in Love with a Beautiful Butch, Even More Sweetness and Shenanigans

"Lady Adaar?" Semiha groaned as a knock on her door sounded. "Please, Inquisitor, I would not disturb you if it were not urgent!"

"I'll be back," she sighed, giving Josephine a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up. Of course some messenger would interrupt them during one of the few moments she could drag her Ambassador away from her work. She buttoned up her blouse and walked down the stairs to the door.

"Thank you," the messenger sighed when she opened the door. He was covered in mud and straw, and smelled like a barn. "We have a bit of a situation on our hands, Herald." She raised a white eyebrow. "We don't know how, and we don't know why, but... the livestock, they... got... out." He was quiet, obviously embarrassed that he'd have to bother the Inquisitor with such a thing.

"Livestock?" She almost laughed. "How many?"

"All of them, Herald," he said in an embarrassed whisper, running a hand through his messy hair. "Again, we don't know how."

"Alright, I'm guessing you want my help getting them contained?" She asked.

"No, no, I just wanted to inform-!"

She shook her head, smiling. It'd been far too long since she got to use some of her strength in the activities she had grown up with. Being a battlemage was fun, sure, but it wasn't as intense a workout as powerlifting heffers. And with half the men of the Inquisition off dealing with something Semiha had already forgotten the details about, that only meant more for her.

"Josie!" She called out into her room as she shooed the messenger away. She bounded up the stairs and ran to her dresser to find her most beat up clothing. "We've got a bit of a situation, it seems," she said as she pulled on a pair of stained beige leggings. "Livestock got out!" She laughed, struggling a little to pull on a qunari-sized work breastband.

"What?" Josephine sounded panicked. "How did the livestock get out? Did someone attack Skyhold?"

"No idea," Semiha shrugged, smiling. "All I know is that we have to fix it!"

"This is a disaster!" She looked over to Semiha, and huffed at her grin. "How are you happy about this?"

"My dear, darling Josephine," Semiha laughed, walking over to the panicked Antivan and kissing her on the forehead. "I was raised on a farm in the Marches. I know a thing or two about corralling animals."

"I did forget about that," she said, looking a little embarrassed. "But still, this is a mess, my Lady!"

"I don't deny it's messy," Semiha grinned, reaching down and grabbing Josephine's hand. "But it could be fun chasing 'em down!"

"You and I have very different definitions of fun, my Lady," she sighed.

Semiha hummed in agreement, smiling as they walked out of her room. Immediately, they were nearly tripped by a goat running frantically through the hall.

"Watch and learn, Princess!" She laughed, letting go of Josephine's hand and running after the animal.

• • ♡ • •

"My Lady!" Josephine sighed, running after the qunari the best she could in her dress. The woman had incredibly long legs. This entire situation was horribly less than ideal. With Cassandra in Orlais talking with Chantry and most of their soldiers on field missions in the surrounding area, there was hardly anybody available to deal with this.

"Got one!" Semiha's joyful voice rang out, and Josephine sighed when she saw the qunari lifting a squirming goat over her head. "Bad goat," she cooed, looking the thing in its strange brown eyes. "Naughty, naughty little goat!" Okay, that was cute.

"My Lady, you're going to get filthy," Josephine said, jogging to catch up with Semiha's walking speed.

"So?" The qunari just laughed. "You've seen me coming back from missions! I think my clothes contain enough mud to build a hut, Josie," she said, smiling as she adjusted the goat in her arms.

"I... I cannot argue with that," she said, defeated. The qunari was always coming back covered in filth from the simplest of missions, armor weighed down with water and dirt. However, that also meant that afterwards, she would be sparkling from a bath, her beautiful, silvery-white afro catching the sunlight, her skin like polished silver, and her horns like glittering onyx.

"Got'cha!" Semiha's laugh pulled Josephine from her thoughts. She scooped up another loose goat in the throne room, and proudly held one under each of her muscular arms. "Come on, let's get to the pens to toss 'em in," she said, smiling down at Josephine, who was completely overwhelmed. "Don't be so stressed," she smiled, "your family was big in the Antivan navy, yes?" Josephine nodded. "Then think of this like a mutiny!" She said, far too cheerfully for the comparison. "Except minus the whole armed and muscular sailors and with cute little farm animals instead!"

Okay, now she could see the comparison more clearly. They stepped outside into the main courtyard, and witnessed the group of inexperienced soldiers and staff attempting to ease the almost comical chaos.

"I am not getting involved," said an annoyed voice from beside them. Dorian.

"Come on, can't you raise the dead or something?" Semiha asked, the two squirming goats held securely under her arms. "Get your little necro-friends to do the work!"

"That takes time and precision and desire to, Inquisitor," he said, leaning against the wall. "And besides, Bull seems to be enjoying himself." He gestured to the courtyard, and heard a joyous shout followed by the Chargers, all with varying animals in their hands as they dragged them back to their pens by the stables. By the hidden softness of his tone, it was clear that Bull was the reason he was most concerned with.

"Hey, Boss!" Bull yelled, grinning. He was holding a particularly heavy calf in his arms.

"I'm joining!" Semiha yelled back, a grin splitting her beautiful face. "Come on, Josie!"

"But I'm wearing-" She huffed, pulling off her dress, stripping down to the leggings she wore beneath and her thin, strap-sleeved shirt. "If you aren't going to get into the mud, do be a dear and put this in my chambers," she said, handing her heavy silk dress over to Dorian. "I'm coming, my Lady!" She called out, quickly stepping down the stairs.

"Fuck yeah!" Bull yelled, clenching his fists in excitement. "Nice of you to join us!"

Semiha just smiled and told her to lift with the knees.

• • ♡ • •

The fact that Semiha was a mage and yet looked like that was a crime.

Josephine could hardly concentrate on holding onto squirming little piglets when she'd look over and see that beautiful qunari woman, bending over in those tight leggings, that qunari breastband doing nothing but holding those large, perfect breasts in place. Her white-silver, tightly curled hair bounced around her horns as she moved, every frizzy hair seeming to catch the sun like she was weaved of silver. Every one of her muscles flexed under that glistening silver skin in the afternoon sun as she easily hefted giant animals over her head. She could go toe-to-toe with the Iron Bull, something Josephine honestly hadn't expected. Then again, she only saw her at Skyhold, soft and sweet in her chambers, and not on the battlefield.

The tiny pig she was holding snorted and tried to escape her grip, and she struggled to keep a hold on the slippery little thing.

"You holding up well, Princess?" Semiha asked, far too casually for someone able to so gently hold a heffer like a lapdog.

"Ah, yes, my Lady," she said, smiling despite the ache in her back. They had been giving her all the small and docile animals she could either carry or lead back to the pens. "I think I'm actually having fun!" She was. Despite the mud in her nice shoes, and the sweat, and the smell of animals, she was having fun. Semiha would constantly sneak up on her, gabbing her waist with her muddy hands, and laughing when she jumped. It was always followed by a kiss on her sweat-slicked neck and a how're they treating you? so it was quite alright.

"Good to hear!" Semiha smiled, her hand on Josephine's shoulder. Most women would be threatened by a large grey hand on their bare skin, but Josephine doubted they would be so frightened if they knew how gentle such hands could be. "It's just you left," she said. "That little piglet was evading Blackwall for a solid five minutes," she laughed, looking down at the offending piglet, who seemed to pride itself on its drawing out of their involuntary little game. She walked Josephine to the pen, and the giant mama pig seemed quite happy to have all her babies back by her side.

"I do think a bath is in order," Josephine said, leaning her back against the wooden fencing. Semiha was leaning forward, elbows resting on the wood, her breastband loose from the physical labor of the day, leaving her chest nearly free, unbound against her ribcage.

Semiha looked over at her, raising a thick white-silver eyebrow and smiling softly. "You say that like we'd be sharing one," she said knowingly.

"Well, it was an idea I had, yes," Josephine said, slightly flushed.

"I think my chambers' tub is big enough if we squeeze," Semiha said, leaving the fence and wrapping a large arm around Josephine's form.

"I am not opposed to this squeezing," Josephine said back, resting her head on Semiha's chest, one hand resting on the arm around her shoulders.

Blackish blush was visible on Semiha's cheeks as Josephine accepted. She smiled, shaking her head a little, her white-silver hair bouncing with the motion. She quickly scooped Josephine up with one easy motion. "Squeezing it is," she said, laughing quietly to herself. Josephine noticed that Semiha held her with the same tenderness as a calf, as if she too was plagued by weak knees and could crumble at the slightest ill touch. She realized that around Semiha, she was, and the comparison didn't bother her at all.

#femslashfeb2019 #semiha adaar #josephine montilyet #josephine x inquisitor #fanfiction #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #original content #da inquisitor #i like this!! shenanigans!!#butches and femmes........... so good. so so good.

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wonderlandmind4 · 6 years

Text

Delicate Stages Chp 50

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x OFC Ana Rios

Summary: Bucky Barnes agrees to participate in Deprogramming Sessions. What he gets is not anything like he expected.

Warnings: Language. Blood. Aftermath. Hospitals. Trauma. Some fluff, some angst. I’m sorry.

Words: 8k+ @justreadingfics @nerdyandproud9

A scorching hot sensation pulls Bucky back from the darkness of his mind. His eyes snap open. An excruciating amount of pain ignites his left side, so horrible, he dazedly wonders if it's truly happening. He grits his teeth, slowly turning his head to peer at his left arm.

A flash of bright crimson against pure white snow stabs through his mind as he stares at nothing. His entire arm is gone; just a broken, shredded stump of what remains. The frays glow orange and red, radiating through every nerve, down to his bones. He wants to rip it off, wants to claw away the rest of his shoulder but he can't. It's stuck, burning and attached to his body. His chest hurts. His stomach churns dangerously. A thought abruptly occurs to him.

Ana. Where is Ana?

Once Bucky swallows the bile rising up his throat, he slowly shifts from his back to his right side. He squints, a brilliant light stands next to him, in the form of Ana. Gold light. Bright. Powerful. Glowing. She’s glowing. Every inch of her skin emits golden bluish rays. It burns brighter in her hands, a solid beam of energy shooting from her palms.

Heated air surrounds them, sizzles and crackles, snapping vigorously. Bucky blinks away his blurry vision, inhales slowly through his nose, exhales through his mouth. He tries to regain his senses, other than feeling agony radiating from his shoulder.

Through the bars of the railing from the platform, he spots the place where Erik Woods once stood, encased in the same light coming from Ana. Woods is now on the ground, motionless, appears lifeless. With an abrupt realization, Bucky knows what is happening. Ana is draining Erik's life force from his body; she doesn’t seem to realizes what she’s doing. Her body is stiff, her muscles rigid, her face set with in goal in mind. Her eyes glitter gold. There’s no end in sight.

The illuminating glow is fading away from the bottom of her ankles, slowly crawling up her legs. Bucky immediately guesses what the diminishing light entails, and he can’t - it can’t be- he can’t lose Ana. He can’t allow her to finish killing Woods- draining his life- and he can’t allow her to do it by accidentally killing herself. Bucky reaches out, his arm shaking violently from his own trauma.

The closest part of her he can touch is her calf, his fingers gently grazing over her jeans. He can’t hold his arm up anymore, though it was enough to cease all power, the light cut off. Ana sways for a split second before she crumples to the ground like a puppet cut from strings.

Terror seizes Bucky’s heart. Ana’s skin is stark white, her eyes closed. She isn’t moving. Doesn’t even looks like she’s breathing. Two thick streams of blood escape from her nose, running down her face, the side of her cheek. No. No, no no no, this can’t be happening. She can’t be-

With one more ounce of strength, ignoring every single inch of him on fire, Bucky lifts his hand. His fingers caress her pale lips, trembling against her split lip. Ana cracks her eyes open, just two narrow slits, staring nearly lifeless at him.

"Stay with me.” He pleads desperately as his voice breaks.

Her eyes fall shut.

No. No! This can’t be real. This can’t be happening. The brightest thing in his dark world, the love of his life, can not be taken away from him. His hand is slowly being covered in her blood as he continues to trace her face, trying to wipe away the blood. Her skin is ice cold. He moves his fingers to her neck, dark bruises in the shape of fingers mar her delicate skin. Bucky doesn't feel a pulse. He doesn’t hear her heartbeat.

He doesn't realize he is screaming until something heavy grips his shoulder.

"Barnes! Bucky! Let me take her! I have to take her!"

Suddenly Ana is being lifted into red metallic arms before it takes off. Bucky follows the jets with his watery eyes, finally putting it together. Iron Man is flying Ana up to the jet. It's enough motivation to push himself up, just as someone else lands next to him. He doesn't pay any attention to them, just attempts to stand on unsteady feet, ignoring the waves of nausea crashing over him. It's not from physical pain.

"Shit, man. Let's get you up there."

The familiar voice makes Bucky finally look at the person. Sam holds his arm out, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Bucky relents gratefully, tightly grabs onto Sam's forearm. Then they're shooting up into the air, it only taking several seconds to reach the jet. Once inside, Bucky stumbles to where Agent Hill points at. He ignores every warning, every person trying to hold him back as he makes his way to the medical table where Ana lays.

Two medical personal surround her, quickly working to help. Bucky barely makes it to Ana's side, his fingers brushing over her cold knuckles, before his world goes black once more.

***

Silence stretches on for days.

The days are long, the nights longer. Tension fills the muted air, heavy, cold. Hovers over the floor, between spaces, attaches to the ceiling, lingers in windows like droplets of despair. On the final day of absolute silence, it begins to break. The wind weaves between the trees of the forest; it isn't the only sound that shatters the quiet. The dry leaves on the ground rustle. The second hand in a clock ticks. The nervous tapping spells out a rhythm. The soft thud of a rubber sole against tile. The soft beeps of a machine echo hauntingly through a room. The shuffle of movement in the distance. A hiss of fabric. A faint inhale. A low exhale.

Something begins to feel heavy, weighed down. Something begins to itch; sticky, crawling sensations. Something akin to ice begins to settle. Something like the rush of waves begin to gain clarity. Something begins to feel soft, repeated slow movements. Something flutters against a surface.

Lashes stick together. Eyes slowly open. Bright light nearly burns the retinas. A reflexive wince. A dry lump is swallowed. Stiff fingers twitch against cotton. Dull aches throb from different places. A deep inhale causes bones to protest. Pain erupts from a lower source, muscles spasm trying to accommodate injury. A tongue appears to wet dry lips.

Ana fully opens her eyes. She stares at lights that are too bright on the ceiling. Her eyes shift around what she can see of her surroundings. It isn't much, she doesn't think she can move her body yet. Everything hurts. Everything aches. A deep exhaustion is laced within her bone marrow and Ana thinks maybe she could just close her eyes and sleep forever. She doesn't, because she's utterly confused.

The last thing she can remember, when she racks through her muddled brain, is a being shielded by something. Something that protected her from a direct hit of...what? A direct hit of what? Who stopped whatever it was? Who protected her by putting their own life in harms way? Was it their own life they risked, or did Ana make that up in her mind? She can't recall.

She allows her eyes to flutter shut again, attempting to recall what had happened. She remembers light. Bright, bluish gold light. She sees a flash of sliver, gleaming as it thrust in front of her. She sees a chaotic whirl of colors. She sees the black of the ground her face was pressed to. She sees someone stagger as they try to right themselves. She sees what the flash of silver was, suddenly gone, seared with glowing embers. She sees agony on a stunned face. She sees Bucky fall to the ground.

Bucky. It was all Bucky.

A sharp gasp of air coincides with her eyes opening. She forces herself to look to her right, the space is empty. She slowly turns her head to the left. There, with his head pillowed on his arm, is Bucky. There's a slight furrow to his brow, as if he is deciphering whether he heard her gasp or not. He picks his head up a little, eyelids blinking slowly like he just woke up. It takes a moment, but clarity brightens his blue eyes.

"Oh my god." He breathes, relief sagging his body. "Ana."

He has dark bags under his eyes. His skin looks pale, clammy. His red lips are raw and bitten, trembling just slightly. His hair is messy, strands sticking out oddly. It's as if he kept pulling at the roots from stress. He looks every bit of beautiful as Ana always thought he did.

"Hi…Snowflake." Ana murmurs, voice raspy, her lips twitching with a smile.

Bucky chuckles wetly through his nose. "Hi, doll face."

He dips down to press a gentle kiss to her left shoulder. She hadn't noticed her arm is in a sling. When she looks back up from the sling, Bucky has his face pressed into the bed. Ana wants to move her hands, but her left is currently confined and when she picks up her right hand, something tugs at her skin. She doesn't have to look to know it's an IV needle. She ignores it, because Bucky is shaking. She startles with realization; his arm is missing.

"I'm so happy you're awake." He mutters into the bed. His voice is raw yet thick with tears.

Screw it. Ana moves her hand across her body to gently run her fingers through his hair. When he peaks up at her, his eyes are wet and bloodshot, several tears escaping. Ana’s heart clenches.

"Bucky."

He shakes his head, taking hold of her hand, minding the IV. "I honestly thought...I couldn't bring myself to believe...you're awake." He presses his trembling lips against her knuckles.

"I'm alright." She promises gently. "I'm right here."

"I almost lost you." He whispers, his voice cracking on the last word. His fingers tremble in her hand.

Ana gently squeezes his hand before she moves hers up to wipe away another tear that's falling down his scruffy cheek. "What about you? Your arm-"

"Don't worry about me, Ana." Bucky picks his head up, a small disbelieving smile on his lips. "How are you feeling?"

She inhales slowly. "Sore. Exhausted." Her throat is so dry and itchy.

"Are you in a lot of pain, love? The nurse was just in here, but I can call her again."

The concern etched on his face makes Ana want to lie to him. Or at least half lie. She's in a whole bunch of pain now that she's fully aware. She's still trying to ignore the sharp stinging pain in her knee, doesn't even want to move her leg because she's afraid she might scream. It hurts to breath, a dull pounding isolated to a spot on her stomach. Her left shoulder aches, and she knows enough that she had been shot; twice.

"It's tolerable." She evades.

Bucky stares at her for a beat, then he leans over to hit the call button. Ana fixates on the little black sleeve cap covering the stump of his left shoulder. If she asks about it, she knows he'll lie just as well. However, Ana saw it. She saw the excruciating pain Bucky was in before he passed out.

"What happened, Bucky?" Ana asks instead. She's still a little fuzzy on the details.

Bucky shifts his chair closer, leans over to softly kiss her temple. "What do you remember?"

"You jumped in front of me. You idiot." She sighs fondly.

"I will be an idiot everyday if it meant protecting you."

"And sappy." Her heart swells as she says it.

"Because I love you." He leans over again, this time pressing his lips tenderly against hers. It makes her heart flutter and for a moment she forgets any pain. "So much, Ana."

An onslaught of emotions abruptly crashes over her. Ana doesn't know if it's the drugs or the look in Bucky's incredible blue eyes, but she begins to cry. It starts off with one tear after the other, slipping from the corners of her eyes, sliding down her temples. Bucky frowns, eyebrows knitting together with concern. He lifts his fingers, keeping his touch delicate as he brushes her bruised skin. He wipes away the tears with his thumb, and the tender, loving touch rips a sob from her throat.

"Annie," He breathes, his tone absolutely heart wrenching.

It breaks her. Ana sobs. Every inch of her body hurts. Her stomach and shoulder throb from bullet wounds, one of which she can't even remember. It feels like hot needles are stabbing into her knee, something wrapped tight around it. Her lip and cheek ache, her neck feels tender.

Her throat is parched, either from lack of liquid or the hand crushing against her windpipe twice. She has no idea how long she has been lying in this bed, but she does realize how close she was to losing her own life. To losing Bucky.

Bucky makes soothing, hushing sounds, pressing his forehead against her temple. She attempts to calm her breathing because every heaving sob shakes her body, and pulls at the hole in her stomach. Her mind is jumbled with fragmented imagines, ones she can't piece together quiet yet, but the last thing she clearly remembers is Bucky. Just inches of his metal arm remained, glowing bright orange and red, the smell of singed metal filling her nose. It was terrifying, watching him drop to the floor and not moving, not getting up.

She may have just scolded him for protecting her, but in reality, he saved her life, and it cost him his arm, and nearly his own life. Bucky has been protecting her from the moment he came into her life. Ana couldn't even protect him from Hydra, she couldn’t protect him against the trigger words. They almost dragged him back, all because they were after her.

"Ana, baby. It's okay. You're okay." Bucky coos softly, still wiping at her tears. "You're with me, you're safe now. I swear it.”

She shakes her head. "I-I'm so s-sorry."

"Hey now, pretty, none of that. None of this was your fault. Shhh, it's okay, sweetheart."

The door opens during that moment, a nurse calmly entering the room. Ana tries to regain control over herself, her cries reaching a level of hyperventilation.

"Breathe, Annie, breathe. I've got you, you're safe." Bucky coaches, his voice incredibly soft. “I have you, my love. You’re safe with me. Just breathe.”

Following his soothing voice, his instructions, Ana starts to copy his own breathing patterns. She begins noting the details of his face, like she hasn't already memorized every little inch. From the little freckle on his forehead, to his dark stormy blue eyes, streaked with red lines. His lips are a dark pink, slightly cracked from being chewed on. His beard has grown a tad thicker, though the warmth of his skin is lacking, worn; he looks every bit of his true age. His brown hair falls by the corners of his eyes, hiding the spot where the crinkles appear when he smiles. He's not smiling now. Ana wishes to sear Bucky’s face into her memory forever.

Something begins to trickle into her veins, and she briefly thinks it's Erik Woods injecting her once more. In a surge of panic, she looks over at the nurse, just finishing up twisting the IV caps back on. The monitor next to her picks up speed in time with her racing heart, the beeping growing frantic. The nurse smiles gently at her, lightly tapping the plastic bag.

"It's just morphine." She kindly informs. Her eyes then shift to Bucky. "I just upped her dose, it should work a little faster this round."

Ana turns to Bucky, who is already gazing at her.

"You're in a lot of pain, baby?" He questions, probably already knows the answer.

She's too tired to lie, so she dips her head a fraction. She wants to stay awake though, doesn't want to miss another second sleeping. She mumbles this much to Bucky, his thumb never ceasing swiping over her cheek.

"I'll be right here when you wake up, Ana. I promise." He whispers, leaning forward to kiss her forehead.

Her eyes flutter, the drug beginning to take over her system. Ana swallows, attempting to lift her hand but it’s too heavy. She's still so confused. She doesn't know what happened after Bucky protected her, she doesn't know how she got to this strange hospital. She doesn't know if anyone else is alright, or if someone has captured Woods.

All she knows is that Bucky is next to her, seemingly healthy and uninjured despite his missing arm. He's sitting right next to her, touching her, whispering sweet words of love, smiling and kissing her softly. The last thing Ana sees before her heavy lids close, is Bucky's blue eyes, shinning with relief.

***

The next time Ana wakes up, she hears Bucky's low drawl, rough and crackling like he hasn't touched water in days. He's speaking to someone, so Ana opens her eyes, turning her head towards his voice. Her heart swells, tears blur her vision and she's just so frustrated because she's been in a hospital before, healing from life threatening cuts. She's been in pain before, but for some reason, this time feels different.

"Pep." Ana exhales.

Pepper whirls around, immediately pulling up a chair to sit next to the bed. "Oh, Buggy!”

God, Pepper sounds like she hasn't stopped crying. Her eyes are swollen, just like Bucky's were, and her usual kept hair, is frizzy, out of place from her low ponytail. She gently grabs her right hand, squeezing her fingers.

"I'll give you two sometime." Bucky offers, grabbing his jacket and swinging it over his shoulder to cover his left side.

"No, stay." Ana pleads, attempting to sit up. At least, she thinks she tries. Pepper places her hand on her uninjured shoulder.

"Hey, hey, sweetheart," Bucky gently reprimands. He moves closer to place a kiss on her hair. "I'll be right back, promise. Don't move too much, you'll tear your stitches. I'm just going to find some coffee that doesn't taste like shit."

His comment makes her chuckle, but the movement of her stomach hurts. Pain stabs through her body, so Ana just opts to smile. She nods as he trails his fingers down her jaw. He kisses her head once more, then exits the room, softly closing the door behind him.

"You know," Pepper starts, her voice soft and fond. "That man is completely gone for you."

"It's mutual." Ana says, wincing as she shifts. Something is cool on the back of her hand and when she looks, a shiny diamond gleams back at her. "Pepper...is that a ring?"

She smiles shyly, then shakes her head. "I'll tell you about that later. How are you feeling? I mean, I know you aren't feeling good at all, and what happened sucks. I was worried sick, I-"

Her cousin cuts herself off, but Ana wouldn't mind her rambling on. She just wants to hear her comforting voice. The voice of one of the few family members she has left, and one of the only members she's close to. Pepper is crying, and Ana quickly figures there's going to be a lot of tears shed, if they haven't been already.

"I'm sorry." She apologizes to Pepper. "I don't know how this happened. I didn't mean to-"

"Oh, honey, don't blame yourself." Pepper begins rubbing soothing strokes up and down her arm.

"Tell me please, Pep. When did he ask you?"

"A week and a half ago."

"A week and-" Ana shakes her head, ridding the rest of the fogginess from the drugs away. She must've heard wrong. "What?"

Pepper's eyes shift to the screen displaying her vitals, then back to Ana. "You've been here for ten days, Ana."

Ana breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to process that information. Ten days. She's been lying unconscious in a hospital for ten days. "What happened?"

"I tried calling you the moment after Tony asked. You didn't answer. I called three times, that's when Tony got an alert from FRIDAY, said you and Bucky were taken."

Before Pepper can continue, there's a soft knock on the door as it opens. Tony's face pops through the small gap, checking before he comes in. He's wearing a Black Sabbath shirt that is wrinkled in certain spots, and worn out jeans. Judging by their appearances, no one looks like they've slept well, if at all.

"If you could refrain from that ever happening again, I'd appreciate it." Tony quips, pulling another chair around to sit in.

"I'll try to schedule my next kidnapping around your convince." She banters back, smiling and ignoring the ache in her lip. "Want to fill in the rest for me?"

Tony gently pats her forearm, then he gives her a rundown of what happened. He informs her after she activated FRIDAY, the AI sent a signal to the bracelet that embedded the mini tracker into her wrist. FRIDAY then sent a distress call out to Tony and the rest of the team. Steve had arrived first, finding Max Cullbury and Jared Sharp. Apparently, Agent Sharp figured out something was wrong when Max wasn't in the Lab. Both men were the first to get there trying to stop it. All according to Agent Cullbury. Agent Sharp was shot, and remains in critical condition.

Ana doesn't know how to process that last part, conflicted is one word that comes to mind. Her brother's ex boyfriend, who has hated her and blamed her for years, tried coming to -not only hers but Bucky's- rescue and was shot in the process. She has to sit up at this point, so Pepper carefully presses the button that raises the top half of the bed. With the help of Tony, Ana slowly and carefully adjusts herself, minding the gunshot wound in her stomach, and keeping her right leg as steady as she can.

Tony continues to recap the events several days ago. Nick Fury had called for every single person working within the facility to be interrogated and screened once again. They apprehended anyone who seem even remotely suspicious, which ended up being eleven other people. Wanda had offered her services in retaliation of her anger and fear for her friends, she had no qualms about tapping into Hydra agents minds. Security protocol has changed as well, and Tony lets a tiny bit of his own guilt slip in there.

"Tony." Ana stops him before he can continue. Her own guilt and Bucky's is enough to fill the Atlantic ocean, she doesn't need anyone else feeling the same way. "Your defense bracelet is what saved us in the end. If it weren't for that, for the tracker, we might still be there."

Tony clears his throat as Pepper lays a comforting hand on his arm. "Right. Good on it then."

He doesn't fool Ana. She notices the bags under his eyes, spots the tick he does with his mouth when he has been incredibly worried about someone. He doesn't make eye contact with her for the next 30 seconds, focusing on picking a thread from the blanket laid over her.

"Sorry about your knee, by the way. I should've-"

"Seriously, Stark. Stop it. You wouldn’t have guessed that would happen ."

Finally, Tony meets her gaze. "Erik Woods is in critical condition."

Ana swallows thickly, her knee throbbing, abruptly aware of every single bullet hole, cut and bruise on her body. She grips the blanket, bundling the fabric in her fists. .

"He's in a high security facility being watch around the clock with armed guards. He is no longer a threat." Then, Tony smirks. "Rogers and Wilson had to stop Barnes from tracking him down and ripping out his throat. Or, I'm sorry, that's my phrase. I believe his was “rip every single bone from his body for hurting my girl”. I almost allowed him to do it."

Ana's heart skips a beat at my girl, and she has to bite her lip to keep from reacting. Until she winces at the still healing cut on her lip. Both Pepper and Tony roll their eyes are her reaction, but deep down, she can't figure out if she's glad Bucky was stopped, or if she's disappointed. It raises her next question.

"Why is Woods in critical condition?" She inquires knowingly.

Tony takes a few moments to answer, placing his hand over Pepper's. "Because you are incredibly powerful. And for same reason you were." He informs gravely. "After Barnes went down, you drained Woods' energy. He shot you in retaliation, but it didn't stop you, Ana. You kept going, until Bucky somehow stopped you. It drained your own in return. I thought-"

He clears his throat, shifting in his seat. "I flew you to the jet. You weren't breathing by the time I got up there. It was only for a few moments. Luckily the team of medics we brought with us were able to get you breathing...started your heart again."

"You were in the ICU for nine days, Ana. In a coma for three of those." Pepper whispers, a single tear falling from her left eye.

Ana just blinks at them. She didn’t know her heart had stopped beating. "Fuck."

They both nod. Tony reaches out and hooks his index finger over Ana's pinkie. "Thought you were gone there for a moment, kid."

She doesn't even react to his nickname. She can barely react at all. It's so much to take in. She nearly killed Erik Woods by draining his life energy and in return...almost killed herself? Jared and Max came to their rescue and couldn't stop it and now Jared in the one fighting for his life. Bucky's arm was blasted off because he protected Ana, jumped in front of her risking his own damn life for hers. She nearly died protecting Bucky. She did die; if only for a minute or two. Pepper pulls her out of her reeling thoughts.

"Bucky was going insane," She tells her. "I lied to the staff, said that he's your fiancé and gave him my family pass. He hasn't left your side until now."

Ana is indescribably speechless. From remembering Bucky being triggered, to watching him sacrifice himself, to her waking up in the hospital. She's suddenly so, so tired, her eyelids growing heavy. She will swear it's the drugs and her own exhaustion, and not the fact that all information may has led her to passing out. She doesn't fight it off, just lets it come and take over her body, being pulled into unconsciousness yet again.

When Ana wakes up the third time, she's surrounded by people, but her eyes frantically seek out Bucky. He's there, standing back and in the far corner. A light chatter is fills the room, voices reserved until Ana shifts, alerting everyone that she's awake. She lifts her hand, accidentally ripping someone else's grip from hers, and reaches towards Bucky.

He grins softly, because he has probably been watching her the entire time, and pushes himself off the wall. The person holding her hand before, Wanda, she finally acknowledges, scoots back to make room for him to sit on the bed. When he does, Ana places her hand on his jaw and Bucky turns his head to kiss her palm. It makes her heart flutter.

"You look exhausted." She tells him softly, stroking her thumb over his scruffy cheek.

"I'm fine, baby." He reassures her, pushing her hair behind her ear. "Do you need anything? Water? The nurse? Are you hungry? You must be hungry. I smuggled in a jar of Nutella. I would've brought pizza but I'm not sure-"

"Bucky, darling." Ana coos, tugging his face closer. "I love you." She presses a chaste kiss to his lips.

"I love you." He breathes against her mouth.

When they break apart, she finds Bucky's right hand, interlocking their fingers together, then surveys the room. Steve is sitting next to her bed, smiling down at his hands. Natasha is stands behind him, arms crossed and a slight look of concern on her face. Clint is next to her, resting his arm on her shoulder. He smirks and nods, then goes back to chatting with Sam, who looks even more concerned before giving his attention back to Clint.

Wanda appears as if she hasn't slept for days, and she might even give Bucky a run for his record. She's holding a paper cup of something that doesn't smell like coffee, she lifts it with a shaky hand. Ana is abruptly overwhelmed with everyone surrounding her, and she is grateful for the friends she has. Extremely grateful for the man holding her hand, lifting her knuckles to his lips.

***

They keep Ana in the hospital for another two days, double checking her wounds and vitals. The doctor just wants to make sure she feels comfortable enough to go home, and gives her instructions on what to do if she feels off in anyway. Her stitches are clean, no sign of infection, and her arm only had to stay in the sling for another three days. He does tell her that she can't lift, or workout or do anything strenuous for eight weeks, and to keep to the strict diet until her abdomen heals.

They also discuss the option of another knee surgery. Since the doctors had to perform one to remove the Stark rods, and that alone will leave Ana in a wheelchair until her shoulder is healed enough to use crutches. She has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming in anger. She's just so fucking mad this happened, and on several occasions, wishes death upon Woods.

When Ana finally goes home, she snuggles up to Bucky the best she can, in the less painful way she can. She sleeps, and sleeps, and sleeps, until Bucky has to wake her up a few times. The first time is so she can take her medications. The second is so she can eat, even if she isn't that hungry. The third is to make sure she's doing okay.

"Bucky, babe, please let me sleep, for the love of everything holy." She grumbles petulant, pressing her face into his neck.

"Just making sure you're real, Annie." He whispers, voice breaking.

Ana opens her eyes. She understands it, she does. Because sometimes she'll wake up on her own, has to make sure Bucky is breathing, alive and next to her. She often thinks about how both of their worst nightmares had come true, or nearly came true. To make sure they're both real and in front of each other, they press their palms over each other’s hearts.

Bucky will tap his thumb twice against her collarbone, then he'll press his face into the joint of her jaw. He'll inhale, says she smells a little like the hospital still and can't wait for her to smell like flowers in the rain again. He'll drag his nose behind her ear and tells her-

"Can't wait for you to smell like me, too."

Then he'll press the lightest kiss against her pulse racing in her neck. He'll trail his hand down her body, dipping over her curves, tracing his fingers over tattoos and the scars on her back, then her wrist. Finally, he says-

"Doll face."

Ana will grab a strand of his long hair and tug, harshly so she can see his fake expression of pain. It's one her ways of knowing he's just as real. She'll trace his strong jawline, feeling the texture of his soft facial hair beneath her fingertips. She traces over his pouty red lips, down his neck, also kissing his pulse point, and places her hand over the stump of metal. Then she'll kiss the middle of his chest, feeling his heart pickup.

"Winter Flurry."

He rarely leaves her side, though she has no problem with that. Even when the others filter in and out of her room, Bucky stays by her side, unless he goes to get them food or drinks or to the bathroom. Ana finds out just how worried and scared everyone was when she begins to sense their energies again. It isn't bad, just something she can feel, like a faint breeze along her skin. It's when they leave at the end of the night, that Bucky confesses something.

"You know," He begins, the pads of his fingers gently scratching her scalp. "I honestly thought I lost you, that he took you from me. I was so fucking terrified, Ana. I didn't know what to do with myself."

"I thought I lost you too." She admits, gripping his shirt. "When he shot your arm off, I was so scared. Bucky, I thought...I thought he hit your chest, because you just..." She doesn't finish.

They remain silent, just holding onto each other, hurt, broken and bruised, but alive and together.

***

The soft moments only last a week. Something has been weighing on Bucky's mind, she can tell.

After six days, Ana feels like she can use her arm again, so she pretends to kick the wheelchair away as she sits on the bed of the medical ward. Janice is checking her vitals, after she cried in relief. Tony is there, currently fitting a highly advanced orthotic piece to her leg. The specially designed knee brace begin at her mid thigh, straps over and under her knee, and ends around her calf.

"You're sure you don't want another surgery?" He questions, making last second adjustments to the lateral and medial stabilizers.

"I'm sure. Knee surgery in intensive, and I've had enough fill of pain for one month, thank you." Ana lifts her eyes from Tony's working hands. She spots Bucky with his jacket on, talking with Sharon and Steve, both of whom are holding hands. "Is there anything you can do for his arm?"

"I offered." Tony answers her, leaning back. "He refused every offer.”

She gets it, she understands. Bucky doesn't want anything to do with a robotic arm. He doesn't have to say it, but Ana understands.

Bucky voices his thoughts after that.

"Bucky. No. Please, don't do this." Physical pain isn't enough. Bucky has to go and voice his idea of what he wants to do. It's breaking Ana's heart.

"I'm so sorry, love." Bucky coos sorrowfully, "but I can't risk Hydra finding you. I can't allow something like that to ever happen to you again, and if they get wind of what Erik Woods was trying to do...they'll use us against each other and I can’t. I can't risk that, Ana."

"But you came out of it." She sniffs miserably, tears falling from her eyes. Deep down, Ana knows he's right.

Bucky wipes her tears away, but his own betray him. "I'm guessing they have another chair. If there's even the slightest possibility it can be used, and I'm still triggered, they will send me after you. When Woods tried, it was barely on before you stopped it, but I was still confused. You called out to me before he finished the phrase, Annie, and it helped. Everything that you have done helped me find my way back to you. Unfortunately it didn't stop me from attacking, from trying to follow those commands."

"You protected me, you broke out of it and you shot him. Not me."

"It's too risky."

Ana scoots away from him to the furthest corner of her bed, accidently disturbing Ezra. He just blinks in annoyance, then moves closer to Bucky, because that fickle cat would take his side on this.

"Are you angry?" Bucky asks her, his tone suddenly controlled.

"Yes. No." She sighs, falling backwards. Which tends to be a mistake and jars her gun wounds. "Ow."

Bucky leans over her face, his expression torn.

"I want to be mad, I really would love to just yell and get angry-"

"The doctor told you no strenuous activities, that includes throwing things at me. As much as I love it."

Ana tugs his hair. "You know that meant no sex as well, right?"

"Would you really have sex with me right now, as angry as you are, even though you're trying you hardest to hide it?"

She narrows her eyes at him because he knows her so well. "Where are you thinking of going?"

He smiles dejectedly. "You know I won't be able to tell you, darling."

They continue to bicker about it for another day, until Steve backs up his best friend. He makes Ana see and understand the logic behind it. Tells her it's all for her safety and Bucky's mental stability because he nearly tore Erik Woods apart. She very nearly voices that she wouldn't have minded that, and Ana herself had fleeting dark thoughts of killing Hydra agents as well. She ends up finally relenting with Bucky's plan. It doesn't mean she's happy about it.

"Steve." Ana speaks airily. "You see that bowl of plums over there?"

"Goddamnit." Bucky mutters.

"Yes." Steve smirks, already getting up from the couch and heading towards the kitchen.

"Please throw at least five of them at him, would you. It's an important part of my healing process."

To his credit, Bucky doesn't even block the fruit as it pelts him all in the chest. He just sighs exasperatingly, grabs one of the plums and bites into it. Then he offers the fruit to Ana.

“I love you but that doesn’t mean I’m not pissed as hell,” She reminds him.

Bucky’s answer is wrapping his arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. Ana still melts into to him.

***

“You’re absolutely sure about this?”

“I told you, I just don't think I can trust my own mind yet. It almost worked. I could’ve hurt her. I could’ve killed her.”

Ana scoffs, rolling her eyes. She probably isn’t meant to hear either of them as she leans against Sam's car, but she does, and she’s fed up, angry, and upset. She tried to keep her anger over the plan at bay, but she can't because it's real and it's happening right now. She is extremely upset, because she's still in a little pain, and her knee throbs in the brace, and her heart is about to shatter. She pushes herself off the car and limps right over to Steve and Bucky.

“But you didn’t!” She reminds Bucky fiercely. “In fact, Woods almost killed me himself.”

“That doesn’t make it better.” Bucky counters, reaching for her hand. "What if I shot you instead?"

Ana pulls it back quickly. “This is fucking bullshit!"

“I’ll give you two some time.” Steve flinches, then hurries away towards the small car.

“Annie-“

“No. No. Don’t. I-“

Bucky cups her jaw, bring her forward and kisses her. He keeps his lips firm, moving against hers and Ana feels her anger melt away, along with her spine. She kisses him back, tangling her fingers in his hair, and resting her other hand on the metal base of the stump. She pulls back to press her forehead against his.

“I’m so sorry I failed you.” She murmurs, tears burning her eyes. That's her confession, the true reason she's upset. “I failed you.”

“Hey,” Bucky leans back, trying to make eye contact, she doesn’t look. “Ana, you didn’t- look at me, darling. You did not fail me. Not at all."

She shakes her head, a single tear betraying her and falling down her cheek. “It didn’t work. Deprogramming, it didn't-”

“Yes, yes it did. Everything you have done, worked. I was only able to save you because you helped me take control of my mind. I was only able to fight through it because of you.”

“Not completely, isn't that the problem here? That’s where-“

“You did not fail me. Please, please don’t blame yourself for this. I'm doing this for security. I have to take every precaution."

Ana pulls him back down by his neck, kissing him twice. “How long?” She whimpers against his mouth.

“I’m not sure,” Bucky frowns when he pulls back. “Until I can find a way to fix everything inside my head. I was still somewhat triggered. I can’t take any more chances with hurting you, and any enemy of ours will know we’re each other’s weaknesses and strength. I can’t risk someone else using that against you again.”

He kisses her forehead. “Promise me something, Ana. Don’t wait for me.”

“No.” Ana refuses firmly. “I will wait for you and there’s nothing you can do about it. There’s no one else I want. Idiot.”

He chuckles despite himself. “I had to try.”

She scoffs, tugging his hair. Ana rests her head on his chest, fighting back the urge to sob. Bucky hugs her tightly with his arm, and even though he only has one at the moment, it’s the strongest hug she’s ever had. There’s a short honk to their side, signaling they have to get going soon. Bucky lifts his arm, but Ana doesn’t see what he does; more than likely he flicked them off. She pulls back when he gazes at her. She brushes his hair back, tracing her fingers along his jaw. She taps her index finger on his lips.

“Come back to me.” She quietly requests.

His eyes soften, crinkling at the corners with a private grin. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“I’ll make you a deal.” Ana bargains.

“Over the Nutella?”

She pokes his dimpled chin. “You come back to me, and I promise I won’t blame myself.”

“That sounds like a good deal.”

Bucky leans down to kiss her again, deep and slow, keeping his hand firmly against her cheek. Ana allows him to kiss her like that, as if it’s just the two of them, even though Steve and Sam are probably witnessing this. Her heart pounds painfully in her chest and when she places her hand against Bucky’s, his heart beat matches.

“I love you,” He murmurs against her lips, brushing their noses together. “Very much. Don’t ever forget that.”

“You don’t forget how much I love you either.” Ana whispers. “And I do. Love you.”

“I have to go now.” Bucky tells her, frowning with wet eyes. A tear escapes his left eye.

Ana wipes it away. “I know.”

She meets him halfway for their last kiss, this one filled with love, a little bit of pain, but with a sense of hope. His energy wraps around her one last time, a rueful comfort and goodbye all at once. His tongue slides against hers and Ana is going to miss the way his tongue curls in her mouth and makes her knees weak. They kiss like that for several moments before it slows down, turning into short, but sweet pecks. Bucky kisses her once, twice and on the third kiss, he pulls away, nearly taking Ana with him.

She watches as Bucky heads toward the waiting car and opens the door. He looks back at her and smirks, though it’s not up to par of his usual one. He leans into the car then back out, suddenly tossing something to her. It flips through the air before Ana catches it with both hands. It’s a small jar of Nutella, causing her to laugh, ending with her lips trembling.

Bucky waves his hand, giving her one last smile, then gets into the car. The door closes, and just like that, Steve is pulling away, driving Bucky right out of her life. Ana follows, taking one, two, three, four, steps and breaking into a slight jog, ignoring the pain in her knee, stopping once the car is far enough away and out of sight. She tries to swallow the sob caught in her throat, pulling herself together as she walks back towards Sam in the other car.

He doesn’t say anything once she gets seated and buckled. Ana stares down at the small jar of hazelnut chocolate spread, tears filling her eyes. It’s going to be a long, painful road of waiting, and she doesn’t remember how she was living before Bucky came into her life. A few tears escape, landing on her hands.

“I’m turning the music up on this road trip, I hope you don’t mind.” Sam informs, and the music growing louder by the second.

Ana smiles because she knows exactly what he’s doing. She nods and looks out the window as he starts driving, a sob finally escaping her mouth. She cries hard for a few minutes, just watching the scenery go by with blurred vision. Sam reaches out once, offering a comforting squeeze to her arm. Finally, after several songs play, Ana wipes her tears away for now. Then, she decides to change the music.

“We’re listening to something else.” She tells Sam, then switches out the CD from Earth, Wind, and Fire to Queen.

“Did you just-“ Sam begins indignantly, glancing over at her.

“Pay attention, Wilson. You’re driving.” Ana only knows he allows her to change the music because her focus is on him now, instead of the broken heart in her chest.

She knows this is what Bucky wanted, she understands all the logic behind it. The capture and events had plagued Bucky's mind every night and even though she slept next to him, he couldn't seem to do the same; Ana felt it eating away at him. She knows Bucky wants to heal completely and fully, and he refuses to take anymore of Ana's own energy, despite how powerful she had proven herself to be.

Ana understands. All she wants is the absolute best for Bucky, and if finding an alternative option is the way to erase the triggers completely, then so be it. She will wait from him to come back to her, however long it takes.

***

"Stevie, please. I need this." Bucky is now begging. It took nearly two hours but he finally broke.

"Fine." Steve gives in, gripping the steering wheel so hard it dents a little. "But only because of what he did to the both of you. I was fucking terrified and pissed as hell Buck, I hope you know that."

"I know, pal. I know." Bucky says solemnly. "Then you understand."

"I do."

Steve pulls up to a heavily secured building. They both get out, getting checked and scanned, and handed IDs. It's really only because of Steve that they're even allowed to enter the building. Two guards lead the way, down hallways, into elevators, and finally to the floor and room they want. Steve nods at the guards and they leave, then he sets his hard gaze on Bucky.

"You got two minutes before they come back and I come get you." He tells him.

Bucky nods curtly, then he presses the key card he was given earlier to the lock pad on the door. He pushes it open, quickly closing it behind him. The sight of Erik Woods lying on a bed, hooked up to wires and a machine will never be satisfying enough.

Bucky walks over to the bed, the sound of soft beeping and echoes of the oxygen machine fill the small room. Bucky leans over, anger boiling in his blood, staring at the man that nearly killed Ana. Recognition flickers in his green eyes.

"You took her." Bucky snarls lowly, unadulterated hate coloring his tone. "You touched her. You broke her. You made her bleed. You almost took my girl from me. For that, I am going to make you suffer."

His eyes flick towards the machines, and he sees a little switch for the life support pump. Revenge is nearly there, sitting deliciously sweet on his tongue. He reaches over, hooking his finger over the little lever. He looks back down at Erik Woods, fear gleam in his eyes.

"This is me, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, The Winter Soldier, turning off your oxygen."

He flicks the switch down. The machine begins to beep, gets louder and faster. Erik's chest stops rising and falling. Then Bucky waits another two seconds before speaking.

"Are you in pain? Does it hurt horribly? Good." He hisses menacingly. "I want you to feel every inch of it. I want you to suffer. I want you to struggle, to feel the air leaving your lungs, feel it burning as your face turns red. That's what you did to her. That's what you put her through. This is what you deserve for Hydra harming her family. This is what you deserve for touching her.”

It would be so easy for Bucky to just walk away and let him be. To let Woods leave this world in agony, gasping for his last few breaths of air. Bucky grits his teeth, swallowing every vengeful thought.

"This is Ana." Bucky continues quietly. "Turning it back on." He switches the support back on.

He leans over again, making sure he can see him. Erik's eyes are responsive.

"Killing you is too easy. What's worse, is having you watch all your hard work come undone. You failed, Woods. That's worse than your death. Ana is alive. I'm alive. You failed, and you get to live knowing that fact for the next few weeks of your life. Because you will die in your failure.”

Then, Bucky leaves. He walks right out and away from the room. The man lying in pain, lying broken in the bed, no longer matters. What does matter, is finding a way to fix everything inside him, to rid the brainwashing wired in him. As much as it shatters his heart to do so, as much as it hurts him, he's doing it all for Ana. He will find some way to fix this.

Bucky will come back to his girl.

*******************************************************Previous Epilogue

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x ofc #Bucky Barnes #delicate stages #my fic #fanfiction

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