#and that’s what I’m afraid of—that being injected to be out under is going to feel like getting a lethal injection | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imperator-titus · 3 months

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Over the past few days, something crawled up Rowan's throat. It tasted like bile in the back of her throat, a lingering bitterness. A dead vampire’s blood-soaked sanctuary felt like home compared to the persistent chill of the Elfsong rooms.

One more try. One last push to come to an understanding.

While some of them were out, Rowan decided to approach those left behind. Journal in hand, she approached the room Astarion shared with Gale. Putting on her best smile and injecting some cheer into her voice, she started, “Hey, Gale, I was wondering if you could help me-”

“Ah,” Gale breathed, holding up a hand. He didn’t bother looking up from his own tome. “I’m afraid I don’t have time. Maybe later.”

By his tone, she assumed there really wouldn’t be a later. She kept her amiable smile up anyway. Letting them know that it hurt felt like manipulation and that wasn’t how she wanted to reopen the door to their relationship.

“That’s okay, I understand. I’ll let you get to it.” Letting the mask fall, she went back to her bed to put the journal away and went in search of Halsin. He was, of course, whittling away. It made a horrible mess, but Boo started to secret the shavings away to make a nest, so the problem took care of itself. Warm smile back in place, she approached him. “Halsin, if you wanted, I thought maybe you could teach me a bit more about herbs?”

Oh, sweet, honest Halsin. Watching him struggle to not wear his feelings on his sleeve was heartbreaking. Her smile undoubtedly faltered as this rejection stung even more than Gale’s. Not letting the bitterness come past her throat, she spoke before he could find the right words. “It’s okay, nevermind. That one is coming along nicely, by the way.”

Stoically, Rowan sat down on her bed and stared at the floor. Nearby, Lae’zel was using the open space to practice her stances. She stopped and came to stand in front of Rowan, looking down on her with her usual glare. Not long ago, that glare had been open and warm.

“Your presence is disturbing,” Lae’zel told her bluntly, “and your deception makes you untrustworthy.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Rowan thought about arguing, that she’d explained as best she could, but she knew it was no use. Instead, she smiled. “Thank you for telling me.”

“That was not a compliment,” Lae’zel remarked with a tilt of her head, clearly confused about Rowan’s reaction.

“I’m just happy that someone said it clearly instead of lying to me.”

“T’Chk. Humans,” Lae’zel muttered as she went back to her own room.

Alone, Rowan packed her meager belongings into her bag and stuffed whatever didn’t fit into her pockets. She briefly considered leaving Astarion a note, but Gale was still in their room and she had other ways of letting him know where she went. Standing at the door, she looked back at Withers. After giving him a nod, she slipped out before anyone else could notice.

Rowan didn’t have anywhere to go. She had no family, no friends except the ones who were pushing her away. Withers would find her when he needed to, as was his way. She thought about staying at the Szarr Palace, but it felt a little disturbing, staying at the place her beloved was tortured in for 200 years.

Thus, her feet took her to Rolan’s tower, where she was greeted by Cal.

“Ah! Our most valued customer!” he called happily, throwing his arms out wide. This caught the attention of Lia, who wandered over.

“It’s nice to see you enjoying the role of magical item purveyor,” Rowan joked with a smile, happy to be greeted with even a fraction of that mirth. “I was expecting the projection.”

“Well, I was bored. And I’m pretty good at this. Must be the personal touch,” Cal explained with a smug smile.

“What are you doing here? Still the party mule?” Lia asked playfully, looking at her bags. On the way over, Rowan tried to find the words to explain her situation without sounding broken. Or like a freak.

“I’m sorry, I just need to speak with Rolan?” She tried to keep her voice from cracking, but something in her tone gave her away. Lia and Cal’s happy faces faltered into slight worry.

“Y-yeah, he’s at the tower, trying to figure out those magic cannons…” Lia explained and waved her on so that she could show the way. Once there, Lia awkwardly hovered before excusing herself.

At first, Rolan was distracted by what he was doing. Normally, she’d admire how cute he was when deep in thought, but today wasn’t a normal day. His face lit up to see her, only to fall into panicked confusion as Rowan suddenly broke into tears.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what I did?” he said apologetically, approaching like someone might approach a wounded cat on the street.

“It’s not you,” she sobbed and managed to pull herself together before he had to do something very embarrassing, like pat her on the shoulder and say “there, there.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t think I’d do that.”

“What brought you here?”

“It’s kind of… complicated.” Rowan slipped the pack off her shoulder and dug around in it. Eventually she produced a journal and held it out to him. Rolan hesitated but ultimately took it. “I've tried taking notes.”

He flipped through a few pages before letting out a hesitant chuckle. “Surely Gale is much more knowledgeable than me.”

“Gale…” Rowan looked away. “They don't really want me around now.”

Not knowing what to say, Rolan returned his attention to the journal. Sadness gave way to confusion which turned into excitement. “If I am understanding this correctly… You're not a necromancer so much as an extraplanar balancer? But instead of remaining changed, your body is able to transfer that energy into something else?”

“I have some theories, but not really any way to know if they’re true.”

“This is a very interesting discovery… Likely due to the mysterious nature of your transfer to our plane…” he trailed off with an academic’s hum. “A devil told you that you have no soul? And here you claim that you assumed this to be true in order to… interrupt a vampire lord’s deal with Mephistopheles?”

Rowan let out a small self-satisfied giggle. “Oh, yeah, that was kinda fun. Idiot didn't see it coming.”

“And you’re storing him in a place between planes?”

“That was actually difficult to figure out on my own.” A little confident that Rolan was leaning towards “fascinated” and not “burn the witch at a stake,” Rowan released Cazador’s body from her care with a flick of her hand. Lifelessly, the vampire popped into existence as an expanding black ooze and fell a few inches to the floor with a soft thud. Hesitant, but curious, Rolan stepped closer and nudged the body with his shoe. Demonstration complete, Rowan remanded the body to her extraplanar care once more.

“I can see why the others are hesitant…” Rolan started to say. Rowan’s heart sank.

“It's okay. I can stay at the vampire’s place. Not like he can argue.” Rowan put her pack on her back and held out her hand for the journal. Rolan was lost in thought reading it, but eventually snapped out of it.

“No, stay here, please. Cal and Lia- We would be happy to have you.” Rolan was awkward and nervous, but that usually happened around her. If it was any comfort, he was much more interested in her notes than Gale had ever been.

“I shouldn’t be in your way.”

“There’s plenty of space, it won’t be any trouble.”

“I’ll make dinner to celebrate. If you don’t mind.”

“Like old times!” Rolan said happily with an awkward chuckle. He held up her journal. “Do you mind if I study this some more? This is fascinating.”

“Sure. I can add to it when I think of anything else.” She started to walk back the way she came, but he stopped her.

“I’m sure your friends will come around eventually. When I saw you all, you looked like… a family, of sorts. It reminded me of Cal and Lia.” Rowan crushed him in an embrace, burying her face in his chest. First he gaped in surprise, then laughed and patted her on the back. Cal and Lia came out of hiding from around the corner and turned it into a group hug. Rolan grunted. “This is getting ridiculous.”

“You know you like it,” Cal insisted, teasing. Rolan’s tail briefly wagged back and forth before he subdued it.

----

Upon returning from the day’s adventure, Astarion neither saw nor smelled Rowan. It was a shame, because he really could have used one of her head massages. He looked around their rooms at the Elfsong, even checked the roof, tavern proper, and the sitting area outside. When he came back inside with no luck, he put his hands on his hips and addressed the group. “Has anyone seen Rowan?”

“Mmm… I don’t think so. Maybe she stepped out for some air?” Karlach answered, giving it some serious thought.

“Her things are gone, I don’t think that’s ‘stepping out.’”

“Perhaps she’s staying at the palace? She’s there all the time now anyway,” Shadowheart remarked, chin in hand.

“Am I really the only one worried?” Astarion asked in disbelief.

“She’s practically a small god that we all watched die and come back to life unharmed, I don’t think she’s in much trouble,” Gale remarked in his critical wizardly way.

Astarion let out a low annoyed sound from the back of his throat. “There are villains running around, doing gods know what, like shackling asimar, and you think the little innocent human is safe and sound in Baldur’s Gate?”

“Careful, Astarion, you’re starting to sound concerned, in a lovesick hero sort of way,” Wyll remarked. Astarion huffed as they all laughed and tittered.

“I’m surrounded by idiots,” he muttered as he walked away toward his bed. Changing into more comfortable clothes, he was down to his underwear when Halsin darkened his doorway. As if on instinct, Astarion went from broody to smiley and flirtatious. “What can I do for you, my big snuggly druid? Need something to take your mind off this city of stone and cruelty?”

Halsin made a noise like a short chuckle to acknowledge the question, but not take the bait. His eyes were soft, sympathetic. They sometimes reminded Astarion of the way Rowan would look at him when he said something particularly awful about himself.

“You should find Rowan, wherever she went.” Astarion got to his feet quickly, his posture stiff and hands balled into fists.

“What do you know?”

“That her only place was here, and we drove her out,” Halsin explained, openly ashamed. “I should have helped… but I didn’t. I’m afraid I pushed her away because I didn’t understand.”

“None of you do,” Astarion ground out, raising his arm just slightly with the urge to clock the man, but what would that accomplish?

“I made an effort to accept you, despite being unnatural,” Halsin started after accepting the chastisement, “but I did not extend that courtesy to her. The undead have always been here… but Rowan is a blank page in the druid’s guidebook.”

Astarion was so annoyed. Halsin was being perfectly reasonable and it annoyed him. He was annoyed with all of them, with Rowan, with-

Astarion pushed past Halsin without an explanation. Curious, Halsin and many pairs of eyes followed as the near-naked elf stalked up to Withers, who gave him the most bored look possible.

“You’re responsible for Rowan, are you not?” Astarion asked tersely. Some of the others stopped what they were doing to draw closer and listen in.

“Thou art-” Astarion waved his hand dismissively, brows furrowed in frustration.

“Quit it, I know you’re faking it, any imbecile can tell you use that language incorrectly. Just answer the question.”

“Yes,” Withers replied, drawing out the word.

“How? How did you bring Rowan here?”

“That is not important.”

“Yes, it is. It might not be important to you, but it is important to us.” Withers sighed, a sound like papers sliding against each other.

“The spark that you know as Rowan flitted across my domain, as sparks from their realm sometimes do. This time, I did not watch it pass into oblivion.”

“Why?” Gale asked, surprising Astarion enough to bleed out some of his irritation and lose just a bit of his composure. At least the wizard cared to engage in this conversation. Withers gave him a brief bored glance.

“To see if it would be useful in the conflict to come.”

“You kept Rowan from her afterlife?” Karlach piped in, a mix of anger and sadness.

“There is no afterlife for the denizens of Rowan’s realm. They hold no souls. They are merely electricity. They were on their way to non-existence.”

“That’s how she stopped Cazador’s ritual. She took Astarion’s place and Mephistopheles would have been cheated out of a soul,” Gale remarked more or less to himself, stroking his beard in thought. “Very clever, if I do say so myself.”

“Is she useful enough for you?” Astarion asked forcefully, practically spitting the words like a curse. Karlach put a hand on his shoulder. He let it be for just a moment before shaking it off.

“I believed they would break under the weight of their reality. By sacrificing the memories of their life, Rowan rewrote fate to become stronger for their new companions.” This stunned them. Even Gale, whose stoicism was easily mistaken as indifference. “I did not know what path they would take. Sparks are unpredictable. They scorch and fade. This spark burned bright and refused to fade. It is a thing that suffers, for a price.”

“Memories,” Astarion said quietly to himself, almost understanding. The taste of a grandmother’s fresh cookies. The warmth of a mother’s embrace. Watching fireflies flicker in the darkness of a summer night.

“A fraction of soul,” Withers corrected, just slightly exasperated by Astarion’s romantic interpretation. “Rowan is molding a soul.”

“That’s… awful,” Wyll said with apparent disgust, overlapped by Karlach commenting, “That’s so sad.”

“It is but a grain of a soul in a field of grains. You might as well complain that they have taken your discarded boots in order to walk in your steps.”

“Does she know what she’s doing?” Halsin asked very seriously.

“A question that implies maliciousness. They are merely harvesting energy with pain and sorrow, like a wizard manipulates the Weave or an archer draws a bow. The arrows they are forging now will be most useful.” For Withers, the tone was practically glowing praise. He was satisfied that his little experiment bore fruit.

“So you brought her here to suffer?” Karlach accused.

“They chose to suffer, where so many before them could not reconcile their fate. They were doomed to fade into nothingness.”

Astarion almost chewed through his cheek listening to the sometimes smug, but mostly deadpan, explanations Withers gave. Rather more aggressively than necessary, he asked them all, “There! Are you happy now? Convinced that she’s not some monster come to destroy us from within?”

“If she wants to come back… I will not object,” Gale said magnanimously. Karlach rolled her eyes.

“Come off it, Magic Man. After all that?” Karlach thwacked Gale in the chest out of annoyance. Gale rubbed the pain away.

“What? I never said it wasn’t sad. I have a heart, you know.” Shadowheart and Wyll shook their heads. Gale realized what he said and to whom it was said. “I apologize. Merely a turn of phrase.”

It wasn’t a satisfying answer, but it would have to do. Astarion stalked off toward his room to finish putting on clothes and fail to read a book for the next hour.

Astarion didn’t want to, but he’d go by the Szarr Palace tomorrow to check on Rowan. She might have known much larger cities, but they didn’t have the Gate’s unique dangers. She may have strange powers, but that didn’t make her untouchable.

Karlach followed him. “Fangs.”

“Yes, my fiery friend?” There was a smirk on his lips, but it was a mask he commonly put on to avoid questions.

“That was all… news to you, right?”

“Rowan never spoke of it, but she often hides things that she thinks will hurt me. Perhaps even she doesn’t know the truth. But I had to get it out of him or else I’d have to leave you sorry lot behind.” Karlach went from worried to distressed.

“You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

“Darling, the first thing to ever matter to me in this world ran away while I was gone because, somehow, after coming this far, we’re still just a bunch of judgemental pricks.” Astarion sighed and clicked his tongue. “It’s not your fault. Maybe a little. But not as much as some people.”

Karlach looked down at the floor for a moment, her bulky mass curled forward to appear a little smaller. Then she straightened up and looked him in the eye. “When you see her, tell her I’m sorry. I’d like to see her at least once before we either die to this big brain or my engine explodes.”

Astarion was probably supposed to say something comforting, like they wouldn’t let that happen, but instead he simply said, “I’ll let her know. She likes you. Knowing her, there’s already some massive hero’s feast waiting for you all.”

Karlach laughed and looked like her normal self again. “You’re probably right. She likes feeding people! Some more than others, am I right?”

“Careful, you might make me blush.”

---

Astarion found himself in the streets of Baldur’s Gate, navigating nighttime crowds. It was strange just… being. No Cazador haunting him. No desperate need to find a mark. He was just one of another thousand citizens wandering about, looking for a spot of fun or just some cold air to clear his head.

The people had no faces, but a mix of races and status. He had no real destination, merely walking along the main thoroughfare. It was a bit like window-shopping, inspecting clothing and glancing into tavern windows at jubilant patrons whose chattering made no sense.

A door caught his attention. The home emitted a warm welcoming light, but no one came or went. In fact, the style of it was odd, not matching anything he’d seen in all his years in Baldur’s Gate. But there was a plaque above the handle that stated “all welcome,” so why not?

“Ah,” Astarion said to himself, suddenly understanding where he was. This mess of a home could only belong to one person. Turning around, the streets of Baldur’s Gate were replaced by an elaborate garden. He wandered around, searching for Rowan, and noted that the place felt larger. Not only the size of the home she created, but the impermeable darkness that sat on the horizon looked further away.

He found her sitting at the edge of a field of flowers with a sapling growing in the middle. Her legs were stretched out in front of her, side-by-side, and her hands hung limply in her lap. She seemed… tired. She implied that her work was invigorating, but there was always a good chance that she was lying to spare his feelings. She was correcting his, well, not exactly mistakes. Regrets? He didn’t always regret them; it was to save his own hide and they were simply unlucky enough to meet him and be dumb enough to follow him home.

“I’m surprised to see you as yourself,” he said after watching her in silence, waiting for her to turn or acknowledge his presence in some way. This startled her, which startled him.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, giving their surroundings a confused glance before going back to staring ahead. Astarion lowered himself to sit beside her.

“Where are you?” he asked, earning another confused look. He chuckled and waved a hand towards the starlit sky. “You know. Out there.”

“Oh. Rolan’s.”

“I’m hurt. Here I am, all alone and you’ve got a little friend.” He was, actually, at least a little hurt. The more considerate side of him knew that it was probably hard for her to lose her place in their little band.

“No one can look at me the same now,” Rowan explained sadly. “I get it. I knew that things would change when everyone found out. But it still sucks, being treated like I stabbed a baby in front of them.”

It was easy to understand why they froze her out, but they were idiots. Rowan changed that ghoul back into a Gur like it was nothing. Leon was human and it cost but fleeting discomfort. Of course, the older spawn took a heavier toll, and he had to wheedle that information out of her. She was afraid he'd deny being remade a mortal for her benefit, not because he decided he liked being a vampire spawn.

Until his confrontation with Withers, the others couldn't see that there was potential here. He couldn't figure out what that potential was, but it was surely there.

Well, that was a bit of “Old Astarion” thinking. Always considering usefulness.

“My sweet,” he called to her, not a purr or flirtation. She turned those brilliant eyes to him and he realized that there was no doubt in his mind that this was a two-way relationship. It was mutually-assured destruction in the most beautiful way. “Even in all the exciting bloodshed and hilarious misfortunes of this adventure, I still miss coming back to you.”

Rowan tried to restrain the smile that bloomed on her face and turned away when she couldn’t. Astarion smirked and crawled over to her. She laughed and tried to push his face away when his breath tickled her neck. Unfortunately for her, he could be relentless.

This place always felt like an oasis. It rescued him when memories and nightmares of Cazador threatened to tear him apart. Knowing it was a part of Rowan and not just some tadpole-induced hallucination, it was… safe. Properly safe. It reacted to her moods and needs. It even reacted to him sometimes. Or perhaps that was her anticipating him, which was romantic in its own creepy way.

Astarion had her pinned and was playfully nipping her neck when Rowan told him to stop. But when he dismissed it, claiming she was laughing too much to want him to stop, she cried, “I’m serious!”

He was angry, because the rejection hurt, but more than that, he was scared that he’d done something wrong that meant this was all over. He wrestled with those emotions as Rowan sat up, a pensive look in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Astarion was the first to say. “I don’t know what I did. Please don’t-”

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I have something serious to tell you. I should’ve stopped you sooner,” she explained with a slight waver in her voice, despite trying to appear firm. It didn’t really make him feel any better. She did seem properly apologetic and guilty about it. His jaw clenched and he had to force his hands to lay flat on his thighs. A thousand possibilities raced through his head, pulling him into a death-spiral of negative thoughts. “You’re going to be really angry with me. It’s okay if you are.”

“I’ll decide that,” he said defiantly, finally loosening his jaw before he cracked a tooth. Rowan weighed her words, but by the way she spoke, it was apparent that he wasn’t the only one who practiced conversations.

“I… kept Cazador.” Astarion’s brows drew together. “You know… like Withers can ‘keep’ people?”

He stared at her blankly. Gears started to turn and his eyes sharpened, and he looked as if he would love nothing more than to plunge that dagger over and over into her. “You WHAT?!”

Instinctively, Rowan shrank away. For some time, she imagined all the ways Astarion would react to her confession. He was right to be furious with her and she knew it. That didn’t stop her from flinching, expecting a blow that wouldn’t come. He was angry, but not that angry. Angry enough to hurl a string of Elvish curses at her, stand up and stomp around a bit, bare his fangs and pierce her with a glare.

She was expecting him to leave, but he wore himself out instead.

Rowan was shuddering like a leaf and, drained of his initial outrage, that hurt him. Astarion had dealt with a lot of pain over the years, but this was new. He was hurt that he made her afraid, but also that she took his venom like she deserved it. She did deserve every bit of his rage. Keeping Cazador, when he was so relieved to know he would never see the bastard again? The betrayal stung.

“Why?” he eventually sobbed, hot angry tears stinging his eyes. “Why would you keep him alive? To turn him back? After all he’s done to me?”

“What? No! Why would I do that? He was awful!” she cried, almost like she was shocked that this was the conclusion he’d come to. It was so unexpected that she had trouble with her response. “I’m gonna, well, in a sense, I guess… absorb him?”

“What?!” Despite the nature of their conflict, Rowan got that academic look on her face like when she was talking to Gale or Withers or reading a particularly interesting book.

“I don’t know how yet, but I’m fairly certain that I could… squeeze the power out of him?” She demonstrated this by making a motion like wringing out a wet dish rag. “I thought about eating him. Like just turn him into mush, but that was silly. I also considered turning him into vampire dust and rubbing it on myself but that seems too… sensual.”

“What is the matter with you?” Astarion breathed in disbelief, a light chuckle in his voice as he shook his head. It was so utterly baffling, and a little endearing, that he nearly forgot he was angry with her. “Where is he, anyway? Here?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s under that tree,” she answered dismissively, waving toward the sapling. Then she second-guessed herself. “Or he is the tree? It’s not like how we’re here, it’s not him. He can’t come out and start spouting bullshit. He’s just sort of… around? Like air is around. Or dirt.”

Astarion took a deep breath. In the real world, it would’ve been reflexive, as he didn’t need to breathe. Here, it actually made him feel better to engage in these little acts of mortality. Eventually, he sighed and Rowan snapped back into the moment.

“I’m sorry. I’ll accept it if you never want to see me again. I’ll scatter his atoms to the cosmos if that’s what you want. I just… It wasn’t a good time for you. I’ll only do it if you want me to.”

She was so sincere it was annoying. But she was right. If she’d asked his permission while he was covered in Cazador’s blood, he would’ve refused outright. He wanted that monster burned to ash, never to return again.

“And if you did gain his power? What would it look like?”

“I don’t know. I imagine it would allow me to do more. More fuel for the fire. I was really hoping for shapeshifting.”

Astarion considered it. He laughed.

“Before, I was going to make sweet love to you under the stars with no one around to bother us,” he told her cheerfully, playfully wagging a chastising finger. More darkly, but still sweet, with the threatening sexual allure of a vampire in a romance novel, he went on, “Now, I’m going to fuck you into the dirt. I think that’s more than a fair punishment for you, my sweet little treasure.”

Rowan gaped at him, eyes wide in shock. He was worried he’d gone a little too far, but he had to maintain his cool demeanor or else he’d lose all self-respect. Then he noticed her flush and squirm in that familiar way. She was receptive, but nervous. “Of course, I forgive you, whether I get to ‘punish’ you or not.”

Rowan visibly relaxed. Then she side-eyed the field of flowers surrounding the sapling. “May I suggest the other garden?”

“Oh, yes, haven’t I been through enough?” Hooking his fingers into the collar of her shirt, he led the way a little too quickly. “Come along, lovely!”

Astarion made good on his promise and that promise left them both sweaty and tired on the soft ground. No prying eyes, eavesdropping ears, or pressing matters, he laid his head on her chest and turned into a puddle from the sweet little touches she offered him. Possessively, he weighed her down with leg and arm, so she could only leave when he was done listening to the rhythmic beat of her heart.

“Karlach says she’s sorry,” he eventually said, idly tracing nonsense lines on her skin. Sometimes she shivered from his touch and it filled him with wicked satisfaction. “I made them understand that they’re fools.”

“That so?” Rowan didn’t sound as pleased as he expected.

“I made Withers explain. That made more of an impression than anything I could have said.”

“Withers only says what Withers wants to say.”

“Perhaps, but I made a good show of twisting his arm.” When she had nothing else to say, he asked, “Did you know? How you got here, I mean.”

“I figured it out. Eventually.”

A moment of silence passed. Quietly, almost a whisper, he said, “A thing that suffers, destined to fizzle out.”

“Sounds like a lot of people I know,” Rowan remarked with a small amount of humor. With a ghost of a touch, she stroked the length of his exposed ear. A gasp of pleasure and just a little bit of pain escaped his lips, followed by a growl as he playfully bit her. Any blood drawn on this plane was unsatisfying, but here he felt no hunger. It was just an instinctual delight to sink teeth into her flesh.

“It made me a little sad. Hearing him talk about you like that,” Astarion admitted, twisting what he could get of her hair around his finger. “My little spark. Caught on your way to oblivion. If only I could say something romantic, like… ‘Brought here just to make me love again’ or ‘Destined to drag me away from my own worst self’.”

Rowan had nothing to say, just smiled softly at him.

“Will you live forever, do you think? Since you’re… dead, technically.”

“Why? Are you imagining forever with me?” Astarion scoffed playfully.

“I’m trying to plan for my future, darling. Assuming I have one.”

“You’re not much of a planner.”

“If you must know… I don’t want you to be lonely.” Astarion gagged at the sappy sweetness of his own words. His ears would’ve burned red if there was any blood to spare. “I’m sure someone like Gale could keep you company for a good while, assuming he doesn’t find some way to blow himself up.”

“I can be lonely, it’s okay.”

“Well I’m deciding that, should you be immortal, I will make sure you’re not lonely. Even if it means I will never see the sun again.” Astarion paused, worried about something in the back of his mind. Trying to sound more confident than self-conscious, he added, “If you’ll have me.”

“As long as it’s your choice.”

“Good. Because it is. Besides, if I change my mind, you can just change me back to a mortal. And then, if I change my mind again, I can find a vampire.” Rowan’s face was not humored. “I’m joking. Mostly.”

“I’ll be happy with what time we have together, long or short.”

“Ugh. So sweet you’ll make me sick.”

“You were about to cry thinking about me being alone.”

“I’ll never admit it.” Rowan reached up, hooked her index finger behind his ear, and ran her thumb inside the pointed shell of it, exactly how he liked it. Astarion’s eyes fluttered closed as a groan escaped his throat. Regaining his wits, he smirked and said, “You’ll never get it out of me.”

“I’ll get something out of you.”

It was amazing how these moments felt like they went on forever.

----

With cold, analytical eyes, Rowan looked down at the bloodied corpse at her feet. It shuddered suddenly.

“Bastard,” Leon grumbled, checking his shoe to see if any blood got on it. Despite the emotionally dulling effects of the de-vampirification, they all still had a special amount of disdain for their former sire.

“Are you sure he won’t wake up?” Sebastian asked at her other shoulder, eyeing the dead vampire lord with a mixture of fear and anger.

“No coffin, no gravedirt. Amanita assured me that he’s dead as a doornail,” Rowan answered with a bit of warmth. Cazador’s niece, now cured of her accursed affliction, gave up everything she knew about vampires and her family history. Without the eternal hunger for blood, Amanita was free to be herself once more.

“Have you figured it out yet?” Leon asked as he inspected the corpse more closely. “Vampire dust is always useful. I’ve heard you can make their fangs into some nasty arrows…”

“I thought about drinking his blood… I’d rather not. Seems gross.”

“As long as you don’t bring him back.” Rowan gave Sebastian a look that said “don’t be silly.” The last thing she wanted to do was give Cazador back his humanity. Elf-ity. Whatever.

“But what if you did?” Leon flicked through her notebook, which she got back from Rolan. “Just not all the way?”

“Mmm…” Rowan rubbed her chin in thought. “My… realm probably sits next to others related to death. If I could find the part of him that’s there…”

“Sounds dangerous to do alone,” Sebastian pointed out.

“If I went there, yes. I think Leon’s onto something. He’s a vampire just like you, just a little more dead. Maybe if I was a little more dead…” She took the notebook from Leon and started writing down her considerations. “Could one of you help me out and bring down the keg I brought with me?”

“I should check on Victoria anyway,” Leon said before setting off for the stairs.

“What will this accomplish?” Sebastian asked once they were alone.

“My power isn’t limitless. If a vampire’s spawn gives me a tiny bit, surely a vampire lord would be quite the stockpile.” Sebastian didn’t seem to quite understand, but it wasn’t really encouraging to say “I have no idea.” “You don’t have to stay, you know. I’ve really appreciated all of your help.”

“I… still don’t know what I want to do,” he admitted, shy and sad. Looking at his hand, he said, “Do I want to stay like this? Everyone I knew is gone…”

“You should flip a coin.”

“Ah, leave it to fate?”

“Not really. You don’t even need the coin.” Rowan imitated flipping a coin and said aloud, “Stay a vampire.”

“No!” Sebastian cried out immediately, surprising himself. After a stunned moment, realization came to him. “I see what you mean.”

“Now for another decision.” Once more, Rowan imitated flipping a coin. “Punch Astarion in the face.”

“Was I supposed to argue?” Rowan laughed in response. “I’m expecting some monastic lesson on the power of letting things go.”

“It’s kind of up to you, yeah? He broke your heart, got you killed, turned into a spawn, and your life will never be the same. I’m not gonna convince you to let that go. Besides, it’s not like I’ve given all of these spawn a choice, I’m not unrelentlessly fair.”

“How… do you mean?”

“I’m only a little ashamed to say that I just kill some of them.” Sebastian gaped at her in complete shock. His opinion of her was suddenly under great review. “I know what they did. Not all of them were like you. Some of them set out to hurt Astarion and the others- and did, some quite terribly. I gave those no choice. They’re lucky I didn’t rip them to shreds.”

For the first time, Sebastian was a little scared of her. There was an uncharacteristic sharpness in her words, but with some restraint. She was trying not to relish passing judgment on those who hurt someone dear to her.

“I’m not going to tell you not to, and Astarion will most likely take it without a fight,” she started calmly and matter-of-factly, but with humor added, “although he’ll have a lot of words to say about ruining his pretty face,” before going back to her original tone to finish with, “but you might want to consider that trying to get retribution won’t really help how you feel.”

“Were you, like, a cleric or something?” Sebastian asked after absorbing her words.

“I was somewhere between a wizard and an artificer. This is just, kinda… general life advice. There’s a lot more time for thinking when living isn’t really a day-to-day problem.”

Silently, they stared at Cazador’s body.

“Is the world doomed?” Sebastian asked, obviously afraid, but with a modicum of acceptance. His world had already ended once. Rowan shot him a charming smile that she learned from mirroring Wyll.

“The world is always doomed!”

“That’s not very reassuring…”

----

The sun was set by the time the group got back to the Elfsong. Astarion felt like a dried out sponge, which was ironic considering they were just underwater.

When something in the tavern set off his ‘danger’ senses, he blamed it on this complete and utter exhaustion.

Apparently Karlach, Gale, and Shadowheart still had enough energy to be very animated upon reaching the top of the stairs.

“Who are you?!” Karlach growled, greataxe already in-hand. Gale’s fingers sparked with electricity.

At the door to their rented rooms was a figure. Even when stooping, it was clearly tall. Clad in leathers, armed. It was caught handling a small keg that rested next to the door. Astarion’s hands went to his own swords as he eyed the dagger on the figure’s hip. It seemed… familiar. The figure turned its face slowly towards them and that felt familiar too. Auburn plaited hair, carefully manicured beard, and--

The most beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen.

Astarion pushed through his companions with an eagerness he didn’t even think possible after the day’s events. The figure straightened up and caught the elf in its arms as he cried out happily, “Rowan, my love!”

This Rowan was strong enough not to be bowled over by all of Astarion’s weight being thrown at him. Instead, it cradled one arm under his backside, letting the legs wrapped around its waist do most of the work. The others stared, mouths hanging open in shock. The door to their rooms opened, revealing those left behind. They looked ready for a fight, but lowered their weapons as they, too, became confused.

“I was hoping no one would see me,” Rowan muttered bashfully, blushing as Astarion showered attention upon his new physical visage. “I didn’t want to make a big deal of this.”

“What’s… going on?” Wyll asked uncertainly, sheathing his rapier.

“Oh, Wyll, nothing interesting, just my handsome Rowan showing off his favorite outfit!” Astarion told him teasingly, absolutely radiating cheer and bubbles as he traced the length of Rowan’s new nose with a delicate finger. A lot less gracefully than he would’ve liked, he detached himself.

“Is anyone a little… disturbed, right now?” Shadowheart remarked, gesturing towards Astarion as he excitedly flitted around Rowan to inspect every new feature.

“It’s a little cute…” Karlach started as she relaxed, “but also I’m very confused.”

“It’s Rowan. Not that confusing,” Astarion told her with a little laugh. Rowan pulled something out of his bag and held it out to Gale. It looked like any ordinary jar.

“Rolan said vampire dust is useful. I thought you should have it,” he explained like he was making an offering to a god. Gale took it and turned it over in his hands.

“Please tell me he suffered,” Astarion pleaded with sadistic satisfaction, playing with the ring that now fit on one of Rowan’s fingers. Before Rowan could answer, he waved the question away hastily. “Nevermind. I’m past Cazador. New you, new me, hmm?”

“That’s a relief. It wasn’t really an interesting story.”

“I fail to see how that’s possible,” Gale said, putting the jar of dust away in his pack. “I would be most interested in hearing this explanation.”

“Well, you’ll have to wait until I’m done with him,” Astarion rebutted with a wicked grin on his lips. He ran his tongue over a fang and Rowan covered his face so the others couldn’t see the beet-red flush that colored his face. Most everyone went back to what they were doing before, either to avoid further embarrassment or boredom. “I was ready to call it a day, but the night is young.”

“Stoooop,” Rowan whined, a sound that didn’t really suit his new form. Thankfully, Astarion learned a lesson about crossing a line, so he hooked arms with Rowan instead of unleashing another slew of raunchy one-liners.

“Let’s go back downstairs and I’ll buy you a drink,” he purred. Meanwhile, Karlach was inspecting the small barrel Rowan was leaving for them.

“What’s in this? Booze?” Rowan stared at her blankly as he tried to turn his brain back on.

“Vampire booze,” he eventually answered meekly.

“Like… a whole barrel of blood?” Karlach asked nervously, a small uncertain chuckle escaping her throat.

“Yeah. It’s mine,” Rowan clarified quickly, having considered that might come up as a point of concern. Of course, it’d been marked with the same label he’d pasted on the magically-warmed wine bottle, so Astarion would’ve known what it was.

“That’s almost as adorable as it is creepy,” Shadowheart said with a laugh. “Almost.”

“Drink. Now,” Astarion barked, annoyed that he was no longer the center of Rowan’s attention.

“Okay, but Sebastian and Leon were waiting for me.”

“Ah. That was the weird feeling I got.”

“There’s a sixty-percent chance Sebastian’s gonna punch you in the face.”

Gale turned back around on his heel, giving up on going to bed. “I think I could use a small libation before turning in for the night.”

“Go to bed!” Astarion screeched. Gale followed anyway.

Upon seeing Leon and Sebastian in the tavern, Astarion tensed. Rowan patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t tense up.”

“Make sure your thumb is on the outside and the power comes from your hips,” Karlach said to Sebastian, demonstrating the technique for him.

“Who’s side are you on!” Astarion cried angrily. A moment later, he was seeing stars as he was trying to pick himself up off the sicky tavern floor. At first, he shoved Rowan’s helping hands away, angry that he’d brought Sebastian, but eventually he relented.

“You’re right. That didn’t really make me feel better,” Sebastian remarked, flexing his hand. “Well. Maybe a little.”

“I’m glad.” Astarion was, in fact, not glad. Then Sebastian offered him a goblet of wine. Hesitantly, Astarion took it. “I don’t deserve this.”

“I��m not forgiving you,” Sebastian said, understanding that Astarion meant the gesture and not the drink. “I just don’t want to live the rest of my life angry.”

With that, Sebastian left with Leon. Astarion sipped his wine, letting the familiar sour flavor wash over his tongue. Psychologically, it tasted better than usual. Lost in thought, he startled when Rowan’s hair tickled his ear.

“Wanna sneak into that room upstairs?” he whispered in a deep voice Astarion had only heard in dreams. It sent a thrill up his spine.

“Maybe after a few drinks,” Astarion purred in response, voice low. “That’s why I brought you down here, afterall.”

“As long as you don’t make me pay, like last time.”

Astarion clicked his tongue and huffed. “You’re no fun.”

It was late, and they were able to keep one of the secluded tables to themselves. Rowan was about five drinks deep before Astarion felt comfortable broaching a sensitive subject.

“There’s something I’ve been… considering.” Rowan lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. He really bumbled his way through the last thing he said, which made Astarion cackle, but it was embarrassing enough that he wasn’t going to try again unless necessary. “You told me once that you’d help me… relearn what I like. How I want to be treated.”

“Hell yeah, brother,” Rowan answered without thinking. Astarion closed his eyes and covered his face as Rowan profusely apologized for saying something stupid. Then he smiled, putting Rowan at ease.

“I’ve been thinking that, once this is all over, I want to-” With a shake of his head, he laughed at himself. He felt foolish to even suggest this. “I want… to find you. In a tavern, much like this, whatever’s left standing. Maybe as yourself, or like this, or something else entirely. And we’ll play a game, of sorts. Where we don’t know each other. Just two thirsty individuals, finding a moment of peace in a city ravaged by tragedy. I’ll make you feel special, invite you back to my place, get your guard down…”

Rowan nodded. A lot. Way more than necessary. “I get it. Relive a bad memory. But you’re in control and it’s with someone you trust.”

“I don’t know that I thought of it that eloquently.”

“Mmm, is a thing. People do. Heard about it,” Rowan explained rather not eloquently. Astarion chuckled. “You still wanna go upstairs?”

“It wouldn’t have mattered before, but I’m concerned that you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

“I’m more tired than drunk. Being big has its advantages.”

“Don’t worry, I know what to do-” Rowan reached across the table and took Astarion’s face in his hands. They met in the middle with a strong, slightly sloppy, kiss. Astarion groaned in the back of his throat and when they parted, he whispered, “You smell amazing.”

“You smell like fish slime.” Rowan grunted and could only mumble a correction as Astarion pushed him away with a hand over his mouth.

“Have you no sense of romance!” Astarion huffed and acted put-out, arms crossed, face in a pout. Then he laughed. “You’re lucky I like that pathetic look on your face.”

Rowan’s head lowered a few more inches. Quite humbly, he answered, “I’m your pathetic little creature.”

The table shuddered. Neither of them said anything. Then Rowan asked uncertainly, “You okay?”

“My knee hurts,” Astarion mumbled in embarrassment from behind his hand.

“I’ll kiss it better.” Rowan made an exaggerated kissy face. Astarion made a grossed-out noise. More seriously, he said, “Pick the lock on that door and I’ll wait for you while you get a bath.”

“Mmm… Keep you waiting on me while I get pretty? How devilish.”

When Astarion returned to Stelmane’s old room, now a lot less murder-scene-y, he found Rowan passed out on the bed.

“Oh, darling. Whatever am I going to do with you?”

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #Rowan OC #a non hero's guide #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #bg3 tav #original character #titus writes #titus post #text post #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion

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sunshinelulusplatoon · 6 months

Text

4 months ago:

Lilia.

At first she was confused.

Then tears seeing Orca again.

And then questions.

She was surprised to hear life had continued on Earth and that we had advanced so far to be able to reach here.

We were surprised to hear what happen to the humans.

Typical really; at least for me.

Population growth, different opinions that broke out into civil war, Obo got the idea to turn everybody into robots to protect the survivors of the depleting oxygen levels as the atmosphere they once created to let them live was now dying due to their actions.

Yet people put their fate into Obo and his terrible thirst for control let them all down a grim path. Stuck in a cruel hive mind, any left who had converted to wires and steel were being hunted down by Obo’s men.

And sadly, they got to the last of them.

As Lilia gave their graves blessings in hope for a peaceful afterlife, there was business still attend to.

Obo was building a rocket.

He wanted the hive mind to head back to Earth.

With the threat looming over us, we had no choice.

Target: heart of the colony to destroy Obo.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m so surprised the ink is effective,” Lilia remarked in complete shock as the squidbeaks were taking soldiers down one by one.

“Squid Ink is a funny thing. Texture and Strength makes it quite stronger than typical bullets and seeing the change of the atmosphere here and from Earth after so long, typical metal composite won’t stand a chance to it. It’s just get int the systems and gunk things up before it breaks,” Lutarna explained.

“And we Squidbeaks are quite use to combat,” Joey boasted.

“Our grandfather is military trained. So us, Joey, and Lutarna’s sister have been trained under him,” Marie explained.

“I’m from Octarian military as well. I was a top solider under King Octavio and have position in the palace guard,” Pixie replied.

“Octavio is my sister and I’s grandfather and we are also combat trained,” Lutarna remarked.

“And I..um..have been trained a little under my friends...I’m a good shooter,” Marcy hesitated.

“Marcy’s one of the best charger users I’ve seen. Can hit a mark miles away,” Joey chuckled.

Marcy just blushed in embarrassment.

“My mother and aunt have trained me as well as my grandfathers and cousins,” Jr. replied.

“So one big unit. Impressive. I hit the jackpot with sending out my help signal,” Lilia replied in relief, “I know we can stop Obo. We must. He can’t reach Earth.”

“And he won’t. We won’t let him. Right?” Joey replied sternly.

“RIGHT!” the rest of the Squidbeaks replied.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lilia giving us the floor plans of the colony, it wasn’t safe just walking in. We needed to take a back route. Sending in a squid drone, a project Joey asked me to work on, it went unnoticed as we got footage of the place; so low to the ground the robots couldn’t spot it.

Sure enough, although a long wrap around, we could easily take the back corridors and access the rail systems to go directly to Obo without being detected. We just had to be careful, sneak around, knock solders out to let Lilia through, and once there, deal with Obo.

Over the years in secret, Lilia had been devising a virus to inject into Obo’s main motherboard to destroy him and destroy the hive mind. The attack we had found her and the humans in, was an attempt to get to Obo to execute this virus into him.

So with getting all supplies we need, we made way on foot to the entrance of the corridors to make our journey.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You hear it...don’t you,” Lilia whispered as she noticed Lutarna tugging at her ears in annoyance.

Lutarna blinked; a look of confusion before sighing.

“Is it what I think I’m hearing?” Lutarna asked.

“I’m afraid so…..Their pain...crying out for freedom...sadly on a frequency most can’t heard,” Lilia sighed.

“….I’m glad they can’t hear it….” Lutarna replied.

“May I ask how?” Lilia questioned.

Lutarna looked at her for a moment before speaking.

“Head’s not all squishy,” Lutarna replied.

“I can tell from the phone pieces,” Lilia chuckled.

“Was once a phone,” Lutarna explained, “The became a octo.”

“I see….” Lilia replied.

Then the walk went silent again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taking a rest, things have been quite so far. As we figured, Obo has abandoned this pathways. With humans practically gone, he feels no need to bring robots here. I have a feeling he has caught on to our presence yet either.

That being said, I’m not sure if Lilia has caught on to what I am yet.

Or if I should even tell her.

#commander lutarna talks

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yourlocaldropout · 1 year

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an introduction

How do I put it into words? My dear reader, how do I describe this?

Today is the 4th of October, 2023. I want to write. I want to live. I’m afraid I can’t.

Oh, how hostile the world is towards young trans kids. Oh, how do I go on?

I surely sound dramatic to you, but I want to write about life, not write countless eulogies for loved ones who were victims of harassment, victims of hate crimes, victims of violence, victims of hatred in the name of a loving ��God’.

How do I go on in a world determined to turn me off? To unplug my hypothetical life support, taking my rights by first taking my dignity, fostering an environment of violence hiding behind protection. How ironic is that?

This is a story of a trans youth, spoken from my chest while hiding under my bible.

Where to begin? My dear reader, where do I start?

I was born. Technically, I wasn’t supposed to be born. My birth parents both wanted to abort me. They were hard drug addicts, and a newborn was too much work for them. They already didn’t take care of my birth sister, Kyleigh, or any of my countless other siblings who had already either moved out or been seized by the state. (Or went to jail.) Kyleigh was 2 years old when I was born. My birth father injected heroin into my birth mother’s veins as I was being born. Like, dude. Seriously.

Obviously, that didn’t help enough, so they went to the hospital. Leaving my then-2-year-old sister with some random person at the RV park they lived in. Did I mention it was in a fuckin’ RV park?

My birth grandma found my sister, who had piss and shit leaking out her diaper, and who was hungry. CPS took me immediately at the hospital, but I was rushed into the NICU anyways. I lived, grew up, now I’m here.

There’s so much to get into, I don’t even know where to start. I’ve tried writing out my story many times, but there was just too much.

I know the people I am writing about deserve to be punished, and people deserve to know what happened. I just don’t know how to tell you.

Thank you for your patience, my dear reader. Until next time.

Ghost

#transgender #protect trans kids #lgbtq #did system #ramcoa #religious trauma

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the-baddest-of-batches · 1 year

Text

Dar'Aliit: Chapter 6 - Personal Business (pt 1)

Sorry, no sneak peek bc I was away from the weekend. I'm gonna include a link here and pt 2 will be posted tomorrow!

13 BBY Nar Shadda

“Myren…” I look dubiously at the clothing bag. “You’re sure this is a different suit?”

I trust Myren’s fashion implicitly, mostly because she has a sense of fashion, and I don’t. But I cannot see the difference between this suit and yesterdays. Not to mention the day before that. The disappointed look on Myren’s face tells me that is no fault of the suit.

“Commander,” she pauses what she’s doing and faces me. “How many clothes do you own?”

I look off. “Well, two bodysuits, civvies, and a uniform. And now the suit you bought for me on Naboo.” The urge to defend myself sticks in my throat. After all, not many people own two bodysuits. You have to keep one clean at all times, given the fact we wear these things every day.

Myren nods. “I see.” She sighs. “Yes, it’s a different suit.”

I take her word on the matter and get dressed. Different or not, I do think I’m getting used to wearing clothing that would restrict my movement on a battlefield. I still don’t have to enjoy it.

I do however enjoy the slight blush on Myren’s face when I return to the room. And I am thankfully to see the dress she’s wearing is a different color. She is beautiful.

“Ready?” I ask and offer my arm. It’s awkward, I assume. I can feel the rest of the team staring. They can stare all they want.

“Yes,” Myren agrees.

“You’re beautiful by the way.” I can’t look her in the eyes when I say it. Someday, maybe.

I can however see the faint blush on her face from the corner of my eye.

“Thank you.”

With a deep breath, I attempt not to think about the comments that will be made later and lead her down stairs. We landed here three days ago. It’s harks back to a time I’ve almost forgotten, sneaking around undercover and trying to gather information. I never was good at being covert, but there’s high stakes.

And there’s high stakes sabbac, which I have to win today or else. My only two opponents left are Jabba and Molto Shore. Stopping future terrorist attacks will depend on whether Shore or I come out on top.

At least the one thing I have mastered is keeping my cool under pressure. We walk to the gambling floor. There’s plenty of spectators. I let Myren go, she probably won’t stay long today. It’s been nice to have her there, mostly because having her around is in many ways a nice distraction from the weight currently set on my shoulders.

I did win the ship wide Sabbac game, so I’m also partly to blame for throwing my lot in for this. The universe will be a better place if I win, though. And—I try not to smirk at the thought—we could buy so many weapons with the winnings. The pot is already millions.

Myren vanishes into a crowd. I take my seat. My team is with me. They make for some impressive bodyguards. I know they have my back, so there’s nothing to worry about. Nothing except the game of course.

Molto Shore isn’t my favorite person. I actually despise him, mostly because of how much trouble he’s gone to already and what he’s involved in. Terrorism is nothing light. But for now, I have to smile.

To everyone here at this table I’m Rinn, a former clone trooper who took up arms dealing after the war. Believable story, and not too far-fetched given my own disposition toward weapons. Beautiful things. Beautiful and deadly.

Here in the underbelly of the universe on the backstreets of Nar Shadda, deadly gets you places. So, I flash my deadliest smile at Shore, and let the game begin.

20 BBY Abandoned Outpost

“There.”

I wince as Shave finishes the injection. Bevik is already here with his helmet in his hands. He looks afraid to breathe, but clearly, it’s safe.

“How the heck does this work?” Aftermath asks. He’s messing with the medical instruments despite clear instruction to touch nothing.

Shave throws the empty injector at him, and Aftermath dodges it. It rattles onto a tray The medic glares at Aftermath. “It’s a neutralization agent what more do I need to explain?”

“Yeah but it’s not like the air is in the bloodstream.”

“This kills it off, okay? Just don’t worry about it.” Shave huffs. “Kian take you helmet off.”

“Sir yes sir,” I mutter and remove my helmet.

Aftermath snickers.

My face doesn’t burn near as bad here. Actually it’s been numb for a while along with my arm, which Shave already mostly treated. A wrenched shoulder and several fractures in my wrist. Nothing a little bacta and splints couldn’t heal.

As I look up at Shave, who also isn’t wearing his helmet now—he apparently tested the first batch of neutralizing agent on himself—I see him grimace. “You’re gonna need a real medbay for that,” he says and reaches for my head.

I close both eyes as the tape and gauze peels off. Now it hurts like hell.

“Aftermath, grab me a painkiller!”

“Thought I wasn’t supposed to touch anything.”

“I will stab you extra hard next time you need shots.”

“Coming,” Aftermath’s tone implies he’s rolling his eyes. In a few moments there’s a sting on my neck and after the briefest burning my skin is tingling and numb again.

“I’m going to clean this off and rebandage it,” Shave says. “Arm too, and then we’ll just have to wait until we get picked up.”

“Did we figure that out?” Bevik asks.

“Mer’en isn’t back, so I’m guessing now.” Aftermath comes and stands beside me. He puts out his hand. I blink sideways at him and take it and I realize why as soon as Shave touches my face with the cleaning spray. It burns worse than the acid. My hand clenches.

Aftermath squeezes my fingers. The burning subsides but I keep up the tight grip until all the bandages are applied.

“That should keep it all covered,” Shave helps me sit up. I glance at Aftermath and he just nods. It’s all the thanks he needs.

I lean forward and Bevik hops down to come over there. “Well, seeing as we’re going to be stuck here a while, shouldn’t we at least make something of it?”

“We need to stay alert in case of Clankers,” Shave reminds him.

“We are going to stay alert,” Bevik smirks. “What’s more alert than betting?”

“No!” Aftermath shoves over and sticks a finger in Bevik’s face. “I am not betting against you anymore! You cheat, and you steal and I always get stuck cleaning refreshers!”

Bevik laughs. I lean around Aftermath and cock an eyebrow at him. This is a horrible idea, but all my senses feel a little dull after the painkiller. I turn to Bevik. “What kind of betting?”

“Sabbac?”

I grin. “I’ll play.”

“You are making a mistake,” Aftermath tells me.

Shave laughs. “Not me, I’m out. You two can have fun.”

“C’mon!” I turn to Shave. “It’s no fun with only two people.”

“Nope.” Medic lifts his hands. “I owe too many rounds of beer to Bevik already.”

“And you’re gonna make good on that!” Bevik calls out. I laugh. Maybe I’m just loopy but I laugh anyway.

“Okay, so maybe not sabbac,” I offer. “How about Dejark?”

“You’re on!” Bevik slaps me on the back. “What’s the bet?”

I eye him cautiously. It’s always important to size up the other player. Aftermath says Bevik cheats, but everyone who’s a sore loser says that. Bevik is like me. He plays a good game, and he plays it well.

Take that Hook.

I blink at the thought and realize Bevik is still waiting for my answer. My head is too fuzzy to think of anything good so I hop down and just shrug. “How about a round of beers?”

“Perfect.” Bevik hooks his thumbs in his belt. “Three games. Winner buys the other guy drinks.”

“You’re on, vode.” Read on AO3 ->

#dar'aliit fanfic #read on ao3 #fanfic #clone wars #imperial agent #clone trooper oc #clone squad #star wars the clone wars #gambling #new chapter #part one #star wars fandom #romance #updated with timestamps

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city0f-dreams · 2 months

Text

Muse Profile: Deadpool/Wade Wilson

Heyyyyyy, people! …You know who this is. I’m not usually one to warn people before things turn ugly, but someone insists I tell you that my backstory involves mentions of cancer. Don’t worry, I don’t die…obviously. Now that that’s taken care of, click that “keep reading” when you’re ready!

“I know I turn everything into a joke, but…I care. And I want to use that feeling for something important. I wanna matter.”

Fandom: X-Men…? Marvel…? MCU…? F**k, buyouts make things complicated. Look, this is movie me, the one acted on screen by the guy who made a video game ripoff of the Truman Show. I’ve got that version’s backstory and lore, nothing from the comics or anywhere else. Got it?

Bio: The anti-hero mercenary known as Deadpool, real name Wade Wilson, has quite the tragic past…something you would never guess if you were to just go by his usual sarcastic demeanor. A former Special Forces operative, he picked up mercenary work and a fiery tongue after being discharged, shortly thereafter meeting his girlfriend, Vanessa. Unfortunately, some time after hooking up, Wade found out that he had cancer, one that had spread to his heart, brain, and lungs, among other places. Not wanting the one good thing in his life to be heartbroken by his death, Wade signed up for what he thought was an experimental program that would cure him; instead, it was weeks and weeks of torture in an attempt to unlock the mutant genes that they injected into him. He eventually gained a healing factor that left him incapable of dying, his body constantly building and destroying cells and leaving him in constant pain, and he was able to escape…but he was left scarred, disfigured, and mentally unstable in the process.

Afraid to go near Vanessa, Wade took up the name “Deadpool” and began to go after those close to the one who disfigured him, Ajax/Francis, in order to potentially return himself to his old looks. He wasn’t able to be fixed, but he was reunited with her, and along the way he made acquaintances with several members of the X-Men. Now, after adventures involving a rogue mutant boy, a time traveler, Fox being bought by Disney (call me when you’re ready for those contractually obligated cameos, Feige!), and refusing to let his home dimension die, Deadpool has started to lead a somewhat stabilized life taking up jobs as an unkillable mercenary. And with the entirety of the MCU available to him now, he’s ready to cause chaos with Earth’s most financially successful warriors.

Deadpool is primarily a wisecracker, unable to resist making a remark, whether he’s thought of something crude or not. He also suffers from a confusing, albeit persistent delusion that he is in a movie and is being viewed by an audience. Or do I? And don’t think I don’t see you people out there, too! Under the surface, however, he’s quite the sad clown: Unable to die and feeling like he doesn’t deserve to use his skills for good, he masks his depression and sadness with jokes. However, he does care, though more about his friends and those that keep him sane than about anything else. Why else would he do things like fighting the TVA when they were planning to erase his universe?

Verses:

V1: none of this is real; but it is real!-Wade’s default verse, a wisecracking mercenary taking up odd jobs and just in general showing up in random places to annoy people. Although firmly based on and up to date with the movie/MCU canon, he can show up anywhere and interact with anyone, considering his nature.

V2: the only good part of Origins honestly-This is a Wade who’s been discharged from the Special Forces and isn’t invincible or meta just yet, but is still snarky and very capable in combat. Fitting for a sci-fi/hardcore fantasy verse, or any thread where normal Deadpool just doesn’t fit.

Anything Else?: In case you haven’t figured it out yet, stuff highlighted in red in the narration is me doing what I do best. Well, besides killing people.

Also, if his meta stuff is getting a bit much for your liking, let me know and I’ll try to tone it down in threads together as much as I can while remaining IC.

#(getting to know you): muse profile #deadpool: the merc with a mouth

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looye29 · 2 years

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I decided to review ED Elixir simply because (like a lot of guys out there) I thought it was too good to be true. I mean, come on: A system that costs under a hundred bucks (WAY under) and treats erectile dysfunction naturally, no “little blue pills” needed? Keep on reading to learn the truth. What is ED Elixir? I’ll get to the ingredients in a couple of minutes but first, some backstory. Mike, the US Marine Corps veteran who created ED Elixir, stumbled upon this formula by accident after having a run-in with a dangerous penis injection that sent him to the hospital and almost cost him his ability to ever have sex again. Mike’s story definitely got my attention. Like me, he has a gorgeous wife who’s more than ready to enjoy one-on-one time in the bedroom, but who was being left disappointed again and again while Mike struggled with erectile dysfunction. Desperate for a solution, Mike first turned to prescription drugs. He was excited to achieve a full erection after years of nothing following a roadside bombing incident while he was on active duty, but his excitement was short-lived: He experienced severe side effects and was concerned that if he took the prescription again, he might become a statistic. In reading about Mike’s experience with erectile dysfunction, I found out that nearly 1,000 men die from heart attacks brought on by side effects of ED prescriptions. I’m glad I read Mike’s story when I did, because I was on the verge of asking my own doctor for a description. So, back to Egypt, where Mike discovered the ED Elixir formula with the help of a local doctor. The doctor, having treated Mike after his penile enhancement attempt went wrong, gave him an age-old remedy aimed at restoring circulation and increasing Mike’s cardiovascular health at the same time. The doctor explained that the two issues went hand in hand, and he encouraged Mike to make and consume the tea. Long story short, Mike faithfully mixed up this tea and drank it day after day. After some time, he noticed that he was regaining sensation in his groin and soon, his soldier was standing at attention. He and his wife were overjoyed and began to enjoy better sex than they ever had before. When Mike ran out of the remedy, he wanted to recreate it. He had it analyzed, learned about the ingredients, and ultimately consulted again with the Egyptian doctor, who provided more insight. Soon after that, Mike formulated ED Elixir and decided that he needed to share his secret with other men who were suffering from the shame and disappointment of ED. What is in ED Elixir? As it turns out, ED Elixir isn’t a bottle of supplements. Instead, it’s an elixir you mix yourself with ingredients that are inexpensive and easy to obtain. Mike could have created and sold an ED Elixir supplement but through his own experience, discovered that the blend of ingredients could be tweaked to handle different forms of erectile dysfunction. All of the ingredients come together to support circulation throughout your body and improve your blood flow so that you can restore your boner to its former glory and perhaps even add inches to your erection. Since so many of us experience feelings of shame, disappointment, and loss when we suffer from erectile dysfunction, Mike decided to create an entire system including mental tips and tricks aimed at getting over the mental hurdles that happen when we’re afraid that we won’t be able to perform, and that are cemented into place as we experience the physical difficulties associated with erectile dysfunction. ED Elixir includes a full guide to nutrients, natural aphrodisiacs, and more, all intended to do what prescription drugs, weird penis pumps, and scary injections can’t do: Improve your body’s blood flow so you can have rock-hard erections again Repair vascular inflammation associated with worsening erectile dysfunction

Improve your self-confidence Bring back your libido Restore full sensation so sex feels better than ever Many men who review ED Elixir report that besides an end to erectile dysfunction, they are enjoying more energy overall. Quite a few find that they’re able to return to working out, feeling more masculine, and even focusing better at work. What Else is Included? I was shocked to find out that there’s quite a bit to the ED Elixir program and I was also shocked by the price. One thing at a time, though. The ED Elixir program has several components, starting with the list of ingredients, how and why they work, and how to combine them to get the best, fastest results possible and end the erectile dysfunction nightmare. It also includes a guide to customizing all of the ingredients to meet your needs, since there are different ED symptoms and issues. I touched on the mental aspects of ED a minute ago and I’m pretty sure that you know what I’m talking about. Every time we fail to achieve an erection, every time we get hard but can’t stay that way, every time we disappoint our partners and ourselves, we feel a deep sense of shame, failure, and embarrassment that just gets worse over time. It’s one of the worst feelings in the world and if you’re at all like me, you know it’s one of the worst things about ED. You feel worse than a failure – you can’t even be a real man. And you keep on beating yourself up, over and over. Instead of anticipating intimacy and looking forward to sex, you find yourself dreading it. You tell yourself that this time, it’s going to be even worse than last time. And because you believe it, your body responds accordingly. Your physical problems are compounded by your mental anguish. Mike digs deep into the mental issues associated with erectile dysfunction. It’s one of the reasons why I’m leaving such a detailed review of ED Elixir. You can tell by reading his story that he’s been where you are, right there suffering, wondering if his marriage was over because he could no longer satisfy his beautiful wife. Mike’s familiarity with the psychological pain that accompanies ED led him to develop several extras: Sexual Stamina Secrets – A complete guide to building sexual stamina so you can go even longer than before. This guide is a game changer as it includes shortcuts and mental hacks to eliminate the emotional damage inflicted during your time with ED. Dirty Talk Secrets – I don’t know about you, but after such a long battle with ED and complete avoidance of anything sexual, I needed this. It’s basically a guide to talking dirty, turning her on, and getting the hottest action ever. Word to the wise, this is definitely NSFW. Her Ultimate Fantasy Lover – So you weren’t quite Romeo before? Don’t worry, because this is the ultimate guide to transforming yourself into an incredible lover, pleasing her, and making her want you more than ever. What are the Benefits of ED Elixir? Men who review ED Elixir tend to notice similar benefits. Here are some I’ve encountered myself, along with benefits that other men have noticed. Fast and easy to use – takes about 30 seconds per day No weird gadgets or needles No side effects like those listed on ED drug package inserts Stronger, harder erections that improve over time Confidential; nobody has to know that you are fighting a battle with ED An end to the embarrassment and feelings of failure that often accompany erectile dysfunction Natural erections when the moment is right Passionate, exciting sex for you and your partner Better stamina than ever Increased circulation can add inches to your erect penis size Inexpensive (this one surprised me!) OK, so Is ED Elixir worth the price? Here’s where the proverbial rubber meets the road, guys. You’re going to be as shocked as I was when you learn the price of ED Elixir.

Mike is just about giving it away. The entire system is 37 bucks. Yes, you read that correctly. For a measly $37 (that is less than the average price of a single Viagra tablet in many places) you get the whole program and all the benefits that come with it. And just in case it doesn’t work for you (or you don’t like it for whatever reason) Mike offers a 60-day money back guarantee. This means you either have your manhood restored and start enjoying a sex life again or you get your money back. I don’t know about you, but I feel like it’s more than worth it!

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just-dreaming-marvel · 2 years

Text

Tomorrow ~ Part 7

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 2,445ish

Summary: Steve’s still worried about you. The team helps you get that promised date.

Warnings: slight angst, fluff

< previous part

Tony was super paranoid to let you sleep or even leave your side after the incident that caused you to slip into your subconscious. You put up with it for the rest of the day, especially because he needed it. Steve’s bed was pushed closer to yours to make one big bed so that he could be next to you.

As the evening came, Tony fell asleep awkwardly in his wheelchair while Steve fell asleep with his head on your shoulder. You were almost too afraid to fall asleep but didn’t want to say anything.

“Hello,” Pepper greeted quietly, looking at the scene around her. She smiled. “It seems like worrying about you has worn them out.”

“It seems that way,” you responded quietly.

“You okay?”

“Can’t sleep.”

Pepper gave an understanding nod as she went behind Tony’s wheelchair. “I’ll get a doctor or a nurse in here to give you something. You need to rest.” She begins pushing Tony away.

“Pepper?”

The woman paused. “Yes?”

“Steve promised me some sort of date thing. I know that he’s going to stress about it and won’t be able to actually plan it because he’s unwilling to leave my side. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But… could you help him? Like, don’t tell him I put you up to it, but help him so that it’s an enjoyable date for him as well.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Pep.”

You closed your eyes after Pepper left with Tony, trying to get some rest. It wasn’t long later when you heard someone come in and inject something into your IV. You almost instantly fall asleep, so grateful for the rest.

~~~

Breathing in deeply, a sleepy smile formed on Steve’s face as your scent hit his nostrils. He carefully moved closer to you, pressing a kiss to your exposed neck. Steve leaned back and took you in. He loved the feeling of being next to you, especially in a moment like this when you were peacefully asleep and close to him. He longed to feel this way every morning, as much as he could. Steve smiles as he kisses you under your ear. You begin to stir slightly and he presses another kiss under your ear, beard brushing against your face.

“Morning,” you rasped, a smile forming.

Steve moved so that you could see his face. “Morning, sweetheart,” he whispered. “How did you sleep?”

You bit your bottom lip as you shook your head slightly. “Someone had to come in and give me drugs to help me sleep.”

“I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You needed the sleep too.”

“Not if you’re not getting sleep.”

“It’s fine, Steve. I eventually slept.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. And I didn’t even dream.”

Steve nodded, still worried. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. I little uncomfortable but no pain.”

Steve immediately sat up and began assessing you. “What can I help with?”

“Steve.”

He rambled on, ignoring you. “Do you need me to call someone in?”

“Steve.”

He pushed himself off the bed. “I can go get—“

“Steve!” His eyes snapped up to meet yours. “You can’t fix how uncomfortable I am. My lower half is numb. I have tubes in me and a diaper on to help me go to the bathroom. It’s uncomfortable, that’s just how it is.”

His broad shoulders shagged slightly. “I’m sorry I can’t fix that.”

It broke your heart how disappointed in himself he sounded. “Steve,” you gently called, holding a hand out to him. “Come here.” He reached out and let you take his hand, pulling him back onto the bed and toward you. “You just being here fixes so many things.”

“I just want to fix everything.”

“I know. But you can’t… as long as you’re always here, that’s all I need.”

He leaned in and kissed you softly. “You can’t get rid of me easily.”

You pecked his lips. “Good.”

“Good morning,” Bruce greeted as he walked in with a tablet in hand.

“Morning, Bruce,” you responded, turning to face him.

“Looks like they gave you something to sleep last night. Rough night?”

“Just couldn’t fall asleep.”

Bruce nodded. “I’ll see if we can get something less addictive today for you. Besides that, how are you feeling, Y/N?”

“She said that she’s uncomfortable,” Steve quickly responded. “Is there anything we can do about that?”

“Uncomfortable doesn’t equal pain and it’s expected for her to be uncomfortable. Her body’s been through a lot, is still going through a lot.”

“That’s basically what I said,” you mumbled.

“Just remember this, Steve, her being uncomfortable is better than her being in pain. If she’s in pain, we know that something is wrong. Her being uncomfortable will usually not mean that something is wrong.”

“See?” You turned to Steve. “I’m alright.” You went back to facing Bruce. “And what about Steve? How is his recovery going?”

“From the scans, FRIDAY ran last night, he’s all healed up. The super-soldier serum of course had a big part in that.”

“That’s so good,” you smiled at Steve.

“I would advise that Steve clean up.”

“I’m good,” Steve replied. “I’m not leaving her side.”

“I’m good to stay with her while you get changed and cleaned up.”

“Steve,” you called, grabbing one of his hands to help gain his attention. “Bruce will be with me, I’ll be fine. You go get cleaned up.” You raised your hand to cup his bearded face, him bending slightly to meet you. “Maybe groom the beard a little, but don’t shave it.”

“I don’t know—“

“Steve. You literally don’t need more than twenty minutes to get cleaned up and changed. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

He held your wrist lightly, keeping your hand still as he turned and pressed a kiss to your palm. “Yeah… okay. I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here.”

Steve leaned down and kissed your head before hurrying out of the room. He was almost to the elevator when he saw Pepper coming down the hall.

“Hello Steve,” she greeted.

“Hey, Pepper,” Steve responded.

“How are things going?”

“Good. I’ve been cleared so I’m going to go get cleaned up.”

“That’s great. Is there anything I can do for you or Y/N?”

“Actually, there is something.”

“Mhmm?”

“I promised Y/N a sort-of date thing today and you could really help get it set up. I want to make it as perfect as it can be in our given situation.”

“I can see what I can do. Just make sure that you’re presentable before our normal dinner time of 6.”

“Thank you, Pep. You’re an absolute lifesaver.”

~~~

Tony had joined you in your room, without his wheelchair, shortly after Steve had left. Bruce felt like he could slip out as you weren’t exactly alone and he knew that Tony would like some time alone with you.

“You hand me scared there, kid,” he muttered, absentmindedly playing with the edge of the blanket that was laying over you. “I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

“Well I’m here,” you tried to give him a small smile.

“I just… you’re my best friend…”

“You’re mine… I would have found a way to haunt you if I survived and you had died of a heart attack.”

Tony chuckled. “I don’t doubt it.” He carefully took your hand, holding it in between his very calloused ones. “Can you…” He let out a shaky breath. “Can you be honest with me about something?”

“Sure.”

“How are you?”

The simple question almost took your breath away. “I… I’m alive and I’m… uh, I’m still processing everything… It’s all been—“

“A lot.” Tony nodded. “I get it… so, you and Rogers?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “That escalated quickly.”

“Oh like you didn’t want it to.”

“I won’t deny that.” He sighed slightly. “I just didn’t want it to be like this.”

“Me too… Tony, can you be honest with me about something?”

“You know it.”

“Will I… okay, I know that I’ll never fully recover from this experience. There will be permanent scars, physical and mental, I know that. But… will I ever be able to go in the field again?”

Tony inhaled sharply. He knew that he had to tread carefully, and actually think before speaking. No one had talked about it, but it was kind of an unspoken, agreed-upon thing, that it would be a very long while before the team even entertained the thought of you going out in the field.

“I think that you should focus on rest and recovery right now,” Tony carefully advised. “You have plenty to worry about and focus on there.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

You knew that he was trying to be nice and positive about the situation, but you also knew Tony and the rest of the team very well. They weren’t going to let you out on the field until they were sure that you could hold your own. And after this, that might be never.

“Hey,” Steve greeted as he walked back into the room.

“Hey,” you smiled at him as he came around to sit next to you on the bed.

“Don’t worry, Cap, I’ve been watching your girl,” Tony commented, giving you a smile. “She’s a much easier patient than myself.”

“That’s good,” Steve replied. He turned his focus to you. “How are you feeling? Uncomfortable still?”

“I think I’ll be feeling uncomfortable for a while,” you responded. “But that’s okay.” Steve nodded, clearly not okay with that answer. “Steve.” You reached over and took his hand. “I’m okay. All I’m really worried about is if you’re going to keep your promise about that date?” A quick flash of remorse over Steve’s eyes made you regret saying what you did. “I-I-I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean it like that. I was just trying to tease you, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Steve shook his head. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad either. Of course, I’m planning on keeping that promise. How does dinner sound?”

“It sounds great.”

~~~

You were able to take a nap with Steve before Natasha and Wanda burst into your room. Wanda had a bag slung over her shoulder that was clearly overstuffed.

“Out Rogers!” Natasha ordered.

“Wh-what?” Steve groggily questioned. “Why?”

“You have a date tonight and we need to get her as ready as she can be.”

You could tell that Steve didn’t like the thought of leaving you again. So you cupped his cheek and got him to focus on you.

“I’ll be okay,” you whispered. “They’re just getting me dolled up for you.”

“You don’t need to get dolled up for me,” he replied softly.

“Yes, but I would like to.” You rubbed your thumb along his beard. “If you don’t want to leave, then just sit outside on the chairs. The girls will shut the door and blinds but you’ll be there if something happens.”

Steve took a deep breath and gave you a small nod. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You leaned in and gave him a kiss. “I won’t be long.”

He gave you a small peck on the lips before standing up. “I’ll just be outside.”

“Go, Rogers,” Natasha nagged. “She’ll be fine.” Steve kept his eyes on you as Natasha shut the door in his face and Wanda got the blinds.

“What are you even going to do, guys?” You wondered. “I can’t move my lower half. I have tubes and wires connected to me all over.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t dress you from the waist up as best we can,” Wanda responded.

“I can’t even leave this bed.”

“That’s okay,” Natasha said. “Just trust us, Y/N, we have a plan.”

“And don’t worry,” Wanda added, “Bucky will take care of Steve.”

~~~

Wanda and Nat cleaned you up with wipes and damp washcloths before dressing you the best they could. You just let them do what they wanted to like you were a doll. You knew that arguing would be completely pointless. Once they felt like you looked good enough, a nurse came in and replaced any tubes and bags needing to be replaced.

“Alright,” Natasha smirked as the nurse left, “almost ready.”

“Almost?” You repeated.

“Wanda?”

“I got it,” Wanda replied, coming over with an eye mask.

“Are you really going to make me wear that?” You asked.

“It’s only for a few minutes.” Wanda guided the mask over your head and snugly put it against your eyes. “There.”

“I’m scared now.” You were slightly joking, slightly not, scared of the darkness that had succumbed you to.

Wanda could feel the part of you that was scared. She rested a hand on top of yours. “It’s alright, Y/N/N. We’re not taking you too far from his room.”

“Right.” You gave a nod.

Wanda and Natasha gave each other a small smile before unlatching the locks on the wheels to your bed and began moving your bed. They guided you out of your room and down the hall. You honestly had no idea where you were going, at all. Maybe if you had fewer drugs in your system you’d be able to tell exactly where you were headed. Eventually, they stopped your bed and locked the wheels.

“Okay,” you could tell Wanda was smiling as she spoke, “keep your eyes closed, I’m going to take the mask off.” You nodded as she did so. “Alright, have fun.”

“Wait, when I can open my eyes?” You asked.

“Now,” Steve gently directed.

You opened your eyes to see that the med-bay cafeteria had been decorated. Fairy lights were strung around the room, the only light besides the few candles on the table in front of you. Steve was standing in front of the table. You could tell he was nervous but you didn’t have the words to comfort him because you were just so in awe. Steve was standing there in black slacks and a dark blue shirt.

“Steve…” you gasped. “It’s…”

“Is it too much?” He asked. “I’m sorry if it is. I asked Pep—“

“It’s wonderful, Steve.” Tears pricked your eyes.

Steve rushed over and cupped your face to catch the tears. “Then why are you crying?”

“Because this is wonderful… you’re wonderful… and I’m stuck in this damn bed.”

“It’s okay, once you’re out of the bed, even in just a wheelchair, we’ll get out of this place and I’ll take you somewhere excellent.”

“I don’t need excellent… I just need you.”

Steve’s smile grew and he kissed you softly, still holding your face. “I just need you too.”

next part >

I no longer do tag lists. Please, just follow and interact.

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blackradandmad · 3 years

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my experience with lupron/”puberty blockers”

i have severe endometriosis. i was diagnosed at 16 and had three major surgeries for it before i turned 19. i started birth control for my six weeks long, heavy, debilitating periods when i started having them at 12. by 19, i had tried every birth control under the sun (with no success) -- except lupron. lupron, a gnrh agonist commonly used on males as a treatment for prostate cancer, on women in fertility treatments, on women with endometriosis, aaaaand yup, this is the exact same drug parents let be injected into girls with the euphemistic title of a “puberty blocker.” (i promise we’ll circle back to this hold on)

luckily, i live two hours away from one of the most accomplished endometriosis specialists/surgeon in the world, and he is so passionate about finding a cure or at least better treatments for women with endometriosis. he’s an obgyn but he literally doesn’t do the obstetrics part, he purely focuses on helping each woman find their best treatment for this disease. he has such a vast amount of knowledge on surgery techniques and surgical robots and different treatment options, and he is incredibly thorough when it comes to informed consent. if something could happen or has happened-- positive, negative, or neutral-- he will tell you about it. in detail. now this is important, because after decades of observing treatment effects and listening to women and researching side effects, his personal philosophy is that the lupron injection should be a last resort. like, after major surgery last resort. if a woman wants to try it first thing, he won’t stop her, buuuut after he gives her all the possible short and long term side effects, she usually is eager to explore other options.

(enter me) 19, three surgeries, dependent on opioid painkillers just to be able to get out of bed in the morning, and now, a fun new symptom! every time i begin to bleed, my heart develops an arrhythmia and i experience constant, burning chest pain. i begin to violently cough up blood. so, my endometriosis has spread to my lungs, may randomly cause my lungs to collapse at literally any moment, and i’ve exhausted all treatment options. except! lupron. the devil drug. the horror stories i heard from other women were insane, and that was just the short-term side effects. my doctor had to go through the process of explaining both short and long term side effects as i cried in the office chair because i knew that i had to take this drug. there was nothing else left for me, and things were getting worse. so i did. i was on it for a year. you want to know what that year was like?

i was suicidal, homicidal, and fell headfirst into the most severe and detrimental manic episode of my life. i experienced psychotic symptoms, and that along with the aforementioned symptoms led me to a week long stay at the psych ward. i did not have one day without severe joint and bone pain. i broke three bones, all while running or walking, when i had never broken a bone before. i’m already epileptic, but i had two hospital stays for uncontrollable tonic-clonic seizures while i was on it. i couldn’t sleep. i got night sweats and night terrors. i either couldn’t eat a thing or felt absolutely insatiable. regardless, i was always nauseous and got sick a lot. now, six years later, i still deal with worsening osteopenia, making me at high risk to develop osteoporosis. at 25. and the kicker is, it did shit-all for my endometriosis. it made me sick on top of sick on top of sick etc etc. and i’m not a rarity. men and women from all ages and all walks of life have experienced this and worse, and many people, like me, are still dealing with the fallout of it, years or even decades later. i do not believe this drug should be on the market for literally anything at all.

i was an adult and lupron gave me the worst fucking year of my life. and there are parents letting their HEALTHY children be injected with this at age 12, instead of realizing that if their child is so deeply afraid of puberty that they would rather take a decidedly harmful drug that essentially chemically castrates men and puts women in pseudo-menopause for years, let’s maybe try to work out the cause of that fear in some therapy sessions and group art classes and getting involved in sports or something. i can imagine that it’s pushed at gender clinics without touching on the negative effects too much because, well, lupron drugmakers and salespeople have a history of bribing prescribing doctors with trips, fancy dinners, resorts, or straight up telling a doctor they could earn $100K extra a year just by prescribing lupron to their patients. they went to court and were fined $875,000,000 for it, although i’m sure that’s pocket change for a company who profited $826,000,000 off the drug in 2015 alone, and i doubt they cleaned up their act. if a doctor is willing to give a female child lupron simply because she doesn’t “feel like a girl,” while being completely or even just half-way aware of all the negative side effects of it and backlash it’s received in the medical community, they might as well smear their own shit on the hippocratic oath they swore on, and they should probably give up their license while they’re at it.

#puberty blockers #puberty blocking drugs #lupron #radfem safe #radfems do touch #radfems please interact #lil rambles

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softjakehoon · 3 years

Text

My Roommate Who Uses an XL Condom pt. 1

pairing: Jay/Reader

includes: slight edging, deep throat, cum in mouth, rough sex, breeding kink, roommate sex

warning: this is a written smut, if you don’t like reading stuff like this, scroll down for your sake please it’s not that complicated, thank you.

also, this was inspired by a manga called "Joushi no Asoko wa XL size" and it's the part about the xl condom thingy, which would be on the second part though. and of course, our y'n being a product reviewer. the rest are based on my imagination.

----

You've been searching for a part-time job for a couple of hours now, but most of the jobs available are full-time shifts. You're in your fourth year in college and you're pretty much occupied with all of the school works and activities that's why you resigned from your previous customer service job. You have no choice but to choose a job that will allow you to manage your own time. It's not like you wanted to do this out of boredom. You have to support yourself to afford your tuition fees and daily expenses. Your parents are both senior citizens so you had to work right after you turned 18.

"Product reviewer? No way, this sounds too good to be true."

One-week deadline per product.

Flexible work schedule.

Salary offer $1000 per review.

You didn't hesitate to submit your application. You have to get this job or you won't be able to pay rent. You don't even have anything to eat for this week. You sighed at your current situation. You went to the shower room to clean up before going to bed.

---

You woke up around 8 am, starving. You went to the kitchen to find something to eat. You were surprised to see the fridge full of actual food to eat.

"Am I dreaming? How is the fridge full of food when it was empty last night?" You grabbed a tub of marinated beef and began cooking.

"Fuck, when was the last time I ate meat? I've only been eating ramen and junk food lately. No wonder I feel like shit." You laughed at your own misery. You were cut off by the sound of the door opening. You don't remember inviting anyone over to your apartment. You don't have a roommate as well so you started to feel nervous.

"Who is it?" You shouted while chewing on the meat you wrapped with lettuce.

You turned your head around to see a man around your age wearing all black and a frown on his face.

"Who are you?" He asked you back.

"I asked you a question first. Why do you have a key to my apartment?" This time, you went to speak to him up close. You're near-sighted so you wanted to see him up close.

"I'm Jay. I moved in last night. Are you my roommate?" He kept his cold expression.

He's handsome as fuck, but cold as hell. You thought to yourself. Too bad.

"Oh, that must be why the fridge is full this morning. Fuck, sorry I cooked the beef bulgogi just now. I will pay you back once I get paid from my job." You looked down from embarrassment.

"That's alright." He didn't even bother to ask your name and went to his room. You didn't want to bug him about it since you still owe him a tub of beef so you just shrugged your shoulder and finished your breakfast.

While eating, you checked on your email for updates.

"Holy fuck." Your jaw dropped upon reading an email. It was from the company you applied to last night. You got the job, and you're starting today.

You signed the contract immediately and submitted all the needed requirements. Your first product will arrive in the afternoon so you couldn't help but be excited while washing the dishes.

After doing the dishes, you decided to do the laundry. You've been going braless in the apartment when you were still alone but you have a male roommate now so you can't do that anymore. You needed to wash them.

"Fuck, I ran out of shorts as well? What have I been doing all this time to forget doing my laundry?"

You decided to wear an oversized almost see-through white shirt and black underwear.

While you were putting your clothes in the front load washing machine, you heard him pretending to cough.

You dropped the clothes upon hearing that and looked around to see him piercing you with his eyes staring straight at your body.

"What do you think are you doing?" He said, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm doing my laundry. Are you blind?" You looked to your side, afraid of meeting his eyes.

He stood in front of you, "I'm not. In fact I'm very much pleased of what I'm seeing right now." You gulped when he touched your chin and forced you to look into his eyes.

"What are you doing?" You're starting to get nervous, or turned on. You don't know anymore. Is it because you haven't had sex for so long now? Fuck, you know you can't have sex with your roommate. You know damn well how it would end since your ex was also your roommate before.

"I'm making you look at my face. Ever since we met you've been avoiding my gaze." He smirked at you, turning you on even more.

"T-that's because you look scary, dude. Geez, get your hands off me or I will punch your face so I won't have any reason to look at it." You tried to push him away only for him to corner you on the wall with his arms locking you in.

"Don't call me that. Or I will kiss you right now." You knew he wasn't bluffing. But for some reason, you wanted to kiss him as well. So you called him that.

"Stop playing around, dude. Can't you see I'm busy doing someth-" You were cut off by his lips on yours. It stayed still for a short moment as if he was trying to see how you would react. But when he sensed you closing your eyes, he began to move his lips along with yours.

It was a sweet and passionate kiss as if he knew you all his life. It felt so good, you couldn't help but pull his hair, making the kiss deeper. His right hand holding your face along with your jaw, his left hand holding your waist, keeping you close to his body. You could feel your core starting to get wet from the heat that you're feeling, making you rub your thighs together. Taking the hint, Jay placed his knee in the middle and closed the distance between your body. You're now grinding on his thighs, desperately looking for friction and release.

"Are we just gonna kiss all day or are you going to fuck me?" You pulled away from the kiss and chased your breath.

"I thought you said you're busy." He smirked again.

"Well now I'm not." You kissed him again, this time with so much lust and desire. Jay is incredibly handsome, he's tall and has a nice body as well. Normally, you don't hang out with guys like him because you know they're always into pretty girls, but you don't want to think about it for now.

"Relax, baby. I'll get you nice and ready first." He grabbed your breasts as soon as he removed your shirt, sucking on your nipples while his right hand palming your core.

"I guess I don't even need to. You're soaking wet already. Is this all for me, babe?" He removed your last piece of clothing and slipped two fingers inside you.

"Fuck, Jay. Shut up already and put it in.” You can't help but moan as he slips his fingers in and out of you.

“Stop bossing me around, brat.” There was a sudden change in his aura, his fingers thrusting in and out of you now roughly.

“Damn it, I wanna cum on your cock, please. Fuck me already.” You begged. You’re about to reach your climax under his touch. All of a sudden, he removed his fingers making you bite your lips in frustration.

“What the hell? Why did you sto-” You were cut off when he grabbed a fistful of your hair, pushing you down on your knees. He immediately removed his belt and tied your hands with it. You stared at him with your puppy eyes while waiting for him to remove his clothes.

He pumped his cock a couple of times before squeezing your cheeks, a sign for you to open your mouth. You were taken aback by the size of his cock in your tiny mouth. You can’t even touch him to support yourself, so he was holding you by your hair and fucking your mouth as he wants.

“See, this is what your mouth is for. It’s not for you to talk back, or be a brat. This mouth is meant for my cock.” Tears pooled in your eyes as the tip of his dick hits your throat every time he would thrust. You were able to get rid of your gag reflex, thanks to your ex.

“Fuck, how are you so good at this? I fucking love your mouth. You’ve got no gag reflex? Fucking insane, ahh.” He’s growling at this point. You can tell he’s close as the veins in his dick are getting more prominent and it’s twitching inside your mouth.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” After a couple of thrusts, he came down your throat. You gladly swallowed his cum, making sure nothing goes to waste.

“Shit, brat. You better remember how I taste.” He said, untying your hands from his belt. He helped you to stand, kissing you while placing you on top of the counter.

He took no time in aligning himself into your core. He gathered your wetness using the tip of his dick and finally pushed it in. You can definitely feel the stretch but the pleasure goes beyond the pain at this point. You were moaning softly against his ear.

“Fuck, you feel so tight around me.” His thrust getting steady and rougher each time.

“You feel so good, Jay. I’m gonna cum.” You’re finally getting the release he denied you earlier.

“That’s right, cum on my cock.” You moaned in response. Your walls tightening around him even more, making him meet his nearing climax for the second time.

“Cum with me, Jay. Come inside me, please.” You were on birth control anyway. You were on an injectable contraceptive and it’s still in effect ‘til now. You will probably need to ask him if he’s fucking around later on but you really wanted to have his cum inside you. Hearing you beg for his cum was music to his ears. After easing you from your high with a couple of thrusts, he came right after. You felt his dick twitch inside you, his cum spreading heat in your walls. He pulled out seconds after, making his cum leak out of you.

Jay swore he took a mental image of it in his mind. You looked so hot, all fucked out because of him. You, on the other hand, waited for him to help you get off the counter.

Which he didn’t do. He put on his clothes and went straight to the bathroom to clean himself.

“What a jerk. Did he just leave me here after all that?” You tried not to feel too disappointed. Still, it made you feel angry. He could’ve at least helped you. “I’m never having sex with you again, asshole.” You said just enough for him to hear you in the bathroom.

Author’s note: Jay’s point of view will be on the second part. He’s a gentleman pls.

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen jay #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen jay scenarios

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jangofctts · 3 years

Text

As You Are (Bucky Barnes x fem!reader)

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: smut, explicit language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence and injuries, light choking, brief thigh riding/grinding, vaginal fingering with them metal fingies, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (dont be a dick, wrap that stick), fucking on sam’s couch

a/n: ok hi this fic is very self indulgent bUT YKNOW WHAT WHO CARES EKJHEJHKEJH this is my first fic for marvel and AH I hope I did Bucky justice. ENJOY YALL

This had been a terrible idea.

Right from the minute you tailed after he and Sam to the Baron’s extensive vintage car storage. Bucky had explicitly withheld any and all information regarding this little excursion to protect you but of course you’d shown up—none too jazzed about the little stunt Bucky pulled regarding the Baron. Fair.

You were right—Bucky should have called but that overwhelming guilt of dragging you into another one of his problems stopped him from pressing that little call button. He never wanted to be the reason you ended up back on the run again. Though judging by the way things were going, it was more than likely you’d be in prison by the end of the week.

Luck had your back in that sort of regard—too bad it could never rescue you from your own stubbornness and grief regarding that damn shield.

You’d taken a devastatingly hard hit from Walker—a fractured orbital, a split lip and a dislocated shoulder. All preventable—if only Bucky kept better track of you before you showed up in that warehouse alone. Left to fight the shadow of what was once a symbol of hope for some—another man playing dress-up in something that will never belong to him.

It was just their luck Bucky and Sam arrived in time—preventing you from becoming another red stain of violence splattered over that shield.

James Buchanan Barnes is not afraid of much—but fuck. Seeing you crumpled over the concrete floor, all bloodied and struggling to raise a hand to protect your face… It was the same feeling as injecting his veins with a pure shot of adrenaline and anger shrouded in fear. He promised Steve he’d look after you…

And as Sam carried you out of that warehouse you had the gall to tenderly tell them that you were just fine—as if your mouth weren’t full of blood and a face blooming with patchy bruises. The jealousy that sparked through Bucky’s chest when you clung to Sam’s chest did nothing to help that dark festering pit inside his ribcage he’s attempting to suture back together.

Bucky clenches his jaw. At least you’re asleep now. Curled up against the window, holding your injured arm in a way that limited the turbulence from jostling it. It’s the first time Bucky would describe you as fragile. He know’s you’re anything but that—stubborn mostly—yet most of all brave. It’s what Steve admired most about you—what Bucky loves most about you too. That vibrant spark flowing through your blood and how you’re not afraid to shout along to your favorite songs despite the odd looks you get. Bucky envies how self-assured you are, how you’ll never lose yourself because you know just where you’re headed. He wishes he still had that sort of drive instead of all this uncertainty and guilt clouding each muscle and fibre in his body.

Bucky doesn’t realize the jet has landed until Sam stands and and places a large hand over your shoulder. Your face scrunches as you whine and curl further into your seat. “C’mon, kiddo.” You grumble something inaudible. “You want me to carry you?”

The delicate plates of vibranium clink together as Bucky’s hand tightens into a fist, jealousy flaring hot and bright. He quickly stands, too fast to be considering anything less than awkward. Sam’s brow quirks. “I can do it.”

“It’s cool, man,” Sam says as he scoops one arm under your legs and the other around your back. “I got her.”

Bucky bristles. Whatever.

It’s not like you and him have anything together. A one sided plague of affection that you’ll never know about—he wants to tell you. Fuck, the words burn through his tongue and collect like ashes between his teeth and yet they are never voiced from self sabotage. There’s no possible way to voice how you’ve haunted his thoughts and his dream since the moment his eyes met yours. How he’s memorized the lines of your smile and the sweet sound of your laugh, the sweep of your lashes and the rhythm of your steps. Bucky would know you deaf, blind, numb, in this world or any other twisted reality.

He had said that he wasn’t afraid of much, but that’s not entirely true. Eternity, oblivion, crowded rooms, being alone too long. And you. You terrify him. You have the power to pluck at the very strings of his soul and unravel him completely until he’s no more—and you don’t even know it. Bucky Barnes is less afraid of dying than he is of loosing you but that fear never once provides him the courage to tell you. You may not be a scribbled name in his book, but he still hopes that one day he’ll earn the chance to strike his cowardice and put to rest the wretched ache in his heart that he feels for you.

He wishes he told you in Wakanda, after the Blip, Riga, and right this instant. He watches Sam carry you out of the jet—what’s a little more time?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The sun is beginning to melt into the horizon, turning the expanse of water into molten gold and shimmering blues. The hazy humidity from the late afternoon heat collects at the back of Bucky’s neck and the light breeze does nothing to cool. Bucky sighs and swipes at the bead of sweat creeping down his forehead with the back of his hand—he glances up.

A ghost of a smile creeps across his lips. You’re exactly where he and Sam left you three hours ago. Surprising to be quite honest—you never did like to stay in one place for longer than ten minutes. You’re a pain in his ass, simply said.

But now—now you’re haphazardly splayed out on the lawn chair you were forced into, a juice box loosely held in your good hand while the other still remains in the sling. He can’t tell if you’re asleep—Steve’s sunglasses do an excellent job of hiding your eyes. Yet as Bucky wanders closer, your head rolls to your right in greeting.

“It’s rude to stare, y’know,” you grumble, lifting the juice box to your mouth. Your lips purse around the plastic straw. “And before you ask—yes, I have a very important job I’m currently overseeing.”

Bucky quirks a brow. “What—hogging the lawn chair?”

“No—“ You huff. You gesture with your juice box at the large cooler your sandaled feet are propped up on. “I’m the booze master. God of the ale, destroyer of sobriety—“

“Alright, Booze Master,” Bucky interrupts with a snort. “Why don’t you bestow upon me a beer, your majesty.”

You tap your index finger over your chin as a lazy smile fixes itself over your lips. “Granted.”

You slide your legs off the cooler and with a pained grunt you shift forward. Bucky shoots his arm out and steadies you back against the chair by your shoulder before you get any further. Your face pulls into a grimace.

“I got it, kid. Relax.”

Bucky pops open the cooler and fishes out a beer and pops the cap off between his left index finger and thumb. You watch with a frown, “I could’ve done that for you.”

Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes and takes a seat on the cooler. The bitter fizz floods his tastebuds as he takes a sip of his drink, a tangible silence blanketing the space between you. He gets it—people like he and you can never settle for complacency. As if the rest isn’t deserved despite the bloody knuckles and the shattered glass that slices through skin—the bruises and the broken bones. None of it is enough—not worthwhile to preserve yourself when other’s so desperately need your help.

Or maybe it’s penance.

Bucky sure as shit finds himself swallowed by the black maw of guilt each and every day. Battling the never ending shadow of doubt that clings to his soul like glitter to a an old carpet. Bucky believes it’s safe to say that you’re the same—every good deed you do added to the imaginary scale weighing against the bad despite it feeling hollow and insurmountable. Paying in blood to equate the amount you’ve spilled. A hopeless battle you both insist on fighting.

Bucky sighs through his nose, bends at the waist and collects both your ankles in his left hand. You let him lift them both and settle your legs over his knees. You shiver, an eruption of goosebumps rushing up your skin at the cold metallic shock of Bucky’s vibranium thumb scrapinh over your bare flesh.

Bucky’s lips tilt down ever so slightly. “Did I hurt you?”

“Never,” you rush to say before he has the chance to flee. “S’just cold.”

His hum reverberates low in his chest as those cerulean blue eyes fall to his hands. You clench your jaw until your teeth ache as his left thumb continues to stroke over the delicate skin covering the joint of your ankle. This is…new…

You’d been close with Steve and Sam, and by proxy Bucky—in some weird adjunct way. Compared to Sam’s teasing bumps of the shoulder and that infectious laugh far more addicting than the golden liquor of the sun, Bucky is frigid. Still attempting to shake off the whole Winter Soldier thing that’s molded onto his bones like stubborn permafrost. Touch had always been tricky with him—even a friendly pat over the back or a simple tap to the harm had him tensing under the touch—muscle and steel bunching to prepare for a harsh blow that would never arrive. Never from you.

Bucky rarely sought out your physical comfort—you were always the one to initiate those friendly touches even if he was the type to just sit and ignore you like a grouchy old cat barely clinging onto that ninth life. The first time he breached that fragile barrier was in Wakanda—something in Bucky cracked and split into a cavernous ravine of nebulosity. Stitches shred apart then stapled back together as he grabbed your arm and wrestled you into a bone-crushing hug. You didn’t need to ask to realize he cried the entire time, gripping your shirt like a lifeline while he shuddered and sobbed into the crook of your neck. To him everything from the rain to silk sheets felt like shrapnel and the stars tasted like old blood and the past of things long gone—yet you were familiar.

A comfort for the much needed healing of the scattered pieces of a man. You don’t mind helping him pick up the tidbits and reattach them with veins of silver. It’s the least you can do.

The second time occurred after the loss of Steve. Some part of you had been wrenched out with his departure and he never bothered to return it. It doesn’t matter anymore—the hollow ache had been soothed with the Winter Soldier clutching you to his chest until you drifted off into a fitful sleep. A tether to a new reality you both partake in.

Which brings you to now. There’s no cathartic reasoning behind his touch…it’s simple…a risky leap of faith into unknown territory. Bucky’s eyes lift to meet yours—curiosity swimming in those icy irises. You don’t mind—in fact you quite like the calloused warmth of his hand and the opposing chilly metal one tentatively exploring your exposed skin.

“You have a scar here,” Bucky murmurs, skimming the thumb made up of flesh and sinew over the mottled skin occupying the crease of where the top of your foot meets your ankle.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I fell on barbed wire.”

“Clumsy,” he chides, quirking a dark brow.

Your shoulders bounce with a huff. “I was like—twelve when it happened, James.”

His mouth quirks in a half smile, quite liking the validation of his name in the way your mouth speaks it. He wonders if you know the weight of granting you that leeway of calling him that. Shit—he doesn’t care what you call him, everything sounds lovely when you say it.

There’s another silence—holding your breath until something splits and shatters into a million pieces. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t want anything more than just friendship with Bucky but fear of rejection is a tricky thing. You take the easy way out and offer him the chance of something more on a silver platter.

“Bucky?”

His fingers whisper up your shin as he inclines his head.

“I’m tired. Drive me back to Sam’s?”

“Sure thing, doll.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Bucky holds the door open for you as you stumble in, escaping the hazy southern heat. He disappears into the kitchen as you make a beeline straight for the couch, sighing loudly once the plush cushions meet your back. You lazily lift your head once you hear his familiar footfalls nearing.

With him he brings two Otterpops, one blue raspberry and the other cherry. Once he hands it to you he takes a seat on your left, close enough that his thigh and shoulder bumps against yours. “Don’t tell Sarah’s kids that these were the last ones.”

You roll your eyes and promptly stick the Otterpop into you mouth. “‘M ain’t no snitch.”

His low chuckle reverberates through his chest. The silence that follows isn’t an awkward one as you enjoy the cold treat—it’s filled with the humming cicada bugs outside and the breeze through the wind chimes. Comfortable with the normalcy—just a couple of regular old people enjoying life for a suspended amount of seconds.

Once you finish the Otter Pop, you crumple the plastic up and rest it on the coffee table. He does the same—hints of the blue syrup sticking to the cracks of his plush lips. You force yourself to avert your eyes. You cheeks heat with a flush as you rush to occupy your mind with anything but wild fantasies of Bucky’s mouth. You lean forward again, pointedly ignoring the way Bucky’s eyes track your movements as you shuck off your sling, the prickle of unused muscles and bruised ligaments rushing through the limb. You wince as you slowly roll your shoulder.

The muscles in Bucky’s jaw clenches. You sigh—he’s still blaming himself for your injuries. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not everyone has freaky healing powers, Buck,” you snort. You rush to appease him when he frowns. “It’s getting better though. Still can’t sleep on it—but eh.”

“I’m sorry.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. No matter how many times you tell him he’ll never believe you. That’s something only he can fix. Doesn’t stop you from telling him anyway. “Stop blaming yourself for my idiocy. I made my choice and paid the price for it.”

Bucky’s eyes drop to his hands. “Can’t help it, sweetheart. Steve told me to look after you.”

Your heart constricts within your chest like a fist. You inhale and reach out to rest your hand over his wrist. “Funny—he told me the same thing about you.”

It surprises him—his dark brows furrow as his mouth parts, but nothing comes forth. Grappling with the right words that fit with what he feels. He’s still learning how to give his soul a name that fits. Learning how to take the dark, twisted bramble of his heart and make it into something that doesn’t ache each time it beats. He’s still learning how to look himself in the eyes, point to himself and say that there’s nothing frightening in there. Not anymore. No more.

You suck in a breath and muster up the embers of courage. Here goes nothing—

You cup Bucky’s cheek, the scrape of stubble welcome against your warm palm as you gently turn his face to look at you. His eyes drift to yours when the mumbled syllables of his name tumble from your lips. His eyes are framed with dark circles of wildflower bruises, his small smile a moonbeam stark against battered skin. You’ve dreamt so many times of swallowing it whole and pressing him close enough that your heartstrings become entangled with no hope of separation. But that’s something for him to decide.

You drop your hand cradling Bucky’s jaw, but before your hand completely falls Bucky surges forward. His large hands rush to cup your face, swallowing your noise of surprise as his plush lips fall onto yours. The syrupy flavor of a Blue Raspberry Otter Pop he stole from Sarah’s freezer lingers on Bucky’s mouth, mixed in with the smell of old leather and cracked cardamom. Bucky nips at your bottom lip, tugging once and then rolling it between the blunt enamel of his teeth. Despite all the bad jokes regarding his age and senior citizen status—fuck he’s a damn good kisser. Compared to him you feel clumsy, sloppy, but no matter how hard you search for his distaste he doesn't seem to care in the slightest—if anything he’s pulling you closer.

Bucky’s kisses may taste like the middle of June and a first love, but desperation lines every action like a wound with jagged edges. It’s a slow process learning to be free, but one day he’ll transform into starlight—and instead of a kiss like fire, it’ll be like touching your lips to a constellation’s aureate mouth.

When Bucky pulls away, sucking in air and resting his forehead on yours, you catch a whiff of his hair. Freshly washed and smelling a bit like Sam’s shampoo. Your lips quirk. You’ll make sure to keep that a secret from Sam.

You pull back just enough to meet his eye, resting your palm over his vibranium hand that still cups your cheek. “Am I the first person you’ve kissed since the stone ages?”

His lips pull into a cheeky smile. “Maybe.”

You laugh and roll your eyes, skating your palm down the front of his shirt, the heat of his skin near searing through the fabric. “I guess we have a lot of catching up to do, huh?”

Bucky’s lips smother your small moan as he drags you into another kiss. You can feel his smile as he murmurs his agreement between desperate kisses and the enticing warmth of his tongue skimming along yours. The next time you part for air, Bucky drops his strong hands from your face to instead wrap them around the curve of your hips. He tugs you over his right thigh with ease and breathes a gentle sigh of your name, beginning to pepper kisses over you cheek and down the slope of your jaw.

Bucky reaches your ear and carefully nibbles the cartilage, his voice a warm scrape in your ear. “I want you.”

It’s such a simple phrase…and yet…it tears through you and pools like a heavy weight right to your center. “Then take me.”

Quick as a strike of a match, you’re tipped backwards, cradled right between the arm of the couch and the back of it. Heat rushes through each limb and gathers in your cheeks as Bucky’s vibranium fingers skate up your chest and curl around the column of your throat—that hardened soldier he’s tried to bury bleeding through the cracks of his resolve. You don’t care. You gasp into his mouth as he squeezes ever so slightly while he pushes a firm thigh between your legs. Shit—this is how you’re gonna die—grinding on Bucky’s muscled leg while he’s got a hand around your throat.

What a way to go.

With his other hand he grips the meat of your thigh and pulls you higher, grinding the rough material of his jeans covering his crotch into yours. You whine and arch into him. You need more.

You both stay here for a good while up until it feels like you’re ready to burst at the seems if you don’t have him now. Bucky is no better—cheeks flushed as he fumbles with the zipper to relieve the noticeable bulge straining against it. Impatient and needy, you shoo away his hands and do it yourself, easily sliding your warm hand down his navel and over his boxers to palm at his cock. Bucky’s hand twitches around your neck, a sweet groan filling the air when you softly squeeze him through the elastic.

“Fuck, you’re gonna…” Bucky trails off and buries his nose into the crook of your neck. “Gonna make me cum in my pants if you don’t—don’t stop.”

While the thought is tempting, you want this to last just a little bit longer. Rush after the glorious high of just being near him, his kisses, everything about him. Bucky grunts at the loss of your hand and mouths a wet trail of sloppy kisses up your neck and returns to your lips. When you part he sweeps a stray strand of hair and tucks it behind your ear. He smiles softly.

“Can I try something?” He breaths. Before he can even tell you what his idea is, you’re happily nodding along. “Wanna taste you. Been thinking about it ever since Wakanda.”

Oof. His words shoot straight your center. “Bucky—why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

His mouth quirks. “You make me nervous.”

Rolling your eyes you plant a kiss on his forehead and grant him his simple desire. Bucky sits and slides to the floor, close enough that he’s still able to hover over you. You lift your hips as Bucky tugs your shorts and underwear down and off your legs. Besides the general anxieties of being half naked in front of an incredibly attractive man and performing something so sinful on a friend’s couch—there’s a strange stroke of pride that alights through each of your vertebrae. A powerful man willingly dropping to his knees to please you.

Bucky shoots you a smile and slides his hands around your ribcage, bends forward slightly and captures you mouth in a deep kiss. He parts and nips down your jaw and over your throat, sliding his tongue over the marks he leaves with his teeth as if to soothe the slight sting. You whine and arch into him as he slides lower, leaving an obvious trail of bruises and teeth marks in his wake until he reaches the collar of your shirt. Bucky moves his palms under the fabric to grab at your breasts, the flats of his fingertips rolling over your nipples that peak through your bra. You suck in a shaky breath when Bucky catches the pebbled bud between his forefinger and thumb, the hard vibranium of his fingers scraping over it. A low hum rumbles through his chest as he leans forward to playfully nip at your collarbone.

“I wanna see you naked.” Bucky admits as he slips his hands out of your shirt. You shiver as those chilly metal fingers gently come to rest on the outside of your bare thighs.

“Not here, Buck,” you sigh. “T-they—fuck—they can come back any minute.”

Bucky quirks a brow, eyes dropping between your legs, then back up with a smirk. His plush lips part, yet before he can disprove your silly point—that your bare ass is already out and taking off the shirt would barely make a difference—you interject.

“Shut up.”

His shoulders bounce with a chuckle. “You have such a way with words, y’know that?”

You make a noise low in your throat and reach out to sharply tug his ear. He easily bats your hand aside, hooks his hands under your ass and hauls until you’re all but hanging over the edge of the cushions. You squirm, unable close your legs or to relieve some of that burning tension collecting in your core as Bucky lowers himself and wedges his shoulder between your thighs. He slides his hand over your calfs and wrestles them over his broad shoulders—earning a perfect view of your pussy. You’re already wet—worked up and running on borrowed time. You roll your head back onto the back of the couch and clench your jaw. You don’t want to rush him but Christ—you really don’t want Sam or Sarah to find you like this.

It feels like ages before Bucky’s lips touch your belly and then your navel with his warm tongue. With a grunt he shoves your shirt up to your breasts and circles your bellybutton with the tip of his tongue—his enhanced strength easily pinning you down as you jerk and giggle.

Bucky picks up his head and grins. “Try and hold still, doll.”

No sharp retort comes to mind. Fuck—he’s already got you so expertly wrapped around his finger.

Bucky hums, satisfied with your weak nod and continues on.

Bucky’s bare fingers trace minuscule patterns into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, coaxing out a shiver that rushes through your body. They tickle towards the apex of your thighs and settle close enough to reach your aching center. He pauses for a moment and while you know he’s there, you curse when you feel his thumbs softly part the lips of your soaking cunt. They gently work up and down, smearing your wetness around but never enough to give you any friction as your body adjusts to the feel of flash and vibranium. You bite back a groan as your hips unconsciously twitch.

Unsatisfied with simply touching you, Bucky shifts his weight to better reach your core. “Fuck—you’re so pretty.”

There's a moment just before Bucky swoops down, face hovering close enough that you can feel his sticky, warm breath fan across you inner thighs. Anticipation grips your heart with an iron hold, and then— Bucky licks a broad stripe from the base of your cunt all the way up to your swollen clit. His mouth is molten, tongue like liquid velvet as you shudder and grab at his hair. Bucky grunts against you as you drag him closer by the short strands—greedy for any and all touch he gifts you. Bucky’s mouth slips around your clit, sucking and tracing circles over the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut as a quiet moan wrenches free from your vocal cords.

He trails lower, sucks on your labia, and makes his way down to your soaking entrance. The wet heat of his tongue circles your cunt, skips over it completely to catch the wetness before it leaks over the couch. Bucky opens his mouth wide and groans in appreciation, devouring your pussy like he’s been denied this his entire life. Desperation lingers on his tongue and all you are is the honey sweet taste of salvation.

“Shit—Bucky,” you cry, throwing your hips forward in search of more friction.

It's perfect. So fucking delicious.

You tense as the vibranium tips of his fingers, two of them, press at your entrance, teasing the clenching ring of soft muscle before sinking in. The chilly digits slip in with ease—all the way up to the second knuckle and when he draws them back, they're slick with your wetness. With a self-satisfied grin, Bucky thrusts them back in, then out—setting a steady pace that makes everything ache with desire. It leaves you just hovering over the sharp edge of ecstasy, the catch of his knuckles and imperceptible metal plating dragging along your walls pure torture. Fuck—he’s going to be the death of you—

Bucky’s mouth dips down a second time and sucks on your clit and with a few more curls and thrusts of his fingers inside of your clenching walls, your body seizes up tight. You're flying off that edge, faster than a fucking freight train. You cum onto his tongue and fingers with a strangled cry of his name, sparks of blurry white lining the edges of your vision as your back arches. Bucky continues to lick you through your orgasm, even as you buck and squirm in his iron hold. Supernovas implode behind your eyelids as heat, hotter than wildfire and jet fuel spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're shaking, lucid enough to hear Bucky murmur his praise—feeling the vibration of his groan, as he licks up the flood of your wetness over his tongue.

Your brain swims in hazy bliss as you float back to reality. He's still curling his fingers into your pussy and it damn near hurts. You're too sensitive. Nerves rubbed raw and still throbbing—but you're too fucked out and still riding the waves of your orgasm to push him away. Bucky is all too happy to remain between your legs—takes this opportunity to tilt his fingers into your cunt faster, suckle and lave his hot tongue over your clit that burns from overstimulation—somehow you're back at the very edge again.

It's sharper than a vibranium razor against bare flesh. Your thighs shake around him as he twists his fingers inside you and bumps agains that tiny, little patch of nerves. You cry out as an orgasm floods through you veins, rupturing each cell in your being with molten pleasure. Your core pulses around Bucky’s fingers, fucking you through it until those burning waves of release eventually cease to a fading throb. You whine and push at his forehead because he's still going. You panic a bit—fucking hell, he’s gonna make you cry—but he pulls away, his mouth and chin wet with your slick.

“Feel good?” Bucky purrs, resting his cheek on your thigh.

If judging by the way you thighs still quiver and your chest heaves—then yeah—it felt good.

Cheeky bastard.

“Get up here—“

You grapple with his shirt, fisting the thin fabric, but he’s heavy and your entire body feels like jello. Your grip strength is all but laughable at the moment as Bucky clambers back onto the couch and grabs both of your legs, slotting his narrow hips between them. One leg is stuck against the back of the couch while the other hangs off the edge, foot skimming the hardwood floor to accommodate Bucky. Not the most comfortable but fuck it—who cares.

Bucky grunts when you lift your hands and hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, tugging them halfway down his legs with a sharp yank. Already a dark patch of wetness stains the fabric of his boxers, the impressive bulge straining against the elastic and begging to be released. Your eyes meet his icy blue ones as you slowly pull his boxers over his cock. It bounces up towards his navel, thick and beautiful just like the rest of him.

Impatient, Bucky’s fingers curl around your wrist and presses your open palm against his cock. He’s thick and heavy in your hand—perfect. The bead of precum that pools at his flushed tip smears against the inside of your palm as you experimentally roll your wrist, fascinated with the feel of his foreskin rolling over the steel heard flesh with each stroke.You give his a cock a rougher squeeze, a bolt of liquid heat settling in the pit of your stomach as a stifled moan reaches your ears.

A sharp hiss of hair passes through his clenched teeth as you lightly tug on his cock. From the base up you pull, fixed upon the throbbing flesh, flushed and pulsing and all for you. His cock bobs when you let go—he huffs out a disappointed noise. “I need you, Buck—please.”

Your previous two orgasms did seemingly nothing to soothe the growing ache for him. It prickles up your spine and singes through every nerve and bone—you whine and arch your hips, trying to touch your slick cunt to his cock. Bucky growls your name and pins your hips to the couch with ease.

With his left hand, Bucky firmly grips your jaw, his stare folding into something serious. “You sure?”

Your tongue runs over your bottom lip. You grin. “Do your worst.”

Bucky curses and readjusts your calf slung over his hip and grips the base of his cock. You shudder as he runs the blunt head through your folds, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the flesh of his forearm as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and arch. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s certainly not small in any way shape or form. You’ll feel him for days afterwards as your cunt swallows inch after inch.

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw clenched tight as sweat beads at his hairline. Shit—he’s gorgeous—struggling not to loose control the moment he’s buried inside of you. You allow yourself to adjust for a moment but your own impatience rakes down your spine with claws of scorching arousal. You rock your hips in curiosity and squeeze around him.

“Fuck—“ A ragged moans severs his words as your gentle rocking tilts into abrasive jolts. At this angle it’s difficult to fuck yourself onto his cock, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. His left hand shoots to your throat, the chilly metal a stark contrast to your flushed skin. You dip your head back, exposing more of your supple skin—all his for the taking.

You dig the heel of your foot into the small of his back and grab at his shoulders—tempting him into fucking you already. You’ve waited long enough. Bucky snarls your name, hooks one hand under your ass and pulls his cock nearly all the way, out only to slam back in with devastating force. There’s no time to adjust or gather your obliterated thoughts before Bucky sets a pace, desperate and feral. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what seems like a millennia—and maybe it has been. Bucky shifts, widening his knees as much as he can to sink lower onto your body—his soft hair tickles your cheek as his choppy exhales burn hot over your skin.

Bucky turns his head to steal a kiss, open mouthed and catastrophic. No words are exchanged as he fucks into you with brutal strength aided by that damn super-soldier serum—there’s no need for them, not now anyway. You complete each other without the spoken utterances—still both a work in progress. Though most things are you suppose—constantly remaking yourselves, but instead of smashing the haphazard pieces back together alone—you have one another. You bury your hand in his hair and cry his name.

You choke out another groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter and damn—you really hope nothing gets on this stupid couch. You don’t want to explain that Sam.

Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, blazing through each and every vein with the brilliance of a wildfire escaping the edges of the forest. This is gonna ruin you. Bucky’s hand reaches between your bodies and rubs tight, controlled circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a calamitous surge of warmth that sweeps your very soul off its feet. Your nails dig into Bucky's back as you shake and fumble for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor.

You have no time to recover because he’s still going. Thrusting into your pussy with violent slaps that echo through the room and will more than likely leave bruises against your ass. Through the pressure of his hand over your windpipe—threatening to cut your air off completely—you garble out his name. Bucky drops his head to his chin, the weight of his gaze landing between your legs, watching the way his entire length disappears inside of you. When he raises his head he molds his mouth to yours. The soft, wet kisses rapidly morph into pricks of his teeth, his gravelly moans so pleasing to hear.

You arch and tilt your head back as he presses you harder into the couch. The vibranium hand latched onto your jaw, works it open and slides a thumb past your plush lips. You lave your tongue over the digit—the metallic tang flooding your tastebuds. “Good girl—m’close. A little longer.”

Bucky’s panting breaths mingle with yours as his pace turns vicious. Chasing his high that he so desperately needs. Overstimulation bites at your nerves, but with a gentle tug to the soft strands of hair on the back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, Bucky bursts. His moan jumps up an octave, eyes slamming shut as he buries his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he cums. He’s shuddering in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides. You whine and tilt your hips up to prevent it from spilling onto the couch.

Finally he slows to a stop, ragged breathing filling the air as the heat and weight of his body becomes a welcome comfort. Eventually that warmth grows stifling. He lazily pulls away, observing gaze drinking in each inch of bare skin exposed—the marks and the light sheen of sweat. You hiss as he curiously drags his thumb over the bite mark lingering just above your collarbone.

He parts his plush lips but before he can apologize, you interject. “Don’t—I like the reminder.”

Bucky shakes his head and drops down to tempt your lips into a lazy dance. “You’re a weirdo.”

You smile and cup his cheek. “I’m not the one with a staring problem. You know that you can’t kill people by glaring, right?”

Bucky kisses your cheek, your jaw, and then the dip of your throat. “You don’t ever shut up, do you?”

You shudder as his softening cock twitches inside of you, another coal of desire flaring in the pit of your stomach. You flash him a coquettish grin. “Maybe if you give my mouth something to do, you’ll finally get some peace and quiet.”

Something dark and dangerous flickers within those eyes. You shiver as one hand returns to your throat while the other draws teasing patterns over the outside of your thigh. He draws in close, nips at the shell of your ear and chuckles darkly. “You’re on.”

#weLL here we are in a marvel hole kwejrkwejhr #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x fem!reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #tfatws #the avengers x reader #my writing

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heliosthegriffin · 3 years

Text

Guardian AU

Summary: Jaune was a mostly normal guy, other than his family’s lineage of producing exceptional huntsmen, who just wants to live a calm, peaceful life in Vale. Avoiding conflict, helping people when he can, and doing a job he tolerant.

Only for the mark of a rose to be burned into his hand over night. Now bound as the a Guardian to the new Spring Maiden, Ruby Rose. He not only has to fight to protect his life, but also Ruby’s, and if necessary give his own.

----

An Au where every time a new maiden is born, a Knight/Guardian is randomly chosen as their duty bound protector, regardless of how qualified they are.

Jaune is not trained in this AU, and was kicked out of the Arc Family, a very martial Huntsman Family, due to his dislike of violence.

The Guardian don’t receive many blessings from their duty, but among them are a enhanced level of control over their aura, a innate knowing of their semblance, and a mental compass to where their Maiden is at all times.

The Mark on the hand will appear as the symbol that the Maiden personally uses, but how the mark appearence changes based on how the Guardian is treated, ala Dak’Kon’s sword in Planescape Torment.

Ruby is Huntress in Training suddenly gifted with Magic of the Spring Maiden by complete chance.

Being a newbie to the magic business, Ruby doesn’t really understand how it works, with it responding wildly to her emotions.

----

Puberty I

Ruby is kidnapped and unconscious, and Jaune must finally learn what it means to be a man by doing what he has too to save her before it’s too late.

Jaune vs Hazel and his group.

The door was thrown off it’s hinges with a crash, the wood breaking under the body thrown at it.

Hazel got up from his seat to see a blonde young man come in, beaten, scratched, and bruised, but not beaten, his eyes had changed since he saw him yesterday, the weak self-pitying eyes gone and replaced with a intensely focused look to his eyes.

“Where’s Ruby?” He asked, a trickle of blood going down his chin.

Hazel smiled. “Huh, so you do have some guts after all. She’s asleep in the next room.”

“Get out of my way, I’m leaving with her.” Jaune’s eyes had no warmth to them now, not the boy of yesterday Hazel had left to die.

“That’s not going to happen, I’m afraid, and now that you’ve come into my building, and broken my men, you’re not leaving in one piece, either.” Hazel said calmly. “If you stand still, I’ll give you a quick death.”

A white glow started to erase the injuries on the blonde. “I’m not dying, today.”

Hazel shook his head. “You don’t have the strength to kill me, just stop kid, you may have taken down my men, but you hardly had the aura to do that, what makes you think-”

The blonde took something out of his pocket, a syringe full of azure blue liquid , then injected it into his neck.

Hazel’s eyes widened. “Lightning dust...Boy do you have a death wish?”

Lightning dance over his pupils. “Dust injections is more effective the faster it gets into the bloodstream, my semblance can boost my own healing and aura recovery, agh, it hurts like hell, but if it’s just this much I’ll live. I don’t have the strength on my own to beat you, but now... Let’s see.”

Jaune breathed out, sparks flying out of his mouth. “If Ruby is going to put her life on the line, then I’m doubling down too.”

A quick brawl broke out between the blonde and the giant man, Jaune ducking under Hazel’s strong, monolithic arms that could punch straight through him if he didn’t dodge in time, which itself was only possible while under the slowed perception of time the lightning dust allowed.

Dodging, and landing smalls blows where he safely could against Hazel, was what Jaune did, while his other plan went to work.

He just had to distract Hazel for a couple minutes.

His blows had no effect of the eight foot tall man, he might as well have been throwing eggs at a brick wall, for all the effect it had on him.

The dusky skin man wasn’t even winded, probably not even taking him seriously, based on the small smile on his face.

If Jaune had more pride, it would probably pissed him off, but this actually worked to his advantage, and he was happy to have something in his corner, that wasn’t painfully spasming his muscles and overclocking his body.

Still, while his hits didn’t hurt Hazel, the electricity that hit him well it was a bit more effective, Jaune realized.

Not that it mattered that much, Hazel had as much aura as Jaune, and three decades of training, if not more. While, Jaune had none, he flailed about like a drunk, constantly losing balance, in a state of falling and catching himself, barely able to keep up due to his dust injection, which was compatible with his semblance.

He didn’t know how to fight, barely able to even make a fist, he was not a man of violence, and he never wanted to be, but... For now, in this moment, violence was the answer to his problem, as much as he loathed it.

And he if lived through this, he was going to have to learn to hate himself, because Ruby is his friend.

Jaune bent backwards ducking under Hazels casual punch, and smiled as he saw the first signs of his plan coming into being.

A small tendril of smoke raising off the side of the wall.

Just a couple more minutes now.

Hopefully.

Then Jaune felt himself go airborne, as he was thrown into a wall. The world spun, and his head hurt more, now.

Then, Hazel had him by the collar of his shirt, raising hist fist the size of a cinder block at him. “Got you now, bug.” The giant’s gravely tone spilled out.

Then he hit him with the weight of a runaway bull to the stomach, Jaune buckling like a crushed can, as he gasped, blood trickling down his mouth.

“Fuck-”

That was only the first hit, Jaune realized.

The giant was faster than he looked, he had been going easy so far, enjoying himself against a inferior opponent.

And Jaune, felt quite inferior as even harder blows hit his gut over and over again, like a wrecking machine was coming at him with a grudge.

It was all Jaune could do to hold onto the man’s arm, gripping with all his strength, but stopped as it wasn’t doing anything.

Other than creating some awful smelling smoking where he was burning off the hairs on the man’s forearms.

A idea formed as if in slow motion, watching the electricity jump from his palms to the man’s ape like arms.

So he grasped on tighter, and focused the lightning literally running through his veins onto Hazel’s left arm.

The response was immediate as a surge of azure blue-white lightning struck Hazel’s left arm with a uproarious thunderclap.

It did nothing. Jaune could feel the shaking in the arm, but Hazel just kept punching him with the other..

“Shit, this is going to hurt more,” So, he channeled all the lighting dust he could toward Hazel.

He tried to pump his aura into the dust, hoping that it would give him a extra boost.

Another thunderclap, followed by meaty smack, followed by thunderclap and smack.

Just had to hold on longer, Jaune thought, as he could feel the dust fading from his system from repeated use.

That’s when Hazel’s started to notice the smoke that had come up from the floor, and increasing heat.

“Smoke?” The man’s eyes widened. “Fire! The building is on fire!”

Jaune chuckled. “Just figure it out?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You set my building on fire? Why!?”

“Heh, it’s a simple answer, but I’m not going to tell you.”

Hazel punched him again, this time in the side of the head, stars forming in his head, as what felt like a sledge hammer sent his brain tumbling down a mountain.

Everything went black for a second, then came back blurry.

Oh, Hazel was still hitting him.

How was he still alive.

Oh, yeah he was regathering aura just fast enough to keep Hazel from killing him.

Jaune shook, and felting throwing up, but he reached towards his pockets. ‘Time for card three and four,’ It had cost him the rest of his money in his account, but it was worth it.

It’s a good thing the lightning dust had ran it’s course, because this next one would have made him explode if it’s still in there... maybe?

Jaune slid to nearly burning floor, Hazel done with him, the boy’s face a bruised, bleeding mess, even as his aura worked overtime to fix him.

“Got to get the girl and go,” Hazel said out-loud, if the building wasn’t of fire, he would finish off the boy, but time was of the essence.

Jaune took a shuttering breath, that rattled several ribs around, painfully, then took out his second syringe.

His arm wouldn’t move up.

Jaune’s eyes widened in shock, the lightning dust messed up his arm. He tried his other arm and got no result.

The syringe was in his hand, though.

“I hope this works,” And he fell on his side, toward the syringe.

Hazel turned as he felt a shift in pressure behind him, as the infuriating boy rose up from the ground like a damn zombie, the older man gritting his teeth. “Why won’t you stay down, damn it.”

That’s when he saw what was sticking out of the boys side.

Another syringe, filled with neon purple liquid.

“Gravity dust... You fool, you’re a dead man now, how much of your life did you just give away?”

A long laugh spilled out of the blonde man’s mouth, distorted and far too deep, then high and shrill, switching back and forth like a tornado of tones.

“Eh, not my problem?” “What?” Then he jumped, clearing the room and Hazel, landing in a unstable crouch his body covered in a purplish mist.

Then his foot glowed brightly with he power of gravity dust and stomped, forcing Hazel into a crouch as gravity increased over him.

“So, I guess, I win,” “Don’t kid yourself boy, you can’t beat me.”

Jaune shrugged. “Yeah, but the building can.”

Hazel’s eyes widened. “The fire, the gravity dust...”

“Yep, I’m bring it down on you.” He smiled at Hazel, Jaune did, it was bloody smile, that was equal parts joyous and sadistic, showing off his teeth covered in thick, red blood.

Then the gravity double again, then tripled and quadrupled, and finally the floor broke beneath Hazel as he started to fall, into a the raging inferno beneath.

“Well played boy,” Hazel said dropping like a meteor through the floors.

___

Jumping form rooftop to rooftop, the rain exploding off of him, Jaune carried Ruby’s sleeping form as he rushed to the safe house.

Only he slipped, his tired, worn body giving out at the last moment, and they fell to the ground, Jaune turning with the last bits of his energy to shield Ruby.

As he hit the ground, and he went out.

Ruby opened her eyes as she felt herself shake and shiver, feeling cold and wet, and something warm beneath her.

“Jaune?” She asked, seeing a familiar bush of blonde hair beneath her.

She pulled herself up, only to see her friend’s broken body on the ground, with a bloody smile on his face.

“Jaune!” The young Maiden screamed into the night.

----

Hazel grunted as he pushed the concrete slab off his singed body, pulling his body out of the burnt out apartment building he had once owned.

The giant man cracked his neck, and took a seat on a piece of hot debris, it cracking under him but holding.

“Huh, he actually got me, heh, I’ll remember this.” Hazel said into the night, his aura then glowing brightly as it recharged at unnatural speeds.

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wincestisasincest · 3 years

Text

The Barrel - Ch. 1 (LOTR x Reader)

Okay, so time for a fun and sexy take on Modern Girl in Middle Earth that no one asked for - what if the Modern Girl had a gun? I wanted to try and write something where the Modern Girl in question was not completely defenseless, and had a fair amount of experience that the others lacked.

This will be very slow burn, I think.

Chapter: 1

Words: 1452

Warnings: Blood, guns (obviously)

Pairings: None (yet)

The butt of the rifle cracked against your cheek. You bit your tongue, but kept your arms rigid and eyes open. The taste of copper slithered between your teeth.

The orc staggered, his head reeling back with the force of the bullet that had just been lodged into it. His spine arched, and his arms flailed. Before he could catch his balance, his heart finished beating and he collapsed to the ground. Pungent, dark blood oozed into the dirt.

The wizard hardly flinched. His weary, sloped brow and buggish eyes were fixed on you thoughtfully. He tugged a strand of his curly brown beard - the one that had been blanched with bird crap.

You dropped your arms and let the rifle relax into the natural dent of your hands. They were clammy, but the crisp chilliness of the forest kept them from being sweaty. Everything about you, from the fresh redness pooling in your cheeks due to the recoil of the gun to the congested nose you had that made you sniff every couple of minutes, put you on the edge of sickness. And yet, here you were, shambling and corpse-like, but still upright and alive.

You stepped towards the wizard, your eyes occasionally darting back to the orc. You hadn’t registered yet that you were the one who killed it. You’d give it some time.

“Are you Radagast the Brown?”

You kept your voice monotone and deep to not risk exposing the rasp extending up the back of your throat.

“Who’s asking? Friend or foe?”

“Friend. I’m (y/n).”

“No family?”

“None that are around here. I’m, uh, not from here. If it wasn’t already obvious.”

You swayed nervously on your legs. Your combat boots were worn beyond repair, though their gaudy artificial stitching that was loosely holding them together still stuck out like a sore thumb. The black tank top clung to your body, and though you mostly kept it hidden with an oversized jacket, you couldn’t help the occasional peak of bare flesh and tight fabric. Oh, and, of course, your jeans were bright-ass blue and had a leather tag on the back with an impeccably printed logo.

“Indeed,” the wizard nodded, “I’ve never seen a bow quite like that before.”

You neither. This whole shooting business was about as new as Middle Earth. When you had woken up in a small pile of freshly fallen leaves, the gun, along with a few packages of ammo, were about 10 feet from your stiff body. You hadn’t dared to practice anything besides loading and unloading the gun, lest you run out of ammo in the middle of your hour of need. You had abstained from counting, knowing that it would just make you more nervous.

“Yeah...” you trailed, “but anyway, I know you don't know me, but you know Gandalf, right? He needs help.”

“Help? Now, there’d have to be something mighty strong that could get that old goat in trouble,” he raised an eyebrow hawkishly.

“Saruman.”

“Saruman? Well now, that can’t be.”

“He’s working with Sauron. Looking for the ring, and-”

“Hush!” he finally broke eye contact with you and warily scanned the tops of the trees. Nothing but a wall of silence.

“The forest... it’s quiet. Someone is listening. Come, come. Matters like these ought to be discussed inside,” he turned around and waved for you to follow, hustling in between long, imposing trunks that looked like they were ready to fall on you and crush the life out of you at any second.

******

You had killed the moth. Not on purpose, of course. You seemed to have fallen on it after you crashed through the sky of Middle Earth.

You could remember hearing its screams. You rolled over, looking for the source, grinding the roots further into your ribcage. When you finally saw the tiny thing flitting on the ground, trying to get your attention, you dumbly watched its crushed wings and snapped legs twitch with jolts of desperation.

“I have a message! A message for Radagast the Brown! Friend of the Eagles! You must take it in my stead - it is urgent. The fate of Gandalf the Gray depends on it.”

You said nothing, barely able to keep yourself conscious as you rapidly inhaled and expelled stilted breaths.

“Gandalf the Gray was betrayed by former friend Saruman the White. He is on top of the tower Orthanc, in Isengard, dying with each passing moment. He dispatched me to tell Radagast to seek out the aid of the Eagles - he fears that they may be his only chance at rescue from the tower.”

“Are... are you real?” you finally sputtered.

“I am alive, but not for much longer. My strength fails me. But you must go. Follow along the edge of Mirkwood until you find the brown wizard. The fate of Gandalf, and perhaps the realm, may depend on you. Please, time is of the essence. You must leave.”

The creature’s mouth never moved. You never heard the sound of its voice. But you felt the words in your head, bouncing around there after being injected by some foreign source. The moth pointed its head straight at you.

“Please. It does not matter who you are - your future depends on the knowledge that only Gandalf holds.”

A throbbing pain blossomed in the back of your head, just under your neck. The moth flitted its wings once more, and then the telepathic force that had been drilling into your skull blinked out.

You took a long sip of murky liquid in a cracked glass teacup. Warmth stirred in your void of a stomach, which you had been trying to ignore.

“My word. Then it is true. Saruman has turned to the darkness,” Radagast said to no one in particular. He looked out the window, as if waiting for the silhouette of his friend to appear over the horizon, completely fine.

“I’m sorry,” was all that you could say.

He turned to you, eyes still flickering with life but in danger of going out.

“So am I,” he said grimly, “but, no matter. Gandalf was right. The Eagles are his only chance of salvation from a place as wicked as Isengard. I’ll get the message to them at once.”

He looked at his feet. You couldn’t actually recall much about Radagast from the books - you knew more about how low of an opinion Saruman had of him. But the look of despair that was settling deep within his chest was a grave reminder that he was just as capable of complex thought as anyone else.

You realized that you had just seen a man accept that there would be war on their hands, and that there was nothing he could do to avoid it.

“It will be alright in the end,” you found yourself saying.

Finally, he looked up at you sadly.

“I know. The world will always be okay in the end. And I, who have lived many years and will live many more, will be around to see it. But what will happen to everyone in between?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, “but in the meantime we’ll just... do our best to protect them. That’s all we can do, right?”

You tilted the edge of your lips up, not quite forming a grin but far from the hopeless neutrality that you had carried with you into the house. He analyzed you, squinting his eyes and pursing his lips, not caring if you noticed.

“Who are you?”

“I’m (y/n).”

“A person is more than their name, especially one such as you.”

“I’m nobody important to this world. I don’t belong here.”

“And yet here you are. You’ve become somebody important,” he scratched his chin, “this appears to be beyond me, but I suggest that you consult with Gandalf. You’re already heading in his direction anyway.”

“What?”

“I’m sending you with the Eagles. The fellow will be in a mighty poor condition when you find him, it’d be irresponsible for me to send him back all by himself. And besides, you seem like a useful person to know.”

He smiled coyly. Your mind buzzed.

“There must be someone else that you can send?”

“Nope. Well, no one humann, anyway. One of the quirks of dedicating your being to the plants and the animals. Now, on you get! I can hear them circling overhead.”

You had no idea how he had summoned the Eagles, and at this point, you were almost too afraid to ask. You gritted your teeth and let your stomach do a cartwheel as you realized that you were about to come to terms with your fear of heights in the worst way possible.

So be it.

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cosmic-has-moved · 2 years

Text

Calming The Beast

Link to Ao3 version: [HERE]

Being the adopted child of the villagers Priestess would be viewed as a blessing, but it would be quite the confusing life to the child.

Being adopted after losing her family in a house fire since she was a child. Donna Beneviento was no stranger to Mother Miranda’s personal life, knowing well what she does under the village residents’ noses.

She didn’t admit it, but it fascinated yet terrified her. Even being gifted with a doll infested with what her mother has called “cadou” to make it living, didn’t ease the unnerving feeling she got from it. She only got more comfortable or at least use to it the more older she got.

Donna wasn’t given the parasite and Miranda still has yet to give a reason why, but she didn’t mind not having it. She saw how it worked.

Mother Miranda’s recent patient was a sickly woman in her 40s, Alcina Dimitrescu was her name, suffering from a blood disease that was killing her each day. Donna had only seen the woman a few times, first time being in the horrible state, second being in her bed recovering from the cadou injection, and the third being months later visiting her saviour.

The effects were very obvious given how tall she had gotten and less human like she gave off.

The fourth visit however, was one where her adoptive mother needed her assistance with something serious. The brunette agreed, happy to help her mother and followed her down to the basement, the blonde woman holding a leather bag.

Only to question her decision upon seeing what she was going to help with.

There in Miranda’s newly built basement, chained to the ground struggling to escape and blindfolded. Was a naked Mistress Dimitrescu, only this time she looked more monstrous. Dragon like wings with small tendrils sprung out wide out of her back, along with a tail of similar details thrashing about. Her hands were black along with her claw like nails, even her feet were black.

The air in the room felt dense, hot and smelled like burning wood, but no fire in sight.

The tall lady tugged at the restraints and let out a roar, saliva flying out of her mouth and dripping down her lips. She looked desperate yet so angry.

Donna feeling uncomfortable, wanted to stay at the doorway, but was pulled from the wrist by Mother Miranda closer to the creature. Her heartbeat got quicker as they got close and she looked at the blonde woman, showing that she was afraid.

“Fear not, Donna.” Her mother said, her voice cold as her stare. “Lady Dimitrescu here is just in a bit of a situation that’s been causing her to lash out, which is why you’re here.”

Miranda gently placed her clawed hand on Alcina’s face, causing her to jolt but calm down at the touch. “She’s usually calm by my touch, but only for a limited time.” She moved her hand away, backing a bit as Alcina went to bite her. “At the moment I am extremely busy with paperwork, so I can’t afford to fix her at the moment.”

Miss Beneviento’s heart sank. “You want me to fix her?!” She stammered “Bu-But how would I even do that, Mother? I don’t even know why she’s like this.”

The Priestess smirked at the young woman before going over to the Mistress, shoving her to her back and kneeling down. “Well the main source of the problem, is this.” Donna stared in wide eyed horror as she spread Alcina’s legs, exposing her slick wet womanhood.

The sight made Donna panic and blush, “I can’t do that!” She gripped onto her white shirt and looked away. “I’m sure a guy can help her with it.”

“Alcina here isn’t a big fan of males.” Miranda let go of the pale woman and walked over to Donna, holding her shoulders. “And fear not, I got the tools to help you.” She went behind her and placed her hands over her daughter’s eyes. “Just close your eyes and I’ll guide you to the right path.” Her voice was so sickeningly reassuring.

But Donna silently obeyed through instinct and kept her eyes closed, panic still present with her. She heard the woman walk around and open something, most likely the bag she brought. Before she returned and Beneviento gasped upon Miranda strapping something around her hips, a fair amount weight being around the pelvic area.

Before Donna could open her eyes to see what was put on her, her back knees were kicked causing her to fall on top of the Mistress. Her face burning more as it was inches away from her sex. She tried moving away but a firm hand grabbed the back of her hair, and shoved it into the wet pussy, the motion causing the Countess to gasp in pleasure.

While Donna struggled to break free, her mouth accidentally opening and getting juices in her mouth. Miranda laughed a bit as Alcina crossed her legs, trapping the poor girl. “Good girl, just like that.” She let go of her hair and stood up. “Alcina, be sure not to kill her or you’ll have to pay for it.” Was all she said before leaving and locking the door.

Finally pushing herself up off the giant and spurting out the thick liquid off her tongue, Donna found herself face to face with the blinded woman. Her hot heavy breathing brushed against the young woman’s skin, her face becoming redder.

She tried to get off of her but found her large legs wrapped around her, trapping her there. Donna’s heart beat faster in a panic at the situation she was in, and it didn’t help that she could hear the Countess moan Miranda’s name in a quiet manner. It both angered and disgusted her.

In a moment of defeat, Donna looked down to finally see what was strapped to her and gasped upon seeing a large strap-on against her legs, the tip resting against Alcina’s left inner thigh.

A tug of chains forced her to look back at Alcina in fright. Despite being blindfolded, she could tell how desperate and out of it she was. Her long tongue hung out as she panted heavily and her fangs tipped with her own blood from biting her bottom lip. It was almost sad to look at, and her small whimpers didn’t help.

So with great reluctance, Donna positioned herself more comfortably and shifted the dildo with her hand. As the tip rubbed against the entrance making Alcina moan softly, she gradually slipped it in.

“AH~!” The Mistress let out a disordered high pitched moan, which motivated Donna to proceed on slipping in and out of her. More moans escaping her red lips and filling the room.

She did her best to avoid looking at the woman as her moans turned into screams, only forcing her attention onto moving her hips at a rhythmic beat. But even she couldn’t help herself from moaning, the fluid from Alcina getting onto her jeans and shirt.

“More! More!” The winged beast demanded.

Donna was doing her best to go at a fast speed she could go, but it seemed to not be enough for her. Her tail smacked itself on the ground startling the young woman to a stop, which only angered her further.

The tugging of the chains got more frequent and strained as the lady beast snarled, her legs wrapped tight enough that Donna could continue.

She tried moving in order to calm the lady down, but could only grind against her, which seemed to do the trick as Alcina stopped snarling and continued softly groaning.

Through fear of not wanting to risk angering her again, Donna glanced down at her breast, gulping harshly before taking a nipple into her mouth. Nibbling and sucking on it pleased her greatly, her groans turned into low moans and her legs eased up.

Pleased with herself and the process, Miss Beneviento continued moving her hips and placed her thumb against the woman’s clitoris, circling it in the same motion her was tongue was on her nipple.

The movement of her hips gradually became harder and harder, increasing the frequency of the wet slaps and slurping sounds. It didn’t help that it also increased Donna’s horniness.

The moans escaping from Alcina’s mouth were quickly shifted to moaning out a name.

“Miranda! Don’t stop!” She begged, singling that she was close to orgasming.

The mentioning of her mother’s name bothered her greatly, her brows furrowed and she slowed down before her mouth let go of her breast.

“Beg.” She ordered quietly.

The Countess whimpered and growled at her, demanding her to continue and tug at the chains more. This didn’t disdain Donna however, she pinched her clit and tugged on it, a pained moan slipping out of Alcina’s mouth.

The young woman spoke again, her voice more calmer. “I said. Beg.”

Lady Dimitrescu tried biting at her but the collar around her neck stopped her, refusing to submit. Her pulling getting stronger and stronger.

“I said, be-

SNAP!

As the chains finally broke releasing the beast, Donna was tackled onto her back.

Alcina sat on top of her, a thirsty grin on her face. This terrified the small woman to a great extant, realizing how much she had messed up, cursing herself for being jealous in the moment.

Placing a claw on the cloth shielding her vision and tearing it off, Donna stared wide eyed at the glowing gold eyes that stared back at her in great hunger. She went to tried to push the giantess off but her hands were quickly restrained above her head, leaning her head down and giving Donna a good sniff. Taking in all of her scent and moaning out a shudder of pleasure.

Donna was too scared and ashamed of herself to move as Alcina used a singular claw to cut open her shirt, along with her bra, exposing her small breast. The sight seemed to please her as she let out a deep chuckle and gripped the dildo, tearing it off and shoving into Donna’s mouth.

Sitting up and placing the woman on her leg, using her free hand to rip her pants off and slid her panties down. Donna’s protest were of course muffled from the dildo which made her gag everytime she tried speaking.

This pleased the Countess and she cupped Donna’s crotch, shoving two of her fingers deep into her sex, she would’ve screamed if she wasn’t gagged.

Pumping her fingers into the squirming brunette at a quick pace, suckling and nibbling on her neck to the point of bleeding. “You’re already so wet for me~.” Her voice was disordered yet so erotic. “Cum for me~.”

Donna tried shaking her head to protest, but the waves of pleasures paralysed her from doing so. Her eyes rolled back as a large shock of pleasure pulsated through her body, a body twitching orgasm.

Slipping her fingers out of Miss Beneviento, blood was mixed into her fluid and she licked them clean, moaning in content from the taste of her prey.

“So much better than normal blood.” She muttered, inhaling Donna’s scent before sinking her teeth into her shoulder, sucking the blood out of the wound while ignoring the quiet screams.

Hot tears trickle down the maiden’s face as the sharp pain shot through her body, only easing up when the Countess finally stopped and licked the remaining plasma off her lips. Exhaling a moan from the taste before removing the gag, tossing it to the side as Donna finally gasped in full oxygen into her lungs.

Moving the small woman onto her lap, being certain she knows it’s not over yet. Her small wrist in her grip had now given up on moving, but the tall lady didn’t seem to care. Biting her bottom lip to stifle her low moans, Alcina used her free hand to knead Beneviento’s rump.

Donna herself was confused for a short while, until she felt small tendrils brush against her bare thighs. The sight of the thick pale flesh like tentacles emerging from the Mistress’s pelvis, set a fire inside her, a fire of desire that she didn’t want to embrace.

As the tentacles wrapped around each other to form a penile like form, Donna tried scooting away only to find herself getting pulled closer to it. The tip pressed itself against her stomach and slid up to the bottom of her breast, giving her an idea of the size of it that made her forcefully swallow the air in her throat.

“Th-That won’t fit!” the young maiden explained as she looked up at her, a plea in her eyes. But that didn’t sway the predator, she just grinned a sinister grin.

She was slow at first, but impatience changed her mind, she had torn something inside her. She repeatedly slammed Donna up and down on her makeshift cock, her screams and moans music to her ears. The heat that had put her into such an uncomfortable state earlier, began easing with each harsh thrust.

Donna’s screams of pain quickly went to scream of pleasure, eyes half lidded and mouth left a gap. It didn’t take too long for her to be lost into the feeling of ecstasy, not acknowledging the amount of blood flowing out of her womanhood mixing into her discharge.

Finally letting go of her now bruised wrist and wrapped an arm around her. The other hand gripping onto the woman’s ass, Alcina pounded more and more into her, the sounds of their flesh colliding with each other getting wetter and louder.

The confidence the Mistress had showed slipped off, showing how lost she was into the moment. Her pupils dilated to a large state, almost like a cat.

Alcina wrapped both of her arms around her, holding her close. Her sweet whispers of claiming her becoming more horse and erotic, causing her walls to tighten around her and increase the pleasure.

Grunts of strained pleasure replaced Donna’s moans, her mouth dry from how long she kept it open. She had lost how many times she had orgasmed, all she cared about enjoy the moment.

Shifting position by laying back on the ground and holding the woman up straight, Alcina guided her hips to continue the movement. The bulge on her stomach appearing and disappearing everytime she weakly moved.

It was clear that Donna barely had any strength left to continue on her own, but she still tried. Her mind becoming more hazy and blank, all she knew to do was pump her hips with the occasional thrust from Alcina.

A hand slid up on Donna’s face, caressing the scar on her eye, easing her a bit more.

This continued on for what felt like days, before Miss Beneviento felt her thick tail wrap around her torso to her neck, her hands instinctively grabbing it. Her worries of what the lady was doing quickly answered upon the tail moving her body, upping the speed to their limit.

Both their eyes rolled back as the immense shock waves of pure heaven electrified their bodies to a few twitches. Their vaginal fluids mixing together along with Donna’s virgin blood, they could stay like that forever.

After finally letting go of the small maiden letting her collapse on top of her, the Mistress grabbed her face and pressed their lips together. Her tongue wrapping around hers and exploring her mouth, nibbling on her bottom lip upon breaking it.

Donna let out a pathetic plea of more before she got it, the kiss more messy and hungry. Whelping weakly as Alcina bit down on her tongue to get more blood from her, it hurt but a good hurt.

They laid there for a while in a sweaty hot mess before Alcina wrapped her wings around them in a cuddle, her eyes slowly closing before they both fell into a slumber.

___

Donna woke from the sound of low throaty growls. She found her vision to be covered by cold pale skin, her body still being held tightly.

“Despite the trouble I went through, you’re still being a stubborn brat.”

A familiar voice, one that made her turn her head, only to see spiky flesh surrounding her. The growl she woke from becoming more threatening, the hold on her more tighter.

“Just because I told you not to kill her, doesn’t mean you can be possessive of her.”

She finally recognised the voice to be her guardian, Mother Miranda. Fear and shame suddenly filled the young woman’s being, as she curled up in a ball as a way to hide. Gasping loudly upon feeling the mess of tentacles still inside of her, the movement making a groan escape the lips of the Countess.

“… What did you do with her, Alcina?” Demanded the Priestess, no concern in her voice, only annoyance.

“She’s mine!” Alcina roared, the vibrations of the tone almost soothing to the brunette.

“I help you with your disgusting animal like rage, and you repay me by stealing one of my possessions?” Miranda’s tone was cold that it sent an uncomfortable chill down Donna’s spine.

All the tall woman responded with was resting her head on top of Donna’s, being clear of what she wants. This annoyed Miranda, but she just sighed and walked off.

“Fine, but you better not ask more out of me after this.” Miranda finished before opening the door and stepping out. Leaving the two alone again.

Donna went to speak but found that Alcina already asleep, low soothing rumblings heard from her chest. So she did was she thought was right at the moment, she rested her head against the woman’s large chest and closed her eyes.

#Cosmic FanFic #doncina #alcina x donna #alcina dimitrescu #donna beneviento #lemon fic #mother miranda #re village #resident evil village #resident evil

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