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sheilarice1 · 4 years ago

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Silver Death - Part 15

Cave:

By the time we make it to the river it's about half past three.

Thor, Hawkeye, Bruce, and Falcon fish first. They use the fishing rods for an hour and then we switch.

They can fish with the rods but I have always preferred to fish with my hands. Taking off my jeans and t-shirt I am left in my swimsuit that has long shorts and I dive off the shore into the water.

(Winter's P.O.V.)

When Silver starts taking off her shirt I look at her strangely but she doesn't notice, when I notice Steve blushing I get defensive and look back to her. She was midair between the river bank and the water. She hardly makes a splash when hitting the water.

"Buck what is she doing?"

"I think she's going for a swim."

Steve nods and doesn't keep questioning me, but of course Tony has to be Tony.

"She has quite the figure. Steve make sure to tap that."

Neither Steve or I understand what he means, but judging by Nats glare something sexual.

"Tony what do you mean by that?"

"Well Capcicle what I mean is she has a nice body, and you should-"

Silver picks this time to resurface and yell "anyone else catch anything?"

Steve understanding what Tony is meaning now asks "Did you catch something?"

"Yah, see?"

She holds up a jack fish that wriggles out of her grip and dives into the water only to have Silver follow it.

"Anyways Cap, she had a good body make sure to get some attention from it."

By the time he finished his sentence Wanda starts yelling at him "Don't even- oh! Something is on my line!" She cuts herself off and starts dealing in the catch. A jack fish, I wonder where Silv is.

When Silver pops up close to the centre of the water way with a smug look on her face she looks at me and shrugs. I beckon her over, when she gets to the shore no one has gotten the fish off the hook yet.

"Do any of you know how to get a fish off a hook?"

"No Silver, we all are kinda out of place around here."

"Right sorry Scarlett. Captain get me the pliers from the bait box please."

Steve get the box and hands her the pliers, "why do you need them?"

"To get the hook out of this dudes mouth cause it's kinda like really stuck."

While Wanda holds the rod up so the fish is basically in the lap of Silver who is sitting cross legged on the ground trying to get the hook out Thor, Sam, and Bruce continue to fish and the rest of us talk or watch.

Not sure how to help I take off my shirt and pants and jump in the water, only for Steve to follow soon after.

Silver joins us after getting the fish unhooked and helping Wanda release it.

"Widow there is a swim suit in the van for you and one for Scarlett when she's done. I you wanna change and join us feel free too."

As soon as she finishes talking she dives back down and pulls me under. Curious to what she's doing I stay under and wait. The water is rather cold. I try to resurface but Silver is pulling me down and I let her.

We go through what feels like a tunnel and surface in a cave. The cave is rather big. It could probably hold five comfortably and seven feeling cramped.

"How did you find this?"

"Didn't mean to. But a few months back I was following a cat fish and he went into the tunnel. After the catfish stopped I kept going and ended up in here. Pretty cool right?"

"Yah, you should get Steve in here. He'd freak."

"Okay. I'll go get him."

As she slips into the water I look at the back of her head. Her hair is a lot lighter than normal.

By the time Steve gets pulled into the cave Nat and Scarlett are following them.

We all sit down and talk.

"Silver your hair is practically dry and it looks a lot lighter than it normally does. What up with that?"

"I'm not actually sure Widow. Winter any ideas about why hair is changing... oh. Never mind."

When she says this it makes sense. Since HYDRA hadn't given her the serum that suppresses her abilities that she was given she may be gaining them back now.

"What's 'oh' Silver?"

"Oh nothing Widow. I bet the others are about done with fishing. And depending on what time it is we should head back up to the house. Does anyone need help getting out?"

No one says anything so Scarlett and Widow, go back through the tunnel. Just as Steve is about to Silver starts talking "Would the serum they gave me be wearing off Winter? It thats what's wrong with me?"

"Technically nothing is wrong with you. It's just the powers HYDRA gave you coming back. Now we better get going so that the girls don't think we got stuck."

Since Silver had her back to the water that led to the tunnel she spun around to see Steve looking at us.

"I thought you already went through. Don't tell anyone please."

"I won't. But what powers? If I may ask."

Silver nudges me and nods.

"She can change her appearance. She was originally a very dark haired brunette but when she got a serum that gave her the power she became a lighter hair coloured brunette and when the power got suppressed it went natural."

"So the serum is taking effect again?"

"Yes Captain it is. Now I would like to get back to everyone else. Ready to go?"

Nodding Steve tuned and swam back though the tunnel.

"Thank you for not telling him about the other one James."

"No problem Sil."

I follow her through the tunnel and to shore.

No one else catches anything and we head back home. Can we call it home?

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kensboytoy · 5 years ago

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Smile, Darn Ya, Smile!

Title: Smile, Darn Ya, Smile! Fandom: Smile For Me Pairings: Dr. Boris Habit/Reader (Gender Neutral) Ratings: Explicit

Flower Child.

The name was almost an insult at this point when you heard that poor excuse for a Muppet turn to the camera and speak directly into your soullike it had been watching you night and day. You knew from day one that Dr. Habit wasn’t the goody-goody-gumdrops man filled with rainbows and sunshine - hell, most folks in the Habitat knew it too and were unsettled. So why did you all stay? Were so many people rooted in place from crippling depression?

Or maybe something intoxicating was in the air.

Either way, your campaign to brighten up these people’s lives wouldn’t stop with a few measly puppety threats. Simple requests led to big smiles. And wasn’t that the entire reason that you were there?

But a King sat on the ivory throne of pearly white teeth, scowling at how his kingdom was unraveling. How you were becoming the Flower Hero and he nothing more than a knave. A bubbling jealousy was brewing within the scorned man. He wanted to make everyone smile! They didn’t deservethe free-wheeling right to do so unless he commanded! The Big Event was almost here and you were ruining it.

[Continue Reading or Read on AO3!]

Oh, he could get rid of you easily. However, suspicion would grow if he didn’t plan it right. If you vanished without a trace? Well, he could say that you went back home. Although the people in Habitat were naive, there was no way they’d fall for that. You were too involved here - you had some sort of stake in Habitat now. Like a tick on a dog’s back. Sucking the life out of Dr. Habit and making his patience wear thin.

As night fell upon The Habitat, you sauntered your way through the halls to get to your room. You let out a languished yawn, your eyes growing heavy. The sun had only just started to hide behind the hills when you started to feel funny. Not the usual tiredness from a long day. You felt woozy. Steadying yourself on the guardrail leading up to your room, your free had clutched at your head. There was no one around to help you up the tedious flights of stairs that now felt like climbing a tall mountain.

Slowly, you crumpled, defeated by the sudden crushing weight of gravity. You called out. But nobody came.

”It’s so very totally rude to keep sleebing.”

The darkness that clouded your mind was starting to come back. A voice that sounded like TV static started to trickle into your ears. You swore that you were drowning in the abyss before your lungs finally reacted to inhale much needed oxygen. A few shaky breaths and you finally started to come to. The stinging smell of copper filled your nostrils as you took in long, greedy breaths as if they would be your last. What was that smell?

”Ignoring me! You’re ignoring me! May-be… I oughta wake you up, up, up!”

The voice was louder. Mocking you. A deep, mocking voice laced with an accent your dizzy brain couldn’t place at the moment.

Before you could find the strength or the voice to reply to the voice, you felt something sharp against your cheeks. They felt like daggers against your flesh but you weren’t quite convinced they had cut you. No, they were prodding you. Fishing around and then - then something was on your mouth. Pulling. Pulling your mouth open tight.

That was when your eyes snapped open with a sudden bolt of adrenaline. Panicked, your breathing quickened as you scanned the inquisitive face peering at you now. Green. Green…

“Ah, there you is! Wakey-wakey!” the madman giggled. It was his hands that were on your face. Sharp fingers that felt like claws were still adjusting whatever was holding your mouth open.

“Doctor?” you croaked, voice breaking apart from how dry your throat was. It felt like sandpaper just trying to rattle out that word alone.

Dr. Habit was smiling at you, though it wasn’t exactly sincere like all of the posters of him had been. There was menace behind it - a threat.

“Ah, look-y who the smarty-er-pants is!” Dr. Habit cooed mockingly. “Oh, so very smart for guessing who I am. But I bet you still don’t know where you are~!”

With your heart still racing and the new stinging of your face, you let your eyes frantically glance around as your vision came back to you. Sterile. Weirdly cramped. An office? Glancing down, you noticed your immobile form all strapped up to what looked to be an examination chair. Oh. You knew where you were now.

“Your-”

“Thaaaaat’s righty-right, Flower Brat! You’re in my office! A very special appointment for a very special little Flower.”

You heard a swift kick of his foot against the metal pedal of the chair’s release that sent your seat in an uncomfortable backwards position. A yelp of surprise left you as well as an alarming amount of saliva down your chin that your mouth was finally producing again. Dr. Habit was laughing at the sight of how pathetic you looked. He was circling around you now - almost prancing - like a shark to a minnow.

“How dee-sgusting! This is the freak that all the Habitians are smiling about? But look at you! You’re a mess.” He was brought to more laughter with a series of titters that he tried his best to keep inside. “And we haven’t even started the actual procedure!”

“Procedure?” you parroted.

Dr. Habit scowled at that, jolly facade slipping as his voice dropped to a low register.

“It ees not polite to talk with your mouth full.”

You were about to question him when he shoved dampened cotton balls into your mouth. The numbing effect of whatever they were soaked with hit you pretty quickly. It wasn’t like you were feeling any better from being drugged up previously. You had finally pieced together that the copper smell was laughing gas. Though, that was what you were hoping for.

A whimper pushed through all the cotton, filling the air. It was like music to him.

“Bettur? Just let your body realize your natural place, Flower Brat. I can see that it wants to let go of aaaaall those sill-ee thoughts you have! All those terrible worries. How preoccupied you’ve been with other people’s problems.”

Dr. Habit was closer to you now, one hand reaching down to cup your cheek. He rubbed you gingerly, pretending that he was filled with concern for the one that he had drugged up and tied down. You could see that he played stupid very well.

“Even after I told you not to interfere,” he growled, claws clenching against your skin. You whimpered, afraid of the power that he had. “You just don’t lee-ssen! What do you hope to prove, hm? That you are better than me?”

You shook your head frantically.

His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. It was clear he didn’t believe you.

“You do! You think you are better-er than me!”

Huffing like an impudent child, you felt his fingers back on you. They slipped into your open mouth eagerly and he bent down to examine. Dr. Habit frowned several times and made small ‘hmm’s’ and ‘oh’s!’ as he explored. The sudden focus on your dental hygiene was making you squirm under him. Though, perhaps it was also the intimate nature of a deranged man on top of you, prodding and poking your mouth with sharp fingers. You felt like one wrong move and he’d cut you open.

Dr. Habit could see that you were watching him - he smiled when he met your gaze.

“Curiouz creature, hm? Want to know what I’m looking for?”

Slowly, you nodded.

That certainly caused him to guffaw.

“Well, I am a dentist, silly-Billy! So I’m looking for any yucky-ucky cavities. Whiiiich-” He dug his index finger right into a molar.

You cried out, bucking against your restraints. Dr. Habit snorted at that and pushed down harder. Tears stung your eyes.

“Naughty, naughty! Such an ungrateful little Flower Brat, you don’t even bother to take care of your teeth!” His expression shifted again so that he was glowering at you. Practically a snarl. “Such naughty people always get to have their teeth. Why should you be so lucky, hm? You obviously do not care enough to take care of them.”

Another sharp push but, this time, it felt like he was trying to pull it back out. You quickly realized that the fluid in the cotton balls did not actually numb any pain at all. It indeed made it shock your mouth with more of an impact. Crying out, you begged for him to stop. Dr. Habit couldn’t hear you in his mad frenzy.

He reached for his tools resting nearby and produced a rusty pair of pliers. Panicking, you began to thrash. You knew the pain would be unimaginable if he pulled it out.

“Stop squir-erming! It’ll be over quickly…”

The rusted metal was tightened around you tooth and-

Yank!

You screamed. Howled in pain as the molar was plucked from you. With tears down your face, you shook and cried in Dr. Habit’s grip. He looked the molar over and tsked. It indeed had a large cavity in it, making it not perfect and shiny like he enjoyed. He let it clatter to the collection tray before he turned back to you.

“Pleasth!” you begged, mouth still forced open with drool and blood running down your chin. “I’m saw-wee!”

Dr. Habit paused, looking at you with a slight bit of pity. Well, you had thought so. But his finger went straight back into your mouth was the hole was.

You cried out again, screaming until your voice was hoarse. The stinging pain of the new wound quickly began to numb. It might have been your brain trying to process it into something that you could handle.

So neither of you had expected a moan.

Dr. Habit’s eyes widened in surprise, mouth agape and ready to question or belittle you. Curiously, he pressed again. Another loud moan fell from your lips in between your sobs.

“Oh? Whazzis…?”

He let your blood coat his finger and then slowly traced it on the roof of your mouth so you’d be forced to taste the stinging metallic taste. Then, he pulled away and sucked on it. He shivered. This was terribly naughty!

“Do you like this?” he whispered in a sharp, accusatory hiss.

You tried to shake your head.

Dr. Habit carefully cupped your face between his hands and this time let his thumb push into your mouth. You whimpered, body arching up towards him. With his hand clamping your jaw open, he touched the freshly opened hole and watched as you practically danced under him. Well, this was new, wasn’t it?

Never before had Dr. Habit had a patient that liked this. No, usually they screamed their little lungs out and begged for their lives. You would never know if this man spared those who he harvested or that he had more skeletons in his closet.

“Liar, liar, plants in a fire! I can feel your bod-dee twitching when I play.”

That sing-songy voice was enough to make your stomach turn. You wanted to be sick. However, the fire in your loins was far too distracting. You began to pant. Hard, heavy breaths meant you were inhaling more of that godforsaken gas into your lungs. But you couldn’t help it! This was entirely new to you too. You should have been screaming and sobbing and you were letting tears fall down your cheek, you were also leaning into Habit’s sickening touch.

Helpless eyes watched as the man examined you to try an re-calculate what to do. You had already ruined his first set of plans for the Big Event and now you had the audacity to make him change course for torturing you!

However, the morbid curiosity that Dr. Habit had in this precise moment was almost enough to let you off the hook. Almost.

“Even in my ah-tempts to hurb you and make you pay, you still-ee manage to screw it all up, Flower Brat!” he nearly roared with a snarl before that sweet smile came and stretched across his face.

Like nails on a chalkboard, he scraped his pliers against the metal of the dental chair to make you jump. You let out a gasp, dreading what would come next. He loved watching you squirm in anticipation. Your fear was so very palpable that it was yummy in his tummy. The cold metal of the tool that had robbed you of a tooth tapped mockingly against your cheek. He dragged it along your jaw and stopped at your chin.

“We could always see how many more teeth I can pull from your puh-retty leetle mouth to make you orgasm.”

Your eyes were wide open and looking at him in terror. The shock ran through you - or, at least you hoped it was shock and not something else.

“Wh-wha-”

Habit pressed the pliers to your lips to shut you up.

“Oh, leetle Flower Brat! You are having a big se-cer-ret from your dear Doc-tor! I cannot per-scribe the right medi-i-cine if you don’t fess up to all your dirty daydreams~!”

He yanked your mouth open again and carelessly plucked another tooth. You screamed, unable to take this flash of pain ringing in your jaw. Choking back another cry, you felt the blood drip down your lips before you realized that he had taken one of your front teeth. However, instead of shoving his claws back into your mouth, you suddenly felt his warm, stale breath pour over your face.

Now you were staring directly into those bloodshot yellow eyes as he was a hair’s breadth away from you. Body tensing up, you were frozen by that stare. You wanted to pull away. To try and jerk free from his grip. What was he trying to pull - aside from teeth, of course.

Before your anxious thoughts could get too rapt up in the ‘what if’ game, you felt his lips against yours. Startled, you moved to pull away but felt his hand encase the back of your head to hold you steady. Like a panicked animal, you began to fear the worst. Then you felt his tongue slide into where your tooth had been and it finally clicked.

He was trying to turn you on.

Using your own embarrassment was far more fun than just simply robbing you of your teeth. No, he wanted you to feel shame that you were enjoying this. Sweet little Flower Freak was getting off on the mutilation of your own body.

You began to weep freely and tried to ignore the white hot pleasure his tongue was quickly achieving. It slid directly into the fresh wound and pushed its slimy warmth with enough force to produce another lovely moan from you.

All your worries were starting to melt away.

Your body, perhaps from the sheer trauma of it all, was sending signals of pleasure rather than pain. The stinging sensation of the open gash in your mouth was beginning to welcome the sensation of his tongue. Like it was the perfect band-aid for your lil’ whoopsie.

The longer Habit kissed you and let his tongue explore your mouth, the more you finally let your body go limp in his hold. No more struggling. Dr. Habit knew exactly what you wanted and would prescribe the perfect medication.

“Theeeere we go, leetle on,” he cooed encouragingly. “Let your nasty body realize its place, hm? You know-e you cannot fight against such a strong Doc-tor like me! I would crush you easily.”

That dangerous look in his eyes was proof enough of that. But he was right. You couldn’t fight back. You couldn’t win. Trying to convince the mad doctor to let you go was a moot point. So you might as well just enjoy the last moments of your life and let the sick bastard indulge your newfound fetish.

“All you wanted to do was fix the smiles of everyone else… But maybe leetle Flower’s smile looks funnier than everyone else’s! May-bee…”

Habit’s hands pulled your cheeks so you were forced to smile your new broken smile as blood continued to dribble down your chin.

“May-bee Flowers do not smile right because there is something naughty behind those teefs! A perverted little freak who wants big bad Doctors like Habit to be making their smiles less dirty.”

Slowly, he leaned in and licked a stripe against the top row of still intact teeth.

“Habit could fix you,” he suggested, a darker tone slipping in again. “Fix you up-up-up! Make smile less dirty by cleaning it.”

With another push of the pedal connected to the chair, you were flat on your back now. The hulking figure was on top of you, blocking out the small light that had been shining in your face. He looked to be nothing more than a shadow creature now, leering down at you like a piece of meat instead of a ‘patient’.

“Yes, yes! Habit fixy! All smiles! Even naughty-naughties who wanna ruin ever-ree-thing!”

You were barely focusing on what he was saying as he slid your legs open. Fear washed over you again as you started to wonder what ‘fixing’ you meant. The answer was swiftly rubbed against you through the fabric of Habit’s pants, rubbing your inner thigh before he pushed it against your throbbing sex.

Letting out a choked cry, you bucked to try and shove him off you. But he was far too strong and was now pinning a good chunk of his weight to keep you still. The sharp zip! of his pants was enough to alert you to the terror and gravity of the situation.

“Don’t worry, leetle patient. Doc-tor Habit will indulge your icky fantasies with special medicine.”

A mewl left you as your body trembled. However, you found the arousal at the pit of your stomach branching off and seeping into every inch of you. The laughing gas made you feel as light as a feather and so easy to mold like putty.

Habit stared down at you tenderly as he rubbed his cock against your clothed body. The sensation was enough for him to sigh in relief. He wouldn’t have admitted it, but seeing you so fearful and horny really turned him on. And Habit so rarely took care of his own needs. So this was an extra special occasion!

He bent your legs upwards and let your thighs push together. There, he let his cock slip between them and start absentmindedly hotdogging them. The sight sent you further into your own madness. You begged for him to stop but your hips rocked to try and meet his. This was torture. Complete agony!

Deciding that you needed more pleasure, his hands went back to your mouth to play with you. Eager, you reached into his touch and let your face be cupped in the palms of his massive hands. His thumbs parted your lips and pushed in. It only took his sharp fingertips to push against your two new holes for you to greet him with little moans. You were already on the brink! You just needed more of his touch.

More of Habit talking down to you and degrading you. You liked being his nuisance if this is what it meant. You’d make everyone in the Habitat so happy if it meant he would get to reward you with these unwanted advances. The sick part in your twisted brain wanted to see how far you could push him before he’d simply take what he wanted.

You couldn’t tell if this was you or the effects of the gas anymore. With your brain turning into goo, you were helplessly in the hands of Dr. Boris Habit. You wondered where his filthy mind would go with a new pliant little patient underneath him. From how much his cock was throbbing, you guessed he liked this too.

And he was big. Of course he would be from just how tall he was. A towering giant over all of the Habitat. His shadow could have easily swallowed you whole! You dread to think about that creature you had seen in the corner of your room at night. Waiting for you to slip up. And now you had. Fallen right into the spider’s trap.

Small, drunken giggles left you as Habit played with your jaw. He pushed and wiggled the rest of your teeth to see if anymore needed to come out immediately. The force on one of your molars made you moan, realizing that you had another cavity there. Taking this opportunity, he tugged out that tooth too and fingered the new hole. Your blood was a lovely little lube that stained his green fingers nicely.

The adrenaline he got from hurting you like this was enough to make him moan. Habit joined in with your giggles, pleased as punch to see you finally so happy.

“Oh? I am making you smile by doing such naughty things to you? Do you like the Doc-tors special medicine, leetle Flower?” he crooned.

You nodded, eyes half-lidded and your mouth willingly wide open while he played. You were in heaven. The pain was pure pleasure now and making every nerve-ending tingle so delightfully. Having him do this to you was amazing! You were oh so grateful to be his patient.

“Good! Now you know how generous I am! You comin-k in here and ruining all my wonderful plans! I was oh-so mad at you, yes I was! I wanted to stra-ngle the li-iife outta you… But I like your broken smile.”

Habit was starting to drool. Strands of it fell into your mouth as he fucked between your thighs faster. Harder. So hard that it made the unstable dentist chair beneath you too creak and whine noisily.

“Because it is a smile for me! Mine, mine mine~! You are smiling for Habit now! And I hab it aaaaallll to myself foreber and eber!”

His own maniacal giggles surrounded you.

You were smiling at just how happy he was! It was so infectious to see Dr. Habit smile so much. You were finally making him happy too…

Pleased with yourself, you let yourself fully dive into your madness. You giggled and groaned, begging for him to keep you. You wanted to be his! Why waste time in such a silly world like the Habitat when you could stay with Habit forever. That sounded much nicer.

Habit bent down and greedily kissed you, swiping his tongue over your teeth and the holes of the ones he had stolen over and over, increasing his pace the harder he bucked against your warm body. He was close. So achingly close. The noises coming from him were guttural. Needy. He wanted you to cum to fully put you in your place. To overwhelm you with utter shame even after you came back to your senses.

Your arousal was hitting you so hard that it was blinding. All you could see were the rows upon rows of Habit’s teeth curled into a smile and his yellow eyes shifting to a deep red. His hands that grabbed the sides of your face were now letting those sharp nails dig into the soft flesh, poking holes in your skin with sweet new cuts that would punctuate your broken smile.

Then, all at once, as you felt the overwhelming darkness begin to eat you up, you came. You screamed out his name and begged for him to keep you and to fix your smile.

Habit watched in pure childlike wonder as you bucked wildly, gasping for air. The sight of what he had done to you - how he ruined your body all for himself and that you were begging for more sent him well over the edge.

Ropes of cum shot onto your stomach before he moved up, opening your mouth and letting the hot, salty liquid shoot into your mouth. The sting of it hitting the gaps in your smile burned. But your loopy smile was stretched out as you took every drop.

Dr. Habit panted for a moment before tucking himself away and standing at full attention. His hand came to pet your head in a more tender moment, his smile never fading. You had truly made him smile from your depravity.

“Round one of Dr. Habit’s speshul medicine was a sucks-yes!” he cooed proudly. “I think it is beddy-byes for Flowers before phase two…”

You were about to protest when you felt a syringe pierce into the crook of your arm. A warm liquid filled you before you lost your fight to sleep while hearing Habit sing a soft lullaby in his mother tongue:

“Bayu-bayushki-bayu, bayu-bayushki-bayu…”

#Smile34me #Works of Oz

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thereluctantinquisitor · 7 years ago

Note

Out of curiosity, and because Delton has become so popular suddenly, has he ever become kidnapped and needed to be rescued by a pissed off Bull?

You know what? Probably. Here, have a ridiculously long rescue fic, because that is apparently the only way I know how to answer asks

Redbull. Delton x Iron Bull. CW: kidnapping, abuse, torture (mostly suggested). Approx 3500 words. [AO3 Link]

“Right, then. What dowe have here?”

Delton flinched as thehood was pulled from his head, blinking back tears when the darkness he hadgrown accustomed to gave way to sudden and blinding light. Cursing, he tried toturn away, but a hand snared him by the hair, dragging his head back so roughlyhe had to grit his teeth against the pain. A figure stood before him; a tallman in heavy plate. A strange red hue surrounded him, emanating from his skinlike perfume visible in the air. Of course, Delton was well aware that it wasfar from so benign a thing.

Well, this is just great. Defiant, Delton tested the bonds around his wrists,cursing silently when he heard the tell-tale clink of steel. Not much he coulddo about that. Rope he could have at least tried to burn off in a pinch. Thetall man – some kind of Templar, if Delton had to guess – took another stepforward, looming over him.

“Inquisition, I takeit?” he asked, then glanced to whoever was behind Delton, the question clearlyintended for them. That person shifted, their shadow moving in the flickeringfirelight.

“Yes, Knight-Captain.Travelling with a small group.”

Shit. Delton’s heartrate picked up, hammering a wild rhythm against hisribs. The Chargers. Bull. What had—?

“And what of theothers?” the Knight-Captain asked, sparing Delton the silent panic. Thesubordinate hesitated.

“They… weren’t therewhen we caught this one. Tormond thinks he was a scout trying to check our fortifications.”

“Actually,” Deltoninterjected, “I was trying to take apiss. So thanks for interrupting that.”

The Knight-Captain glanced down, seeming surprised thatDelton had spoken. “Starkhaven,” he noted after a moment, dark brows raised.Delton just smirked.

“Nevarra. Nice to meet you.”

The Knight-Captainhuffed, a swirl of red accompanying his amusement like breath on a cold night.“An ear for accents, then. You are a long way from home, Red.”

Delton’s lip curled into a snarl. “Don’t call me that,” he said,but the momentary anger gave way quickly to pain as the hand in his hair tightened,forcing his head back again, bearing his throat to the Knight-Captain. Like ananimal before the hunter’s knife. Aye,this probably makes the top three worst situations I’ve been in…

To the Knight-Captain’s credit, he raised a gloved hand,signalling his underling to cease. Delton released a tight breath, jerking awayas soon as the grip slackened, lowering his head, Bull’s words playing over inhis mind. Protect your neck, Red. That’sthe first place an enemy’s gonna want to put their blade, and the last placeyou want to find it.

Shit, but if he didn’t wish Bull was there. Was thatselfish? Probably. But for the first time in a long time, Delton felt it. Thatdeep, withering ache that seemed to fill the marrows of his bones.

Helplessness.

“I will call you what I please. Is that understood?” Therewas something about the way the Knight-Captain spoke. It made Delton, for allhis stubbornness, want to shrink away. But there was nowhere to go. Nowhere torun or hide, chained on the floor of a barren room. In the end, not wanting tomake matters worse, he didn’t reply.

Apparently, that was the wrong move.

Before Delton knew what was happening he was on his feet,dragged from the ground, the Knight-Captain’s hand closed tight around hisneck, crushing his throat. Delton wheezed, struggling, feet kicking at theloose stones and dust as he tried and failed to pull in air. Those red-coaleyes of the lyrium corrupted burned straight through him. “You will answer when spoken to,” the Knight-Captain said, voice low. Dangerous. Deltonhad heard voices like that before. They were the ones you learned to avoid inthe dark.

Lips parted, no sound able to pass, Delton’s eyes rolledback, darkness clawing at the edges of his vision, panic and lack of airmingling in a potent haze that threatened to drown him. Then, he hit theground, air rushing into starved lungs, pain lancing up the arm he landed on.Coughing, Delton curled in on himself, trying to force away the memories of ayoung boy in an alley. Trying to hold back the fear. Shove away the pain. Onhis own, alone on the bad nights, he could indulge in his own weakness. But here?

Here, he could not afford to appear anything but strong.

“What do you want us to do with him?” one of the otherTemplars asked. His voice was sharp and harsh; steel chords in his throat. TheKnight-Captain considered for a moment, his pale eyes sending a chill crawlingup the back of Delton’s neck. Then, he gave a bored shrug.

“Get what you can out of him. Use whatever means proves mosteffective.” That heartless gaze locked with Delton’s. “The fate of a single manneed not feature on my report.”

… How long had itbeen?

Delton swayed in the dark, losing his balance for a momentbefore getting his feet back under him. His legs burned, the cramps knotting his calves leaving him in a cold,nauseous sweat. Eyes stinging, he shook his head, red hair soaked, wrists throbbingwhere they were manacled above him. The chain he hung from was attached to aring. It dangled from the ceiling, hoisted and secured just high enough toleave Delton with two options: bear his weight on his toes, or hang by hishands.

”S-Shit…” Deltonbreathed, his shaking legs reaching the end of their strength once again. How many times had that happened, now? Hewould have to hang for a while. Teeth gritted, Delton tried to ignore the pain,lowering down inch by agonising inch, the pressure on his abused wristsincreasing, metal biting into already damaged flesh. Despite trying to control hisdescent, Delton eventually reached a critical angle and his ankles gave out,sending him jolting down with a cry of pain. For a second, he thought he mighthave dislocated something. Luckily, as he breathed through the blinding pain,he was able to determine that was not the case. But he knew what it lookedlike; the damage he could not see. Skin discoloured, rubbed red-raw by thesteel of the cuffs. The tickle of something running down his arms; theindistinguishable warmth of blood and sweat. Strangely, as he hung there likemeat on a hook, the constant burning wasn’t even the worst of it. No, it was breathing. He couldn’t. Not properly, atleast. Every time Delton tried to drag in air, it stuck halfway, arms raised toohigh, chest pulled too tight. It felt like a single deep breath might snap him intwo.

The door creaked open; a shallow, grating sound. A ribbon oflight spilled across the floor, cutting through the dark, and a man entered. Hewore no plate. No armour at all save a single gauntlet on his left hand. At aglance, Delton knew he was no soldier. At least, not one who had seen anyactual fighting. Not for a very long time.

“Ready to talk, Red?” he asked amiably, as though they wereseated across from one another at lunch. Delton glared at him, shaking,sweating cold and hot all at once. After his angry outburst at theKnight-Captain, they had all startedcalling him Red.

Taking Delton’s silence for the answer it was, the torturersighed, examining his gauntleted hand, turning it over before the torchlight.“You will talk, you know.” Theknuckles were lined with metal studs, tips gleaming menacingly in thefirelight. “Between you and me, startingnow is really in your best interest. Why suffer through the means when the endwill be the same? Save yourself the pain.” He flashed a crooked half-smile.Delton figured he might have been charming, once, before he lost sight of whatit meant to be human. “And save methe pain of cleaning up. This can be remarkably messy work.”

“Forgive me for not weepin’for you.” Delton knew his type. Aye, they knew just what to say as theysliced off the soles of your feet and drove needles under your eyelids. Theyconvinced you it was your fault. That the pain, the suffering, was all simplythe price of non-compliance. Perhaps after enough time, that lie had becometheir truth. Perhaps it was what they needed to sleep at night.

Or perhaps they simply enjoyed watching others break.

The torturer set his torch in the sconce of the room’scentral pillar and moved closer, inspecting Delton from head to toe; a masterpainter considering his canvas. That cold, calculating stare left Deltonfeeling exposed despite his tattered clothes, his hands curling, nails bitinganxious crescents into his palms. He hated the way he flinched when the manreached out and grasped his chin, forcing him to look up.

“Hm.” The torturer turned Delton’s face roughly to the side,chains rattling with the movement. “This is truly a pity. I hope you at leastenjoyed that face of yours. I’m afraid it won’t be quite the same once I amdone.”

“W… We had a good run,” Delton rasped, throat like ash, themetal gauntlet cold against his skin as he forced himself to smile. “I’m notmuch of a talker.”

He had hoped it would be disconcerting, a broken mangrinning madly in the dark. But the torturer just smiled right back.

“I find that rather difficult to believe.”

Releasing Delton, he stepped away and turned to a nearbytable, his attention drawn to a long wooden box. Silently, he flipped up thelid, revealing the array of tools inside. Blades with edges wicked-sharp, wrappedin thick cloth to prevent accidental cutting. Ironic. Pliers. Needles. Hooks, thin and thick. Instruments forcutting, pulling, tearing, piercing, crushing. In that moment, his gaze fixedon the promise of pain, Delton’s mouth went completely, utterly dry.

This was reallyhappening.

“You’re the first I’ve had in a while,” the torturercontinued, his back to Delton. One of this hands brushed lovingly over thetools, pausing every now and then like a noble struggling to choose theirdesired sweet from a platter. “I was going to keep it simple, you know. That’swhat this was for.” He raised his gloved hand, those sharp metal studs makingDelton wilt silently as they flashed in the torchlight. Then, the torturerslipped it off in a gesture that could only be described as bored. It fell to the ground with ametallic clink. “But it is far too brutish,isn’t it? No… you seem like the sort of man who appreciates a little finesse.”

Delton didn’t answer. The torturer continued regardless. Itwas something he had best get used to.

“No, a beating does not suit you. Not at all. But this…” He drew out a long, thin bladefrom its cloth wrap. More a needle than a knife, he held it carefully betweenhis fingertips and turned towards Delton, face half-lit by the torch. Waveringshadows fled into the lines of his gaunt cheeks. “Ah,this little one has always been a favourite of mine. So small. So sleek. It seems a rather innocent thing,yes? Yet it can do so, so very much in talented hands.”

He moved towards Delton, footsteps echoing about the barrenroom. Delton had returned to standing on his toes and, on instinct, tried toback away. Of course, he did not get far – couldnot get far – the chain pulling tight after barely a few inches, tugginghim off-balance. He found himself hanging uselessly again as the torturer slowlybreached the distance between them. A meter. A foot. An inch. Delton grimacedand turned his head away, trying not to think about that gleaming piece ofsteel. Those dark, keen eyes.

“Yes. Yes, that is good,” the torturer murmured. Fingersbrushed the curve of Delton’s ear, moving his hair aside. The second Delton’sexhausted, terrified mind realised what was happening he jerked away with agrowl, chain rattling, legs aching, blood trickling down from his ruined wrists.

“Get away from me,” he hissed, but the hand returned,gripping him by the lower half of his face hard enough to bruise. Turning himlike a hound for inspection. Delton could see it now. The needle. Its tip was pointedtowards his head. Towards his ear.Delton tried to say don’t but thehand muffled the word into something unintelligible. Senseless. Useless.

He was useless.

“The Knight-Captain mentioned you had an ear for accents. Itdispleased him, although he hid it remarkably well. He likes to shroud himselfin something of a mystery, you see.” The torturer’s voice was utterly calm,perhaps even a touch amused. He was enjoyinghimself. “So this is nothing personal onmy part, Red. In fact, it is one of the lesser pains I can inflict. But thereis something you learn quickly in my, ah… profession.Not all pain comes from the wound itself.”

Delton’s eyes widened and he tried again to pull away asthat needle moved into his ear. But he was held tight, the torturer far strongerthan his lithe form suggested, those fingers digging hard into Delton’s jaw. Hedid not feel the needle, but he knew it was there, held steady in thosewell-practiced fingers. Moving deeper. Sensing the inevitable, Delton felthimself begin to panic, desperate to fight, kick, scream, but too terrified to move. A whine built up at the back ofhis throat – it was the only thing he could do – as that needle slid, so, soslowly…

“The drum, they call it,” the torturer murmured, breath hotagainst Delton’s cheek. “Swim too deep too quickly, and it can burst. A cleanpain. Sharp. Sudden.” His tongue flicked out, swiping across his lips. “Iwonder what might happen if a needle pierced it slowly. Slid deeper still…”

No. No, don’t! Delton couldn’t move; he didn’t dare. Panicseized him but he was helpless, eyes wide, already pleading silently despiteknowing this was far from the worst that would be done to him. The truth aboutDelton was that he was not a brave man. He never had been. He ran and hid andstole. When he was caught, he plead until he could run and hide again. Butthis… this was something else. A game for his tormentor, as mental as it wasphysical. The torture lay not only in the pain, but in the slowness of it. Thewaiting. The knowledge that the needle was insidehis head and he knew it was thereand he wouldn’t feel it until it was too late, scraping, piercing through…

It was too much. Delton’s breathing stuttered and stopped ashe squeezed his eyes shut, body shaking, not enough air, not enough air—

The door slammed open.

Bull crashed into the room, not pausing to take in thesight, not pausing to think. His axe, its head as large as a grown man’s chest,slammed into the torturer, the force of the impact throwing him away fromDelton. Metal clattered to the ground, ringing like a chime against thebloodied stone, the sound accompanying Delton’s cry of pain as that handreleased him and left him swinging. The torturer slammed into the table, his toolsscattering across the floor, fleeing before his groping hand. The other, onceclad in that gauntlet, was pressed tight to his stomach, its contents spillingpast his arm as he rasped and groaned. Bull did not wait. Unlike the torturer,he was not one for speeches. Blood bubbled to the wounded man’s lips but hegrinned wide as Bull raised his axe. They both knew it was a merciful death.

Bull delivered it anyway.

For once, Delton closed his eyes, turning away before heheard the axe fall. It was too much. All of it was just too, too much. Theshackles. The smell of blood. The lack of sleep. The tightness in his chest.The burning. The torment. The needle. The needle.

Rough hands wrapped suddenly around Delton’s waist and hegasped, eyes flying open, not really seeingas he bucked and kicked. But those hands wouldn’t leave; wouldn’t leave. They stayed and held and stilleduntil finally a familiar voice broke through the roar of panic in Delton’shead.

“… Kadan. Listento me. You know me. I’m not going tohurt you.”

Slowly, his struggling gave way to uncontrollable shakingand Delton found his voice. Tentative. Weak. “Bull?” He blinked, the world ahaze of firelight and shadow. “I… d-didn’t. Didn’t tell ‘em anything. I-I didn’t…”

A smile, soft yet tense. A comfort for Delton, a deadlypromise for anyone else. “Hey. I know, Red. You did good.” A pause followed. Itwas the most uncertain Delton had ever heard Bull. “You hurt?”

The question almost made Delton laugh, but he just didn’thave it in him. “N-Nah. Just… peachy...”

In any other situation, that might have earned him a snortof amusement from the Qunari. But for the time being Bull was already busyinspecting Delton’s restraints. “Needs a key. Hold on.” Slowly, Bull started torelease Delton’s waist, and it was at that moment Delton realised why Bull hadbeen so intent on grabbing him in the first place. The steady drag of his ownbodyweight returned, too much too muchto endure after it had been so mercifully taken away. A hoarse scream tore fromDelton’s throat and Bull seized him again, bearing his weight, holding him up once more. “Easy, easy… I’ve got you.”Bull’s voice was so calm. So reassuring. He’sgot me. Now unable to do what needed to be done, Bull angled his head towardsthe door. “Hey Krem! Get in here.”

Delton trembled in Bull’s arms, able to breathe but unableto shake the deep, irrational terror that he would be left again. That Bullwould let him go; abandon him and not come back. He’d already caused so themall so much trouble. More than he was worth. Krem arrived, and his eyeswidened in alarm at the sight. The lieutenant opened his mouth, but Bull cuthim off with a stern order to find the key. For once, Krem did not offer a quipin reply, moving immediately to the body of the torturer do as instructed.

“Hey… you wanna talk to me, Red?” Bull asked softly, deepvoice soothing as it filled the room. “You’re alright. We’ve got you.”

Delton closed his eyes, body pressed to Bull’s as the Qunariheld him up, taking the pressure off his legs and wrists. “S-Sorry,” hebreathed, the words catching in his raw throat. “’m sorry, Bull. I didn’t…”

Bull said nothing. Just held Delton a little tighter,drawing him as close as he could. That alone said more than words ever could.

Luckily, it did not take Krem long to find the key. Hehurried over, dragging a stool across the slick stones, standing on it tounlock Delton’s wrists. The manacles snapped open and the red-head collapsedinto Bull’s ready arms. For once, Delton didn’t complain as Bull cradled him. Intruth, his body was too weak to do anything but lean limply against theQunari’s chest. Delton sagged. Closed his eyes. He didn’t want to look down athis wrists; he didn’t dare. But Bull did, and the sound of his low, furiousgrowl told Delton all he really needed to know about their state.

“Those bastards. I’llkill them all for this.”

Krem stepped up to Bull’s side, his hand resting gently onthe Qunari’s massive arm. “You already did, Boss.” There wasn’t a trace of thelieutenant’s usual humour in his voice. Frankly, if Bull had dealt with theother Red Templars the way he had dealt with the torturer, it was likely nothingmore than a statement of fact.

Bull’s arms tightened protectively around Delton, thenloosened just as fast, likely worried about aggravating any other injuries.Ones he had yet to see. “Huh. Good.” Bull moved out of the room and into thenarrow corridor, careful to manoeuvre Delton out the door. “Got something moreimportant to do now, anyway.”

Despite it all, something about that voice, rumbling fromdeep in Bull’s chest, left Delton feeling warm. Safe. Comfortable, whencomfortable was about the furthest thing he could possibly hope to be. Delton shuddered– a reflexive spasm – then let himself go limp, breathing in the scent offamiliar leather, his mind drifting away from that room. Away from the chainsand the smell of blood.

This time, Bull didlet him go, but only to the realm of sleep. Only because he so desperatelyneeded it.

And for the first time in what felt like an age, Delton wentwillingly.

#dragon age fanfiction #iron bull #delton #rescue fic #angst #hurt/comfort #cw: kidnapping #cw: abuse #cw: torture #yeah this is not a fun one #sorry folks <3 #u_u #reluctant replies #reluctant writes #redbull #backtraf

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