#she would have easily plunged a knife in my gut if she was certain it would save his life

[classicintp]

Goddammit I miss that cat.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Living is Harder

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Tim drops the knife like it’s white-hot. Oh, god. Oh, god.

Tim did this. He was...he didn’t mean it. He didn’t. He would never. But the man was on top of him and Tim couldn’t breathe, and...he didn’t mean it.

Tim is walking home from Steph’s house, his light-up Sketchers the only things illuminating his path through the Gotham night. He stayed out later than he planned, utterly captivated in the Among Us tournament he and Steph were playing against their Titan friends all the way in San Francisco. (And Tim would have gotten away with the murders too, if it weren’t for that meddling Bart Allen who stared Tim down every time he killed a player, watching it happen but never reporting until Tim finally cracked from the shame and called an emergency meeting on himself.)

Tim rode in Steph’s car on the way to her house, but forgot that it would mean he’d be without a ride home. Steph offered to drive him back to the manor, that she doesn’t mind losing a measly hour of sleep, but Tim insisted he didn’t mind walking. Besides, it’s not like it was a lie. Sure, it’s Gotham, which means Tim can see drug deals going down on street corners and the occasional drunkard puking into a trash can, but Tim feels at peace here.

It brings him back to his early days of climbing fire escapes, tailing Batman and Robin under the cloak of night in the hopes to get just one more photo for his collection. It was a simpler time with fewer psychotic clowns—back then it was just the one, and all he did was tell shitty jokes and occasionally tie Robin up over a swimming pool filled with Jokerized sharks. Nowadays it’s all grotesque murders and creepy masks made of human skin. Where’s the showmanship? Where’s the pizzazz? Disgusting. Deplorable. Lazy beyond all reason. Tim is insulted by the lack of artistic ability in these new Jokers, and you may quote him on that. Regardless, Tim takes comfort in knowing that if something did go wrong, Cass is patrolling somewhere a good five blocks ahead. Maybe he can track her down and pick them up some corn dogs. He’s currently in the Red Hood’s territory, but whether Jason is around at the moment is a gamble at best. His schedule is harder to tamp down than a solid answer on Ted Cruz: Zodiac Killer. Jason might not even be in Gotham right now; he could be in space for all anyone knows. Sometimes Tim feels like Jason is more of a feral cat than a brother, which isn’t too far off, really. Tim happens upon an empty beer can on the sidewalk in front of a boarded-up store that he’s fairly certain used to be an adult film shop. Good ol’ Gotham City. He stoops down to pick up the crinkled can like the good samaritan he is and drops it into a trash can at the mouth of a nearby alley. He wipes his hands on his jeans, designer style be damned. That’s when Tim is grabbed from behind, a hand reaching up to cover his mouth and muffle his shout. He’s pulled into the alley and pushed up against a wall, the bricks digging into his back and knocking the breath from his lungs. Shit, shit, shit. How could he have been taken by surprise so easily? It’s hard to make out his attacker in the shadowed alley, the only discernible features being dark eyes and bared yellow teeth—never a good sign. Tim’s hands are pinned together above him in a strong grip, practically wrenching his shoulders from the sockets. He tries to scream, but the man’s disgusting hand presses harder against his mouth. Tim freezes when he feels the poke of a knife at his throat, digging into the skin just below his Adam’s apple. “Make a sound and I’ll gut you,” his attacker says, his voice a low rumble. The stench of cigarettes and alcohol assaults Tim’s sinuses and makes his stomach roll. He’s going to have to be careful about this. Robin could get out of this hold in five different ways with varying degrees of injury to the opponent, but a civilian couldn’t. Even if the only witness is a low-life scumbag, he shouldn’t run the risk. Better to wait until he’s at the point of no return to bust out the Robin moves. Instead, Tim goes for the oldest trick in the book and knees the man in the crotch, hard. It has the desired effect and the grip on Tim’s wrists slackens, the man dropping him with a grunt. Tim ducks out of range and makes a run for it. If he can just get to the street, he should be home free. Even in Gotham City, there are always witnesses to help out a poor, defenseless teenager under attack. Tim almost makes it to the sidewalk when he’s grabbed by the hair, crying out as he’s thrown violently to the ground. Then there’s weight on top of him, pinning his shoulders to the dirty ground under his back. Tim fights, kicking out and delivering purposeful hits under the guise of a panicked struggle. “You little shit,” the man spits. He’s still got a hold on Tim’s hair, which he uses to slam Tim’s head against the pavement so hard that Tim goes blind for a good ten seconds, his head spinning. The back of his scalp feels wet, and he hates to think about what bacteria must be lurking on the ground beneath him. The knife clatters somewhere to Tim’s side and he’s almost relieved until a hand wraps around his throat, cutting off his next breath. Instinct plunges him into panic, choking on the lack of air and scrambling to get a hold on his attacker. Scratching, kicking, desperately trying to loosen the grip crushing his windpipe. “You didn’t have to make this so difficult,” the man tells him. His body presses down on Tim’s smaller form, keeps him trapped against the unforgiving asphalt, and this is it. This is the point of no return he’s been waiting for, but now Tim is here and he can’t do anything about it. Not even Robin could get out of this without a weapon, and Tim has none. He’s powerless. The creep releases Tim’s hair with a whisper of, “Don’t move.” Before he can do anything more with his newly freed hand, though, Tim’s body is thrown into action faster than he can comprehend moving at all. The world goes hazy, time itself turning to molasses. Absently Tim feels muscles flex, sees shapes move in front of his eyes, but someone else might as well be controlling Tim’s body while he’s locked in the backseat, missing the entire ride. One minute Tim is on his back with the creep on top of him, and after a chunk of time that Tim can’t remember participating in, he’s standing against the alley wall with something clutched in his hand. Tim blinks back the fog, but it lingers. He looks down and studies the way his fingers clasp the handle of the knife. That can’t be right. He wasn’t holding a knife before. Tim comes back to his body in increments, a stop-motion reel. First there’s a stinging ache on the back of his head, blood soaking into the back of his shirt and plastering his hair against his neck. His gaze slips from the glinting knife to the blood that covers his hands, warm and sticky. Then he catches a shape on the ground in front of him and Tim’s breath catches in his throat. The man from before is on the ground now, his eyes closed and blood spreading from a stab wound directly over his sternum. Tim drops the knife like it’s white-hot. Oh, god. Oh, god. Tim did this. He was...he didn’t mean it. He didn’t. He would never. But the man was on top of him and Tim couldn’t breathe, and...he didn’t mean it. Tim staggers back until his back hits the cold brick wall, his pulse pounding in his ears so loud the entire city must hear it. He just stabbed a person. He just killed a person. The one rule he’s supposed to follow, the one thing he promised never to do, and he just did it. Without even a second’s hesitation. He took a life. What is Bruce going to say when he finds out? Tim’s legs are made of jello, wobbling in warning until they give out entirely and he slides to the ground, knees pulled in close to his chest. His hands are still covered in blood. A dead man’s blood. He should...he should do something. He should act. First-aid, stop the bleeding, do whatever it takes to help in case there’s a chance. Tim doesn’t move. He doesn’t even try. His limbs have been replaced with rubber, his brain with slush. He just killed a man. In the back of his mind he knows he can’t go home, not like this. Not covered in another man’s blood. Even if he tried, Tim isn’t sure he’d make it two steps without collapsing into a puddle of whatever emotion is making him feel as though he’s rotting from the inside out. His family lives by a code, would sooner die themselves than take a life. Bats don’t kill. Tim doesn’t kill. Tim killed. His fingers shake as they take out his cell phone on autopilot, and the screen is cracked at the corner from when he was slammed into the ground. That’s going to cost money to fix. Tim gets blood on the screen, smudging over his contact list and warping the names. He finds the one he’s looking for and puts the phone to his ear. A ring. Two rings. A click. “This had better be important,” Jason says. Tim swallows. “Um. I—um.” He can’t take his eyes off of the body, lying there still as a corpse. Because it is a corpse. “My...head isn’t working. It’s—something is wrong. With me.” “Are you high or something? Because if you are, I’ll fucking kill you.” That does it. What little resolve Tim held on to cracks in one clean split and a sob bursts through. He covers his mouth with his elbow, choking on gasps. “Jay, I—it was an accident. I swear to god, I didn’t mean to. He was...it wasn’t...I didn’t mean to.” There’s a creak on the other end, maybe Jason sitting up in his chair. Or maybe he just sat down. Maybe he closed a door. Too many things in the world are creaky. “What the hell are you talking about? What happened?” “He’ll kick me out. He’s gonna take Robin away from me.” Something slams—definitely a door. “Kid, tell me where you are.” “I don’t know. It was—” His brain isn’t working. For the first time in his life, logic and reason escape him and Tim’s mind pushes into overdrive, drags him deeper and deeper into oblivion. Bruce is going to find out. He’s going to find out and he’s going to hate Tim for the rest of his life. Bruce doesn't like murderers. “Goddamn it. Tim, listen to me. Can you do that?” It takes a moment, but Tim manages to get out an affirming noise. “I’m going to track your phone and come get you. Don’t move, got it? Stay right where you are. I’ll be there soon.” Jason hangs up, leaving Tim alone again. He drops his phone back on the concrete, uncaring of potential breaks. It’s already been cracked. “He’s going to kick me out,” Tim repeats to the empty alleyway. ------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim is cold by the time Jason arrives. Or maybe he’s been cold this entire time. It’s hard to tell. “Fuck,” Jason swears as he takes in the scene before him. The body on the pavement. Tim, huddled against the alley wall, his eyes glazed over as he stares at the body like a horror movie he can’t turn off. Jason isn’t wearing his helmet, just a domino mask. He takes it off when he kneels in front of Tim, makes Tim meet his eyes. “Hey, kid. You with me?” “I killed him.” The words taste acrid on Tim’s tongue, sour. “Don’t worry about that now. Are you hurt anywhere?” Tim doesn’t answer. The back of his head stung before, but the pain is muffled now. Everything is muffled. “I killed him, Jay. I’m a murderer. Bruce is...I’m not supposed to kill. Robins don’t kill. They don’t.” His chest is tight, getting tighter by the minute until it feels like every breath is being sucked in through a tiny straw. “Tim, breathe,” Jason tells him. He puts his hand on Tim’s shoulder, and that helps a little. Gives him something to latch onto. “You’re in shock. Try putting your head between your knees.” Tim does, stares down at the dirty pavement between his sneakers. His eyes linger on an old fast food receipt. It has droplets of blood on it. “I don’t know what happened, I really don’t. He was—it was an accident. He was on top of me and he had a knife and then he was choking me and...I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe, so I just—I just moved. And now he’s dead. I killed him. What am I going to do?” “It was self-defense,” Jason says, as if the answer could really be so simple. “If you hadn’t acted, he would have hurt you. Maybe even killed you. You did the right thing.” “No, it’s—” Tim picks his head up, digs his nails into his knees to keep himself above the fog. “No. I took a life. I’m guilty. I can’t—there’s no coming back from that. There isn’t.” How can he live with himself after this? Does he even deserve to? “What, so you would rather be dead than have to tell Bruce you took a life? Seriously?” “Yes.” There’s no hesitation, not even a pause to let the words soak in. Jason sighs, and Tim is too far gone to decipher what it means. He squeezes Tim’s shoulder once and stands, goes over to the body still lying on the ground. (As if a dead man would go anywhere.) Jason crouches down and takes off one of his gloves, presses two fingers over the man’s neck. After a moment or two, he lets out a breath. “He’s still alive.” Tim’s breath hitches. “Really? Are you sure?” “Pulse is thready, but he’s not dead.” All of the air leaves Tim’s lungs in one huge whoosh, making him lightheaded. “Oh my god. That’s…” That’s good, right? It’s a good thing. It should be a good thing. “Yup. That’s one hell of a relief.” Jason straightens up from his crouch. He reaches into his jacket, pulls out a gun, and fires it into the man’s head. “Jason!” It happens so fast that Tim doesn’t even have the capacity to think about the blood and brain matter splattered over Jason’s clothes, Tim’s shoes, the cracks in the alley’s pavement. “How could you—” “What? It’s not like he was going to walk it off or anything.” “We just—” Tim’s stomach churns. It feels like he’s going to be sick. “We just killed a man.” “No, I killed a man.” Jason holsters his gun, then kicks the body in the side for good measure. “You, however, are off the hook.” “What are you talking about? I stabbed him.” The knife is around here somewhere. That’s evidence. Proof of what happened tonight, what Tim did. What Jason finished. “And I shot him in the head. One of those is worse than the other.” “But I—” “No,” Jason snaps. He lowers himself to look Tim in the eyes. “You didn’t. Kill. Anyone. Got it? I killed him. Your slate is still clean.” “There’s a body. Evidence. I still did this.” Jason grabs the bloody knife and tucks it into his jacket. “No, the Red Hood did this. He cornered the guy in an alley, stabbed him, then shot him in the face. That’s what happened.” Tim shakes his head. “You can’t. You can’t take the fall for me.” “I’m not. I’m the one who killed him, right? I’m just taking responsibility for my own actions, which nobody is going to look twice at because this is the third one this week.” Jason takes Tim by the arm, pulling him upright and keeping him steady when he wobbles. “What about Bruce?” “We’ll tell him the truth. That you got attacked by some creep, I killed his slimy ass like he deserved, and then I let you crash at my place for the night to make sure you were safe. That’s it. Understand?” Tim isn’t sure if he does or not. He’s too numb to attempt puzzling it out, but he does know one thing he can say. “Thanks, Jason.” “Don’t mention it. Just try not to puke on me until we get to my place and I’ll call us even.”

[colorfullfalls]

Saddle up

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Being an old member of Agent Coulson’s team meant that you knew all too well about the wanted man, Grant Ward. Ward thinks you are the link to reaching Daisy, and he takes you as a hostage. He completely missed out on  the information concerning a certain Winter Soldier that is very much in love with you. Bucky will find you. 

Coulson’ s team saved you and your best friend, Skye. Two girls that stuck together after they were too old to be in fostercare anymore. Coulson found you guys and gave you a home. A purpose. An actual life. S.H.I.E.L.D came with it’s ups and downs, the  first world shattering event for you was the betrayal of Grant Ward. 

He infiltrated the team so easily. He was a protective team mate, or so you thought. He truly made you feel like you were family. You foolishly grew to love him, just as you did with the other members. Finding out that he was HYDRA was one of the worst days of your life. Skye crying frantically was in imagine forever burned within your memory. 

At the time she weak and unable to do much to fight him. Skye went through  terrigenesis, found her true identity-now going by her birth name of Daisy Johnson- and became the strongest hero you knew. Quake was now a well known hero that even saved the Avenger’s ass more than once. 

The team working with the Avengers caused your connection with Bucky Barnes to bloom. He was enamored with your intelligence and humility. You were refreshing compared to the intense heroes he was always surrounded with. Sooner than anyone expected, you two were in a fully committed relationship. At first your team was weary of him, him being the most terrifying assassin. But once they saw him look at you, there was no doubt that he was smitten. 

Bucky and you went off the grid for a bit of a vacation. The team had been so busy lately that he only really saw you at night or if he visited the lab. He complained about it to Coulson and sure enough you had a week off. Bucky was stoked about getting you to himself. 

A cabin in the middle of nowhere sat close to a small lake. A red canoe rested against the worn dock, the stain chipping terribly. You smiled at the sight of Bucky starting a fire- upon your request. Smores sounded irresistible and since you were irresistible to him, he made quick work to create roaring flames. 

“Buck. I think we forgot the chocolate.” You sadly pointed out. He walked over and gently grabbed the bag from you to search. No luck, he gave you a sympathetic smile that shifted into a real smile when he saw your pout.

“Seems so. Dammit, the fire is going too.” 

Flames licked the wood, enveloping it to create a barrier of heat. From where you were standing you could feel the heat radiating, or maybe that feeling was because Bucky was standing so close to you, his flesh arm brushing against yours.

“No biggie. I’ll go get some and you keep that fire going, mister.” You said, grabbing your bag and keys.

His metal hand grabbed your waist, pulling you close to press a chaste kiss to your lips. His forehead rested against yours for a second before he pulled away and kissed above your left eyebrow. Butterflies swam in your stomach at how absolutely gentle he was. The badass winter soldier was the softest teddy bear around you. It was almost hard to believe that he could kill a man with a knife in one hundred different ways.

“Be safe.” He mumbled against your skin.

You scoffed, pushing away, “Buck, I don’t need to be. Look how swole I got!” You flexed your arms and pointed at the small amount of muscle you gained from Bucky dragging you to the gym three times a week.

A ripple of laughter barked from him as he grabbed a large piece of wood and set it on the fire. His blue eyes shimmered from the flames.

“Okay, tough guy- seriously though. Be cautious. You never know what the world will throw your way.” He warned.

He was right. Being in S.H.I.E.L.D. proved that danger was around every corner. Nightmares of little kids were very much real and a lot of horror manifested in the world. You tried your best to fight evil with science but when it came to physically warding it off, you were sort of lost.

Bucky worried about your safety at all times. Being a scientist with the expertise of human anatomy meant that HYDRA would be interested. The current goal was to create super soldiers from scratch and he had a feeling that they knew about your set of skills. He would not let you get caught by them. His eyes conveyed how intense he was about you returning unharmed.

“Aye aye Sergeant Barnes. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Chocolate secured, you walked around the end of the store to purchase it. In the corner of your eye you saw someone behind you in the distance but when you turned no one was there. This occurred a few times before you got out of the store. Starting to grow paranoid you briskly walked to your car.

As you were about to open the door you were pushed harshly so that your face smacked off the car. Your arms were quickly restrained and a hand snuck around to clamp your mouth shut. Your heart beat out of your chest as you realized what was going on. You were caught by HYDRA and you were going to die or be used as bait to lure in Bucky.

“Don’t scream and I’ll take my hand away.”

Blood drained out of your face as you recognized the voice. Fucking Grand Ward found you.

You tried to scream but Ward managed to haul your body effortlessly onto the backseat of his car without anyone noticing. Your muffled cries for help angered him as he tied your hands and feet together with rope. He slammed the door shut and climbed into the driver seat. You regretted asking Bucky to make a fire now. You could’ve made out in the nice cabin instead but you buttered him up to make a fire. You decided that the chocolate wasn’t worth it and that s’mores weren’t that great.

Your eyes watched out the window as he drove, trying to memorize the area you could see from laying down so that if you possibly escaped you would have an idea where to go. Ward was sort of dumb for not blind folding you, you thought as he pulled into long lane that held a large house.

He got out of the car and man handled you inside. You grew nervous as you saw about twenty hydra agents spread through out the house. He kicked open the basement door and sat you down at a table. The stone walls covered with cobwebs made you shiver. Clearly this wasn’t as welcoming as the cute cabin you should’ve already been back to.

“You’re a dick.” You threw out.

He rolled his eyes, “You’re insufferable.”

You guffawed loudly as your hands fought to get out of the rope, “You’re a killer! How did you even find me?”

He grabbed a nearby chair and sat in it nonchalantly as if he hadn’t kidnapped a rival agent, “I didn’t plan to, I happened to be in the right place at the right time. Better take an opportunity when it presents itself.”

His stupid smug voice made your insides burn with hate. A knife wedged between his eyes danced around your mind. Oh boy did you wish that you had Daisy’s powers in that moment. You would quake him until his insides turned to jelly.

“No, I think you’re a stalker.”

He clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, “I don’t care what you think, I care about what you know. Where is Daisy?”

Laughter bubbled in your throat, ripping out in a furious wave of sound. You carried on until tears were running down your face. Granted, your situation was not funny but you were nervous and him thinking Daisy wouldn’t kill him really humored you.

“Stop laughing and tell me.” He gritted out.

“Grant Ward, you’re a demon on this earth, but never before did I think you were this dumb! I mean come on man, as if Daisy wouldn’t end your life the second she saw you? Lincoln died to kill you and Hive, but you somehow lived and made your way back here- surviving like a parasite. She will never forgive you, especially not after that.”

He punched you as soon as you finished your words, landing a blow to mostly your nose and mouth. You blinked in surprise as he drew his fist back. Grant grimaced as he noticed your busted lip. Once again his anger got ahold of him. Daisy hating him exposed his true monster because he loved her. As fucked up as it was he was still in love with her even though she rather him be dead. And the truth of that hurt. Daisy would really hate him for harming you.

“I didn’t-“

“Fuck you.” You spat, glaring at him with pure resentment, “It is not my fault that you messed up your life so bad, not my fault you ruined your friendships. For god sake, you plunged Fitzsimmons into the depths of the ocean without batting an eye. Our forgiveness is not in your future.”

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness.”

Your tongue swiped against your bottom lip that had a small amount of blood on it. Metallic tasting liquid invaded your taste buds, making you wince.

“You’re asking for hers. Tough luck, killer, you won’t get it!”

He slammed his fist against the table causing your body to flinch at the bang. Your face pulsed in pain remember the punch delivered moments ago. You were trying to be strong but you were scared. Grant Ward was a murderer and he had you locked up in a basement in the middle of nowhere. You were extremely helpless and vulnerable in your chair due to being tied up. You wished more than anything for Bucky to kick that door down and save you.

Bucky waited thirty minutes before jumping in his vehicle and making a beeline for the store you two had visited earlier. Getting chocolate would not take that long and his gut knew something was wrong. He pulled in and saw your car in the lot. He lunged out of his and ran over to yours. His blue eyes became darker as he noticed two hand marks and a smudged face mark that wasn’t there before you left. Someone harmed you.

Bucky looked around the lot for any suspicious vehicles but nothing looked out of the ordinary. His heart was hammering furiously in his chest at the idea of someone daring to lay their filthy hands on you. Bucky punched the pole beside him, denting it considerably.

“Fuck!”

Grant Ward stared at you as you attempted for the tenth time to get the ropes off of you. You didn’t even have a plan for if you got them off, but that was the first step. He rolled his eyes at your actions.

“Will it take torture for you to speak up? Hmm? Maybe a knife in your thigh? Another punch? I am tired of playing nice here.”

You ignored his words, only trying to loosen the ties around you even more. Bucky would’ve already been out of this chair and had killed Ward if he had been where you were. Unfortunately, you were not a trained assassin and you were very worried how this day would end. Bucky had to have known you were taken and you knew he was looking for you. And when he found Ward, all hell would break loose.

“You’re not going to get those off. Stop fussing, you’re annoying me.”

“I don’t care what annoys you,” you seethed, “Let me go! I’m not telling you anything about Daisy so keeping me is useless. It’s signing your death warrant, really.”

He hummed in a condensing manner, “My death warrant? I’m alive for a reason, princess. I’m better at killing than my opponents.”

The condescending pet name irritated you to no end. Princess was a generalization of a snobby girl who got whatever she wanted. You were a educated woman who knew worlds more intellectual information than the man in front of you.

You dryly laughed, “Not more skilled than the Winter Soldier and when he gets here, you better saddle up because he will beat the ever loving shit out of you.”

Ward nodded in amusement, “S.H.I.E.L.D keeps a tight rope on him- I’m sure. Coulson doesn’t have the authority to send him out. Daisy is the rescue team and we both know that.”

You felt paranoid that he knew so much about your team, that he knew Daisy was the key factor in saving you guys and the world again and again. Had he been keeping tabs on her? It made your skin crawl to think that he watched her every move. What all did he know? Apparently not enough to know that you were the Winter Soldier’s darling. Grant Ward was doomed the second Bucky walked in the door, you decided.

Ward was one of the best agents after Natasha and he skillfully took down so many people. But Bucky was so far above him. Not only in combat skills but your boyfriend was a freaking super solider that had serum that granted him strength and reflexes no one could fathom.

“You idiot, I’m his girlfriend!”

Ward shifted in his seat at your reveal. He studied your face to see if you were bluffing or not. By the look on his face a few moments later he could tell that he realized it was true. He clenched his eyes shut in frustration.

“You were here with him, weren’t you?” He asked.

You grinned cheekily, “Bullseye!”

Bucky paced back and forth in front of your car before a black SUV pulled in front of him. Out jumped Daisy Johnson, fully suited up. She hugged him quickly before pulling away.

“She came here to get chocolate and she never came back! I didn’t know what else to do.” He rambled.

She calmly grabbed his arm for him to look at her, “We got intell on a house close to here that HYDRA agents are hiding at. Word has it that Grant Ward is there too.”

Bucky squinted his eyes, “Grant Ward? I thought he died?”

“Apparently not. That parasite just can’t stay dead. She’s there, I know it.”

Bucky grit his teeth. HYDRA would crumble to the ground if one hair on your head was damaged. He promised himself to kill each and every one of those bastards that dared to take his girl. Bucky knew of Grant Ward and the emotional toll that the man’s betrayal had on you.

His first clenched as the metal whirled in his arm. Anger engulfed him to the point that he punched the same pole again. The large pole crashed to the ground, catching attention of the fellow shoppers around them. People ignored it because they weren’t about to get in the way of an angry man strong enough to do something like that.

Daisy looked at the pole before looking back at Bucky, “I’m sure they can deal with that. We gotta go.”

Ward disappeared upstairs leaving you to patiently wait until Bucky arrived. A part of you was worried for him. There were twenty agents here plus a maniac killer who May even used to struggle to defeat. Sure, he was the Winter Soldier but that didn’t mean he wasn’t human. A shot to the wrong place and he could be dead within seconds.

You also had a feeling that they would try to summon the Soldat and then everyone here would be screwed.

A man slipped quietly through the door and your breath caught in your throat. He had a sinister smile as he crossed the room to duck down in front of you.

One time Bucky explained that HYDRA agents weren’t that well trained if they were basic agents. The organization spent most of its dedication to training about ten top skilled people to get the job done. The man in front of you probably wasn’t one of the top ten, but he still posed a threat.

“You’re prettier than we assumed. When Ward told us that the Winter Soldier would be here any second to rescue you, we assumed he was pussy wipped.” He grabbed a knife off the table and twirled it between his fingers.

“Charming” you sarcastically noted.

“But looking at you now, I get it.”

You shifted yourself to lean away from him, “Get what?”

His hand roughly grabbed your jaw and turned your head to look at him. His green eyes were not kind like Bucky’s blue eyes. Your boyfriends gorgeous blue eyes could stop a war before it even started. Those blue eyes were home.

“You’re ethereal, babe.”

A loud shot rang in your ears as blood sprayed your face. You let out a blood curdling scream as his body fell on you. Grant Ward stalked over as he put his gun back in his holster. He shoved the body off as if it was a dead pesky fly.

Your adrenaline was going through the roof as you realized that a man was shot and killed on top of you. His warm blood clung to the soft skin, tainting it in the most sinful way. Tears welled up as you looked at the murder in front of you.

How could someone be so utterly cruel? So vile that the devil himself would turn away at his acts. Bruised heart not caring about the lives of other human beings. His face showed no remorse. It never did unless Daisy was involved.

“What the hell.” You whispered, gazing at him.

“Today isn’t the day to test the winter soldiers rage when he finds out one of my agents sexually assaulted you. Because that’s what he was going to do.”

Vomit crawled up the back of your throat at the idea of the man touching you like that. You shoved it back down with a gulp. Bucky hurry up, you internally pleaded. Wrapped in his thick arms always made you feel safe and right now that’s all you wanted.

Lights in the room shook, an earthquake force ripping through the room. Ward’s eyes got wide as he realized your rescue team was here. Not only did Bucky find you, but so did Daisy.

He grabbed your body and pulled your back to his chest, barrel of his gun kissing your temple wickedly. Screams and cries sounded off like a war zone. And a war zone it was. Bucky would kill everyone here, even if Daisy didnt approve of it. He didn’t care to hold back his impending wrath.

Daisy quakes three agents back so that they slammed against the wall, knocked unconscious. She was really trying to deter Bucky from killing them all but he knew how protective he could get. And how revenge was wrapping itself around his very bones.

“I didn’t want to kill you but it looks like you’re my bargaining chip, y/n.”

You whimpered at the implication of him using your body to get Daisy and Bucky not to kill him. You heard heavy footsteps clambering down the stairs and you held your breath.

Mistaking the power of Daisy Johnson was the dumbest thing Ward could have done. She quaked the door until it flew against the wall, broken off of its hinges. Bucky raced into the room, large gun sweeping the room to look for you. You had to be here. He heard a whimper and his eyes set on the nightmare before him.

You, pressed up against Grant Ward with a fucking barrel to your head. Crippling fear took over for a second. You were so vulnerable unlike him and that shot would surely kill you. His darling’a life was threatened and that alert his senses into kill mode.

Daisy held her hand out for Bucky to stop as she slowly walked closer to you two.

“Let her go, you sick son a bitch. You wanted me and here I am.” Venom seeped out of her voice.

Ward glanced at the super soldier who would gut him as soon as he let you go. He regretted his decision to take you. He was going to die today. “I didn’t want it to go like this.” He pulled your closer, the metal of the gun digging painfully into your skin.

Your eyes connected with Bucky’s and you conveyed all of your love for him in one look. Relief washed through your veins like a river being undammed just by knowing he was in the same room as you. No one could protect you like he could, love you like he could. He was it for you and you wanted to be in his arms instead of where you were.

Bucky slowly grabbed his beloved knife, twirling it in between his metal fingers. Ward was too distracted by Daisy to notice his movements. The knife launched out of Bucky’s hands and right into the hand that Ward was holding the stupid fucking gun with.

Ward yelped and let go enough that you ran out of his arms and behind Daisy. Bucky made sure you were safe before charging. His body threw Ward’s to the ground, going in to land a punch. Ward dodged his attempt and rolled to the side, pulling the knife out of his hand.

Ward thrust the knife towards Bucky’s body but Bucky grabbed his wrist and twisted hard, breaking it. Ward grunted out in pain. Bucky grabbed the knife and stabbed his opponent in the side. Flashes of you with a gun to your head spurred him on to stab him again and again and again.

Ward was gasping for breath when Bucky heard a gun shot. You touched your shoulder, wincing in pain as a straggling agent shot again, this time the bullet embedding itself in your leg. You gasped as you hunched down to hold your leg in pain.

Daisy quaked the agent and he fell unconscious.

Bucky left his knife in Ward’s dead body as he crossed the ground and had you in his arms within seconds. His lips attached itself to your temple, holding you impossibly close to him. Ignoring the pain was easy when such a handsome man was grasping onto you like his life depended on it.

“You’re safe now. We gotta get you outta here doll.” He murmured against your skin as he hoisted you up in his arms.

“Simmons is waiting for us at the compound. She can take care of her.” Daisy spoke, bending down to grab the knife out of Ward’s body. She shook her head before leading the way out of the building.

Bodies littered the floor, deep red stains soaking into the carpet. Necks were broken, arms dislocated, faces bloody. Your hand ghosted you’re cheek, knowing that blood of a man laid on you. Saying you weren’t a bit traumatized would be a lie. Especially when you looked at the dead agents sprawled out in different areas of the house.

Bucky gripped you close to his body on the car ride back to the cabin. Daisy drove silently, well aware that you needed a moment. His nose nuzzled into your neck, scenting you like a damn wolf. You were irrecoverably his and he would never let anything bad happen to you again. He had to calm his mind down because all he could see was you with that gun to your head. A weapon that could’ve easily ended your life and his in return.

Fitzsimmons greeted you with warm smiles containing roof level high amounts of love. They were so relived to see you in one piece. The couple knew all too well of how brutal Grant Ward could be. Bucky stood close by as Simmons withdrew the bullets. You clenched your teeth in pain as they were pulled out. Bucky’s hand reached out and intertwined your fingers and she stitched you up. Daisy walked in to see how you were doing. The bus kids were once again untied, plus Bucky Barnes.

“So he’s dead this time? Like really dead? Dead dead..” Fitz asked.

“As hard as it is to believe, yes.” Daisy retorted, handing Fitz a pop as she sat down by him on the stool, “That sicko is gone for good. Bucky stabbed him too many times to count.”

Bucky blushed slightly, shifting his hand slightly against yours as all of your team mates looked at him like the hero he was.

“Thank heavens,” Simmons mumbled, working her nimble fingers diligently against your warm skin. You felt Bucky’s hand squeeze a bit for reassurance. You smiled gratefully up at him.

“Y/n isn’t this your first time getting shot?” Fitz asked, slurping his drink.

“Uh huh, doesn’t feel too great.” Your leg was throbbing by the time Simmons got to work on it. Your pants had to be cut off and you gave a very solemn look at the discarded material lying on the floor. You liked those pants...

“You’ll get used to it.”

You choked out a laugh at the harsh glare Bucky was giving Fitz. You rubbed your thumb against the flesh of his hand to calm him down. Bucky didn’t think you getting harmed was something to joke about. You were uneffected by the jesting, it was how your team worked to deal with all of the tragedy. Bucky was Bucky and he would always be over sensitive about how people spoke to you.

“Ahh, I don’t think so. I’ve been shot many times and it hurts all the same. Ian shooting me in the stomach was the worst.” Daisy added to the conversation.

You shivered as you recalled the time where your best friend was on the brink of death, her body laying limp as Simmons worked over her frail body. You blinked away the memory, focusing on Bucky’s metal hand moving to rest comfortably on your thigh as Simmons finished up your leg.

“That was a bloody horrible time.” Gemma snorted, “Not as horrible as when Fitz unleashed Aida on us all.”

Fitz opened his mouth to protest, “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry about that!”

“Probably for life, you’ll get used to it.” Bucky retorted, “As much as we would love to stay and chat, I think y/n should get some rest. Thank you for the help, Gemma.”

Simmons smiled, “Of course. Anything for her.”

He led you into your shared bathroom and cleaned the blood off of your face, taking the burden of the pain with him, helping you deal with it. You silently watched him as he wrung out the washcloth. You were so enamored that such a strong man was so soft when it came to you. God, you adored him.

Bucky helped you change into clothes that weren’t bloody. Unsurprisingly, he chose to put his red Henley on you. A shirt that you loved seeing on him as much as he loved you in it. The soft cotton swallowed you, encapsulating you in his cologne left over on it. You two crawled under the comforter, his arms holding you to his chest as he laid on his side with you facing him. You were just so pretty, he decided as he bent down to stuff his face in the crook of your neck.

“Comfy?” His deep voice rumbled against the skin of your throat as he peppered a few kisses there, centering himself.

“Around you? Always.” You whispered, his kisses growing wet as he slot his lips lovingly against your skin. You shifted, moving so that his thick thigh was trapped between yours. He hummed in appreciation as he pulled you closer, his hands roaming your body. His metal arm rested on your behind as he ground himself into you, moaning at the feeling. His flesh hand glided across your hip and moved down.

You hissed in pain when his hand pressed down near the bullet wound.

He quickly pulled away, “Shit! Sorry, sorry I wasn’t even thinking about your leg, doll.”

You huffed out a “it’s fine” before moving to just cuddle him, “I think we both got caught up in the moment.”

He gently ran his flesh hand through your hair, “I guess so. I’m just thankful that you’re safe in my arms. Seeing him- with that.... to your.. it broke my heart.”

You situated yourself so that your eyes were level with his, the beautiful blue was swarming with sadness. You smiled sympathetically.

“You saved me, Buck. You took away my biggest nightmare.” You whispered, “you should’ve seen the look on his face when I told him I was your girlfriend.”

The idea of Grant Ward knowing that death was on its way had Bucky feeling like a winner. Ward terrorized your thoughts and knowing he put an end to your fear made him feel high on life. Protecting you was in his nature, and getting rid of Ward was like winning the lottery. Your mind at ease made your boyfriend happy. The idea of you knowing that he will always be there for you made his heart soar. God he wanted you forever.

He grinned, “Bastard had it coming, had the right to be be fucking scared- daring to take away my girl from me.”

His lips pecked yours a few times before his cheek rested comfortably against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, finally feeling peaceful enough to fall asleep. Peace was always easy to find around him.

Around your Bucky.

[yzareenxiv]

When the Past Breathes- Part 2.5

Zareen was settling in for the night, the twins asleep peacefully, the house that was quickly becoming a home (though she tried to deny it) quiet as Mede and Terbish slept as well, and Tolemy seemed to be napping. The miqo’te was trying to decide on a book to read when Ayanga knocked on her door and stepped into the room, armed and armored. Her cheerful greeting died unvoiced on her lips when she saw his expression, his attire, and the sleepy, lounging woman was on her feet in an instant with ears pricked sharply forward and gold eyes glittering, the Huntress wide awake and ready.

“I am going on a Hunt. I need you here, there are Garleans watching. I can’t explain, there’s no time.”

There were unspoken words between them, shared in a glance.

Stay safe. Watch your back.

Keep them safe.

Please, come back.

I will come back.

Aloud, she said only, “Lady light youah path and guide youah blade, brotheh.”

He nodded, turned on his heel, and was gone. Zareen stared at the open doorway for a long, long time, wrapping her arms around herself in a tight hug that tried to contain the trembling that had begun in her core and radiated outwards.

“There are Garleans watching.” The look in his blue eye as he had said it was pleading. “You have to stay strong. I have to go.” Then, he had been gone, and he had never really returned to her. The man they had rescued from the Garlean facility had not been him- not anymore. And those words...those words had been the reason she had lied to them all. “There are Garleans watching.”

You were my hope and dream.

Something, a murmur from one of the slumbering twins, pulled her from the memory and the threatening crush of emotions and she closed her eyes, taking a slow, deep breath. Then another. Then a third. Grounding herself in this place, in this moment. The memories of that time had faded, generally robbed of the worst of their bite due to Ayanga’s aid, but it was the anniversary of that ill-fated hunt. It was the same words. It was the same fears. And she was just as powerless now as she was then, forced to sit. To wait. To hope. To pray.

Would she be forced to mourn again, too?

She shook her head in denial, face twisting into a silent snarl and tail lashing. He would come back. He would. And it was her job, her duty, her calling, to make certain he had a safe place to fall when he returned. He had entrusted her with something sacred- his pregnant mate, his children, his sanctuary- and she would ensure it remained untouched. With this in mind, she shook herself and headed to the kitchen, starting to twist her long hair up into a battle-crown.

------

The short, frightened child’s scream had the already-tense Zareen abandoning her cup of tea and leaping down the stairs, rebounding off the walls so that she barely touched the floor. Opening the hidden door in the wall, she nearly skidded across the floor of Terbish’s bedroom. Her ears snapped forward and her head whipped around as she heard someone approaching through the bathroom, though the moment she registered the footsteps as Tolemy’s she relaxed and gave the man a small, slightly embarrassed smile as he came up the stairs. The thudding of her heart eased as she recognized Terbish’s night terror for what it was and she carefully curled up in the bed beside her niece, starting up a thrumming purr in a steady high-low cadence to try and soothe her and ease her back into peaceful sleep. “I’ve got this one, brotheh.” She says to Tolemy. “Just a nightmaeh.”

Tolemy nods and turns to head back to his bedroom, moving slowly and carefully down the stairs. Before he was out of sight, Terbish’s eyes flew open and she stared unseeing.

<”Monsters, monsters with metal eyes, it sees us!”> The words were spoken in Xaelic, repeated, with a strange intonation that got more frantic until Terbish closed her eyes and started to sob. Zareen wrapped her arms around the girl, murmuring soothing words and humming a soft lullabye. Tolemy looked back and met Zareen’s eyes and she gave a small nod, her expression solemn, then stroked Terbish’s hair as Tolemy headed back to his bedroom.

As Terbish’s night terror passed and her frantic, terrified sobbing slowed, stilled, and slipped back into the steady, soft breathing of sleep, Zareen held her and rocked her. Once she was safely asleep, the Jaguar settled her back into her bed and slipped out of the room the same way she had come in- not wanting to pass through Ayanga and Tolemy’s bedroom and disturb her brother again. He trusted her to calm his daughter, trusted her enough to rest. That knowledge sat heavy on Zareen’s shoulders as she climbed the stairs once more.

It sees us.

The words struck a chord, a primal chord, and she knew them to be truth and not a frightened child’s ramblings. The Jaguar padded on bare feet through the house, moving towards a window that she could open and climb through unseen from the front of the house. She wore no armor, the dark green of silky pajama top and pants having to serve as enough camouflage. Dropping from the window to the grass, Zareen made her way to crouch at the corner of the house in the moon-cast shadow, the huntress’s ears swiveling slowly as her eyes scanned the empty beach.

Everything was still, this part of Shirogane slumbering peacefully, the silence broken only by the pounding of the surf against the shore. Zareen crept through the shadows to the other side of the house, crouching with her back to the stone wall before carefully glancing around the corner. Silence, here, too. Stillness. But she could feel it, that prickling feeling, and as her eyes moved over the railing of the walkway above she caught the glint of moonlight on glass in the very corner of her vision.

The rooftop across the way. It was an ideal vantage point- high, with a full view of the front of the house and most of the yard. The spy was well-camouflaged, using some kind of magitek that made their outline difficult to perceive. They were still using the visors that Zareen was familiar with, though, and the longer she watched the more easily she was able to pick out details. They sat like that for a long, long time- the Jaguar watching the spy watching the house. Movement, on the roof, as another Garlean inched forward on their elbows to meet the first. Shift change. Time to move while their attention was directed towards each other. Out of the crouch and sprinting, using the shadow of the low wall around the house to hide herself until she could come to the staircase that led to the higher tiers of Shirogane. A moment’s pause, then darting across the small bit of open ground between Ayanga’s house and his neighbor’s. From there, she would be out of their view and she took advantage of that to scale the wall quickly and near-silently.

Her luck ran out when she pulled herself up onto the roof- the Garlean being relieved from his post was looking directly at her. She had a heartbeat to take advantage of his surprise and she thrust one hand out, tendrils of Dark aether whipping from her hand and wrapping around his throat, silencing him. He clawed at his throat and thrashed and the clatter against the roof tiles drew the attention of the other spy. The aetheric tendrils faded as Zareen’s concentration was shattered when she was charged at, forced to duck out of the way of a flashing dagger-strike. The two spies glanced at each other and moved with the synchronicity that spoke of long years working in tandem- one coming at Zareen head-on while the other moved to her left flank and drew his own dagger.

The Jaguar had not been in a true fight in nearly a year- and she had always struggled with knife-fighters, their speed matching her own. She was empty-handed, unarmored, and out-numbered. A small smile curled across her lips as her heart began to thunder and a small part of her soul whispered, “Finally”. The fight began in a flurry, the first man darting in with a slash and a punch aimed for her throat, the second coming in low and trying to stab her in the kidney. She spun away from the first man, the second catching her in the back. Grunting low, first blood drawn, she felt the pain wash over her in a wave that was almost ecstatic before the purpose of this fight hit her like a dash of freezing water.

I have to keep them safe.

Something in the atmosphere...changed. Became charged with the promise of blood and death. The men’s visors registered the ambient aether becoming more active before the woman before them bloomed with darkness that filled their visors and forced them to rip them off and cast them aside lest they be blinded. That moment was all she needed. She leapt forward, grabbing the hand that held the knife and twisting it before driving it upwards into the man’s gut, right along the seam of his armor. He staggered and the scream he tried to give was silenced by fanged teeth tearing into his windpipe and ripping out his throat. The other charged Zareen, his composure broken, knife slashing in wild sweeping strikes that she avoided by spinning around, turning the body of his former comrade into a shield. He came close enough to grab the back of the other man’s armor and pull and as the body was ripped away from her, Zareen threw her weight into it so that it unbalanced the still-living spy and he was knocked off his feet.

She pounced on him like a beast, wrapping clawed hands around his throat and looking down into terrified blue eyes. Whatever it was he saw in her face struck him silent save for a soft whimpering and the sharp scent of urine cut through the air. The Jaguar gazed at him, blood still dripping down her chin and pattering on his armored chest. There was a moment of stillness between the two, the Garlean and the Jaguar, then his hand tightened around the hilt of his knife and he tried to plunge it into her ribs in a desperate act. She rolled away and onto her feet with preternatural feline grace and he had just a moment, a fraction of a heartbeat, to see his death in her eyes.

The flash of the lightning strike illuminated the Jaguar for just an instant as it struck her enemy down. He collapsed, the roasted scent of his flesh rising in the air, and Zareen looked at him for a moment before moving to pick up one of the visors. The feel of it in her hands sparked memories- laughing with Arden, playing with the different settings as he teased her for her awed gasps and wonder at seeing the world in different overlays, playful games of keep-away, hunts together. With a silent curl of her lips into a snarl, she channeled her aether through her hands and the visor cracked, spitting out sparks before going dark and useless- the memory cores destroyed. Zareen crossed the roof and picked up the second visor, repeating the process, then tossed them both onto the throatless body before dragging the still-smoking corpse to it’s companion.

Dark aether swirled around her, rising off her in a nimbus like mist, and she carefully knelt by the two corpses and wrapped her aether like a shield around them. It took her a few moments to think, but she soon fixed a location deep in the Nagxian jungles in her mind, and in the next instant Jaguar, bodies, and all disappeared in the night.

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

Dawn had not yet touched the sky when Zareen returned to the house and crawled silently back through the window. The silken pajamas were stiff with dried blood, but her skin was clean and the stab wound in her back was bandaged with clean linen. A swift circuit around the house ensured that all was well- no alarms raised, everyone exactly as they should be. She headed to her room and her store of healing potions and, once the potion worked it’s magic and wound closed, she took the bandages and her pajamas downstairs and threw them into the fireplace.

All traces of her night scrubbed away, the Jaguar longingly considered her bed before dismissing it and heading to the kitchen. A new cup of tea, a bit of meat to snack on, and a vigil to resume. She would sleep when her brother returned.

(( Ayanga is @talesfromthegameff14, Tolemy is @ala-mhinyan and this is a side story to the story posted here ))

[autumnpawtribe]

Complications Part 8

((TW: Murder, Violence...  Eh just go with all the things.)) Xiao actually chuckled at Aret's words, kissing him gently on the forehead. He spoke in Pandaren, but he translated through the link for Vol. "Aret, do you really think they would not be coming back to Pandaria with us? They are your family... and you are our family. They will be welcome in our home, just as Naddja and Zakin are." He hugged Aret and then offered a warm look to his mother. "Take them outside, Aret. To your apartment. Your family and your daughter need some time together. We will be back when we are done, okay?"

Aret looked up at Vol and Xiao as Vol pulled him to his feet.  "Take our daughter to your apartment.  Get some clean clothes and such for your mother and sister before you go.  Xiao and I will finish this up and meet you there.”  We'll bring something to eat.  Rest, sweetheart, and trust us."  He gave Aret a kiss, smiling as Pahre blushed, but smiled.  "He is well loved, Auntie.  I promise.  Please trust us both."

When Aret left with his mother, Tarja in his arms, Vol turned and grinned brightly around his tusks.  "this is needed...."  With that the big hunter used one of the kicks Xiao had taught him, dropping his heel right onto the man's nose, watching it explode in blood.   "Dat be fer Auntie.."

Xiao watched them leave, making sure they were out of sight before he turned around and- WOW that was a mess of blood that splattered all over. He let out a disbelieving little noise, not out of distaste, but merely surprise. "Someone was in a hurry." He said through the link to Vol. "Do you wish to do the honors since I already have paralyzed them and left them with little pride left? Jansevet is more stubborn but Aket seems quite broken, which I am rather proud of even though I likely should not be."

"Do you blame me..  and my kills were quick, clean and business like.  THIS involves our husband and our daughter.  Personal."  Vol grinned, pulling the hunting knife off of his hip.  "Oh, It's gonna be my pleasure."  Vol became silent and ultimately businesslike as he swatted a few spiders away from the screaming priest.  "Oh Shut yer face, ja gonna be dead in a minute.  Xiao Chun, dey can feel dey faces, right?"

"Not at all, they are monsters. They deserve it." He then watched as Vol pulled out the knife, shaking his head. "They are numb from the neck down. I severed each spinal cord, but they can still feel from the neck up. I am not entirely certain of the cut off, but... somewhere on the neck. Jansevet also soiled himself, so... that is what /that/ smell is."

"Ah smelt raptah shit before... Ja go open da door?"  There was a scratching sound behind the door as Vol knelt down over the priest, smiling as he grabbed an upright tusk in one hand and his forehead in the other.  His words were in Zandali, so he translated for Xiao so nothing was missed.  "This is for my Daughter." He Snapped the left tusk off at the jaw line and set it to the side as Aket Screamed in abject pain.  "This is for my Pandaren husband for making him upset"  Both Tusks were left on the man's chest as their prey screamed in horror and suffering.  He did the same to the old prelate, the same response from snapped off tusks as he spoke.  "This is for my Zandalari husband and torturing him...  And this one is for his mother and sisters, for the same thing."

Xiao nodded and moved to the door, wincing lightly at the sounds of tusks snapping, but he knew it was deserved. He opened the door, expecting to likely find Honor and Valor on the other side if he had to guess.Valor actually licked Xiao's face, finding the spot of blood before He and Honor wandered in.  Vol whistled and both sat, watching the pair of Zandalari that would be their dinner.  Vol let them both lay and scream, rolling his eyes as he found a cooking pot, and lined it with what looked like large palm leaves.  "Xiao, love, can you shut them up?  Annoying as fuck and the old one keeps cursing my balls... so.. Little sick of him." 

Xiao squeaked in surprise at Valor, smiling a bit as he gave the raptors each a friendly little scritchin'. He looked over to Vol and nodded. "Of course. One moment." He went over to touch them and then kind of just... made a whimpering noise and looked to Vol. "Spiders..." He said through the link, trying not to be weak but there were still spiders crawling over each one.

"Nothing to be done about them.  She's upset with them as it is I would bet.  Don't fuck with Shadra."  He found a lid that fit the cooking vessel and put it on the side next to Aket.  He used words in Zandalari, speaking the words softly, but strong enough it was easy to know this was a prayer, ritual.  "Bwonsamdi take you, in peace.  To the Loa of graves I send you.  Death comes for all, mortal and Loa alike.  He is the equality of the world.  No matter your power, status, strength.  We all go to him in the end.  I am a hunter of death, I give you until my Loa this day."

Aket could not stop Vol as the long knife was plunged into his gut above his umbilicus, and pulled up until the blade met bone.  The hunter grunted as he pulled harder, enough to crack the bone.  There were no screams, but the room felt different and a maniacal laugh filled the air.  Vol knew the voice and spoke through the link to Xiao.  "DO NOT look up.."

"Et been a LONG time, Raptahblood..  Took someone wrongin' ya family fer ya ta send me gifts again, hmm?"

"I apologize for my lack of service, Guardian of the Dead.  I hope they make up for it."

"You send me two of Shadra's.. and no contest from her.  Ah be forgivin' ya, man."

Xiao nodded, offering Vol an apologetic glance at not being able to silence them. He just couldn't get himself to touch all of the tiny spiders. When Vol began sliding the blade into the flesh, Xiao looked up and away, off to the side toward the kitchen. What he didn't expect was the laughter. He immediately whipped his head toward the noise as if ready to defend... and then he heard Vol's words. It was too late, he was already laying eyes upon the Loa of Graves himself, going a bit wide eyed. "You... should have told me sooner..." He said through the link nervously.

"Well.. Well.  The Little monk what started this little sacrifice.  If the Raptahblood 'ere hadn't come, YOU were gonna gift me these two, I would bet."  The Loa cackled, looking down at Xiao.  "Take pride in ya work, little man."  The Troll skull-like face looked Xiao in the face, a smile in his words.  "Ya served me maaaany guests in your wars.  You won't deny it, will ya?  Raptahblood!  You finish em, and Ah'll gladly take what you and your little man gave.  Remember, the heart is best stewed..."

With that the Loa disappeared, Vol relaxing immediately as he went back to work.  "Well, he knows you."

Xiao offered a nervous smile as he mentioned his wars, nodding a little. "Many, yes... and I had every intention of giving these two to you, had Vol'raka not come for Aret's mother. You deserve to do with their souls as you will, they are too cruel for this world." 

He said with a hard swallow, hoping he wasn't speaking out of line. When the Loa vanished, Xiao practically slumped, leaning against the wall with a full-body sigh. "Sweet Celestials above, Vol'raka you could have warned me he might make an ACTUAL appearance. You should feel how fast my heart is pounding right now."  He said as he tried to steady himself, his hands lightly shaking.

"Xiao, NO ONE controls Bwonsamdi.  I didn't think He'd show, so why worry you?" 

The troll kept slicing his prey up, having broken Aket's ribcage at that point and looking down at the beating heart.  "Here is where we find out how queasy you get."  

Precise incisions released vessel and sinew as the heart stopped beating and Mala'ket slowly lost the light in his eyes.  Vol cleaned the blade on the priest's robes as he placed the heart in the cook pot.  "He shat himself too, no leg meat, but Im not cooking a roast.  Can you find me a cup.. or something small with a lid?"

Xiao seemed mostly unphased by the heart, still recovering from the LOA OF GRAVES actually fucking showing up. He stood and leaned in to kiss Vol gently on the cheek. "I am more queasy from Bwonsomdi showing up than cutting out a heart. Death is something I try to avoid unless necessary, a Loa? That is much more startling." He said with a nervous chuckle as he began to look through the kitchen for something to match Vol's description. "They really do not smell good..." He murmured to himself mostly. "I should have made them go to the bathroom before I severed their cords."

"Those two don't care.  They'll still eat them.  And how do you think you would have.... managed that?"  Vol smiled, even as his arms were covered in blood and he'd began nonchalantly dismembering the younger male's corpse with a crunch and crack of bone and body.  "They wouldn't have listened... 'hey go squat on the pot before I kill ya'."  The Darkspear chuckled as Jansevet watched in horror as they were so blasé about what they were doing.  He could not talk for the spiders in his mouth and throat, but he was still very aware.  "did you hear my prayer, Xiao.   He is the equality of the world.  Don't fear him.  Respect him."  

Xiao smiled, chuckling now. "Yeah, that... would not have exactly made sense. Still, it is unpleasant." He looked back at them. "I think he is shocked that us 'weaker' races are so capable of talking about these things so easily." He shook his head, leaning down before pointing at Vol. "He serves Bwonsamdi. More importantly? Let me simplify this. The two many your boy loves?" He paused, looking at Vol. "Bounty hunter." He then pointed at himself. "Shado-Pan and war veteran." He dropped his hand and shook his head, speaking toward Jansevet's person now. "Fool..."

"ey now, ah not a bounty huntah anymore.  Ah tend mah raptahs, ah love mah mates, an' a raise ouah baby.  Ah take farmah, Fathah an' lovah more serious, hmm?  Ah just real skilled at dis.  et fill mah belly, en more ways den one.  En dis case.  Breakfast.  Maybe dinnah ef ah gotta stew et."  

Jansevet had pure fear in his eyes as he saw Vol finish up and leave Aket's mangled form alone.  He stood, picking up the pot and moving it closer to the old man.  "When I did this, for money.  I would apologize, if I was looking them in the eye.  I'm not sorry tonight.   You hurt a sweet man, made his life hell.  He was strong enough to stay alive.  As his husbands, we have an obligation, you see.  We are obligated to protect our family.  You no longer being alive will let me sleep SO much better at night now.  You should know some things.  Your oldest Grandson, Zakin, is a good, smart boy and I am glad to call him nephew.  Your daughter's supposedly dead baby.  That is the daughter I helped make.  Our Little Tarja is chosen to be a Shadowhunter for Vol'jin once he comes to his power.  She is beautiful and will grow strong of heart, spirit, body and mind.  She will be raised with unconditional love.  You will have at LEAST three more grandchildren, that you will never meet, nor will they know anything about you.  your legacy dies with you.  None will mourn.  Your wife, she will be treated as I treat an Aunt.  Your daughters I will protect until they find ones they love, I will arrange no marriage for them.  Every ministration you used to destroy them, I will work hard to undo.  You will cease to exist.. and I will destroy your memory one day at a time." 

Vol smiled, an oddly calm gesture as he placed his knife between the old man's eyes.  "They are my family now.  They are our family now." 

Xiao moved up behind Vol as he moved beside Jansevet, standing behind his love like a stalwart supporter, staring the Zandalari man down as his love spoke each and every word to dismantle the monster's life works. Xiao reached out for Vol's hand to stop him before he plunged the blade in, however. He spoke in Zandali, managing the sentence remarkably well for someone still learning the language. "May Bwonsomdi show your soul the same mercy you showed your family. Loa of Graves take you... and punish you forever." With that, he spat on Jansevet's face the same way he'd been spat at earlier. Then he let Vol's hand go, letting him plunge as he wished.

Vol grinned, holding Xiao's hand on his as he plunged the dagger down, letting the skull crack as the blade sunk in.  "Ja Loa gonna love workin' wit Ja, lil lovah."  He pulled the dagger out, flicked a bit of bone off of it and used the same technique on Jansevet as he did on Aket.  "You find that cup?  I want to collect some blood before we go ransacking the house.."

Xiao smiled with a little blush. "You bringing out my dominance paired with me dipping back into... well, 'War Veteran Xiao' has made me more confident in things like this." He said before nodding and reaching over for the teapot he found since it had a lid like Vol asked. "Will this work?"  

“It'll work.  Looks like a pandaren spoil.  Ours now."  Some blood from both men found its way into the pot, a small bit of cloth from Aket's robes plugging the end as both hearts and two pairs of tusks made it into the covered pot.  "There. Easy to carry."  He moved away, whistled, watched the raptors dive in to two dead trolls and turned to Xiao.  "We need to ransack the house, make it look like robbery.  unless you have a better idea?"

Xiao watched the two raptors for a moment before shaking himself away from it and looking at Vol. "I was just going to suggest we burn the place down, but... it is mostly stone, so I don't know if that would work."

"Before we do that, look for valuables then.  Anything that looks like an heirloom, or something they want to keep?  The inside will burn just fine, but the walls wont burn before the shamans and mages get here."

"Will that be enough?" He then gasped. "Ooh, we could make it look like a kitchen fire. Have something in the pot go wrong but we accelerate it?" He asked curiously, trying to be helpful.

“I am marrying a clever pandaren.  Look around.. ten minutes.  Then we burn it."

With That Vol wandered out, looking for all valuables he could find.  In a box he came back with a doll, some jewelry, Gold, A Sari-type length of silk that looked pandaren in its pattern, a few knives, of gold and obsidian.  There were other little treasures in the box, the black wooden container tucked under his arm.  "Find anything?"

Xiao smiled and kissed Vol before scampering off, going around looking through the home. He came back after some time, carrying a small box, looking as though he might cry. "Vol..." He whispered. "I found a hiding spot in Aret's old room... I found a journal, a doll... drawings..." He bit his lip. "I... I am afraid to ask him if he wants them." He cleared his throat. "I also found some antiques from Pandaria, likely stolen during the invasion. A small vase, some dinner finery. We can use them as our formal dinnerware." He was trying to remain casual, but something from Aret's hidey hole seemed to have upset him.  

"Let him decide.  They are his old memories.  We are the new."

Vol had built a small pyre on the cook stove, his raptors looking fat and happy now.  He had a bottle of what looked like wter, but smelled like goblin jet fuel.  "Janaret.  Take Tarja, your sister and Mother back home.  We will meet you there in a bit.  Get them settled in to a room for the night and we'll talk."  

There was a whine, but Aret did as he was told, going quiet as Vol poured the liquid on the wood, soaking the material and then over what the raptors had not eaten.  "I don't have that fire breath... thing....  Care to do the honors?"

Xiao nodded, setting the small collection of items down and taking the bottle from Vol. "I always hated this part, the alcohol always tastes horrible..." He said with a shake of his head. "The bodies, the stove, or... everything?"

The Darkspear bent down, picked up the little collection, and walked to his pets and put his arm around one's neck.  "All of it.  I'll take Valor...  bring Honor with you?  Burn it down, no trace."  He blew a kiss and touched his hearthstone, letting Xiao know that they were landed and waiting on him.  

"Quickly, lil love.  We have a mess here to settle everyone in."

Xiao nodded. "We will be right behind you." He said to Vol before watching him leave. He brought the bottle to his lips, took a swig, sparked the Chi in front of his lips, and spit in a wide arc of fire that exploded from his mouth. He had luckily grown quite skilled at this, managing to not singe a single piece of fur. He did this several times, the first one singeing the bodies to a crisp until they were unrecognizable. Then he did the same to the kitchen, starting from the pot and making it look like a kitchen fire gone wrong. He hurriedly backed out of the room toward the front door, taking Honor with him. He filled the back rooms one by one, hurrying out until the entire house was starting to fill with smoke. 

"Come on, Honor."  He said it with a cough as he pressed his back to the front door, far away from the smoke as he could manage. He took one last swig and filled the main room, the fire getting dangerously close. He threw the bottle into the fire, making a small fireball explode upward and causing Xiao to yip. "Okay time to go!" 

He triggered the hearthstone and yanked them to safety as the home filled with flames, his fur undamaged but damn was it warm to the touch as if he'd been laying in the sun for several hours.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Once Vol walked in to the house, the boxes  in his hand, he heard the screams.  They were of joy at least.  Vol wandered up, sighing as he got into the shower, scrubbing himself as clean as he could of blood, clipping his nails even to be sure nothing was left behind.  He got as presentable as he could, shaving the sides of his head and rebraiding his hair, making sure his tusks had no trace of blood or grime.  He was aiming to make a first impression.  When he sensed Xiao home and in the house, he wandered down, tying a knee length kilt low on his hips.  

"Get cleaned up, My love.  Best to explain tonight before they all are settled in to bed."

Xiao came home and nodded, leaning against Vol and hugging him tight. "I will head up, this armor feels much hotter than normal..." He said as he kissed Vol's nose and wandered up, looking tired. He washed quickly, but it still took a small bit since he had to do his fur cleaning process. He came down wearing his red vest and black pants, as casually dressy as he could be. 

"Why am I suddenly nervous. I brought the woman back from the brink of death and I am worried about what she will think of me now?"

"She will think how she thinks.   It is Aret who thinks the world of you.  The man who curls his arms around you in the night as you cuddle and sleep, love and wake up with kisses all over that adorable face of yours.  It is the little girl who calls you Ba, who wants cuddles and comfort, who looks at you as if you hung the stars for her and her alone.  It is me, and reminding you that, no matter what, you are the other side of my soul."  

Vol smiled, kissing Xiao on the nose and taking his hand.  "Ja come den?"Xiao practically swooned at Vol's words, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him deeply. He gave a little moan, not one of lust, but just of how deeply he loved the man. "I thank the Celestials for the day I met you, Vol'raka Autumnpaw." He said the full name, grinning widely, love so clear in the way he looked at him. "I am ready..." 

He leaned down again, grinning.  "Wit dat dominant streak, mebe Are and ah cane make lil mastah Xiao feel nice en da mornin', hmm?  Ah do owe mouth presents."

He left it at that as he walked to where they had made rooms for Naddja and her son.  There, Janaret was holding Tarja, letting Nielka coo over her as Naddja and her mother spoke in the corner.  There were tears in the eyes of all four, Zakin asleep in his mother's lap.  It was Naddja who smiled looking toward her mother.  

"Mother, this is Vol'raka and Xiao Chun.  They are...."

"The loves of my life.  They are my husbands to be.". Aret smiled, standing and walking toward both.  He didn't care what his family thought as he licked Vol's chin and kissed Xiao's lips.  "Thank you.....  I don't know what happened, but I.... Thank you."

Xiao wiggled a bit. "You better follow through with that." He murmured happily before following them inside. He was looking at Pahre the most as they spoke, wanting to make sure she was okay. However, when Aret spoke of them, he smiled and leaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around him to hug him gently as he returned it; albeit chastely as his mother was right there. 

"I would do anything for you and your family... Vol too. You needed to be safe, to be able to sleep at night. So did your mother and sisters."

"I think, Little Master, that we will be ok now.". 

Aret blushed, hugging Xiao tightly before introductions.  "This is my mother, Pahre, my sister, Nielka. They have met our daughter.". He added through the link.  "She knows Naddja birthed her, and both accept not calling her Tarja's mother."  

Pahre stood, clothed in whatever Naddja had that fit, walking over to Xiao first and looking down on him.  She let her magic fall, showing so many old scars that even Vol was agape.  "You, stopped.  No more hurts.  Jansevet, Mala'ket.  Dead?   Yes.  Good.  Grandbabies safe.". Her orcish was just as bad as Xiao's Zandali.

Xiao nodded at Aret, so happy to hold him. When Pahre walked over and her magic dropped, his eyes actually glistened slightly with sadness as if he were fighting tears. He nodded. "Yes, dead." He said in Zandali before hugging slowly extending his arms as to not frighten her with sudden movement, and then went to hug her. That would also mean she'd have a whole mess of INCREDIBLY soft Xiao fur wrapped around her, it'd likely feel like heaven on her skin compared to what she's been living with. "I am sorry for pain. You no deserve it. They no deserve life. I am happy I got rid of. You safe now. Stay here if want?" He said with a smile, looking up at her, assuming she hadn't panicked and pulled away from the hug.

"Your Zandali is getting better, Lover."  

Vol wandered forward and kissed Aret softly, giving the same look to both of his mates as he pulled him into an embrace, back to chest.  The look was one of love, softness, and acceptance.  "Auntie, You are welcome to stay here long as you like and need.  No strings.  You are mother to our mate, and grandmother to our daughter.  After that hell and those two Quashi Yudo, you deserve rest."

Pahre tensed up, so used to pain, she was not used to endearment nor affection.  She quickly recovered and hugged Xiao back.  She looked at him, then the two large trolls.  "You love my son, no pain, anger or yelling?  No hitting, or..  abuse?"

Vol nodded, looking at Xiao then down at Aret.  "No unwanted pain.  Respect and love.  He is a loving father, a beloved mate and a good man.  No matter what that shit bag tried to do, he is sweet, caring, and loving.  As he said, you and your daughters are welcome here.  We have extra rooms, but will need to get you clothing.  We grabbed some things in your old house, we will sort them after breakfast.  Aret..."  

He pulled away, a hand on his sweetheart's cheek.  "Settle them in for the night, show them the kitchen if they need something to eat before breakfast, then come to bed.  We will need to talk a little and sleep.  I have to be up in a few hours and I am a bit tired."

Xiao smiled over at Vol, looking so proud as his Zandali was complimented. "I have been studying." He knew that one, as if he was hoping he'd be asked about it. He then looked back to Pahre and shook his head. "Never anger or yelling. He is Ba'la, Wassa'dim... Lok'dim, someday. We only try to..." He paused, thinking hard for a moment before finally finding the word. "Strive to make him happy." He said with a resolute nod before looking to the Vol. "Right, we need to talk to Aret about... that thing." 

He said in Orcish now, looking at Aret with a hint of concern, though trying to hide it.

Aret was confused for a moment but nodded, licking Vol's chin and clicking tusks as they kissed.   The Prelate kissed Xiao softly as well, caste and loving.  "Mother, Nini.  Come we'll get some blankets and settle you in."

[menalliha]

Dancing with Demons

Summary: A fight with Dean turns sour. Being left alone in a motel room with a demon demanding answers doesn’t make a fun night.

Pairing: Dean x Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warning: Angst, body issues, mentions of violence and killing, also implied cheating. 

A/N: This is going to be a two part mini series. It was supposed to be an angsty one shot but the more I typed, the more word vomit came out and the idea sprang to life! 

MY MASTERLIST

FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME!!!

The scene that was unfolding in front of you was one you never thought you would imagine. Sam stared at you in shock while his older brother wasn’t paying any attention. He was too busy trying to devour the hot blondes face next to him. While it was obvious he has a few too many drinks in his system.

You felt your heart break into a million tiny pieces and tears stream down your cheeks. You didn’t even realize you were crying till some of the tears landed on your hand. It was a small fight that lead to this. Him making out with another girl while you were left back at the hotel to wallow in self pity. Yes, you admit the fight was stupid and your fault and that was the main reason you were here.

You made a mistake on a hunt that could have killed you and yet it didn’t. You were alive and well with only a minor scratch. But you understood where he was coming from. It just took you longer to actually understand. Plus the walk here to the local bar.

Your boyfriend was coping with this in the wrong way. Usually when he was mad, he would either just down drink after drink or play pool. But no.. he decided to try and hook up for the night. Sam was trying to silently plead with you and keep you from losing your cool.

The best you could think of was turning on your heels, you took off fast towards the door. Not wanting to ruin his moment which was soon shattered. You kept your eyes closed from crying anymore and ran into a waitress, knocking the drinks from her hand and all over your. Still you never screamed, just quietly apologized and tried to leave.

“Watch where you’re going next time, fatty.” The waitress’ words only numbed the pain more. She peaked over your shoulder and saw the table you walked away from. “Don’t blame him for moving on. Anyone could do a whole hell of a lot better than you.” A wicked smirk played on her lips.

Your face heated up from embarrassment. All eyes were on you and your over sized body. The one thing you were always insecure about and Dean knew it. He and Sam had to witness you take this verbal abuse this time and many times over. Dean was always the first one to complement you and defend you.

Running out of the bar, you heard Sam call or you but you didn’t stop. Your silent anger is what scared the boys the most. They knew you could just blow any moment. Sadly, this wasn’t that time. Instead of wanting to slash Baby’s tired or the car’s windows, you trucked it back to the hotel to hide on foot and maybe die from everything that just happened.

Dean looked over to his brother then the girl next to him. What was he doing? This wasn’t him. He would never break Y/N’s heart. You meant to much. You put up with his bullshit and broke down his walls while he tried to help you rebuild yours. Spending countless years feeling like second best and not worth anyone’s time. While he spent the last two years making you feel loved and safe. Nights of endless love making and promises. That all shattered tonight and he knew it. He was beating himself up mentally about what he did. He knew he couldn’t blame the alcohol.

Tossing the keys to Baby on the table, Dean hurried up from the table and tried to chase you down. “Don’t wait up Sam.” He yelled over his shoulder as he left the bar.

Hurrying down the road, he saw you walking fast back to the motel. You kept your head down and arms crossed over your chest. You wrecked of alcohol from running into that waitress, your self esteem was at rock bottom and to make it all worse, your boyfriend was sucking face with another woman.

“Y/N!” Dean yelled as he caught up to you. He turned you towards him and saw how tear stained and blotchy your face was. It was like a kick to the gut for him. He was supposed to prevent this from happening not cause it. “God… sweetheart… I-I am so sorry…”

Pushing him away, you wiped your face. “No… no you don’t get to sweet talk me. I saw you… I saw you making out with that beautiful woman. She… She has what I don’t… smaller everythings. Probably doesn’t have stretch marks on her stomach or boobs…”

“I don’t deserve to be easily forgiven but you sure as hell don’t deserve to be so degraded. Don’t think of yourself like that. You want the truth,” Dean licked his lips and started at you with his striking emerald eyes. “That happened mere moments before you walked in and she kissed me! Sammy is my witness. I would never go that far. Trust me I blame myself for being so vulnerable to that. But please… yell at me, scream… get mad please. This silent anger is what worries me the most.”

“You expect me to believe that Dean Winchester didn’t invite a stunning woman over to make out with her? Get the feeling of what skinny girls feel like since his own girlfriend is the size of a beached whale!” Your throat burned from screaming the last part. Your nails dug into the palms of your hands, leaving small crescent shape.

Dean swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. “Yes to the first half. Sam is my witness! Baby, you're not the size of a beached whale. Don’t make me drag you to the motel to prove that.”

A growl escaped your lip. “Don’t you dare use your charm on me! You are sleeping with Sam tonight! I need time to think about all of this. Us.” You knew the last word hurt him. It wasn’t meant to hurt anyone. You truly needed time to yourself.

Turning on your heels, you walked the rest of the way back to the motel, tossing Dean’s duffle bag to the room next to yours. Slamming your door, you locked it. You knew he always has a way of weaseling his way into your room after fights. Tonight was not that night.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you chugged down your second beer and heard the door slam next door. Indicating Sam was back and Dean was with him. You heard them mumbling, making out certain words. Mainly him saying he was an idiot and he really screwed up.

“Maybe I was too harsh on him. All I really have to do is ask Sam. He kept saying he was his eye witness.” Sighing, you got up and walked around the messy room and kicked the clothes out of the way. Reminded you of the first time you and Dean ever had to share a room together.

Sam won the pool game against Dean and got to room with bigger bed. Said the two of you could figure out the sleeping arrangement. The thought brought a small smile to your face. You were so insecure then. You tried to force Dean to look away while you walked out of the bathroom in a barely big enough towel while you looked for your sleep clothes. You didn’t need them that night. Dean showed you an amazing time and was yours since.

You started to unlock the door when you heard a faint chuckle behind you. It stopped you dead in your tracks and made your blood run cold. “How did you find me?” With your hand on the doorknob, you were sure you could yank the door open and barge to the boys room. Or you could scream. That would definitely get them over here.

“Remove your hand from the doorknob and if you scream, I will take your knife and plunge it into your heart myself. Have a seat darling, we have some catching up to do.” Gentle you let go of the doorknob and turned to face a demon. His eyes so black, it almost matched the night sky. “You really made an idiot of yourself at the bar. Not that hard to find you when that happened. Plus the old car out front. But where’s the old Dean boy at? Boot him out and on to his brother for the night for lip wrestling with another?”

“What do you want? You denied my deal. You clearly have a death wish.” You carefully sat on your bed and watched him carefully.

The demon chuckled and stared at you with his evil eyes. “You have information I need. You will either give it to me willingly, or I torture it out of you. Where is your older brother?” You watched as his eye flashed back to normal for a split second.

“There is no way in hell I am telling you that sensitive of information. I would never rat my family out.” A growl left the demon’s lips as his eyes flashed black again.

He grabbed you by the neck, trying hard to cut off your air supply. He knew he was succeeding when you were gasping for air. “Now listen here… I asked nice once, I’ll ask one more time. Tell me where he is or I will force it out of you with torture. I don’t care if the Winchester’s are next door or not. I will leave cuts, bruises or even possess you to get this information. Now one last time princess. Where. Is. Your. Brother?”

You felt him loosen his grip on your neck. “No chance in hell.” You spat and clawed at his hand.

“I tried to be the nice guy. Now I have to turn ugly.” Sighing, he doubled his fist and punched you hard, knocking you out.

Only to wake up hours later tied to a chair, a gag in your mouth and your knife in his hand. All while a wicked grin played on his lips and his soulless black eyes stared back at you.

FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME AND WELL LOVED!!

[pokeasleepingsmaug]

Feed You the Sky: Chapter 6

Holy cow, these two have just taken over my mind and won’t let go! I really hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. @shesafreesoul, hopefully this part lives up to what you wanted it to be :)

The man who had pinned her—Ubbe—walked beside her on their way to the training grounds behind the hall, as if he feared she would go back on her word. Kára walked straight-backed and haughty, ignoring him. It was only when they reached the fight arena marked by the hazel rods that something in her broke. It wasn't the sight of the boundary markers that moved her, almost brought tears of pride to her eyes.

Magnhild and Aki waited there, both streaked in blood, arms bound tightly behind their backs and surrounded by a full dozen of Ivar's warriors. They were alive. Her heart sang within her chest, and she gave them the most confident smile she could muster. It wasn't easy, knowing she walked to her death, but she wanted them to be proud of her, to tell her uncle that she walked to her death smiling with joy.

Ubbe caught her smile and quirked his eyebrows. “Your warriors fought very bravely before they were subdued.” He paused for a beat. “You have more like them?” She carried on ignoring him with a toss of her fiery hair. How dare he speak to her like she would betray her own people? She stepped within the confines of the hazel rods without breaking stride, and stopped at the far side to wait for her opponent to enter.

Ivar looked up at her, a smirk playing coyly with his lovely mouth. Kára could see darkness in his eyes, the anticipation of blood, and in response her own excitement grew. She would die, but she would die gloriously. “Weapons only. Ax, sword, and knives are permitted. No shields, since you do not have one.” He smiled up at her, and the expression would have turned her knees to jelly in another circumstance. “To the death.” He seemed to savor the words, the way they left his lips like an incantation that summoned the winged women.

“Begin.” Ubbe's voice was grim, but neither Kára nor Ivar wasted a single breath. Both went for their axes, and Kára dodged the savage swing at her knees to deliver a downward chop that Ivar easily rolled away from. She had never fought a man like this before, and was surprised at the speed he was able to summon using just his arms. Swinging downward was harder to recover from than a normal strike. Decision made, she dropped to her knees to fight him on his level.

The surprise and unexpected warmth in his deep blue eyes nearly engulfed her, but Kára focused instead on the blood singing in her veins, the breath rushing into her lungs, and found herself in the familiarity of those feelings. Ivar the Boneless was her enemy; the killer of her father and the usurper of her throne. Vengeance was all that mattered; vengeance or a death worthy of entry to Odin's hall. There was no other way.

She drove her sword toward him in a tight arc aimed at his ribs, but his sword was there to block it. Immediately he stabbed the point at her belly; she twisted hers to redirect it. Their blades scraped along each other with a faint screech, raising the hair on the back of her neck. She took advantage of the moment he needed to regain control, and chopped quickly toward his arm. The blade connected, but the angle kept the cut shallow. It still would hurt, though, and blood loss would tire him quicker.

He swung at her more out of instinct than anything, and the flat of his sword hit her side in a crushing blow that knocked the breath from her. Her ribs screamed, and she knew her end was coming now. She could not fight like this for much longer, not when every breath was ice and fire. At least one rib had cracked under his sword. She had known from the moment she first met those beautiful, terrible eyes that they would be her last sight. Her end was near. She could taste it, felt herself swirling along in a haze of pain and longing. Still, she would fight until the very end and make her father proud.

Ivar lunged for her, and she blocked the ax with her own. What she didn't see coming was his fist. It crashed into her cheekbone, sliding along it to crunch against her nose with a noise like a melon smashing. The rush of blood was instant and heavy, and she couldn't stop the reflexive welling of tears in her eyes. She ignored them, though, whipping the small knife from her left boot and plunging downward toward Ivar's neck.

He ducked to one side and the blade bit into his shoulder instead, but still she tore it viciously through his flesh. The sharpness of the small blade created a clean but deep cut, and his blood spilled hot and slick over her hand. Blood for blood, and the lust for more of it screamed in her bones. She couldn't help herself. She freed the knife and quickly licked a finger, savoring the taste of his life—sweet and salty, it seemed to burn its way through her. The flame of him settled somewhere deep in her core, and she moaned at the sweetness of it. She was ready to face her death, now that she was drunk on him.

The ax in his hand suddenly fell to the ground. “Marry me,” he croaked, grasping desperately at her hands. “Marry me, Kára, and we will rule together.” His words shocked her so much she dropped the knife, still wet with his blood. She wanted only to taste him again, wanted it even more than she wanted Valhalla. But even still, she hesitated. To marry him was to admit defeat, to submit to him. But to marry him was also to tame him, to protect her people from this savage monster who wanted to conquer them. And humming along above that, the tone of it rising until it drowned all other thoughts, she still wanted only to taste him again.

The force of her need consumed her, and she lowered her head to lap at the blood still flowing from the wound she had sliced into his shoulder. The taste of him carried her away in a warm, tingling current of ecstasy. He moaned; the decision was easy with that sweetness on her tongue and his voice in her ears.“Yes. I will marry you, Ivar.” With that he kissed her, and all she tasted was the mingling of their blood in her mouth, sweeter and stronger than any mead.

…...

Ivar followed his brother and the woman, making his way to the hazel rods. He let the bloodlust fill him as it always did; he reveled in it. This was when he was his truest self, in those moments of clarity and excitement leading to certain bloodshed. He knew, though, that this time would be different. Kára would send him to Valhalla, and when she joined him there at the end of her life, he would greet her as his only true equal.

He watched her walk, the graceful sway of her hips and the bouncing of her muscular ass, and found himself grateful that such a magnificent creature would be the one to send him off. She stepped into the hazel rods and waited for him, but he didn't make her wait long. She would want to savor his death: her vengeance for the death of her father and the reclaiming of her throne, and he didn't want to deny her that triumph. Ivar was ready to die for her, by her hand.

He smirked at her lazily, letting the anticipation of his own death rise in him like a tide. “Weapons only. Ax, sword, and knives are permitted. No shields, since you do not have one.” His smirk changed to a genuine smile, and he could see the shock in her eyes. It warmed him. “To the death.” His death, he didn't add. He had never been more ready for anything.

“Begin.” Why did Ubbe sound so empty? Didn't he know Valhalla was waiting?

Eager to give his woman her satisfaction, Ivar drew his ax and swung at her knees. He would not cheapen the sweetness of her victory by holding back. He easily dodged the downward chop, it was obvious she was not accustomed to fighting this way. She lowered herself to her knees to fight him on his terms. Something he didn't understand flared up in him; no foe had ever respected him so much as to fight his way. She was a wonder, a gift from all the gods, and he thanked them for sending her to spill his blood.

She gave him no time to admire the nobility of her spirit, for she immediately swung her sword at his side; but he had known she would strike there before it happened. His block was almost effortless, and he loved the vibration her blow sent up his arm. He stabbed swiftly toward her stomach, but she redirected his blade with the rasp of steel on steel. He shivered from the metallic rasp, or maybe from the way she moved. He could no longer tell, couldn't separate the lust for blood from the lust for her.

It distracted him, allowing Kára to land a glancing blow on his arm. The cut was minor, barely more than a scratch, but still it stoked the fire in him to a bonfire blaze. His sword snaked forward instinctively; he simply needed to strike at her. He was surprised when it connected, felt the force of the blow shudder up his arm. The flat of his blade had hit her ribs; she was gasping but still she refused to give up. He was shocked he had hurt her at all, this goddess, his wild stormy Valkyrie. He had half-believed her to be untouchable, otherworldly.

He lunged for her, wanting to provoke her into killing him. He hated this delay of her happiness. She easily blocked his ax, but his fist slammed into her cheek, then along her face to her nose. He felt rather than heard the crunch of cartilage, and the sight of the blood pouring down her face in a crimson waterfall over her lips thrilled him. He had never seen anything so beautiful. He ached with longing, and she deemed fit to satisfy it. A small knife flashed in her hand, plunging toward his neck.

Instinct took over and he dodged it; she ripped the blade through his shoulder. The blood spilling from him released the ache that had seemed to settle itself in a permanent blaze deep in his gut,and the relief of it made him gasp in unexpected pleasure. When she brought her finger, covered in his blood, to her lips red with her own blood, he felt himself burst at the seams. Kára moaned and he came undone. She had ripped him apart like a sword through a sail.

“Marry me,” he rasped as the ax fell from his hand. The words shocked even him, but he felt the rightness of them in his bones, in the blood of his body that she had spilled and tasted. “Marry me, Kára, and we will rule together.” Yes. She was his death—the end of his old life, and the beginning of his new. His heart cried for her, at the beauty of her covered in blood and struggling for breath. She had been his weakness from the first sight of her, but by making her his wife she would become his strength. He always turned his weaknesses to strengths. That was how he had survived this long.

She moved her head slowly toward him, and he was too enchanted to move. When her soft, warm tongue grazed the edge of his wound and tasted his blood again, he moaned and shivered in joy. He knew what her answer was before she spoke it, because her sweet, willing tongue spoke volumes more than her voice ever could.

He felt her tenderness and her sadness, her certainty in her choice. “Yes. I will marry you, Ivar.” Kára had tasted him, and now he needed more than anything to taste his woman. He kissed her, passionate and hard. He tasted her blood on her lips and his own on her tongue, and knew this was the woman the gods had crafted him for.