#you won’t know what you’re bleeding for … Remain open to feel free.

[usefulquotes7]

When there’s a fresh wound in your heart, keep it open until it heals. Air it out. Understand it. Dive into it. Be fierce enough to become it. If you ignore it, it won’t be able to breath. If you ignore it, it will merely deepen, spread, and resurface later, wanting to release. And when later happens, it will hurt even more; because when later happens, you won’t know what you’re bleeding for … Remain open to feel free. Victoria Erickson

[holylulusworld]

Inseparable (3)

Summary: Professor Xavier entrusts you with the mission to locate a certain mutant with unknown consequences.

Pairing: Alpha!Wolverine x Omega!(Mutant)Reader

Warnings: angst, language, gruff Wolverine, a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, scenting, implied true mates, you are on the run, fighting (telepathic/telekinesis), blood, unnamed characters death

A/N: Jean is not Dark Phoenix in this story. The reader is stronger than both Professor Xavier and Jean Grey. She is a telepath, telekinetic, and empath. Most of the time, she suppresses her powers.

Undefeated masterlist

Catch up here: Undefeated & Obstinate

It's been a while, huh...

Words in italics are telepathic orders

“Get out of my head!!” Stryker fights you with all he’s got. Not only the mutants he forces to protect his mind, but the man himself is an impressive opponent. “GET OUT MUTANT SCUM!”

“Hold still, bastard,” you growl while clawing your way inside Stryker’s mind. He’s still fighting me. Whatever he tries to hide from me, it must be important. “I’ll get you.”

“You sure?” Logan glances at you while fighting for control over the car. The roads are icy, and new soldiers are following you and the grumpy mutant. “Your eyes are violet for a while, and you’re fucking glowing. Your nose is bleeding too.”

“I’m fighting five telepaths and Stryker,” you snap your fingers to make Logan shut up. “Stop distracting me and drive. I can’t focus on you and that man.”

He huffs. “Fine. If you die, it’s not my fault.”

“I won’t die so easily,“ you snarl. “If you don’t total the car,” you turn your head to look at him while wiping the blood off your face, “I’ll live.”

You focus on Stryker, and the mutants again. One of them gets weaker, you can feel his control slip whenever you use your powers. “Stop protecting him. He’s a monster experimenting on us.”

The mutant fights your influence, but you won’t give in. One of them must fall first, and then you can take them down—one after another. It’s a low blow, but you show the mutant images of Stryker’s crimes. He screams in your mind, and then he’s gone.

“What the fuck was that!” Logan growls as the rear window bursts. “Y/N! What did you do?”

“Energy must get released,” you gasp for air. Your head feels like it’s going to explode when you turn it to look at Logan. “That wasn’t me, but the first one biting the dust.”

“Did you kill them?” He asks. “I thought you protect mutants.”

“I did not kill him. He’s out cold but alive. Stryker left him behind. At least, now he’s free of that monster’s influence.” Your eyes flash violet again. Focusing on the remaining opponents, you blend the grumpy alpha next to you out.

He huffs watching soft violet light surround your body again. Logan grits his teeth and slams his hands onto the steering wheel, watching your eyes bleed. “Fuck! Stop this shit. You’re going to kill yourself!”

You raise your hand to stop Logan from distracting you. “Drive and don’t stop until we are safe. You know the way.” His body relaxes, and his hands grip the steering wheel less tight.

You can finally turn your attention back toward Stryker, and the mutants protecting him. While Logan drives faster than he should to get you somewhere safe, you dive back into Stryker’s mind. It feels like pulling teeth to convince the mutants to give up. When you push one of the mutants protecting him out of his mind, the next slips inside. You know they got lied to, but slowly you are getting mad.

“STOP THE CAR!” You force Logan to stop the car. There’s no time to ask him nicely. He barely has the time to stop the car when you jump out of the vehicle. The aura protecting you turns red, indicating that you reached the breaking point.

“Y/N! What the fuck!” Logan rips the door of the car open to jump out. His eyes widen seeing your changed aura. “Okay, this is enough! Whatever is going on, you must stop. This can’t be healthy.”

You chuckle darkly—a dark, guttural sound sending a chill down Logan’s spine. You don’t look like your controlled self. The woman in front of him seems like a predator ready to pounce.

“GIVE UP NOW OR I’LL UNLEASH HER!” You scream in their minds. “NOW! OR I WON’T STOP HER!”

The mutants refuse to give in. Stryker trained them well. They won’t believe anything you say. Unlike the first one giving up, they are stubborn and strong-willed.

You fall to your knees, and dig your fingertips into the dirt. Logan watches you growl like a wild animal when the red aura surrounding you turns into human form.

He gasps watching it run toward the mutants. It disappears in the woods. For a moment, there is death silence. Only your heavy breaths and the wind tugging at his jacket fill Logan’s senses.

The hairs on his neck and arms stand up when screams pierce through the silence. Logan doesn’t wait for the red figure to return. He runs toward you, shaking your stiff form.

“Y/N, you got to stop whatever you’re doing. Can’t you hear them scream?”

“I warned them,” you murmur, like in a trance. “She won’t kill them, just show them the truth about Stryker, and force them to face their crimes.”

“Y/N—” Logan slides his claws out sensing the soldiers creep toward you and him. “Get behind me. You’re in no state to defend yourself.”

He glances at you; eyes widening when you slowly get up. The red aura is gone, but you are standing tall. Raising both of your hands, you rip the trees out of the ground, revealing your enemies.

You laugh like a maniac before flicking your wrists to throw the trees at the soldiers. “I told you to stay away. I can see your souls.” Your eyes are dark red when you look at Logan. “They are rotten to the core.”

The screams in the distance ebb up, but the ones coming from the soldiers burn into Logan’s mind. He sees them fall - one, after another. You don’t show mercy. Images of the soldiers’ victims blind your mind and conscience.

“Y/N! You need to stop!” Even Logan feels sorry for the soldiers. He knows they are not good men but doesn’t want you to have nightmares because you killed them all. “That’s a waste of wood too.”

You chuckle darkly when the last soldier falls. It’s done. They are all gone, and their sins got paid for. “It’s over.” You drop your hands, and the trees fall to the ground.

Logan grabs your arm. He tries to drag you toward the car when the red figure walks over the dead soldiers. It drags something behind it, and Logan swears, it is smirking at him.

“They are all asleep,” it says to you, ignoring Logan as it drops an unconscious Stryker next to you. It dips its head to glance at Logan, blowing the alpha a kiss before turning back into the red mist surrounding your body.

“WHAT THE HOLY FUCKING SHIT WAS THAT!” Logan backpaddles when you turn around to look at him. Your eyes are back to normal, but there’s a change in the air he can sense.

“That was my alter ego,” you shrug and crouch down to check on Stryker’s pulse. “He’s alive and won’t wake until I let him. We need to go now before the other mutants wake.”

“Wait! We are not done here! What was that thing?” He splutters, still a little shell-shocked. Logan has witnessed the powers of many mutants in his long life and saw a lot of shit go down. But tonight was a whole new level of shit.

“We don’t have time for chit-chat, Logan. Help me with that bastard.”

“You didn’t answer my question!”

“I told you, she’s my alter ego. Can we go now?” You dip your head to glare at Logan. “Do you want to waste your breath out here, or get somewhere safe?”

“So this is your ultimate power, then?” He crouches down to grab Stryker to drag the man toward the car.

“No,” you open the door to the passenger seat. “It’s only a variation of my powers. I hope you never have to witness my ultimate power…”

Part 4

Tags in reblog.

[thoughtkick]

When there’s a fresh wound in your heart, keep it open until it heals. Air it out. Understand it. Dive into it. Be fierce enough to become it. If you ignore it, it won’t be able to breath. If you ignore it, it will merely deepen, spread, and resurface later, wanting to release. And when later happens, it will hurt even more; because when later happens, you won’t know what you’re bleeding for … Remain open to feel free.

Victoria Erickson

[kisskiss-slashslash]

Slashers accidentally killing their witchcraft s/o but a few minutes later they revived again and they find out that they are actually immortal?

Ty and have a great day <3

Here you go!

Warnings: Blood, Gore, Allusions to amputation

Slashers accidentally killing their s/o only to find out they’re immortal

Jason Voorhees

His machete slipped out of his hand, and time seems to slow down as it heads straight for you. There is nothing he can do, it all happens so fast, and before he even knows what is happening, you’re on the ground, the blade buried in your chest, down to its hilt.

His whole world is anguish. Memories of the night his mother died are flashing through his head. First her, now you. And this time, it was all his fault.

He sinks to his knees next to you without paying any attention to the escaping victim, and cradles you against his chest, hot tears dripping from under his mask onto your face.

You groan. “Hey… Jason? Love? Could you please pull the machete out? It’s really uncomfortable.”

He looks at you with wide eyes. You return his gaze sheepishly.

“I… I guess I should have told you that I kind of… can’t die.”

Wait what? He tilts his head at you.

“Yeah. You know. Practising witchcraft has its perks. Now please…. the machete?”

Needless to say he is torn between being angry and relieved. Could you not have told him that before he essentially relived his past trauma?

Vincent Sinclair

He mistakes you for a victim. He lost sight of the last survivor of the current group, but he can hear someone right next door.

He strikes before he can see who it is. And it happens to be you, now with his carving knives sticking out of your neck on both sides. When he realizes what happened, he reflexively pulls the knives out, and you are already on the ground, blood pouring out of the wounds.

He drops his weapons in horror and rushes to your side. You are losing too much blood, there is little he can do… But soon the wounds seem to close up again with no issue, and you sit up.

“Vincent, honey. Next time, please look before you slash. Okay? This would have gone horribly wrong if I weren’t immortal.”

You still look a bit ashen, but seem otherwise okay. You assure Vincent that while you may be a bit more tired and lethargic until your body managed to regenerate all that blood you lost, there won’t be any long-term damange.

Freddy Krueger

It’s a prank gone wrong. Freddy assumes that, as his s/o, of course you aren’t afraid of him, so he can feel free to play rough with you in the dreamworld. But love or not, appearantly there is a tiny sliver of you that is at least a little afraid of him and his powers. Which is unfortunately only something the two of you notice when your stomach gets sliced open while Freddy tries to tickle you.

“Ah shit… fuck… bitch… we’ve been together for so long, how the FUCK are you still afraid of me?!” He panicks and tries to stop the bleeding and you… you start laughing.

“Freddy, you can stop. I can’t die. The whole witchcraft thing, remember?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You double over and clutch your stomach, both from laughter and to keep your guts from falling out. It *is* pretty adorable how worried Freddy is for your safety. And in the end, even if he can technically hurt you, your immortality still means that you can play rough with each other.

Brahms Heelshire

Another one of his fits of rage, after which he finds you on the ground, bones broken and with blood pouring. He stares at your remains in horror.

“Hey…”

He kneels down next to you and shakes you.

“Hey, get up. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please. Get up… don’t leave me…” He starts sobbing, uncontrollably switching between his child and adult voices in his distress, until he feels you gently pat his back.

“You’re grounded”, you say dryly. “Just because I’m immortal doesn’t mean I’m down to being your punching bag.”

“Yes. Yes of course. I’ll be good now, I promise”, he sobs, relieved that you are okay after all.

Bubba Sawyer

He accidentally touches the button that switches on his chainsaw while the two of you are fixing some malfunction. The saw buries itself in your torso, sawing through bone and soft muscle and organ alike. Your blood sprays through the room, and Bubba howls with terror while desperately fumbling to turn it off again.

He finally manages to, after a few seconds. But the damage is already done. His hands are cupping your face, running through your hair, knowing that after an injury like this, there is nothing he can do. He just whines softly, trying to somehow comfort you, if you can even still hear him.

“Geez”, you sigh, with some difficulty. The saw completely shredded one of your lungs, after all. “Good thing that it missed my spine; regenerating that would have been a pain.” You look up at him and are met with Bubba’s teary gaze.

“Bubsy”, you coo softly. “I’m fine. I don’t die that easily. Give me a week to recover and I’ll be good as new. So no tears, okay?” You raise your hand to wipe away the tears from under his eyes.

When Drayton later learns of this day’s events, he asks if you can also regenerate limbs, like, say, a leg. You will have to firmyl tell him that you are *not* going to end up being the family’s primary meat source.

[perfectquote]

When there’s a fresh wound in your heart, keep it open until it heals. Air it out. Understand it. Dive into it. Be fierce enough to become it. If you ignore it, it won’t be able to breath. If you ignore it, it will merely deepen, spread, and resurface later, wanting to release. And when later happens, it will hurt even more; because when later happens, you won’t know what you’re bleeding for … Remain open to feel free.

Victoria Erickson

[perfectfeelings]

When there’s a fresh wound in your heart, keep it open until it heals. Air it out. Understand it. Dive into it. Be fierce enough to become it. If you ignore it, it won’t be able to breath. If you ignore it, it will merely deepen, spread, and resurface later, wanting to release. And when later happens, it will hurt even more; because when later happens, you won’t know what you’re bleeding for … Remain open to feel free.

Victoria Erickson

[perfeqt]

When there’s a fresh wound in your heart, keep it open until it heals. Air it out. Understand it. Dive into it. Be fierce enough to become it. If you ignore it, it won’t be able to breath. If you ignore it, it will merely deepen, spread, and resurface later, wanting to release. And when later happens, it will hurt even more; because when later happens, you won’t know what you’re bleeding for … Remain open to feel free.

Victoria Erickson

[quotefeeling]

When there’s a fresh wound in your heart, keep it open until it heals. Air it out. Understand it. Dive into it. Be fierce enough to become it. If you ignore it, it won’t be able to breath. If you ignore it, it will merely deepen, spread, and resurface later, wanting to release. And when later happens, it will hurt even more; because when later happens, you won’t know what you’re bleeding for … Remain open to feel free.

Victoria Erickson

[resqectable]

When there’s a fresh wound in your heart, keep it open until it heals. Air it out. Understand it. Dive into it. Be fierce enough to become it. If you ignore it, it won’t be able to breath. If you ignore it, it will merely deepen, spread, and resurface later, wanting to release. And when later happens, it will hurt even more; because when later happens, you won’t know what you’re bleeding for … Remain open to feel free.

Victoria Erickson

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Love Song for a Vampire Pt.23

Pairing(s): Edward Cullen x Wolf!Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 1806

Summary: You tell Alice that you have a way to fix everything.

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21  Part 22  Part 24  Part 25  Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Part 29  Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 33  Part 34  Part 35  Part 36  Part 37  Part 38  Part 39

“What does it feel like when you shift?” Evita asks you once she had gathered all the stones she needed. You’re both heading back to Sam’s so that he could drive you to Port Angeles. While it was for the warding spell, you were excited to get out of the small bubble that was La Push. It had been so long since you had last broken free from the comforts of the rez. And you were really starting to like Evita. Hanging out with her was starting to feel so natural. Her personality was warm and inviting. The fact that she was part of your world helped a great deal too. You had a few female friends at school, but there was so much you had to keep from them. Things that would probably scare them.

Not Evita though. She’d even seen things that you had yet to experience. All for the best if the lechuza was the worst of it.

To the best of your abilities, you described the shivering sensation that took hold of you in the beginning before each individual cell in your body burst. Phasing released the wolf that lay under the surface of your skin. Shedding free the human exoskeleton, you were powerful.

Almost back in the perimeter of Sam’s backyard, Evita stops and turns to you. “Ah yes. I forgot about something. I’ll need something of both you and Edward’s to perform the bond cutting spell. Preferably something that has your DNA on it. If that’s even possible to acquire from vampires.”

Blood, saliva or hair were all acceptable. Immediately a blood sample was out of the question. Vampires didn’t bleed. Getting either of the other two required you to actually tell Edward what you were planning with Evita. He’d approve of it though. . . If it allowed Bella to come back to him, surely he would want to try anything and everything.

You tell Evita that you’d be right back. You want to have everything ready for when both of you return from Port Angeles. The sooner the better. And if it fails, at least you could say you tried.

The path to the Cullen house was becoming so familiar to you. How many times had you taken this same route? Taking the porch steps two at a time now opposed to your tentative steps when you were first invited over.

Alice opens the door the moment your foot steps on the welcome mat. “(Y/n)! It’s good to see you!”

You smile, sharing the same pleasantries before getting down to business. “Evita says she has a way to absolve the imprinting. If this works then we won’t even have to worry about the Volturi coming here again!”

Her frown wasn’t something you’d anticipated. “Oh.”

“Is he home?” You press on while silently observing the subtle change in her features. Disappointment remains on her petite face.

“He’s actually with Carlisle. Their taking Carmen and Eleazor to meet Bella.”

Brows lift up in astonishment. From Jacob, you heard that Charlie was adamant on keeping a distance between Bella and the Cullens. Edward was never his favorite but now his dislike curdled into hatred. Hating that all along, Bella had been in danger for so many months and he was the last to know the truth.

Without having telepathic capabilities, even Alice understood the surprise that widened your eyes. “The only reason why they’re allowed over is because of Carlisle and the fact that Bella may still be in danger.”

“Well. . . I guess it could wait until he gets back. Um, do vampires even produce saliva?” The question you ask as a second thought.

“(y/n). . . Do you really want to do this?”

Gaping at her in utter confusion, you find yourself looking down at the wood of the front porch. “I- yes. Yes I want to do this. It would fix all of our problems.”

Alice didn’t seem to think so. Her continued frowning told you as much. She tears her citrine stare away to look off to the side. “I don’t want to interfere or tell you what to do. But I don’t think this is something you should mess around with. If you and Ed are meant to be together-“

“We’re not though. Everything about us just doesn’t make sense. Regardless of fate, this is a mistake. We’re not bound to each other out of love. We’ve hardly had the proper time to get to know one another.” You shake your head. Out of all the things about being a wolf, imprinting was a deal breaker. If Evita was able to succeed, then not just you but everyone else in your pack could have a semblance of power back in your control. What happened with Sam could be prevented. “And what he and Bella had. . . I don’t think that’s something that can be easily erased with something like imprinting.”

Edward was willing to wage a war for her against powerful enemies. That was a special kind of love. That’s what you saw in shows and read in books. A mere fling wouldn’t risk their life.

Viciously, you rub your fist along your eyes that well up with tears. Alice must have already seen them for she reaches a hand out to comfort you but you shirk away from her touch. More so embarrassed than anything else. Hastily you compose yourself and attempt to speak again past the wavering quality of your voice. “This has to be done.”

She’s at a loss of what to say to stop you. You saw how it pained her.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way down the streps slowly. “I’ll text to him to give me a call when he can.” Inside you full heartedly acknowledged Alice may not relay a message due to her evident reluctance.

Behind you, you catch the sound of her shoe scuffing against the boards; preparing to go after you. After that first step though, Alice stops. Instead her heavy gaze drills into your back. Each like a mournful arrow.

She should be happy.

This would stop anymore fighting and you could continue with your life.

“If you two don’t make sense, then why are you the only shape-shifter I can see the future of?” Her voice has a bite, pulling you to a halt.

This may very well be her only opening. Alice took whatever chance she got her hands on. “The visions are painful, but they come to me when you’re in great danger. When I try to look into the future regarding the other wolves. . . I just get a splitting headache with no result. I know this just can’t be a mistake. You need to accept that.”

That did it. Warm and shameful, they slid down your cheeks and dribble onto the front of your shirt. Forcing your legs to move, you held your breath; refusing to breathe until you breach the trees that line their estate. Ignoring the buzzing in your ears that make your lips tremble.

Wasn’t this the right thing to do?

**

For the third time in five minutes, Edward tried to ignore the nagging vibrations of his phone along with the vague call of Alice’s voice echoing in his mind. Now was not the time.

The four vampires sat awkwardly in Chief Swan’s living room. Said man stood behind the armchair which his daughter presided in.

Bella.

She looked better, much better since the last time Edward had seen her. Healthy although still pale but that was her usual palor.

Her rich, chestnut eyes keep his attention. At least she was looking at him. Under her dark lashes were faint blue bruises that whisper to Edward her lack of sleep.

“It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, Bella.” Carmen smiled to ease the suffocating air in the room. Men were such volatile idiots.

Bella brought up a small smile that did little to ease the tension set in her jaw. “Edward has told me so many things about the Denali coven. It’s good to meet you too.” That was true. Edward had said good things about the Alaskan vampires and Bella really was happy to meet some other vampires that were civil. The fact that they were here though didn’t bode well.

Abruptly, Alice’s voice screams at him from miles away. Edward stood to excuse himself and rush into the kitchen where he fished out his phone and finds Alice’s name on his phone. The calls he had missed were from her.

What could be so urgent?

“Alice?” He held the phone up to his ear.

“Edward! About time! You have to stop (y/n).” Her voice is tersely clipped. “She’s going to have that witch break the imprint.”

Fear actually made him feel ill. Thumping heavily in his gut. Whether it was possible did cross his mind, but he’d learned by now that anything could exist and anything was possible. Even witches. Again (y/n) was going to try to defy her lupine instinct that as ingrained in all Quileute shape-shifters. Last time nearly got both (y/n) and Sam killed.

He made for the back door in the kitchen that led outside. Bella’s voice from the living room has Edward pausing. If he stayed and let (y/n) go through with whatever she was planning, then maybe Bella would go back to him.

If he left, he would officially be choosing a life with the wolf girl. A girl he hardly knew.

And yet, all he could think of was (y/n)’s smile. All he could hear was her laugh. She was warm and being around her felt like home. He could truly be himself around her. Monster and all. She would understand.

A life with her certainly wouldn’t be easy. Not like a life with Bella had been simple either. Vampires and wolves were on opposites sides of a spectrum. By nature they were enemies.

Against all odds though, (y/n) and Edward had proven to be the perfect match. She was his other half that Edward had been searching for in Bella.

Teeth biting into his bottom lip, Edward pivots and goes back to the living room where all eyes are on him. "I apologize but I have to leave."

"Is everything okay?" Carlisle immediately asked, preparing to stand up from the couch but Edward shook his head.

"Everything is fine. I just. . . I forgot I had something to do. Alice called to remind me." Anxiously he casts a glance at Bella who was trying to read what was really going on underneath his complacent words. Could she tell that he was about to permanently change his life?

Edward Carlisle and the Denali couple that he would see them back at home. For now though he had to leave immediately.

——————————

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[broodwolf221]

Idk if you’re still taking prompts but if you are then how about the dialogue prompt “Hold my hand for a second. It won’t kill you.” For Solas/Merrill?

took me a bitttt bc i got a Lot of prompts to work thru lmao but! some pre-relationship meet-cute stuff /u\ this was sooo fun fr @dadrunkwriting 1120 words cws: canon-typical violence; enemy death; blood

Hawke had come to the Inquisition, and had brought one of her friends. Varric had been excited to see the young Dalish, called her “Daisy.” Solas had thought that was her actual name for a time, only learning differently when Hawke had introduced her as Merrill. Although their Inquisitor was Dalish as well, he was on edge around the other elf, although he was intrigued by her staff. A mage, then...? Why would a Dalish mage be traveling with the Hero of Ferelden, coming out to Skyhold?

Hawke had arrived because she had apparently dealt with Corypheus before, along with Varric. This was news to Solas and he was frustrated by the lack of forewarning, although he supposed he couldn’t exactly blame his agents - Corypheus was not a known name, and they had apparently encountered him in some strange Grey Warden prison. And killed him, for whatever good it seemed to do.

Solas wished he had heard this story before he’d seen fit to provide Corypheus access to his orb, but there was little use mourning the past. For now he was accompanying the Inquisitor, Hawke, Merrill, and Varric to a cave in Crestwood, to meet with a Grey Warden. Things had seemed fairly typical until they came across a small group of bandits.

As he was settling into position and withdrawing his staff, he saw Merrill cut open her palm, her blood coiling around her staff before it shaped itself into thin, crimson projectiles, plunging straight through armor and skin alike. A blood mage.

He was not inherently opposed to blood magic of this nature, the use of one’s own blood, but he had not expected it from the delicate-looking young woman. During the battle his attention remained more on her than on their enemies and at one point he let someone get in too close, cursing under his breath as he tried to move away and give himself space to cast before hitting the stone wall. They were in a relatively narrow passageway that the bandits had clearly chose for just this reason.

He had drawn his staff protectively in front of his body, looking for an opening, when he heard Merrill call out and plunge the blade of her staff under the man’s raised arm, twisting as he cried out and fell, a spray of blood between them. But what struck Solas more than her capability and the violence was her battle-cry: “may the Dread Wolf take you!”

It made him feel horribly off-balance. Didn’t most Dalish call out to their “Creators”? Why would she call his name?

She frowned at him and he frowned back, wondering if he looked as uncomfortable as he felt, but then she rushed forward. “Solas, are you okay?”

Was he okay? What did she mean-

She placed her hand against his upper arm and he flinched, glancing down to see blood coursing freely down his arm and wicking into his sleeve. He stared at it for a moment, uncomprehending, before dropping his head back against the stone wall with a snarl. The bandit must’ve caught his arm as he fell. Shit.

“Solas is wounded!” She called out over her shoulder, grabbing his waist and opposite arm to encourage him to slide down the wall into a seated position. “It’s bleeding a lot. I don’t know if there are any potions left...” He noticed that she gnawed on her lower lip as she let her pack drop free, rummaging through it as everyone else approached. She gathered a roll of bandaging before drawing her knife. The blood on the handle reminded him that she was bleeding, too.

“Take care of yourself,” he said weakly and she huffed, glaring up at him for a moment before her expression softened.

“I am fine. You are losing too much blood.”

“Then use blood magic,” he shot back, teasing. But she tensed briefly, staring at the material of his shirt before lifting it to cut it away. He sighed - he’d have to replace that, and it was a comfortable tunic. Oh well.

“That’s not how it works,” she told him quietly and he winced, hearing the discomfort in her voice. He hadn’t meant to be cruel.

“It’s fine, Merrill,” he said, letting his eyes slip shut as she worked on bandaging his wound. “I was only teasing.” He once again felt her hands still on him and opened his eyes to find her staring up at him, wide-eyed and disbelieving. “Truly. I don’t mind. Just... make sure you bandage yourself soon, too.”

“I... yes. I will.” She resumed wrapping his arm. “Um... thank you.”

“Hm?”

“No one has ever been ‘fine’ with it. My magic.”

“Misunderstood...” he mused absently, still feeling a little weak from the blood loss. But the wound barely hurt - the blade must have been razor-sharp. “Is that why you call upon the Dread Wolf?” This time her pause was brief - apparently she was becoming accustomed to him. Or at least less surprised. The Inquisitor, Hawke, and Varric had been watching for some time but had drifted back to scouting out the area after Merrill made it obvious that she had this covered, so their conversation was as close to private as it could get out here.

“Fen’Harel? I...” She frowned, seemingly at a loss. “Perhaps so. Our legends tell of a trickster, a betrayer...” She shook her head, her expression tight with a deep pain. “But sometimes, people don’t recognize the truth. I am not sure what his truth is. Only that I have called upon him, and so far he has seen fit to spare me.” She tied off the bandaging and hummed to herself, apparently satisfied, before standing.

He rose a moment later and held out his hand. She glanced down at it, frowned, then met his eyes. “Give me the bandaging and your hand,” he said. She sighed, handing over the wrap, but clearly hesitant to offer her hand. He grinned, amused by her reserve here after having treated him. “Give me your hand, it won’t kill you.” She huffed but he noticed the edge of a smile pulling at her mouth as she placed her wounded hand in his.

He carefully wrapped it and tied it off. She pulled away to stare at the bandaging, then looked up at him, something curious and assessing in her gaze. After a moment she nodded to herself, seemingly satisfied. “Thank you, Solas.”

“And thank you, Merrill,” he said in turn, gesturing to his wrapped arm. She smiled in truth now, gathering her pack and slinging it back on before they caught up with the others.

He decided he’d want to speak with her more, when they were all back at Skyhold.

[star-going-supernova]

The Sister’s Regret, Her Redemption

Chapter 3: Waking and Answers

This is a fic inspired by the Strings-verse and Siblings-verse fic, The Imposter, by Star_Going_Supernova. All credit for this goes to them.

Vanessa’s P.O.V.:

GASP

           My eyes shoot open as I try to lift myself out of the bed, pain lancing through my body from my neck down. My body doesn’t really respond to the attempt, but I feel my right side weighed down, while my left is restrained to the bed by a leather strap. My vision isn’t great; I can’t see shapes clearly, however, I can make out Freddy watching me from the side.

“Officer Vanessa, how are you feeling?” I can hear the scan he’s running as I lay back down.

“Freddy, what happened to me?” Okay, it’s official, I’m not speaking again, it hurts too much to speak.

“Yes, but you required stitching, I calibrated the machine to do so once Gregory was patched up.” His voice was calming, I felt so sleepy, but I needed to know what happened while I was out. “I wouldn’t advise speaking too much, here is a notepad to communicate.”

           My eyes move to his outstretched hand, there was a notepad with a pen clipped to it, I looked up to his face. His eyes held no contempt, only genuine concern, and anxiety. I must’ve looked really bad for him to give me that look, it reminded me of Bonnie and Foxy.

           I look down, I can feel a smile on my face when I saw Gregory curled into my side, asleep. I am glad he’s alive, and that he’s not scared of me. I gently take the notepad from Freddy, unclipping the pen. I write out my response.

“Thank you, Freddy.” I felt like crying, I treated him and the others like trash, yet he was still willing to help me.

“You’re welcome, Officer Vanessa. When I got here, you were bleeding profusely from your neck and there was some kind of device flailing in your hand.” Freddy sounded as if he was trying to remain calm for my sake. “I tried my best, but Gregory started to panic when he saw your neck.”

    “I have trapped the device in the trash can, but Gregory was adamant about pouring water on it before covering it up.” Freddy was rambling now, nothing new, he’d been doing that a lot since Bonnie and Foxy were deactivated.

“Freddy, I need you to initiate a system wide hard reboot, can you do that for me?”   I want to be sure that Freddy won’t fall under the ghost’s control. “I also have something to share with you regarding Bonnie and Foxy being retired.”

“I believe that I can initiate the reboot, Gregory rebooted me when I was taken to P&S earlier this night. As of now, I am virus free; Bluetooth has been disabled as well.” I can hear the unasked questions Freddy has about his oldest friends. “Can you please share what you know about their retirement, no one would tell me anything about what happened to them?”

           I begin writing as the room fills with silence again, Freddy seems to be watching me write, Gregory mumbles and moves slightly, trying to get comfortable again. I gently ruffle his hair, calming us both as I hear him sigh and lay still again. A small smile creeps onto my face as I hear Freddy chuckle softly at the sight of us.

“Bonnie was the first to be infected by Malhare, he uploaded himself into Bonnie after Bonnie was sent for repairs following a couple teenagers being careless with the bowling balls. Management had to lock him away in a Confinement Pod after he almost killed the technicians scanning his coding. Foxy retired himself when he started to blackout and waking up in random areas of the Plex after hours, he removed his legs and hook before dragging himself into a Pod. Techs found him halfway in before propping him in comfortably and sealing it shut.” I made sure to meet Freddy’s eyes while holding up the notepad for him to read.

“I apologize for how I treated you and your friends so badly, Freddy, as well as keeping all this from you too. Bonnie and Foxy couldn’t help me finish everything before Malhare removed them. I was terrified he would scrap you too, so I thought being cold to you all would keep you safe, but instead landed all of you in the palm of his hand. I am truly sorry for everything,this night, I had hoped to end everything on my terms, but Gregory followed me here. Was he the one that played the machines hidden in the Plex?” My curiosity got the better of me, I needed to know.

  “He indeed discovered and played the machines he found in the Daycare, arcades, and Monty’s Golf. He saw a machine hidden away in Fazerblast but didn’t have time to play it. He told me that he was going to lure Vanny to one of the Party Rooms and trap her there. Given the bunny attire you were in, I’m guessing he knew it was you from the start.” His eyes said it all, but he was waiting for confirmation.

“It was me and wasn’t me. Confusing, I know, but that device you saw in my hand explains it all.” My hand trembles as my writing degrades. “The drawer on your right should contain the plans. It was implanted the same day Roxy attacked the techs and I was sent here for medical attention.”

“According to the report, two technicians quit the next day and three other employees were hospitalized, you were the only one admitted to the Med Station for minor injuries.” Freddy narrows his eyes; the report doesn’t match with the recorded injuries. “That doesn't make any sense if the record here is accurate, combined with your extreme change in behavior, as if you were someone else entirely.”

“Gregory pointed out the fresh scars on your stomach, wrists, and neck. He said that you would fluctuate between irritation, depression, and happiness.” Freddy’s eyes drift to the trash can. “After going over everything I’ve heard about you these past months, along with how I found you, I have a working theory to share, if I may?”

“I would like to hear what you have to say.” I feel anxious about his theory, but I owe him a lot.

“You were being controlled, like my friends. From the way Gregory described you before and after he came back from camp, I have to agree. I researched the VR Beta for the FazEnt. games created; they all had negative reports that listed the testers as either losing their minds, becoming suicidal, or acting homicidal to those around them. You were concluded to be the biggest red flag due to memory loss, blackouts, acting bipolar, and your search history. Initial scans from your headset show massive strain on your mind, and severe glitches in the headset software.” I go numb as he shares his findings, so corporate was aware of the dangers and went forward with testing anyway.

“You were transferred to the night guard position of the Plex to keep a closer eye on you. It was noted by your supervisor that you didn’t trust yourself around children anymore after your last test sent you into shock, you were screaming for them to take the headset off beforehand. Afterwards, the games were listed as a failure and immediately destroyed by Silver Parasol.” Freddy relaxed as he concluded his report.

           I was silent, trying to process everything I just heard, FazEnt. was informed of how badly the games effected the player, but still kept hiring Beta testers for it. That was the sickest joke I ever heard. A part of me is happy to hear Silver Parasol destroyed all their copies of the games after the tests were declared a failure. However, a bigger part of me is concerned about purging the mainframe of that ghost in the machine.

           I watch Freddy pull the plans out, the ensuing silence was killing me. As Freddy flipped through each sheet, his eyes grew wider with each read through. The papers were dropped to the floor, as if his hands were burned by the designs.

“These plans are depraved, according to whomever wrote this, the brain is from the port of the device and , the subject can and will see/hear/smell/touch an illusion crafted by the device, sending positive neural feedback to the brain while the body continues to function.” Freddy sounded erratic, looking between the can and my neck, breathing slowly to calm myself again.

“Your thoughts are correct, the same man that orchestrated Roxy’s attack was behind the implant. I’m sure you saw the scraps of animatronic against the corner, his name was Cheshire. I believed that I was leaving injured children with him for treatment when kids snuck in afterhours.” My writing was getting neater as I calmed down.

“When Vanny poked her head out, it was like taking a 30-min nap, don’t know how that man created a twisted personality with the device, but he did. I couldn’t sleep but a sedative was pumping through the device to ensure I’d go under.” My nails dug in as I gripped the pen tightly. “It wore off after 30-mins were up, I was scared every time I woke up. It was always before my brother’s bedroom door.”

“She never tried to kill him before, but murdered children here so easily, do you know why?” I knew what he was asking, what was special about Gregory compared to the others.

“Malhare was once a man, before his mind was locked in the headset. He had a family when he was alive; every picture of Gregory made him remember his own son. Apparently, they looked almost identical.” I wasn’t amused with the virus, but I knew what he really wanted with Gregory.

“He was insane, rambling about some weird chemical he harvested off dead children, wanted to use my brother to resurrect his dead son.” I’m burning through the pad now. “He never revealed that to me, but Vanny left some plans on my desk, along with the madman’s journal and tapes initialed W.A.”

“William Afton was his name, officially reported missing around the same time he was being investigated by police as a suspect in the purple man murders. Unofficially, officers found his corpse in a springlock suit, only his family was notified in regard to this.” Freddy or my brother researching this was irrelevant, someone knew his name.

“Well, he’s a psychopath, obsessed with cheating death and butchering children. My plan was to instigate a fire in the basement, the Plex was built on a shaky foundation, the emergence of a sinkhole exacerbated this further. One spark and the Plex would be swallowed whole.” I felt a weight off my shoulders sharing with  Freddy.

“I was going to remove the update that made everyone murderous, and torch the basement, it’s a three-day weekend, corporate wanted to fill-up the sinkhole at a later time. However, the searchers returning injured and reports of rouge bots crawling around accelerated their decision, they’ll be here by tomorrow morning with the cement truck.” I feel so sleepy now, hopefully Freddy can put together a plan for us.

“Officer Vanessa, you must sleep, you just went through a near-death experience, and unloaded your bottled-up trauma; my scan is showing decreased levels of stress now.” Has Freddy always exuded dad energy, it’s soothing, my eyes are heavy. “I will stay here with you and Gregory, the Med Station door has been deactivated and locked from this side, no one will get in here.”

“Goodnight Freddy, I’m glad you’re here.” And like that, I see white.

END CHAPTER

• • •

submitted by @stone-97

Nice chapter! Good backstory and reveals and stuff!

[stone-97]

Chapter 3: Waking and Answers

Vanessa’s P.O.V.:

GASP

           My eyes shoot open as I try to lift myself out of the bed, pain lancing through my body from my neck down. My body doesn’t really respond to the attempt, but I feel my right side weighed down, while my left is restrained to the bed by a leather strap. My vision isn’t great; I can’t see shapes clearly, however, I can make out Freddy watching me from the side.

“Officer Vanessa, how are you feeling?” I can hear the scan he’s running as I lay back down.

“Freddy, what happened to me?” Okay, it’s official, I’m not speaking again, it hurts too much to speak.

“Your neck injury required stitching, I calibrated the machine to do so once Gregory was patched up.” His voice was calming, I felt so sleepy, but I needed to know what happened while I was out. “I wouldn’t advise speaking too much, here is a notepad to communicate.”

           My eyes move to his outstretched hand, there was a notepad with a pen clipped to it, I looked up to his face. His eyes held no contempt, only genuine concern, and anxiety. I must’ve looked really bad for him to give me that look, it reminded me of Bonnie and Foxy.

           I look down, I can feel a smile on my face when I saw Gregory curled into my side, asleep. I am glad he’s alive, and that he’s not scared of me. I gently take the notepad from Freddy, unclipping the pen. I write out my response.

“Thank you, Freddy.” I felt like crying, I treated him and the others like trash, yet he was still willing to help me.

“You’re welcome, Officer Vanessa. When I got here, you were bleeding profusely from your neck and there was some kind of device flailing in your hand.” Freddy sounded as if he was trying to remain calm for my sake. “I tried my best, but Gregory started to panic when he saw your neck.”

“I have trapped the device in the trash can, but Gregory was adamant about pouring water on it before covering it up.” Freddy was rambling now, nothing new, he’d been doing that a lot since Bonnie and Foxy were deactivated.

“Freddy, I need you to initiate a system wide hard reboot, can you do that for me?”   I want to be sure that Freddy won’t fall under the ghost’s control. “I also have something to share with you regarding Bonnie and Foxy being retired.”

“I believe that I can initiate the reboot, Gregory rebooted me when I was taken to P&S earlier this night. As of now, I am virus free; Bluetooth has been disabled as well.” I can hear the unasked questions Freddy has about his oldest friends. “Can you please share what you know about their retirement, no one would tell me anything about what happened to them?”

           I begin writing as the room fills with silence again, Freddy seems to be watching me write, Gregory mumbles and moves slightly, trying to get comfortable again. I gently ruffle his hair, calming us both as I hear him sigh and lay still again. A small smile creeps onto my face as I hear Freddy chuckle softly at the sight of us.

“Bonnie was the first to be infected by Malhare, he uploaded himself into Bonnie after Bonnie was sent for repairs following a couple teenagers being careless with the bowling balls. Management had to lock him away in a Confinement Pod after he almost killed the technicians scanning his coding. Foxy retired himself when he started to blackout and waking up in random areas of the Plex after hours, he removed his legs and hook before dragging himself into a Pod. Techs found him halfway in before propping him in comfortably and sealing it shut.” I made sure to meet Freddy’s eyes while holding up the notepad for him to read.

“I apologize for how I treated you and your friends, Freddy, as well as keeping all this from you too. Bonnie and Foxy couldn’t help me finish everything before Malhare removed them. I was terrified he would scrap you too, so I thought being cold to you all would keep you safe, but instead landed all of you in the palm of his hand. I am truly sorry for everything,this night, I had hoped to end everything on my terms, but Gregory followed me here. Was he the one that played the machines hidden in the Plex?” My curiosity got the better of me, I needed to know.

“He indeed discovered and played the machines he found in the Daycare, arcades, and Monty’s Golf. He saw a machine hidden away in Fazerblast but didn’t have time to play it. He told me that he was going to lure Vanny to one of the Party Rooms and trap her there. Given the bunny attire you were in, I’m guessing he knew it was you from the start.” His eyes said it all, but he was waiting for confirmation.

“It was me and wasn’t me. Confusing, I know, but that device you saw in my hand explains it all.” My hand trembles as my writing degrades. “The drawer on your right should contain the plans. It was implanted the same day Roxy attacked the techs and I was sent here for medical attention.”

“According to the report, two technicians quit the next day and three other employees were hospitalized, you were the only one admitted to the Med Station for minor injuries.” Freddy narrows his eyes; the report doesn’t match with the recorded injuries. “That doesn't make any sense if the record here is accurate, combined with your extreme change in behavior, as if you were someone else entirely.”

“Gregory pointed out the fresh scars on your stomach, wrists, and neck. He said that you would fluctuate between irritation, depression, and happiness.” Freddy’s eyes drift to the trash can. “After going over everything I’ve heard about you these past months, along with how I found you, I have a working theory to share, if I may?”

“I would like to hear what you have to say.” I feel anxious about his theory, but I owe him a lot.

“You were controlled, like my friends. From the way Gregory described you before and after he came back from camp, I have to agree. I researched the VR Beta for the FazEnt. games created; they all had negative reports that listed the testers as either losing their minds, becoming suicidal, or acting homicidal to those around them. You were concluded to be the biggest red flag due to memory loss, blackouts, acting bipolar, and your search history. Initial scans from your headset show massive strain on your mind, and severe glitches in it’s software.” I go numb as he shares his findings, so corporate was aware of the dangers and went forward with testing anyway.

“You were transferred to the night guard position of the Plex to keep a closer eye on you. It was noted by your supervisor that you didn’t trust yourself around children anymore after the last test sent you into shock, you were screaming for them to take the headset off beforehand. Afterwards, the games were listed as a failure and immediately destroyed by Silver Parasol.” Freddy relaxed as he concluded his report.

           I was silent, trying to process everything I just heard, FazEnt. was informed of how badly the games effected the testers, but still kept hiring them anyway. That was the sickest joke I ever heard. A part of me is happy to hear Silver Parasol destroyed all their copies of the games after the tests were declared a failure. However, a bigger part of me is concerned about purging the mainframe of that ghost in the machine.

           I watch Freddy pull the plans out, the ensuing silence was killing me. As Freddy flipped through each sheet, his eyes grew wider with each read through. The papers were dropped to the floor, as if his hands were burned by the designs.

“These plans are depraved, according to whomever wrote this, the brain is from the port of the device and , the subject can and will see/hear/smell/touch an illusion crafted by the device, sending positive neural feedback to the brain while the body continues to function.” Freddy sounded erratic, looking between the can and my neck, breathing slowly to calm myself again.

“Your thoughts are correct, the same man that orchestrated Roxy’s attack was behind the implant. I’m sure you saw the scraps of animatronic against the corner, his name was Cheshire. I believed that I was leaving injured children with him for treatment when kids snuck in afterhours.” My writing was getting neater as I calmed down.

“When Vanny poked her head out, it was like taking a 30-min nap, don’t know how that man created a twisted personality with the device, but he did. I couldn’t sleep but a sedative was pumping through the device to ensure I’d go under.” My nails dug in as I gripped the pen tightly. “It wore off after 30-mins were up, I was scared every time I woke up. It was always before my brother’s bedroom door.”

“She never tried to kill him before, but murdered children here so easily, do you know why?” I knew what he was asking, what was special about Gregory compared to the others.

“Malhare was once a man, before his mind was locked in the headset. He had a family when he was alive; every picture of Gregory made him remember his own son. Apparently, they looked almost identical.” I wasn’t amused with the virus, but I knew what he really wanted with Gregory.

“He was insane, rambling about some weird chemical he harvested off dead children, wanted to use my brother to resurrect his dead son.” I’m burning through the pad now. “He never revealed that to me, but Vanny left some plans on my desk, along with the madman’s journal and tapes initialed W.A.”

“William Afton was his name, officially reported missing around the same time he was being investigated by police as a suspect in the purple man murders. Unofficially, officers found his corpse in a springlock suit, only his family was notified in regard to this.” Freddy or my brother researching this was irrelevant, someone knew his name.

“Well, he’s a psychopath, obsessed with cheating death and butchering children. My plan was to instigate a fire in the basement, the Plex was built on a shaky foundation, the emergence of a sinkhole exacerbated this further. One spark and the Plex would be swallowed whole.” I felt a weight off my shoulders sharing with  Freddy.

“I was going to remove the update that made everyone murderous, and torch the basement, it’s a three-day weekend, corporate wanted to fill-up the sinkhole at a later time. However, the searchers returning injured and reports of rouge bots crawling around accelerated their decision, they’ll be here by tomorrow morning with the cement truck.” I feel so sleepy now, hopefully Freddy can put together a plan for us.

“Officer Vanessa, you must sleep, you’ve lost quite a bit of blood, been dealing with near-death experiences, and unloaded your bottled-up trauma; my scan is showing decreased levels of stress now.” Has Freddy always exuded dad energy, it’s soothing, my eyes are heavy. “I will stay here with you and Gregory, the Med Station door has been deactivated and locked from this side, no one will get in here.”

“Goodnight Freddy, I’m glad you’re here.” And like that, I see white.

END CHAPTER

[angrelysimpping]

sorry for long ask but uhhh ive been thinking

so like. let's say, hypothetically, the PC just came back from remy's farm/the asylum/any of those places... and uhh, just as my PC did, they'd spent the whole time there working out, and gotten absolutely ripped.

and some of the nastier LIs (like Whitney or Bailey or Eden) tried their usual brand of bullshit,, and got absolutely wrecked,, maybe break a few of their bones and all, yknow, the works.

Maybe Bailey sent the PC the Remy's farm and they came back jacked and angey, lock them in the loft to see what they're so scared of up there, maybe give'em a little taste of some of the things they've put the orphans through. 👀

Maybe Whitney fucked around too much and their slut disappeared for a few weeks (to the Asylum or U.brothel or smthing), and when they finally come back they try their whole bully routine and just get punched hard enough to Break Something; and get the ol uno reverse done on them

ooh maybe for Eden the PC actually disappeared off to the wold pack. and they come back and wrap him up real nice as a gift to the pack (: let him get used a little since he's so damn horny all the time anyway

just some ideas but really all i want is for some of my fave nasty motherfuckers to Suffer~

(noncon; virginity loss; anal; noncon oral; knotting; fucking up our faves)

Bailey

It's stuffy in the loft, the air warm and stale. It doesn't smell exactly like Bailey remembers it, heavy with sweat and blood, but the air feels the same on their bare skin as they strain against their bindings. They know they’re bleeding, that they’ve ripped the skin of their wrists to shreds by jerking against the coarse rope. But they won’t stop

They can’t stop.

Not when they’re bound naked on a ratty mattress in the loft.

They're going to fucking kill you for this. You, then Remy for letting you get like this. Fucking farmer was supposed to break you, turn you into a dumb beast. Then you somehow escaped, showed back up on the orphanage doorstep, and forced your way into Bailey's office.

The loft hatch opens with a clatter, announcing your return. It’s with a dawning horror that Bailey realizes what you plan on doing as you let a thin man into the loft, guide him to the room Bailey’s in and lean against the door frame. They really fucked up in rasing you, huh?

Bailey tries to remain calm. They don’t want to give you the satisfaction of seeing them panic. They can get through this. They manage to keep from reacting as the man strips, as you coo at them from the door about Bailey ‘paying their dues.’

It’s when something hard and blunt presses to their asshole that they lose it. Wild sounds rip from their throat, muffled thanks to the gag you'd stuffed in their mouth. Starts thrashing so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised if they dislocated something.

All their fighting is for nothing.

Bailey chokes, going still as the thin man’s cock forces its way into their ass, body rigid in response to the intrusion.

“Shit” the man breathes, “they’re fucking tight.”

You let out a wild laugh at the realization that Bailey was a virgin. “You should be putting out more,” you say from the doorway in a mocking tone. “What do you think you’re good for?”

Bailey’s brain goes blank as the man starts to frantically hammer away, giving Bailey no time to adjust. They’re not aware of the strangled sounds they make, of their pathetic attempts to pull away from the invading cock.

All Bailey knows is the agony of being ripped open for the first time. That, and that they won’t kill you, after all. No, they’ll make you wish Bailey had killed you, make you beg for them to have mercy and end you.

Because Bailey will get free eventually. They will survive this and pay you back.

They've survived worse.

Eden

It’s hard, carrying the hunter back to your pack. The man was dangerous, you knew that from personal experience. He had caught you, once. Had forced you into his bed and split you open on his cock. Over and over. He’d called you his pet, said he’d make you his spouse.

Maybe, if things had gone differently, you would have become the hunter’s obedient little house spouse. Maybe, if he had shown you a single ounce of kindness, you would have stayed when you broke the leash that kept you tethered in his cabin. Maybe you wouldn’t have fled into the forest, got turned around trying to avoid him as he hounded you through the woods, and ended up running deeper into the dense trees instead of towards town.

Maybe you wouldn’t have been taken by the wolves.

You were so tired after having fought the hunter, so worn out by the horrors you faced in town, you didn’t even fight as the wolves took you. You enjoyed it, a little, turning into a wolf-like creature. Sprouting the ears and tail and sharp teeth. Humans had only ever hurt you, why stay one yourself?

But even turning wild didn’t quell the desire for revenge. To hurt the hunter as he had hurt you.

Your alpha is so pleased when you drag the hunter into the clearing. He’s always been a nuisance, always been a threat. Now you get to watch as your alpha mounts your former captor and teaches him his place, as the pack’s new bitch.

You had hoped he would scream if you were being honest. Hoped that he would fight and make things worse for himself. You’re not disappointed.

Your alpha is large and powerful. No matter how the hunter fights, your alpha keeps them pinned as they rut into him. Even as heat coils in your gut, you still wince at the sound the hunter makes when your alpha’s knot catches inside him. You remember your first knotting. It had been scarry, had hurt in new ways. But your pack mates had made it better, had soothed away your tears and lapped at your sex to help dull the pain with pleasure.

That’s why you shimmy under the hunter, take his cock into your mouth. Despite the pain, he’s hard and leaking. He even manages to cum down the back of your throat while your alpha humps away to reach their own end.

Yes, he’ll make a good addition to the pack after he accepts his place.

Whitney

“Hey, slut!”

Whitney’s shout is the only warning you get before they slam you into the wall, keeping one hand on your shoulder and resting the other next to your head for support as they lean closer to you. It’s been over a month since you fainted in maths class, thanks to Whitney’s harassment. Over a month since you got sent to the asylum. A month since you’ve had to deal with Whitney’s bullshit.

Whitney’s talking, saying something about reminding you of your ‘place’ when you lurch forward, slamming your head into their nose. The crunch of their nose breaking makes your stomach turn a little, but that doesn’t stop you from taking advantage of Whitney’s disorientation by shoving them to the ground.

“What the fuck do you think-!”

You cut Whitney off with a swift kick. Whitney tries to get to their feet, but you keep kicking them, keep forcing them down until they just curl in on themself. It should probably worry you how good it feels to see Whitney like this. How their pained breathing is making you grow warm, and not from exertion. How seeing the bully’s blood staining their skin makes heat pool in your belly.

It should worry you, it does worry you, somewhat, but that’s something you can deal with later. Maybe. Or you could keep doing this. Keep feeling good while making Whitney cry.

You stop your assault on the bully, and Whitney stays on the ground, stays curled up with their arms protecting their head. Good. Grabbing Whitney by their hair, you yank them out of their protective position, pulling until they’re on their knees in front of you. Whitney glares at you, the effect somewhat diminished by their crumpled nose and the blood on their face.

You’re able to push down your lower clothes with one hand, exposing yourself to the bully. Whitney’s quick to understand what you’re doing, but there’s nothing they can do about it as you drag them by their hair until they’re pressed to your groin.

“Don’t bite,” you say, grinding against their face, “wouldn’t want to get Leighton involved, would we? Who do you think he’d believe? The one who just came out of extended medical leave, or the delinquent known for causing trouble?”

There’s a moment where Whitney does nothing, just glares up at you from where they’re pressed to your sex, before swallowing their pride and begrudgingly taking you into their mouth. You keep a hand twisted into Whitney's hair as they lick and suck. They’re far more skilled at giving head than you thought they would be and it’s not long before you’re bucking into their mouth as you cum.

You don’t savor the release, jerking Whitney back by their hair and making them fall backward. Whitney is still on the ground, dazed, some of your fluids on their face mixed with their blood, as you right your clothes.

Before leaving, you nudge Whitney with your foot, prompting them to look you in the eyes. You give them a wide grin, one that makes Whitney shudder, before saying, “Thanks, slut.”

[black-mistress-of-evil]

Hey! Can I request a Bucky x Reader where Bucky gets hurt during a mission and the reader is there to take care of him? Maybe he’s caught of guard by this because he hasn’t had someone take care of him in a long time? Feel free to do whatever you want with this!! Thank you so much and I can’t wait to read it 💕

Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N Thanks so much for the request @thighs-of-betrayal-blog this was so fun to write! Sorry it took so long! I swear every time I get the motivation to write my life gets crazy. But here it is, hopefully it’s a little bit what you hoped for and if it isn’t I hope you enjoy it anyways haha 💜

Warnings: FLUFFY FLUFF; angst if you squint; very very brief canon level violence; a minute of mutually pining idiots

Word count: approx 2.3k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (he uses the endearment “doll” but other than that reader is gender neutral)

Why Do You Care?

“Bucky stop being so stubborn and let me see!”

You were standing in the living room of the safe house Bucky had dragged you into, hands on your hips glaring down at the super soldier on the couch. He was avoiding your gaze, staring a hole in the wall to your left, and had his arms folded across his chest. He looked to you more like a pouting child than a 100+ year old ex-assassin/current Avenger and if you weren’t so frustrated with him you’d probably giggle at the sight.

The mission had been a success. Sort of. You and Bucky had been sent in to steal sensitive files from an abandoned Hydra base. Which you managed to do. But it ended up being less than abandoned and without any backup the fight out was a rough one. Just as the two of you were finally getting out, covered in blood and bruises, Bucky had grabbed your arm and shoved you into a crouch, bending himself over you protectively as a shot rang out. He grunted out in pain and you leaned around his frame to send a bullet straight into the skull of the Hydra agent who’d been stupid enough not to stay down. You’d tried, then, to make sure Bucky was okay but he wasted no time in hauling you back up and out into the night. His hand slipped down your arm to clasp yours and he didn’t let go until you were safely within the walls of the safe house. The more the two of you had run the more obvious it became that he was hurt but he ignored you asking about it.

Now that he’d made sure the safe house was secure and reported back to Steve what had happened and where you were, he couldn’t avoid you anymore. But he could ignore you and he was trying his damnedest to do so.

“M’fine.” He grumbled at you for probably the third time in as many minutes, shifting to turn his injured side away from you as if that would make you go away.

“Bucky I know you’re not fine so why won’t you just let me see so I can help?” The cuteness of his pout was wearing off as your patience was wearing thin. “Do you not trust me or something??”

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to yours then, his heart rate rising as he saw the concern there. He did trust you. More than he trusted himself most days. Hell he was in love with you. But you were way too good for him, too full of light, and you’d never be interested in someone like him. He’d only ruin you anyways. But when he looked into your eyes he couldn’t stand the flash of hurt he saw when you asked that question.

“Course I do doll...I trust ya...” his voice was hoarse and he tried taking a deep breath to clear his throat but it sent pain shooting through him and he groaned, pressing his hand to the still bleeding wound in his side.

“Buck....” your tone was softer now as you took a step closer. You thought for a second that he was going to let you check on his injury but the moment your hands reached for him he shot up, ignoring the pain, and pushed past you into the bathroom while mumbling about not needing help.

You roll your eyes and sigh as the bathroom door slams shut behind him. Ever since you’d met the quiet soldier when he joined the Avengers he’d swung back and forth between pushing you away and pulling you in closer. He always volunteered to be partnered with you and you worked well together but he’d refuse to spar with you. He liked helping you cook for team dinners but always declined your invitations to go out for lunch. During movie nights he only ever sat beside you or, if someone beat him there, he’d sit on the floor and lean against your legs even if there was an empty seat by someone else, but he wouldn’t join you when you were binge watching your favourite show alone. You couldn’t figure him out but the more you tried to the more you fell for him. It had been agony for you to want him knowing he could never see you as more than a teammate and friend. Regardless of how many times his behaviour had made it clear he wasn’t interested in you that way, you couldn’t help it. You loved him. And if that remained unrequited the rest of your life then so be it, you were that gone for him.

And so, despite his insistence that he didn’t need your help, you found yourself trailing after him towards the bathroom. You pressed your ear to the door and could hear him shuffling around, pulling out a first aid kit, and then gasping in obvious pain.

“Bucky? Open the door and let me in? Please? I want to help...I want to take care of you, you just have to let me....” you pause, waiting for a response, and notice that all the sounds on the other side of the door have ceased.

“Buck? Please, I care about you...let me...” your voice is lower, almost a whisper now, and you wait another few painfully silent seconds before hearing a long sigh from the other side of the door. When it cracks open, your eyes meet his piercingly blue ones and you nearly crumble at the uncertainty you see there.

“Can I come in, Buck?” You ask gently and he hesitates for only a second before nodding and opening the door wider. You step inside and motion for him to sit on the edge of the counter for you and he quickly obeys.

“You’re gonna have to take your shirt off for me to see, Buck.” You say gently, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. He grunts in acknowledgement and begins pulling his black tee up, hissing as he raises his arms causing a tug to his injury. Without a second thought, you reach forward and help maneuver his shirt the rest of the way off, dropping it to the side as he brings his arms back down. As other times in the past when you’ve seen him shirtless, you can’t help but let your eyes travel across his firm chest and toned abdomen, drinking him in until you raise your eyes to his and realize he’s watching you. You quickly avert your gaze, your ears burning at having been caught ogling him, so you miss the way his lips curl into a smirk. Focusing your attention onto his side you gasp at the large gash there still slowly leaking blood.

“Not that bad, doll.”

“James Buchanan Barnes! Just because its not life-threatening does not mean that it’s ‘not that bad’. Dammit Buck why wouldn’t you let me help you take care of this as soon as we got here?!” You huff as you grab some antibacterial cloths and begin cleaning the wound, ignoring his hiss as you do so.

“M’sorry, doll...it’s just...haven’t really had anyone take care of me in...well since before the war to be honest. Got used to taking care of myself...used to not having anyone care.” Bucky’s voice is barely a whisper and you have to strain to listen to him. He’s never been so vulnerable with you and you want to make the most of however long he’s going to let this moment last. When its clear he’s waiting for you to say something you reach one hand up to softly cup his cheek and turn him to face you.

“I care. I care so much, Buck. You just have to let me.” You try to put all your emotions into your gaze, desperate for him to see that he doesn’t have to be alone and that he is loved and cared about. He sighs and leans into your hand more, raising his own to rest on your hip.

“Why?”

He spoke so quietly you’re not sure you heard him and raise an eyebrow to ask him to repeat himself, too afraid of breaking the spell that seems to have fallen over the two of you to speak.

“Why do you care so much, doll? Why me? I’m not...I’m not worth it.”

This is it. The chance to tell him how you feel. If he rejects you that’s fine, you decide. Even if he doesn’t return your feelings at least he will know that he is loved and that’s enough for you right now. Your heart feels like it may burst as you weigh your response carefully.

“You, Bucky, are so worthy of all the care in the world. You went through hell and back a million times over and came out the other side a kind, thoughtful, sweet, considerate, gentle, loving man. The world tried to break all of that out of you but you are too strong and too GOOD. The world owes you and if I could wrap up all the love that exists in it and give it to you I would. But I’ve only got mine so that’s what I’ll give you.”

Dropping your hand from his face to his shoulder, you hold your breath as Bucky’s eyes stare into yours as though searching for something. He tightens his grip on your waist, before finally breaking the heavy silence, his voice at least an octave lower.

“You’ll....give me...your love...?” Bucky is the strongest man you know and yet you have never heard him sound so timid and unsure in all the time you’ve known him. He looks so hopeful and scared and you can’t help the confession bursting from your lips.

“Yes Bucky! I will. I already have. It’s yours. I-I love you.” You take a deep breath before continuing, rambling now. “And I don’t expect to you to return my feelings and I hope I haven’t ruined our friendship because that would just kill me nothing has to change between us I just needed you to know that—mmph—“

You’re cut off by Bucky’s lips connecting with yours, his hands cupping your face, thumbs rubbing gently across your cheekbones. The kiss is gentle, careful, almost tentative at first. But then your arms snake around his neck and one of his hands makes its way into your hair and it becomes passionate and desperate. Bucky pulls you between his thighs so you are flush against him and the feeling of his taut muscles against you makes you moan. Your hands lift to tangle in his hair and tug gently as he runs his tongue along your bottom lip, practically begging for entrance which you immediately grant. He growls into the kiss as he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, his hands roaming all across your body, pulling you impossibly closer as you arch into him needing to feel him. He stands suddenly, pushing you back a couple of steps until you are pinned between his body and the wall. You gasp for air and he moves his lips along your jaw, down your neck, and then back up to press another searing kiss against your lips before resting his forehead against yours as he tries to catch his own breath. Your chests rise and fall together and he rubs his nose against yours before placing another tender, gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Sorry....couldn’t help myself...” Bucky manages to tell you between gasps for air.

“Never apologize for THAT...” you giggle and the vibrations of his chuckle against your chest make you feel lightheaded as he leans back to look you in the eye, cupping your cheek tenderly.

“I love you.” He sounds sure. Confident. Like nothing in the world could be more true than that statement. You can’t help the ridiculously giddy grin that splits your face as you tug his face back to yours for another kiss, which he smiles into.

Once you come down from your highs a little bit you manage to coax him back to his spot on the counter and you continue cleaning his injury and stitching him up though it takes much longer now as Bucky keeps distracting you. He plants kisses to your nose, your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, your forearm, basically any part of you that comes close enough to his lips. When you finally finish, you let your hands run along his muscles as you rub your nose against his and kiss him deeply, gently biting his bottom lip eliciting a sound from him that turns your insides completely upside down.

Before you can say or do anything else, the front door opens with a crash and Bucky grabs you and shoves you behind him protectively as he peeks out into the front room to assess the threat.

“Dammit punk! What’re you breaking down the door for?! I thought you were a hostile! Why didn’t you just call and say you were here??!” You sigh in relief at Bucky’s nickname for Steve and move to peer over his shoulder at the Captain as the two super soldiers glare at each other.

“I’ve been calling for several minutes! You didn’t answer! I thought you were in danger, jerk!”

“Sorry, Steve! We were...distracted. Bucky needed stitches.” You quickly apologize and give an excuse in case Bucky isn’t comfortable saying anything yet since you hadn’t exactly taken the time to talk yet. But he just turns to face you and smirks as he tugs you to him for one more kiss before reaching around you to grab his shirt and pull it on.

“Ya. We were pretty damn distracted. Didn’t really appreciate the interruption, punk!” Bucky chuckles and can’t help the grin that has been plastered on his face since you told him you love him. Your cheeks flush as he puts an arm around your shoulder, guiding you to Steve who is looking between you and Bucky with a happy, almost proud, look on his face.

“It’s about damn time, you two! Now, who made the first move? I need to know if I owe Sam $50 or not.”

[yoonpobs]

omg imagine ..... rival heirs tae and oc who outwardly hate each other but grew up living next to each other so they're the only constants in each other lives in the middle of the cameras and media 💀💀💀💀💀💀 HRORHDODBRODJ i imagine it to be angsty and super smutty 👀👀👀👀👀

"Quiet," he growls, purposeful and deep just like the way each thrust of his hips has you whimpering in the dark room.

"F-Fuuuck, Tae—"

"I said quiet," he snarls, reaching a hand to your cheeks as he squeezes it in warning, forcing your teary eyes to look up at him.

In the dim room, you barely make out his features but you recognise the way his brows furrow with the bead of sweat that drips down the side of his face. You notice the way his jaw is clenched, a signal that he's close—or frustrated—the lines between the two were blurred for you. Ever since this thing started.

"It feels so—fuck, p-please Tae," you mewl, fingernails scratching down his back as he pounds into you harder against the wall behind you.

"God, won't you fucking shut up?" he hisses, though you know his words aren't malicious. Frustrated, yes. You were too, but you were too drunk on pleasure to care. "Do you want us to get caught? Is that it? Fuck everything up?"

His words are low and intentional, a desolate reminder that you were not free. That freedom was never a choice for either of you. The choices you had were predetermined from birth. Your identity, your friends, your life—the people you wanted. You never had a choice.

"Fuckfuckfuck," you whimper, "Tae—please—I-I c-can't—"

You barely know what you're moaning for, especially when his eyes bore into your own and you force them open despite the tears that cling to your eyelashes. His free hand reaches in between your legs to capture the swollen bud between his fingertips as rubs with vigorous intent to send you over the edge. He didn't draw it out because he couldn't; the two of you were living on borrowed time.

"You gonna come for me?" he murmurs, lips pressed against yours as you gasp, feeling the coil in your stomach unravel at a dangerously quick pace.

"F-For you," you sob, fingers tugging at his hair as you return his hot, open-mouthed kisses. "Always for you."

He doesn't comment on your mid-confession. It's nothing new, yet every time it leaves your lips, in the same scenario, you feel his hips stutter, thrusts faltering ever so slightly as he shoves himself impossibly deeper in you. As if he was trying to make a home out of your body.

"Come on, beautiful," he says softly, and for the first time of tonight, and certainly not the last in a while, you look into his eyes. There's a painful feeling in your chest that returns tenfold, but pleasure overruns your rationale as he sends you over the edge, again. "Let me see you fall apart, yeah?"

You nod manically, walls fluttering around his shaft as both of your moans rise in harmony, echoing against the walls of the supply closet you shoved yourself into. Between the four walls and dusty apparatus, your feelings were honest, were valid.

With one last push and the heat of his lips against yours—you cum. Splotches of white paint your vision as you gasp, high pitched and breathless into his awaiting mouth while he murmurs words of encouragement to guide you through your euphoria. Your body heats with more than just his sweat-stained chest pressed against yours; it heats with how your heart ignites with long-suppressed desire, repression of a woman who's only ever had choices made for her.

"That's it," he croons, much gentler than how he had fucked you so good just moments prior. His actions are tender, like a lover who's promised you forever. You know that it's just an illusion, it's what he does best. "Beautiful."

The fall after amazing heights is the most painful. You hurt the most, bleed the hardest and remember the pain. It's searing. Yet, there's something about a memory so devastating that forces you back into situations that bring you to your demise. It's the adrenaline—it's the addiction.

When Taehyung slips out, as always, he helps you get dressed and suddenly it's cold and distant. Your dress is slipped over your body, covering the evidence of his hands on yours, and your heels make way to your feet once again.

It's quiet when the two of you dress, the echoes of your moans only remain a memory as your heart sinks further in the ocean of your emotions.

"I love you," you confess, and it's the first time you've said it out loud but the millionth time you've felt it.

His hand stop before it reaches the knob, and you know his answer before he even gives it to you.

"I'm taking over my father's position next week."

It's like cold water has been dumped over you, immobilising every one of your limbs as you're forced to stare at the back of his head, hair ruffled as the evidence of your secret affair. A rendezvous went bad, with one heart in while the other remains out of bounds. It's easy to say who is who.

"You—what?" you whisper, not wanting to believe it. Not wanting to trust the person you were taught your entire life to be wary about. The circumstance of his last name and yours being different. "You said—you said you would ..."

He would what? The secrets he's whispered in the middle of your heated moments? Driven by lust and desire and never logic?

"I lied," he shrugs, easily and unbothered as if your entire world wasn't falling apart. The look he sends you is unforgettable, to you at least. It's the one that forces your tears out. "I needed leverage."

His confession hurts more than yours. It's because you've somehow trusted that he would forgo the life he was born into for love—for the unlikely pairing that came out of this rivalry between your families.

He finally turns the knob, pausing briefly as you're stunned to silence, tears there but not quiet.

"You're just like your father," you say quietly.

You know it stings because Taehyung sucks in a deep breath.

"You became the one person you swore you'd never be."

The silence is unbearable. His response is even worse.

"See you in court," he bids you farewell like that, the remainder of his cum still dripping down your thighs.

And when you walk out, back into the crowd of socialites while champagne and diamonds are thrust into your face—you're forced to do the one thing you were born to do. Pretend.

Pretend that your world wasn't falling apart and that the man you loved was the man that would ruin your life.

Maybe, you should've listened. Maybe, there was a reason why you were taught to hate a Kim.