Tag blood

To Love the Night

Aebli Leave a comment

Brooklyn has never been a safe place to begin with. Sometimes getting rescued can take you deeper into danger. When the reader finds herself suddenly swept into the secrets of vampires and a pair of crystal blue eyes, she begins to find answers to questions she never thought she would ask.

Pairing: Modern Vampire!Steve Rogers x Reader (Y/N); original villain, appearance by Wanda Maximoff

Warnings/Promises: opening trigger warning for assault (it is unsuccessful), moments of terror, vampires doing vampire things, vampire-related deaths, mentions/descriptions of blood (it is a vamp fic after all), SMUT, oral (female receiving), smut is noted so you can skip it if you’d like

Word Count: 6000 (sorry, not sorry, so much plot!)

Note: Written for @after-avenging-hours August AU Challenge. This is as close to writing horror as I have ever gotten. So be thus warned. On a funnier note, I forgot who I was writing for and had to completely rewrite my outline. (That Vamp!Loki fic might come out at a later date.) It still came out good and I hope you enjoy it. Feedback is super appreciated!

The moment you felt his eyes on you in the diner, your body shivered and filled your bloodstream with adrenaline. Your fingers and toes twitched with the urgency to run. Then you thought it over. You were in a public place. There were several people around, and you could leave when another table did. The idea worked until the party you followed went in the opposite direction from your apartment. Swallowing the dryness in your mouth, you turned towards home a few blocks away.

Your footsteps had an echo.

You looked over your shoulder. There was no one there. By the time you’d walked one block, your heartbeat was louder than your steps and fast enough to sound like running. So you did. You ran.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Three pavement chunks crossed.

Thump. Pat. Thump. Pat. Thump. Pat.

It was harder for your echo to keep up, but he did. A hand snagged your hair and tugged you back into a hard chest. Another hand clamped over your mouth as he dragged you into an alley. The streetlights flashed over the blade that cut through the strap of your purse. Bright teeth smiled, and the knife toyed with the buttons on your shirt. It cut through the top one. With your eyes, you pleaded for mercy.

Over his shoulder, two red lights blinked.

The knife and the smile were gone. You stayed where you were, frozen, as you listened to the scuffle. Somebody thudded into the wall with a groan. Small metal broke on the brick. A larger metal rang as it was picked off the pavement, then jingled as it fell. There was a harsh cry. Then a drowned gurgling.

You squeaked as cold hands tapped at your shoulders. Looking up, the two red lights drained into two blue eyes.

“Are you alright?”

The adrenaline in your system gave up, and darkness rushed up to meet you.

***

Your phone alarm was a rude awakening. It buzzed and fell to the floor, forcing you to crawl out of bed to find it. Officially awake, you took a second to breathe. What a terrible dream. The missing top button said it wasn’t a dream. You shot up. Did your attacker get murdered? Why weren’t you at a hospital? What if your memory was wrong? Were you even attacked? Stretching, you confirmed you had been. The tops of your shoulder blades were sore and you could feel what used to be ragged skin from getting shoved into rough bricks. Who had patched you up?

This was way too much thinking. Especially before coffee.

Groggily you walked to your kitchen, bumping into things that seemed to have shifted overnight. At least your coffee machine was still automatic. The cup seemed unfamiliar, and you weren’t sure why you left it on the counter, but it held coffee just fine. You opened up the fridge for creamer.

There was blood everywhere. Rows and rows of it. Hanging in bags from the racks and from an extra bar on the top. Various types, A+ through O-. And there was a container of creamer, which you hastily grabbed before shutting the door.

You were still dreaming. You had to be. The gurgling. That’s what it was. Way too many movies and then the stress from last night, yep. Your addled brain was making you see things. And the way to prove it was to look again. You took a deep breath and looked again.

Blood packets.

The door shut and opened several times as you tried to bring yourself back to reality.

Coffee. You needed your coffee.

“Don’t drink that.”

With a shriek, you dropped the cup. It never made it to the ground.

A large blond man was before you in a blink, holding your unspilled cup. “It has iron powder in it. Not that it would hurt you, but it probably wouldn’t taste good. At least to you.” The man stepped back and added some sugar to the cup before taking a sip. He reached into another cabinet and pulled out a travel-sized creamer. “Here. Use this, and you can take it home when you leave.”

Home?

Loose ends snapped into place. The things that had shifted overnight were not yours. The cups were in the wrong place. And now that you were paying attention, the walls were a different color and there wasn’t an atom of light coming through the curtains. The fridge. One more thread clicked, and you hastily ran your hands around your neck.

The man chuckled. “I didn’t bite you, don’t worry. I would have taken you home, but I didn’t have your permission to look through your things. Or to enter your place. You passed out before I could ask.”

“Where am I?” Before he could answer, the rest of your questions spilled out. “Who are you? What happened to that guy? When did you patch me up? Are you going to drink me? Am I dreaming?” You let him guide you to a chair and focused on breathing. The man started pouring another cup.

“My name is Steve. You are in my apartment, about twelve hours from when we met. We are across the street from the alley. The man who attacked you has ben taken care of. He’s alive and in jail. I patched you up while watching the police cars through the window. When you didn’t wake up for a while, I almost called the hospital.” He placed the tiny creamer and the bowl of sugar on the table in front of you.

“I don’t blame you for not taking me,” you said, playing with the sugar spoon. “They shouldn’t have had a reason to peek, but your fridge looks incriminating.”

“Thank you. I am not going to bite you. And,” he handed you the cup, “you are not dreaming.” The warmth from your cup and the way it burned our tongue verified his last statement.

Your breathing had eased down to normal. Your heartbeat was approaching sleep-steady. Steve sat across from you and waited patiently. You watched him too. How his eyes didn’t waver under your gaze. Your fear faded away into curiosity. “Am I allowed to ask questions about… being a vampire?”

He nodded. “Of course. Am I allowed to ask your name?”

“Yeah,” you blushed. “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Ask away.”

It was the best conversation you think you’d ever had. The books had some correct things but were completely wrong in others. Like Steve couldn’t go out in the daytime. So he had black-out curtains and as a further preventive measure, he painted the glass too. He showed you, pulling back the fabric to reveal pictures rendered in an opaque stained-glass style. If there had been light coming through, you would have believed they came from a church. On the other hand, he was not averse to garlic and used it a lot in his cooking. Neither silver or crosses had any effect on him.

Steve asked you questions too. You told him about your job at the call center for the police station. You had been leaving to enjoy a few days off. He was glad he could help and that he wasn’t costing you your living. You told him about Wanda, your best friend who worked at the station next to yours and about your boss. “She’s not supposed to make us work overtime because of the phycological strain of taking emergency calls. But she’ll squeeze in an extra hour or two and guilt us out of overtime pay. One of these days the regional manager is going to show up and probably fire her. Unless she grovels her way out of it.” When you told him about your kickboxing lessons, he wasn’t as surprised as you were that you froze.

“If you need someone to practice with and gain the muscle memory that you need, let me know.”

It was dark again by the time the conversation puttered out. You were tired, and Steve had noticed. He offered to walk you home. At the main door to his apartment complex, you had to laugh. Across the street and one building over was your apartment complex. You invited him up.

“If you promise not to bite me.”

Steve smirked. “I won’t. Unless you ask me nicely.”

***

“Wanda, you should see this guy.” You flipped through your phone for pictures. It had been a couple of weeks but still, Steve kept checking up with you. “He walks me home from night shifts, so I feel safe.”

She hummed appreciatively at a picture you took of the two of you on the fire escape. “And you kept him a secret for this long because…?”

Oh, so many reasons. “I didn’t want you to freak out. And I wasn’t expecting him to stick around this long.” You hissed as she elbowed your ribs.

“McCready alert,” she whispered. You both lowered your heads and focused on your lunch. Still, your boss came over.

She tsked. “Hurry it up, ladies. Chatting is for once you’ve left the building. And Y/N, put your phone away. I know it’s lunch, but it’s still the tax payer’s time.” She waited for your ‘yes ma’am’ then turned on her heel and left to fret over another group of workers.

You and Wanda leaned back in your chairs. “I can’t wait until management gets wind of this,” Wanda moaned.

“Wait. You did it? You actually did it?”

She gave you a mischievous smirk. “Had to sneak my phone for a video of her pressuring Maria last week, but yes. The email has been sent. There are multiple copies of evidence. We should be rescued any day now.” You gave her a tight hug before going back to work.

The day turned sour after that.

“Yes, Ma’am, help is on the way.” You switched over to a cop ready for dispatch and told him the address. “Another body. Same as the others. Bloodless and with a punctured neck.” That was the third call of it’s kind that day. By the time you were about clock out, there had been three more. But the last person who was called in had survived. And they were still lucid as they were being strapped to the gurney. Which of course was caught on camera by every news station in the city.

The man’s eyes were glassed over with newly formed cataracts. “But I saw him. Big. Broad shouldered. His skin was cold as ice.” He reached out and grabbed at a first responder. “And his eyes. Red as a sunrise. He caught me in those and then I couldn’t see anything.” The doors closed and the sirens ended the video.

Steve was waiting for you in the lobby when you got off. “I know. I heard.” He waited until you were out in the street away from the last people going home before continuing. “It wasn’t me. These attacks happened during the day.” He took your hand and gave it a squeeze. “There’s another vampire in Brooklyn.”

He was forced to stay in as the attacks continued; you stayed with him every night.  Six more each day and there were no other survivors. Even the guy in the hospital died. Some reports said from his wounds. One report you overheard in the break room from the case detective said that he was found with two more holes in his neck. Whoever was doing this had come back to finish the job.

By the fifth day, Steve was weak. He could barely walk from his bedroom to the kitchen. The once eerily stocked fridge was depleted to only a few bags. Rationing them wasn’t working. And worse: because the blood wasn’t flowing, not alive, if the attacks went on much longer he was going to have to go out and hunt. And possibly get caught in the frenzy.

He chuckled as you dabbed his clammy skin with a damp towel. “I can’t starve to death, one of the perks of being immortal. But this isn’t even as bad as when I was holed up during the Jack the Ripper Scare.” You sat back on your haunches and squinted at him. “Fine. I wasn’t around back then.” He looked less in pain while he was talking, so you tried to keep it going.

“When did you turn… get turned?”

“World War Two. I was a skinny kid and couldn’t get into the army. A doc caught me lying on my papers and told me about an experiment he was running. I showed up and he injected me with something blue. Didn’t find out until later that it was vampire blood.”

“Blue?”

“Yeah. Confused me too. Vampires can’t make their own iron, so our blood doesn’t oxidize when it makes contact with air. When we… feed… the iron we ingest flows through our bloodstream like anybody else. That’s what’s so confusing about these attacks. Feeding on people should only give them anemic qualities for a few days. But they have been completely drained.” He gasped and sank further into the pillows. “We only tested with so much. Maybe if they had made me drink more I would know enough to help.” He hissed and grit his teeth and you reached forward to use the towel again. He grabbed your wrist. You couldn’t help but notice the purple back-hue to his eyes as his thumb traced over your veins on your wrist.

You leaned closer. “What? You gettin’ hungry?”

“Don’t tempt me, doll.”

You bit your lip. “What if I want to tempt you?” He let go of your wrist and guided it to your lap. “Really. I hate seeing you like this. Please.” You kissed his forehead. “Let me help.” He shuddered a breath as you nosed across his cheekbones. “Steve, please.”

Next thing you knew, you were on your back. Steve’s eyes were dark and focused. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t take much, but I don’t want to hurt you.” He groaned as you turned your head, giving him access to your neck.

“You won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

He nodded and took a deep breath, gazing at your exposed neck. His eyes glazed over with the same red hue you saw all those nights ago. Your breath caught in your throat as his lips made contact with your skin. He chuckled as your heart rate increased. He nipped at you, just enough with his sharp teeth to allow the tiniest amount of blood to well to the surface.

“Last chance,” he said, his voice an octave lower.

“Yes.”

{Smut Starting}

You gasped. Because of the placement, it felt like any other hickey. It made your skin flush and goosebump. As he kept going, time slowed. His words muttered against your skin sounded like he was yards away in an echoing tunnel.

“You taste so good, Y/N. Makes me wonder what the rest of you tastes like.” He moaned as you gripped his biceps. “Would you like that? Hmm? Me taking all of you. Your blood, your essence, your pleasure.” He inhaled and kissed across your collarbone to the other side of your neck. “If you have an answer, best make it now.”

“Please, Steve,” your breath hitched as he ran his teeth over your shoulder. “Please.”

He pulled back. His cheeks had a rosy hue that contrasted with the dark lust in his eyes. “No tricks, no powers. Do you want this?”

“Yes.” You pulled him down for a kiss. The shirt you had bundled in your fists was tossed away, giving you access to so much skin to touch and admire. He rid you of your clothes too, shredding them. You got rid of your bra yourself.

Steve wasn’t focused on your chest once he had your shorts off. Your thighs were parted wide as they could go. He nipped up and down your stomach, not breaking your skin, before nosing down your thighs. “I hope you like to scream, Y/N. I like my meals vocal.” He caught your gaze. The comparison hit you. The way his eyes hovered between red and blue reminded you of a night sky at its darkest right before the dawn. Satisfied that he had your attention, he began to suck hungrily at your sex. Indeed, you did scream. You would have screamed down the stars if he had just. Let. You. Reach. That. Peak.

You were panting. Eyes glazed and unseeing besides your focus on him. Your nails lightly scratched at his scalp, making him grunt. You were shivering too.

“’bout ready to cum, baby doll?” he joked, taking a breather to mouth at your inner thigh. It made him laugh when you couldn’t form the words, insisting instead by furiously nodding your head. You arched back into the pillows as his hand sank down and a finger curled through your folds. “That’s it, doll. Let me take it all.” He added a second and set his mouth against you again. Your body was quivering on the edge until he sucked down on your clit. While you were falling apart, you could hear him lapping up everything.

His hands, cool against your passionate heat, moved up your body, followed by the rest of him. You reached for his belt buckle and found it missing. Instead, your hands wrapped around his length. It was your turn to toy with him now. Each stroke and twist made him hoarsely moan and gasp.

With a broken chuckle, you reached lower and tightened your grip at the base of his cock. “’bout ready to come, baby?”

He batted your hands away and pinned your wrists above your head with a smirk. He mouthed at the valley of your breasts, then moved up to lave at your nipples. You writhed in his grasp. “Not so cheeky now, huh?” He moved to your other breast, making you mewl under his ministrations. Shifting his grip, he held your wrists in one hand. With the other free, he traced it down your face, pushing your hair out of the way, and then to his bite. You shuddered as he touched it and kept trembling as he continued down your body. He teased his head at your entrance, coating his length in your slick. He captured your lips in his, delightedly swallowing your scream as he bottomed out in one thrust.

Steve fought to control his breathing as your walls welcomed him in. His grip faltered, and he had to brace on either side of you. You kept your arms up. Ready, you started the rolling pace. He moved with you, easing you into something faster and breathing hotly on your neck. He brought his face nose-to-nose with yours and thrust faster. Harder. Until you were seeing stars.

“Steve-“

“I’m right behind you, doll. I’m right. There.” He reached for your clit again. “Let me hear you, Y/N.”

You weakly cried out as your toes curled. It turned into a scream as Steve bit down on your neck as he came. Your vision blanched. He fell to one side, chest heaving. Not that you could catch your breath either.

{Smut Ended}

Faintly, you could feel his lips at your neck again, his tongue running over your punctures. “They’ll be gone in a few minutes.” He sank back into the pillows and pulled your hand onto his chest.

For once, Steve’s skin was warm under your touch. You hummed and snuggled closer to him while you dragged your fingers up and down his chest. Your mind turned on again, against your will.

“Have you loved before?” you asked.

His chest rose and fell deeply. “Yes.” You paused to let him continue if he wanted to or to change topics. “Her name was Peggy. Back during the war. Soft hair. Powerful brown eyes with legs for days. And British. She kept them from putting me in an early version of cryo. Helped me escape too when they wanted to keep using me for spy missions.” His Adam apple bobbed in his throat. “She wouldn’t let me turn her.” He said it without malice or blame, but you could hear the hurt. “We were married, but eventually I had to tell people I was her son.”

You knew the answer but hoped that you could be wrong. “Where is she?”

“Back in the UK. She left in her sleep. Peaceful. As it should be.” He placed his hand over yours on his chest. “I’ll always have her. And you will always have me.” He kissed the top of your head and held you as you fell asleep.

***

As suddenly as the attacks started, they stopped. The public was on edge, but they were comforted by the usual crime documentary idea that serial killings stop because something happened to the murderer. The cops in the precinct were not comforted. It made everybody snappy. Broken pencils. Slammed drawers. And shouted statements that could have been said normally. The only person seemingly unaffected was your boss. She fluttered her hands to get the incoming floor’s attention.

“Good morning to you all. Today is going to be like any other day. Except that we will have a visitor.” She turned and gestured to a man standing so still you hadn’t realized he was there. “This is Mr. Sorin Vladimirescu. He will be observing our process and asking a few of you some questions.” She chuckled nervously. “I know you all will be honest.” Her wristwatch chimed. “And that’s the bell. To your stations everyone.”

You and Wanda giggled as the man gently ordered McCready to her office. Someone must have also given him the heads up how cold they kept the building because he was wearing a dark grey peacoat and matching gloves. His long dark hair swept over his shoulders and was tied back from his face. You looked back at your desk before you were caught looking at his light hazel eyes.

“Handsome too,” Wanda whispered before putting on her headset.

The only person you noticed he took away for questions was the newer girl. Her usual nervousness was replaced by calm ease with just a smile and firm but welcoming handshake. It was about another half an hour before he made it to your and Wanda’s side of the floor.

“You must be Y/N,” he said once you’d turn your station off. “I’ve heard from just about everyone how level-headed you were last week during all those attacks. I listened to some of the recordings myself, and I have to agree.” He smiled and caught your gaze. It was almost impossible to look away except you had to blush. “I was wondering if you could have a longer private chat about helpful calming techniques I could pass along. If that isn’t to forward?” Nothing else came to mind except a yes. “Perfect. I will see you at the end of your shift then.”

Once he had shifted his attention, you shook your head. The front of your head hurt. You must have been staring at the screen too long and didn’t realize the damage until your eyes got a rest. Stealing a glance you noticed he was now talking with Wanda. You didn’t mind resting your eyes on him.  

“Thank you for blowing the whistle,” he told Wanda, giving her the same intense look. “I have learned many things today. Because you stepped up, a lot of your coworkers are going to be better off.”

Wanda beamed under his praise. She shared a giggle with you once he had left. Neither of you could help but watch his retreating form before turning your stations back on.

***

The taxi Sorin had hailed pulled up to the door of one of the nicer hotels in the city. He walked around and offered you his arm to lead you into the building. The doorman greeted you both and encouraged you to enjoy your stay. Sorin kept his hand on the small of your back all the way to the door of his room.

“I took the liberty of having an evening dress brought for you.” He guided you into the suite and shut the door to give you some privacy.

On the bed was a white gown with drooping sleeves rimmed in delicate lace. It was fastened with a belt around your waist and fit you perfectly. Touching your bare throat, you took your grandmother’s necklace and matching bracelet from your purse. Jewelry was discouraged at work, but you usually forgot that until you were at the door. The chain and pendant matched nicely.

Sorin smiled and took your hand in his still gloved one. “Lovely. Shall we?” Dinner was brought to the room. He finally shed his jacket and gloves before pushing in your chair. The staff stayed and served each delicious course. They left after dessert, dimming the lights even lower on the way out. He reached out for your hand then jerked it back. “That is a lovely bracelet. Looks like silver.” He smiled roughly and took your other hand to lead you to the window seat.

“About keeping calm,” you started.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ll get to that in a minute, dear. Tell me about yourself. Do you have anyone waiting for you at home? We’d hate to keep them up.” When a name didn’t come to mind, he scooted closer and pushed your hair out of your face to get a better view of your eyes. The light kiss to your lips was cold and hesitant. He breathed hard as he moved closer to your neck. “Y/N, would you mind removing your necklace? We don’t want it to get in the way.”

Your necklace? It hadn’t been in the way when… Steve.

“Steve,” you whispered. You said his name again, louder, as your mind slowly became your own. Sorin grabbed for the back of your neck when you jumped off the seat. With a shout, he let go and pulled his steaming hand to his chest.

The front door shook on its hinges. It shattered completely and Steve fell through. He was breathing hard. His eyes were a pale pink. Two steps in he fell to his knees. Strong hands on your shoulders kept you from rushing to his side.

“This? This is Brooklyn’s protector?” Sorin scoffed. “I’d heard stories. The soldier. Defender of the innocent and damnation for the wicked. I would have thought there were plenty of corrupted souls to feed on. And yet here you are. Starving.”

Steve struggled to his feet, bracing on the table. “I only take what I need.”

“All you take is their iron.” Sorin shifted his grip to your waist, wrapping his arms around and pulling you close. “I take it all. It’s not like they are going to need it. Iron, calcium, all the nutrients in their soon-to-be-dead body.”

“Cataracts,” you whispered. You shivered as he kissed the side of your face.

“Beautiful and brilliant. Yes. Sucking the nutrients out of someone has the effect of sucking out a lifetime. The fear in their eyes ages them. And then they die.”

“It’s a waste of life.” Steve tried to step towards you, but Sorin growled over your shoulder.

You licked your lips. “Why waste the life? Why not only do half, then let them heal and do it again? Then you’d have an endless supply.”

Sorin laughed and started dancing around the room with you at a frenzied pace you stumbled to keep up with. “Darling, we are immortal! Your lives are like blips of light to us. What is one more snuffed out now and then? The world does not miss them for long.” He grinned, spinning you and making you scream. “But it’s not a perfect life. I enjoy the finer things of this world. Thankfully, if you drink with the right people, sometimes they lead you to the right people to drink.”

Shivering, you tried to distract him. “Mercenary?” You cried out as he tightened his arm on your lower back. As if to crush your spine.

“You could call it that. I don’t curve my appetites to teaching the unwanted about life. Not that I’m paid to. And then there are the wives. The widows. The ones who have read to many romance novels. I save their souls when I deny them immortality.” He looked straight into Steve’s furious gaze. “Can you say the same?”

“Let her go.” Steve’s eyes were dangerously red now.

Your captor feigned thought. “Um… no. I don’t think I shall.” With a hiss, he yanked your necklace from your neck and leaned for your neck. The second his tongue ran over your skin, he jolted away. Freed, you ran to Steve and helped support him. Sorin’s eyes flashed crimson as he observed your body. “Ah, I see it now. You’ve claimed her.” He shrugged. Unbothered. “No matter. There is another.” He looked pointedly at you, then turned and crashed through the window.

***

The jab about ‘another’ made your blood run cold. There were two options, but the way he had looked at you could only mean one. Then when Wanda wouldn’t answer her phone, you descended into the panic that had been absent in your own encounter. Presently, you were sitting shotgun in a borrowed sports car. The owner, a very unlucky shark that Steve routinely caught frisking frat boys for imaginary debts, had been dropped off in the emergency room.

“Turn here.”

Wanda’s apartment building loomed. Having given Steve permission to enter, you raced up to her apartment, hoping Sorin’s head start wasn’t enough. You used your key copy to enter the door.

She was arched against the ceiling. Her mouth was opened for a body-wracking scream, one that you couldn’t hear. Her eyes were clamped shut. Every half-blink you could make out a swirling red mist surrounding her body, holding her in place, coursing through her.

Sorin sat calmly on the couch.

“Ah, you made it. Just in time to see the finale.”

At his words, Wanda fell to the floor. You moved to help her, but Steve held you back. She clawed at the carpet, her nails unnaturally long and sharp. You gasped as she saw you for the first time.

Wanda’s eyes were blood red.

She coughed. “What did you do to me?” An aftershock made her moan and roll onto her back.

“I saved you. From the march of time that tramples the best of flowers.” Sorin observed his nails as they lengthened to sharp points. “Is that going to be a problem, soldier?”

“Yeah,” Wanda said, wobbling to her feet and running her tongue over her new teeth, “it is. Take it back.” Her voice wavered. “Take it back.”

Sorin came to stand before her. He took her hands and kissed them. “Why would I want to do that? Think about it, darling.” He placed a finger on her lips before she could speak. “Eternity is slow at times, but you can enjoy every moment. Every sunrise. Every soft snow.”

“Then do it yourself,” she spat. “Why do you need me? How did you do this to me and how to you undo it?”

“It’s a lonely life, darling. And painful if done incorrectly. Ask the soldier. To make a bride?” He clicked his tongue and smiled, baring his teeth. “That takes a bit extra. Six days of six full feedings. A beautiful night under an empty moon. Sharing my gift.” He trapped her close to his body. “Even though you are only halfway done, it cannot be undone. There is only one last step to making you mine. And then… eternity carries on.” For a moment he leaned towards her mouth, then with a growl, he turned to look at you and Steve. “I do not wish an audience.”

Steve’s eyes flickered, and he moved you behind him. “Then you’re gonna have to kick us out.”

Sorin pushed Wanda to one side. “So be it.”

They leapt at one another, colliding and twisting mid-air. The slashes they made at each other healed quickly like zippers closing over the wounds. You and Wanda ran from one side of the room to the other as furniture was broken and holes punched into walls. The longer the fight went on, the longer it took Steve to heal. Sorin threw him into the support wall, chuckling as Steve sank to the floor. He pinned him to there, one hand around his throat and the other tense above his heart. Steve gave a shout. He fought against the hand caged over his heart, but the fight and the lack of oxygen were making him weak. Sorin wearied of his attempts. You winced as Steve bounced off the floor.

“Is this enough? This pitiful life you have chosen?” Sorin stepped onto Steve’s chest and pressed until you heard a slight crack. “You only take what you need, so you have the advantage over silver and the like. But I am stronger. I can go out in the light, feed whenever I want to. There is only a short time until the sun rises. My bride and I will be immune. But you? You will scream and smoke and disintegrate into unholy ash. Is that what you want your lover to see? It must be, for your death is imminent.”

“Do you always talk in paragraphs?”

Sorin spun to the source of your voice. Right into your fist wrapped around your grandmother’s necklace. He let out an unearthly scream and twisted away. Into Wanda’s path. Her eyes were an even fiercer red. When her long nails sank into his throat his cry gurgled in his throat. She kept digging and pulling. “Now, Y/N.” You tossed her the chair leg that had been broken during the fight. She looked into Sorin’s eyes, freezing him in place as she used her weapon. He shuddered as the air left his body. Around the wound, cracks formed and crumbled away until there was nothing left of Sorin Vladimirescu.

Wanda sank to her knees. Waiting. Looking at her hands she was surprised when they didn’t fade to dust as well.

“He didn’t make you his,” Steve said, sitting with his back against the wall. “You are your own vampire. Immortal outside of his power.”

She leaned into you as you kneeled and kept her from tipping over. “What do I do now? I don’t know anything about this except from fiction.” Her body shivered in your arms. You sent a look to Steve. Pleading. He nodded in agreement.

“You can stay with Y/N and I. I have the journal I kept when I was turned. It’s not perfect, but it might be the best base-line we have.”

Nodding, Wanda sat up straighter. “Okay. I might call my brother too. Pietro. Though, if you don’t mind, we might get a different apartment close to yours. We don’t want to be wholly in the way.”

You smiled. “I think the apartment right above us just opened up. I’ll give the landlady a call.”

While Wanda went to gather a few overnight/overday things, Steve met you in a reassuring kiss. He hummed against your forehead. “So. Does this mean you are moving in with me?”

“I guess so.”

“For how long?”

There was more to that question than the surface. You took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to turn me. I don’t want to put you through the pain you went through with Peggy again either, but…” You sighed and hugged him close. “I’m afraid even of the idea of eternity. All I want is to love you for as long as I live.”

He breathed deep, letting it out slow. “Then I’ll be here. For as long as you live. And I’ll love you forever.” He kissed the top of your head. “I promise.”

Masterlist 

Forever Tags: @allidoisreadsmut @blondekel77 @chambcrofechocs @hallemichelles @laochbaineann @lavitabella87 @ramblingsofabourbondrinker @savmontreal @tinyelfperson @zuni21798

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I Am In Your Hands

Aebli Leave a comment

Paper cuts in the library inspire Loki to try something new with the Reader in the bedroom.

Pairing: Loki x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings/Promises: SMUT, knife play, slight bloodplay

Word Count: 1360

Note: I have to admit I’ve never tried this, but after all the fics I read to write this I might have to. Please be safe and only do knife play with someone you absolutely trust. And unless you have magic, be sure to have a clean-up plan included in your aftercare. If you want to be included on any of my tag lists, just let me know. And my requests are always open. Enjoy!

“Ouch.” You sucked on your finger and glared at the offending page that had attacked you. It was a beautiful illuminated text, but apparently dangerous to read. You reached out for another bandage.

A cool hand wrapped around your wrist. It pulled your injury up to equally cool lips that placed a chaste kiss upon it.

“Are we enjoying our reading, love?” Loki sucked on your finger like you had and bandaged it for you.

“Hmm,” you nodded. “It’s interesting and valuable to my work. But I wasn’t expecting a battle.” Loki stood behind you and rubbed across your shoulders and around your neck. You leaned back into his touch. It was blissful, but you pushed him away with a sigh. “I am almost finished, darling.”

Loki chuckled in disbelief. “If you do not come to our chambers soon, I will be forced to come to carry you off. Either rescue yourself in time, or I will steal you away.” He pushed your hair to one side and kissed the juncture of your neck, warm and slow. “Do not keep me waiting.”

You did not. Final notes and tomorrow’s work laid out, you left the library and stopped just outside the bedchamber doors.

“Come in, Love.”

With a smile, you pushed open the doors. You paused, confused when you could not find Loki. The doors closed. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Something sharp ran up your arm, then across your shoulder blades. It sliced through the back of your gown, which dropped to the floor with a whisper.

“Just say the word, Darling, and we can do something else.” Loki pressed into your back, trapping his length between you. He pulled his knife up your thigh, waiting for your answer. You replied by guiding him to run the knife up through the valley of your breasts. He growled and turned you around to take your breath away. He guided you back until your legs bumped into the edge of the bed. He released your mouth and stared at your bruised lips. After nosing across your cheekbones, he gave you a gentle push so you fell back onto the bed.

“And what inspired this?” you asked.

“You had been cut so many times today already, I thought we could try making some more pleasurable ones.” Loki stepped to one side and ran the blade up the inside of your thigh. “They won’t stay.” He brought the blade to his own skin. It gave off a faint green hue from tip to pommel, proving its Seidr origin. He gave the blade enough pressure to break through his skin. It bled a few drops, then disappeared in a shimmer of green.

“I am in your hands.”

Loki licked his lips.

You let out a shuddered gasp as he twirled the point around your breasts. Over and under and up to go around your nipples. When he flattened the cold blade against them, they hardened. You fought against pressing your thighs together, though you failed to hide the roll of your hips. Loki moved to sit by your hip so he could lean over you.

“Do you like that pet?” Before you could reply, he brought the blade next to your face. You had to remain still. Loki smiled at your lack of action. He dragged the flat of it across your bottom lip. The sharp edges caught the light and made you shiver as he pulled it across your cheek until his thumb was on your chin. Dutifully, you opened your mouth, gently sucking on his thumb when it was offered. Loki’s length twitched in his lap, but he was being very patient.

Every nerve was on high alert. But your body could not tell the difference between the danger and your arousal. They danced like one and the same, making your blood burn cold.

Loki continued to play, searching for the places where you reacted the most. By the tilt of his head, you knew he had a plan. It was revealed to you when Loki suddenly shifted to position himself between your legs. He pulled you to the end of the bed so he could kneel comfortably on the mattress, while your legs would be spread wide and your feet barely touching the floor. He braced himself on either side of your hips, keeping the knife out of the way for now. With each tempting thrust, he coated his length in your ready slit. Then he worked into you inch by glorious inch. His eyes rolled back, his mouth fell open, and his chest stuttered with a gentle heaving. When he had recovered, he gave you a sly dark smirk.

“Let’s play a little game, shall we?” He looked at the blade closely, then trailed it up your side where he knew you were ticklish. It gave you the strange sensation of wanting to shy away and lean in to feel more. As he pulled it across your abdomen, your walls contracted around his length and he gave a triumphant chuckle. “Just like that, love.” He lazily twirled the tip around your nipple again, shuddering as your body reacted. “Just like that.”

He knew you. Knew every spot where he could kiss to make you moan. Grasp and bruise you to make you arch into his touch. Where to blow cool air against your skin to make you shiver. He visited those points now with the knife. Shadowing over them until you whined for the touch of metal. Bearing down on them just above breaking your skin. Before long, you had thin red welts similar to the ones he would give you with his fingernails. But these felt different. More aflame.

You could barely see straight. Release was just out of reach. Your skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat; so was Loki’s. He held onto his composure, which left you more room to lose your mind in the pleasure. At one point he had pinned you to the bed, preventing you from moving towards the blade. That hand now pulled you up so he could kiss you. You scratched your nails down his back, leaving your own marks. Loki returned the favor by pulling the knife over your spine. Your body arched into his.

“Please, Loki,” you whispered.

“What do you desire, Y/N? You can come any time you like.” He leaned your head one way so he could suck on the juncture of your neck.

“Cut me.”

“What was that?” he hummed.

You whimpered. “Cut me, Loki,” you begged. “Anywhere.”

He pushed you back onto the sheets and stared at your body. His eyes raked over the work he had already done as if he was looking for a blank space on a painter’s canvas. He found what he was looking for.

You tilted your head back as the knife grazed across your collarbones. It trailed up and circled your neck as if tracing a tight necklace. When it reached the mark Loki had sucked, he gave you one last look of askance. Your voice was broken and strung out.

“Yes.”

He nicked your skin. There was a slight sting that made you grimace, but it made your heart thunder in our chest. Loki watched your eyes close and your hands fist in the sheets. He leaned down and wrapped his lips around your wound, sucking on it.

That was enough.

You screamed. Loki held you close while you shivered through the aftershocks, letting you rock your hips. You finally stilled, panting. When you opened your eyes, Loki was beaming down at you.

“Stunning.”

Still, your skin felt like it was on fire. You rocked your hips up, confused when Loki pressed his hand to your stomach to stop you. “But you haven’t come yet, my king.” You squealed as he flipped you to sit on top of him. He guided your hands to his chest and a wave of green passed like a warm wave over your body, healing your lesions. He relaxed further into the bed. His knife disappeared. Another one showed up between your hands on his chest.

“I am in your hands.”

Masterlist 

Forever tags: @blondekel77 @hallemichelles @laochbaineann @lavitabella87 @ramblingsofabourbondrinker @savmontreal @tinyelfperson @zuni21798 

Loki/Marvel Tags: @1superwhogirl1 @asaltyhoe @coastall-girll @cutie1365 @damalseer @drumbells @earinafae @fandom1089 @feircecupcake1 @holyshitijust @indaybella99 @itsjusthaawo @itswingedprincess @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @kur0k1tsun3-blog @mayorofzillyhoo @millie67 @mimitamsin @moonyscardigans @mrs-hemmings1996 @redstarstan  @satansfavouritegirlfriend @sherlocksuperfan666 @shockwavee @solsticestorm @southernhoney21 @thecookieteam @theriumking @unknown-chronicles @valynsia @waywardsoulpainter @xxsweet-little-666xx @zaddywilk @anotherfashionandbeautyblog 

I Can Save You

Aebli Leave a comment

Y/N, known to the world as Starhawk, and Nightwing help save the live of a pathologist. Life is going well and her niece is visiting, but finding the truth of who hired the assassin leads to some frightening developments.

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings/Promises: some fluff, heck of a lot of angst, deadly influenza threat, violence, blood, needles 

Word Count: 3900 (longer than usual, more to say this time)

Note: Oh my God, you guys are going to hate me. Besides the obvious, please let me know what you think about the fic. Requests open. Tag lists open.

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Blair Bones shoved the second magazine into his gun. The lab was covered in broken glass and leaking chemicals. He avoided bumping into anything as he stepped closer to his target. The scientist was huddled in the last available corner.

“I’ll give you anything you want,” he said, raising his hands in surrender.

“But you don’t have anything I want.” Bones cocked the gun.

“Then why are you doing this?”

Bones smirked. Always that question. “Because someone wants you out of the way.”

Nightwing smirked as the last set of handcuffs clicked into place. The would-be robbers were barely conscious. One was snoring.

“Is that the last of them?” You rightened the last file cabinet and straightened the pencils on the desk. The scientist who belonged to the office had called you several days ago about a possible break-in. And that another might occur. Which it did, but this time you and Nightwing were ready.

“Yes.” Nightwing signaled on his com, “Robin, order ready for pick-up.”

“Cops there in two. See you when you’re done.” Tim left the coms.

You leaned against the wall. “Two minutes. Topic or front door delivery?” Nightwing shook his head back and forth considering.

“As much as I would like to shoot the breeze, why don’t we-“ Both of you froze as gunfire filled the air. “Speaking of shooting… you guys, don’t go anywhere.” The robbers groaned. Nightwing lead the way towards the source of the shots. He slid along the tiles into a lab, you close on his heels. It was nearly completely demolished. A broad-shouldered person had their back to you, while a smaller man huddled on the floor, pleading for his life.

The huddled man attempted to squeeze himself further into the corner. “Please, don’t!”

Nightwing drew his batons. “Hey!”

The broad-shouldered man turned, and you instantly recognized Blair Bones. Gun for hire at a cheaper rate than his skills were worth, you’d never seen him in person before. Nightwing leapt into action, engaging Bones. You ran to the scientist’s side; he was shivering, and his eyes were beginning to glaze over. Staring death in the face usually had that effect on people. You hauled him to his feet, forcing him to hurry as the sparring between Blair and Nightwing escalated. Glass shattered over your head as Bones’ attempt to shoot your partner was redirected in the scuffle. The scientist stumbled, falling behind a table. Out of the way. Safe.

You joined the scuffle, giving Nightwing time to take a breather. In the haste to get away once he realized he was outnumbered, Bones stumbled back into a window weakened by earlier gunfire. You tried to grab his vest to keep him from falling, but he fell with a cry. Nightwing rushed to your side. Below, Bones rolled to a stop. Your goggles zoomed in on a flash-drive drive that fell out of his pocket. The assassin was more focused on getting away than the evidence he left behind and ran off into the night without it. A few seconds later, blue flashing lights rounded the corner and Gotham’s best swarmed into the building to collect the earlier sting.

“Are you alright,” you asked, turning to the scientist. He nodded, shivering. Nightwing helped him to his feet. “Can you tell us why you think you were targeted?”

“I am Doctor Daniel Havran, and I’m one of the pathologists here. I’ve been developing a cure for an H6N1 influenza virus.”

While Dr. Havran continued his story, you went back to the window and shot one of your smaller grappling hooks. Soon you had the dropped flash-drive in your pocket.

Dr. Havran accepted the fire blanket Nightwing used to combat his shock. “A few weeks ago I started to receive threats to stop my work. Such threats are pretty usual for this line of work, so I thought nothing of it. Until now.” He leaned against a lab table. You and Nightwing shared a look. If the threats had been going on for a while, then the threatener had plenty of time to hire Blair Bones. And plenty of time to plan an alternate if Bones couldn’t finish the job.

Nightwing gently took the scientist’s arm. “We can have you in a safe house in five minutes. Right this way.”

Later in the Batcave, you had started to rummage through the files on the disk.

“Bones wasn’t searching for one specific thing, or he didn’t have time. Pretty much the whole office is on here.” You gestured at the screen. “Schedules, RNA strands, a list of everyone’s favorite snack. If he was there to kill Dr. Havran, why take all this too?” Dick, fresh out of uniform, stood behind your chair and rubbed his hands down your back. “And I keep seeing files for the H6N1 virus, but another one stored under that called ‘Thunderbird.’ But that’s encrypted.”

“You can worry about that one tomorrow. Right now you have a visitor about to come through the front doors.”

You were off like a shot, shedding the last of your uniform as you went. By the time you caught up with Alfred in the atrium, you looked like any other young woman your age lounging in your home. You caught your breath and waited for the doorbell. Alfred smiled at you and opened both doors as dramatically as possible to let in a little girl no taller than three feet.

“Auntie Y/N!” She ran straight into your arms, squealing as you lifted her into the air and spun her around. “This place is so big! Do you really live here? Why is the driveway so long, and how come you don’t have a mailbox? I’ve missed you much!”

“And I’ve missed you too, Wiggle Bug.” You put her down and kneeled beside her, looking up at Alfred. “Isi, this is Alfred. If you can’t find me, he’s available for all questions and raids of ice cream.” She gave him an adorable tiny wave. “Alfred, this is my niece, Isi.”

Ne kneeled down to your level and took her small hand in his for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Miss Isi. Do you have a favorite flavor?”

Isi curled into your shoulder, suddenly shy. “Strawberry. Please.” She looked up at you.

“It’s a little late for it tonight, but…”

“Perhaps at lunch?” Alfred finished. When Isi smiled in agreement, Alfred nodded and lifted her luggage to take to her room.

She met the family next. She took to Bruce the most. How could she not? He was like a giant teddy bear around children. Tim promised to show her the best hiding places in the mansion, and Jason let her see his tattoos. She seemed to like one of the black and white ones the best, asking if she could color it in for him with markers one day. Damian helped her disappear in order to show her his new kittens for a few minutes while you filled Bruce in on the night’s events.

“Keep looking through the files. See if there is anything in an earlier, more personal folder about who might have hired him.” He nodded at Dick, who walked in on the end of the conversation, then left for the cave to start his shift.

Isi came bouncing back into the den, just in time to see Dick kiss the back of your neck. “Is he your lover, Auntie Y/N?”

Dick chuckled and buried his head into your hair. “Am I your lover, Y/N?”

“He is my boyfriend, yes. Where did you get ‘lover’ from?”

She crawled up onto the couch to fiddle with a tassel on a pillow. “Mom’s neighbors call each other that. Do you guys hug a lot too?”

“It’s getting kind of late, so let’s show you your room.” You sat Isi on your hip, who drowsily rested her head on your shoulder. You walked by Dick and rolled your eyes. The questions of a child.

While you pulled down her covers, Isi finished brushing her teeth. On her way out of the bathroom, the door closed faster than she was expecting, catching her fingers. You rushed to her side as she began to cry. She quieted down to whimpers as you blew cold air across the injured fingers. You sat her on the bed.

“I’m sorry that big door got you, sweetie.” You wiped away her tears and kissed across her knuckles. “Are you going to be okay?” She muttered something close enough to a yes. The pain must have receded a bit if she could rub her eyes with her injured hand.

“I’d be better if I could have some ice cream.”

If she wasn’t your niece she could have been your child.

“Tomorrow for lunch. I promise. Now,” you kissed her forehead and eased her back into the pillows, “it is time for you to go to sleep. Sweet dreams, Isi.”

Isi yawned. “Sweet dreams, Auntie.” She was asleep before you left the room.

Dick brought you a cup of coffee the next morning as you continued pouring over the flash-drive. “How’s it going?”

“Bruce was right. It was called ‘music money,’ but I found the list of clients. He had a few targets to go after, but Dr. Havran was supposed to be the easy one. I’ve already alerted the other targets and gotten them some protection. Oh, and” you took a sip of the coffee, humming at it’s perfection, “I talked to Havran this morning. Took me ten minutes to get off the phone for all of his appreciation.”

Dick chuckled. “He did almost die.”

“Yeah.” You scrunched up your nose in thought. “But this other virus… Thunderbird… it’s super encrypted.” You continued observing the client list, smiling when you found what you were looking for. “And look at this.” You leaned back so Dick could read the screen.

“Falcone? Seriously?” Dick opened the recording of the video agreement. Seems Bones liked keeping good records in case someone wanted to backpedal on their contract. Dick whistled. If Falcone found out that Bones had a taped hit order of his, there wouldn’t even be bones left of him. “But why a pathologist? That doesn’t sound like him.”

You nodded your head in agreement. “Let’s go and ask him. Tonight.”

The rest of the day was consumed by entertaining Isi. There was indeed ice cream at lunch, and after a private and quiet tour of Wayne Tower, there was a pizza dinner in Bruce’s office. By the time you made it back to the manor, Isi was exhausted. She also complained about her stomach hurting. You figured that last slice was too much for her small stomach. Alfred carried her to bed so you and Dick could get ready for the night’s mission.

For all of Carmine Falcone’s mob boss bravado, it was laughably easy to sneak into his office. There was one tripped signal on the way in, but you made sure the camera only saw a stray cat. You and Nightwing waited in the shadows for only a few minutes before you heard voices approaching.

“I do not want to be disturbed,” Falcone said, pushing the double doors open. “And if that buffoon Bones shows up at our door, shoot him.” He slammed the doors shut and eventually collapsed into his desk chair. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his eyebrows to his temples. “I know you’re in here. You’ve used the cat before.”

“Damn,” you partner grumbled under his breath. He tapped your shoulder and followed you out into the dim light provided by the desk lamp.

“Why did you hire Blair Bones?” There was no use making small talk, so you cut to the chase.

Falcone shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I’d been paying that little lab weasel to create a new virus and antidote. I take it you’ve met?” He nodded as you both remained silent. “He became… erratic. Kept talking about a New Gotham. A new start. Originally, I was in it for the money, and for once didn’t want to kill anybody. He told me he’d found an influenza strain that was weak enough to do what I wanted: create a panic for a cure without wiping out all of my future customers.”

“That sounds a little out of the box for you, Falcone,” Nightwing said.

Falcone got up and took a small case from his bookshelf. “Agreed. But I have learned my lesson. I’ve come to believe there are more psychos in lab coats than in Arkham.” He opened the case where you could see there wasn’t a gun. Instead, there were rows of pills. He picked one, rubbing it between his fingers.

“Wait-“

Falcone swallowed the pill. For a few seconds, none of you moved. You were confused when Falcone gave a sigh of relief.

“Havran told me he had another virus. Thunderbird. Lethal and quickly spreading. I made sure he had an antidote as a stipulation for the funding. These are a few of the test trials, good for emergencies but not for duplication. Also,” Falcone sighed, “Thunderbird was going to be most dangerous to the elderly and to children.”

“A new start,” you whispered.

“Yes. The weasel infected himself the night Bones showed up. The goal was to kill him before then, though after would have worked too. Unfortunately, Bones failed in both. Because of you two.”

Nightwing stepped closer to Falcone. “How long until he is infectious?”

“You two are probably already infected. Carriers of Thunderbird.”

You swallowed hard and grabbed Nightwing’s shoulder. Children. Lethal.

Isi.

Nightwing nodded and called the safehouse from coms. Falcone shook his head when nobody answered. You walked further away and called the manor. Alfred’s words froze your blood.

“You need to get here. Now.”

You left Nightwing to deal with Falcone, racing home.

Isi’s labored breathing stopped you in your tracks. You leaned heavily against the doorframe and did your best not to cry.

“Auntie?” she rasped.

“I’m here, sweetie. I’m here.” You forced yourself to walk on solid feet to her bedside. All the way home you had replayed the incident with the smashed fingers last night. Wiping away her tears. Blowing on her fingers, which she used to rub her eyes. You fell to your knees and took Isi’s hand.

You had infected your niece with Thunderbird.

“How’s my wiggle bug feeling?” You could be strong. You could be there for her. You could fix this.

Alfred tucked in the comforter around her on the other side of the bed. “Fever. Chest pains. She was a little confused when she woke up as to where she was, but we’ve got that sorted out now.” He gave you a small smile and left you too alone.

“Alfred won’t let Damian bring me any kittens,” Isi pouted. She gave your hand a weak squeeze and let out a shuddered breath.

You tried to smile. “You don’t want to get him or the kittens sick, do you?” Isi shook her head no and closed her eyes. You placed your hand on her forehead, terrified when it was so warm. You could fix this. Isi was going to be okay. You can do this. Your ignored tears sank to make your chest hurt. As quietly as you could, you left the room. Alfred was waiting outside.

He spoke before you could get a chance. “She’s stable. And I will call you with any change.” He patted your shoulder and sent you on your way to come up with a plan.

Batman gave his blessing to you and Nightwing to finish the case. He stayed in the cave with some of your infected blood and a list of everyone either your or Nightwing came into contact with. If all else failed, perhaps he would be able to make a few calls and come up with an antidote.

The safehouse was empty and cold. That wasn’t unusual from the outside, but inside? Inside was… terrifying.

Nightwing had sent for someone earlier to check on the guard. He was alright but was being held in quarantine. The atrium showed the struggle from where Dr, Havram attacked him after inviting him in for coffee. There was glass from a shattered vase, a tangled rug that tripped the guard, and an empty injector gun. You audibly gasped at the sight of the kitchen. Crystalline glasses and hot plates had been transformed into make-shift chemical equipment. Papers obliterated with writing covered every other available surface. Where Dr. Havran had run out of paper, more formulas and ramblings were written on the walls.

“Here,” Nightwing said, pointing out a line of text. It was written in larger letters and seemed to be burned into the wall. “With death comes rebirth.” Nightwing grit his teeth. “I am really starting to not like this guy.”

In one notebook you found addresses of other labs scattered between other ramblings. The whole notebook was written backward to only be read while standing in front of a mirror, like Da Vinci’s notes. But that’s what the high-tech goggles were for. With a quick check on a map of Gotham, you found the one that was closest to the safehouse location. It was dying apartment complex across the road from a school that taught almost all of Gotham’s underprivileged children.

Your body vibrated, your nerves hovering between checking every nook and cranny for anything about how to save Isi and rushing to the lab to take from the source. The stay was only a few minutes, though it felt longer. You were glad to be off when the apartment complex came into view. A man sleeping by the stairs said that a ‘crazy dude in a white coat’ had kicked everybody out a month ago by claiming the building was condemned. Technically it was, but the ‘imminent threat’ of collapse seemed to convince everybody this time around. The man even knew what floor he was on.

Once inside the building, it was not difficult to find the spare lab. Dr. Havran had taken over what had been a promising renovation for a community study hall. Most of the 80’s computers had been thrown into the hallway, their broken screens illuminated by the harsh lights freed from their lampshades. The desks had been pushed together to similarly resemble the kitchen at the safehouse.

In the center of it all, Dr. Havran was peering through a glove-case finalizing a vial. While the exterior was being disinfected by a small motor mist, he freed himself of the gloves and stepped back with a chuckle.

“So Falcone tipped you off that I’m unstable? You wouldn’t have been here for another few hours at the earliest if he hadn’t.” He unlatched the side of the case for the vial. Swinging it back and forth, threatening to drop it, he tutted at your attempts to rush him. “I wouldn’t if I were you. This is the only collection of a viable antidote. If I drop it, it won’t survive outside of the glass. You’ll need an injector gun, much like this one. Oops.” Dr. Havran held up the tool with a grin, then smashed it onto the floor. The delicate muzzle shattered on impact.

A shiver of anger crawled up your spine. There had to be another way to use the antidote. You had to keep him talking.

“Then what?” you asked. “You infect the school. The children take it home to their parents who take it to their coworkers who take it home to their children.” Stepping around a table, you moved slowly towards him. “You wipe out a generation, all for nothing.”

“No, not for nothing,” he cooed. “Like mushrooms from dead trees or fresh fields from volcano ash, with death comes rebirth. Gotham will be an example to other cities that it must care for its children more than they are doing now. Make new laws, cast old ones out. Gotham will be the epicenter of rebirth.”

You growled, “innocent children. Did you lose someone? A son or daughter, or a niece or nephew?”

Dr. Havran shook his head in confusion. “Why do I need to be connected with the persecuted to see the need? To help them?”

It was twisted. You had heard enough. And had distracted him enough for Nightwing to circle behind him. He grabbed the vial and sent the scientist to his knees with a flick of his baton. Nightwing placed the vial in the belt clip-on made exclusively for vials to keep them from breaking. He turned to rush back to the manor, but Dr. Havran grabbed his ankle. Nightwing cried out as he fell and found himself under the doctor’s mad attack.

Rushing forward, you kicked Dr. Havran’s claw-like hands away and descended on him yourself. He reached back under the desk and pointed the found gun at your face. You rolled away barely evading the bullets that impeded themselves in the furniture around you. When you fell out of sight, Dr. Havran turned his attention back to Nightwing, shooting at him too.

For a scientist with terrible aim, he had both of you pinned down pretty well.

“How desperate are you for the cure, Starhawk? Nightwing? Who did I infect through you? A son or daughter? A niece?”

Your rage boiled over. With a scream that revealed that he had hit his mark, you flipped over the cabinet covering you. Arms outstretched and hands ready to claw out his throat, your anger blurred your vision too much to see the handful of long-needled syringes aimed at your chest. You gasped as the needles pierced through your suit and snapped off from their shafts. They stuck out of your chest like darts in a bar.

Dr. Havran took your pause of shock to break away. He almost made it to the door when Nightwing’s grappling rope wrapped around his ankles. Nightwing was on him in a second, handcuffing his wrists tightly. He broke a glass pill filled with sleeping smoke under his nose ensuring that he would asleep long enough to transport him to Arkham.

“Havran secured, Batman. Send in the blues and we’ll be home soon.” He rounded the corner with that smile he always wore when a crisis was averted. It fell away when he saw the needles. “No, no, no, no. Hang on.” He moved to kneel by you, but you waved him off.

“Isi. Get to Isi.” One or more must have pierced deep enough to your lungs because each breath felt like you were being stabbed over and over again. “Please. Isi.” You pleaded with your eyes, not trusting your voice not to betray the pain you were in.

He nodded. With one more glance to the blood seeping over your suit, he ran out of the building. Over the coms, you heard him tell Batman he was on his way. Faintly you heard Batman promising to meet him halfway to take the antidote to Isi. Then Nightwing could come back to you.

The windows reflected with flashing blue. The icy hot in your chest seeped further into your torso.

Isi was going to be okay. She was going to get the antidote. Isi was going to live.

Dick’s voice called you out of the sleep threatening to overtake you.

“I’m coming, Y/N. I can save you. We can fix this. You’re going to be okay. You can do this.”

Masterlist 

Forever Tags: @blondekel77 @hallemichelles @laochbaineann @lavitabella87 @ramblingsofabourbondrinker @savmontreal @tinyelfperson @zuni21798

Nightwing/DC Tags: @aquaschemer @awkwardlyadorablebeingtooshort @beatlesobsessionlove @boogiebunnies @borntobene @brickwall035 @can-i-feel @captainwinterrsoldierr @cecygee @charzar124 @cherryignacio @chi-mexican-ketchup @clairelovexo @comic-book-reider @crazynconfused @creatures4lyfe22 @cutie1365 @dickswallys @fallen-angel-assbutt @fanficimagine @ggrubi @girl-whos-sick-of-feeling @hoeimaginethis @itstheghostgirl @itswingedprincess @kawaii-satan-trash @kaylaphantomhive @kryptolipsx @mayorofzillyhoo @myawkwardascanbe @nightwing-rules @papichulostan @roguesquadron11 @s0cially-awkward-unicorn @sarcastickpopnoona @shockwavee @soundslikevanilla @starkling25 @supernovares @tamanamohain @thelarkknightrises @the-mermaid-diary @virusiswhatiam @xenocanaan @yandearie-chan @yuukiitan @bluebirdd @buttoneyedwitch @if-youre-not-a-dog-then-leave @minchen0897 @randomadventure @ravenboysandstarwars @roxiera @sandatgp @solsticestorm  

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At Any Cost Part 3: The Better Man (Finale)

Aebli Leave a comment

Prompt: The reader (male) in a feud with Elias.

The No Disqualification match is set. The Reader and Elias are free to use anything it takes to take out the person holding them back from their goals: destroying each other. If that is actually what they want.

Pairing: None. Rivalry Elias vs. Male Reader (Y/N)

Warnings/Promises: intense wrestling violence, some blood; use of stairs, chairs, chain, ladder, kendo stick, and not a guitar. If such matches make you queasy, scroll down for the page break.

Word Count: 2580

Note: This has been a rollercoaster. Thank you, anon, for requesting this feud. It really made me work on my ability to fight scene; I’m sorry the second chapter was so intense. I hope you all enjoy this conclusion… which, spoilers, is a bit open-ended in the best of ways. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in anything, or if you have a request of your own. Now please enjoy!

Series Masterlist 

Each techie or wrestler that walked by you had a face of pity or assurance. Neither helped calm your nerves enough to stop your pacing. The match was going to be the main event, which was giving you way too much time to overthink every tiny thing. What was Elias going to do?

What were you going to do?

You didn’t have a clue.

With a sigh, you forced yourself to sit down on a crate. It wasn’t going to do you any good if you tired yourself out. Your eyes closed, and you breathed deep. Pretty much everyone had seen where you were, so if you fell asleep they knew where to find you. Not that you thought you could. It took a lot less time than you thought it would, but your breathing evened out and soon your body slumped against a taller crate as sleep overtook you.

Several minutes passed, not that you could feel them, and Elias walked into the corridor. He saw your position and closed eyes and harrumphed. With his fingertips, he drummed a frantic beat on his thigh. How could you be calm enough to sleep? He left the way he came, taking an alternate route to find somewhere he could strum out his nerves.

“Mr. Y/N?” The voice gave your shoulder a gentle shake. “You have ten minutes till your call.”

“Thank you, ten,” you replied groggily. The techie scurried away, leaving you to go through your stretches and find your own way to Gorilla. By the time you did, Elias had just walked through the curtain to take his place during the commercial break. The lights came up and he sang. He focused on insulting the city and its citizens, making no mention of you. You weren’t sure how to read that. Since he wasn’t going to reference your match, it might as well start now.

You motioned to the stage manager to cue your music, walking out as it drowned out Elias’s guitar and your logo filled the stage.

As your music played, Elias griped at the ref and paced the ring. Jojo announced the layout of the fight. “The following is a street fight. Anything goes. The only way to win is by pinfall or submission.” She didn’t have time to finish your introduction before you were running down the ramp. You slid into the ring, instantly meeting Elias in the center for the battle of blows. The bell rang, officially starting the match.

Elias was the first to gain the upper hand. He punched the side of your head several times before sending you to your knees. Already you were gasping for breath; you gasped more in shock as Elias ripped his belt from his pant loops and ripped your shirt up so he could hit your stomach. He completely took it from you, exposing your back. You yelled and floundered as he whipped it across your shoulders. He folded it and hit your back again; you could only lay half on the apron and fume. Elias ripped you to your feet and used the buckle to scrape across your forehead. While the ref checked on you, Elias rolled out of the ring and pulled up the cover to find the first tools for the match.

You had hoped the tools would come in later, but if that was how Elias wanted to fight, then that’s how you would fight.

The crowd screamed as he tossed in two chairs and a trashcan. The chairs stayed in the corner for now, but you met the trashcan first.

You used the ropes to make it to your feet, breathing shallowly so as not to inflate your ribcage so much as to fully feel the stinging in your back. When you turned around, Elias was there to crash the tin over your head. Like a felled tree, you tumbled back onto the canvas. He angrily threw the crumpled cylander outside the ring towards the announce tables. You clambered up the ropes on the other side. Elias bided his time. When you were on your feet and using the top rope as leverage, Elias ran and clotheslined you over and onto the floor. He held onto the top rope and shot a look at the crowd. It was a night of extremes, so both of you had to be willing to do something outside of your comfort zones. He pulled back on it and used the tension to launch himself over so he could land on you.

Admirably, it was an impressive jump, but he had thought about it too long.

You were ready for him with the lid from the trashcan. It caught Elias between the eyes, making him roll around on the floor. You took that time to grab some tools of your own. Mainly, the set of stairs closest to the ramp. The bounced and flipped and were ready for when you finally dragged Elias back into the ring. The crowd ooh-ed and cheered as you slammed his head into one of them.

“See,” you panted, “you don’t have to open your mouth to make the people cheer.” He mumbled something about weak insults. You smirked down at him and rolled out of the ring for something else. You angled the ladder you found against the side of the corner post. Elias growled and rolled to his feet. It took him the same amount of time as it did for you to get back in the ring and halfway pull the ladder up. Elias punched you in the back of your ribs, sending the ladder precariously back to the floor, though it fell back as before. He continued to punch at your face and shoulders, again sending you to your knees. You were able to gain some separation by returning a rib blow with your elbow and rolling back to the floor.

Elias was impressive. He wasn’t a man to stay down long. Not when he wanted to prove something. But you couldn’t think about that. You had to finish the match.

With a quick search, you found a short chain of steel links. You wrapped it around your fist. Elias crumpled with the blow to his stomach. That left you with the opening you needed to bring the ladder into the ring. You climbed the corner and was successful in holding it high for the crowd to see. Looking behind you, you saw the ref checking on Elias still mostly unmoved from the earlier gut hit. The ref backed away in a hurry as you fell backward off the ropes, dropping the ladder like another wrestler onto Elias’s chest. He flopped around on the canvas. With the way this was going, the match should have been another five minutes, tops.

Repeatedly the ref asked him if he wanted to leave the ring and get checked out. Elias kept growling and yelling, “no!” Under his breath you heard him mutter, “why didn’t I think of the ladder?”

You crawled between them and used your head to push Elias to his back for a pin. He kicked out to the screams of the crowd, each member just surprised as you that he was able to do anything at this point. Your lungs were burning, you could feel your back bruising, and your heart thundered in your ears fueled by adrenaline. Still, you made it to your feet, promising yourself that Elias was going to regret hitting you with a guitar, if he didn’t already. You picked up the ladder again.

The steps you had thrown in earlier made for the best place to put it. The ladder clanged as you dropped it, setting up the next place you were going to throw Elias. The ref asked what the hell you were doing; you ignored him and grabbed Elias from steadying himself on the ropes. You slotted Elias’s head between your legs and curled him upward for a powerbomb. Elias used the momentum combined with blows to your face to send you crashing onto your back with his weight on your stomach. You were able to roll him off, but the energy needed for a powerbomb was slipping away.

Elias’s energy was dwindling too, but he still made it to his feet and found enough to force you into another battle of punches and slaps to the chest. Between him, Roman, and Finn’s chops, Elias’s stung the most; no mean feat. You slowed him down with a kick to the stomach, then threw him towards the rope. It backfired and he clotheslined you to the canvas. From the corner of your eye, you were amazed to see him kick from his back to his feet, making the crowd go wild. You scrambled to the ropes to get your feet under you, but Elias was ready for you. He popped you up and dropped the inside of your thigh onto his knee before punching you down to the canvas. He fell with you, the spike of energy nearly spent.

He wandered off to a corner of the ring; you didn’t pay attention to which, though you should have. Instead, you focused on getting back some control of your legs. You were able to get to your knees, then suddenly you couldn’t see. Elias pulled back harder on the chain link, further digging into your brow. Then he was slamming your forehead down, into what you didn’t know until you felt the padding of a turnbuckle. After three more hits, your legs gave out and you slipped out of Elias’s grasp. That did not bother him at all. If anything, it put you in a perfect position to take four more chain hits to the face, which the audience gleefully counted.

“Why. Won’t. You. Stay. Down?” he asked between hits. “You’ve got more fight then Braun, I think.”

Something other than sweat pooled on your forehead and began to run down your face. Elias took the blood as a target for his next hits, blinding you with it and intensifying the pain. You were unable to fight back as he lifted you up momentarily before dropping you on the ladder you had sat up. For a split second, you thought of the unspoken Extreme Golden Rule: ‘he who sets it up goes through it.’ You hated that rule.

Elias crawled over the ladder next to you and into the corner. Before he could set up for whatever drop he was going to do, you heaved yourself up and unsteadied him. You thought you had him. His head was secured under your arm, then the punches to your stomach started. Elias lifted you by the hem of your pants and threw you sternum-first onto the ladder. It clattered off the steps, unbroken, and left you writhing towards the middle of the ring. Elias slid himself across the top rope, kicking the ladder and steps out of the way as me moved to another corner. Despite the ref’s frantic waving, he jumped and landed an elbow drop on your already damaged chest.

He leaped up in victory and shouted, “who wants to walk with Elias?”

In response, the crowd started to chant, “this is awesome!”

Those chants should have been for your moves, not his. Even if he did deserve them.

While techies finished moving the steps out of the ring, and while you inched towards the ropes, Elias basked in the adoration. He crouched and waved for you to make it to your feet. You did not allow his plan to come to completion. It flubbed, but as Elias ran at you with a kick, you twisted under him and lifted him onto your shoulders. The pain in your chest was too much, so you collapsed under his weight. The ref checked on him first, incase Elias fell on his neck wrong. You, on the other hand, readied for a spear. Elias waved the ref away, wobbled to his feet, and twisted out of your way at the last second. Turning to defend yourself, your head snapped back as one of the steel chairs crashed into your face.  

How did he have enough energy to hit you that hard? Wasn’t the man tired yet?

Either way, it made you roll out of the ring. You frantically grabbed at anything you could use, wrapping your fingers around the first thing you found.

Elias left the ring on the other side, making a bee-line for the tech booth.

“Wait, wait, wait!” You called to him. He stopped, element of surprise mostly broken. You tossed the kendo stick at his feet. “If you’re going to beat me up, use that instead of another guitar. Leave Delilah out of this.”

With a nod, Elias picked up the stick, twirling it to get used to the weight. With a shudder, you realized you had given him your weapon. Elias grinned, coming to the same realization. The first hit ignited a fire on your shoulder. By twisting away, you opened up your damaged back for more. In a cruel twist of irony, the ring became your sanctuary. You quickly rolled into the ring and searched for anything. You raised a chair to deflect Elias’s strike, holding it like a shield. The stick caught your fingers once, but for the most part, the ‘shield’ worked. You were even able to knock it out of his hand and take it.

Everyone always compared wrestlers to modern gladiators. You wondered what they would think of you with our chair shield and bamboo sword.

There wasn’t time for a conclusion to that thought. Elias had found the chain and slung it around your ankle. With a tug, he took you to the mat, the chair landing on your chest. He took his chance and elbow dropped on top of it. You were still trying to catch your breath long after the three count.

When you had control of your lungs back, you could finally see the ref lifting Elias’s hand in victory. Elias looked down at you and offered you his hand. He helped you to your feet.

“Finally. I thought you were down for the count fifteen minutes ago. You are one hard-hitting man. Where do you keep it all?”

“I have an extra battery pack in the soles of my boots,” you joked. “From that experience, I would say you do too.” Elias chuckled and moved to walk away. An idea popped into your head. “You know, if we play our cards right… we might be able to repeat this at WrestleMania. Have our moment.” You held out your hand. “Are you willing to think about it?”

Elias looked at your half of the handshake, then to the destruction in the ring, then into the crowd that was chanting for him to reciprocate. He nodded and gripped your hand in a tight squeeze. “If you think you’re up to it.”

“Anything you can handle, I can dish out.” You stepped away and called to the techies in the corner by the announce table. When you came back, you had Elias’s guitar. You held it out to him. “Until WrestleMania then.”

“Until then.” Elias took his guitar and left the ring. He slung it over his shoulder, Drifter style, and shot you a little wave.

The fight to see who was the best man was over, match wise. But the war against the rest of the roster had just begun.

Masterlist 

Forever Tags: @blondekel77 @laochbaineann @lavitabella87 @savmontreal @tinyelfperson @zuni21798

Elias/WWE Tags: @alafairftw @bellambrose @crossfitjesusinskinnyjeans @mrsbreezango @ohnoitsmegan @ohnojustimagine @secretagentfangirl @sixdegreesofsamson @wrestlingbabe @flightofthefantasies @crossfit-princess-sethie-boo @mother-forker @neversatisfiedgirl @racheo91 @roman-reigns-princess @sabrinaoctaviagunner @thetherianthropydaily @wwe-smutfics @kaleywwefan @a-home-for-stray-stories @wrestlingbabe 

Compromise

Aebli Leave a comment

The Reader tries to give blood, but there are complications. Dick and the Reader have a heart-to-heart to come to a compromise about donating.

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Warnings/Promises: giving blood, passing out, mention of unfriendly needles, food mention, fluff, angst

Word Count: 880

Note: I tried to give blood the other day and it did not go well. The circumstances are a little different in the fic, but here’s hoping it connects with a few of you. Please let me know if it did, or if you have your own donation stories. All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Please enjoy!

image

(Credit to here; I couldn’t find a better gif elsewhere. Thank you!)

A harsh white light filled your sight as you blinked. Blurry figures flittered in and out of your vision, slowly congealing into nurses as they moved around other participants. One figure hovered closer than the others. They were saying something but hearing and understanding took a few more seconds.

“Y/N? Wake up, please. Can you hear me? Y/N?” Dick’s face came into focus and you smiled. He was in his police uniform.

“Hey, baby. What are you doing here?” You tried to lift your hands to cup his face, but it hurt too much to lift your left arm.

Dick glanced down at your arm and kept you from moving it. “One of the guys on duty recognized you and called me on dispatch when you passed out. What are you doing here?”

“Giving blood.” Oh yeah. Lightheadedness and then darkness. “Or trying too.”

As the nurse began to check the wrap on your arm, you made the mistake of looking down. Your vision swam again seeing the quick bruising around the needle site. Dick turned your face back to look at him. His eyes glinted with a flash of panic.

“No. Breath with me.” He led you through a breathing exercise, distracting you from… everything. By the time the nurse pulled your billowy sleeve down to cover the site you were both calmer.

“You’re good to go,” she said. “We got almost a full pint, so we should still be able to use it. Thank you for trying.” She handed you an ice-cold apple juice and spoke to Dick. “Give her a few minutes before letting her up. She’s probably going to be unstable for a hot second.”

Dick shook his head as the nurse went to help another donator. “I thought you weren’t going to try again?”

“But I want to help!” You wriggled to sit up a bit, then realized how leaned back they had you. “The last time was only bad because I tried it with my right arm last time. It was too thin and…”

“And the needle went through your vein. And you were bruised for over two weeks. And you have passed out or nearly passed out every time you’ve given, if you were even successful.” He sighed and rested his forehead on yours. “I don’t want you to keep risking your health.”

You snorted. “Like you don’t do that every day wearing either of your blue uniforms. Dick, I may not be able to fight the bad guys like you do, but I can give blood every once in a while. What’s a quick nap if I can help someone?” You studied his face. “Why does this scare you so much? You know I am safe here. It’s not Gotham.”

“I know, it’s just…” Dick looked around the room. “When you pass out, there’s nothing I can do to help you. You have to wake up on your own, and that scares me.” He gave your right hand a short tight squeeze. “I can’t save you.”

He looked guilty. Like it was his fault that your body was so adamant about not giving. Like it was his fault that you hadn’t told him you were going to try again. You felt guilty for not telling him.

“How about this?” You gathered your thoughts as Dick watched you intently. “You don’t like it, but I’m just as stubborn as you are so I’m going to keep trying. But I’ll tell you next time. We’ll make a day of it. You can take me to lunch, stay with me and hold my hand during the donation, and then take care of me afterward. You can save me by making sure my system is ready.” You bit your bottom lip when Dick didn’t react at first. “Thoughts? Worries? Suggestions?”

Dick’s temples flexed as he clenched his jaw. “You’re right. I don’t like it.”

“Richard,”

“And you’re right again. You are stubborn enough to keep trying.” He thought for a few more seconds. “I understand why you want to give. And I’m glad you see my side of things.” Again he paused. You fought against holding your breath. “I’ll ask off on days you want to donate, but I would like to keep it closer to four months between donations instead of the usual two allowed.”

“So you miss less work. I can agree to that.” You smiled. Dick did too.

“Cool. I would also like to take you to a doctor to see if we can do something different so you don’t pass out.” Dick looked away and mumbled under his breath, “and if they tell you not to give, all the better. Less stress all around.”

“I heard that,” you said at the same whisper level. You giggled. “If we are in agreement… where are you taking me for lunch?”

He laughed. “How about the Mediterranean place on Fourth? They have a great lentil soup with spinach. The best iron foods in one place for a hero.”

“Sounds good.” You leaned into his touch and he ran his thumb across your cheek. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“Back at you. Now let’s see how many packages of Oreos we can get away with before they run us out of the joint.”

Masterlist 

Forever Tags: @blondekel77 @laochbaineann @lavitabella87 @savmontreal @zuni21798 @tinyelfperson 

Nightwing/DC Tags: @aquaschemer @awkwardlyadorablebeingtooshort @beatlesobsessionlove @boogiebunnies @borntobene @brickwall035 @can-i-feel @captainwinterrsoldierr @cecygee @charzar124 @chi-mexican-ketchup @lairelovexo @comic-book-reider @crazynconfused @creatures4lyfe22 @cutie1365 @dickswallys @fallen-angel-assbutt @fanficimagine @ggrubi @girl-whos-sick-of-feeling @hoeimaginethis @itstheghostgirl  @itswingedprincess @kawaii-satan-trash @kaylaphantomhive @kryptolipsx @mayorofzillyhoo @myawkwardascanbe @nightwing-rules @papichulostan @roguesquadron11 @s0cially-awkward-unicorn @sarcastickpopnoona @shockwavee @soundslikevanilla @starkling25 @supernovares @tamanamohain @thelarkknightrises @the-mermaid-diary @virusiswhatiam @xenocanaan @yandearie @yuukiitan @bluebirdd @buttoneyedwitch @if-youre-not-a-dog-then-leave @randomadventure @ravenboysandstarwars @roxiera @sandatgp @solsticestorm 

If your tag doesn’t work, I’m going to remove it. Please let me know if you have another blog you would like tagged or any other updates. 

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Thank you!

Come Back to Me

Aebli Leave a comment

It was supposed to be an easy mission. But when it explodes in the reader’s face, literally, the life flashing before the reader’s eyes is only the best moments.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings/Promises: PWP, Angst, mission gone wrong, bodily harm, blood, mentions/ideas of death/dying, sad Steve, fluff

Word Count: 1920

Note: This is super angsty and fluffy. There is no one without the other, so get ready for pain. If I tore your heart out, please leave a comment and reblog. Tag lists and requests are open too! Now please enjoy.

image

“Cap, something is wrong.”

Those were the last words you said before the formerly silent junkyard was suddenly filled with gunfire. You ducked behind a pile of iron beams. The cover wasn’t going to be good enough in a few seconds as Hydra came spilling out of every nook and cranny. One rounded the corner and aimed for you, but she missed as you scurried up the slight hill to the next bit of cover. From your new spot, you watched in confusion as a trio of Hydra agents struggled to carry a hunk of machinery covered with a tarp.

“Anyone got eyes on the 3 stooges?” Tony’s voice crackled in your earpiece. Looking up, you saw him dodging grenade launchers.

“I’ve got them. If anyone can get me cover, I’d appreciate it.” You ran after the group. You hoped they wouldn’t look back to see you until the last possible moment. Still, you hugged every hollowed car and pile of metal to ensure success.

One of the group stumbled just as they reached the peak cleared of excess junk. While the other two fixed the machine into place, the third saw you and pulled his weapon. You zigged and zagged, flinching as a bullet hit the ground next to your ankle. He gave a shout as you tackled him, finally alerting the other two. One came to help their comrade while the other began to turn on the machine. This one had a knife, though he didn’t last much longer once you disarmed him.

You only made it a few steps before a loud whirring began. The following blast sent you flying back, making you arch as you collided with another pile of beams. But you could still move, even if a little bit slower. The third Hydra agent was laying on her stomach beneath the glowing pulse shooting out over the junkyard and into the sky. She made eye contact and reached for the control panel again.

The agent began typing a command, so you took that time to ascend the last bit and wrestling the woman away from the machine. Overhead dark clouds rumbled and flashed with green light. The woman flipped you onto your back and wrapped her hands around your throat. From her position, you were stuck underneath with nowhere to go unless she made a mistake. As your vision started to fade, she tightened one hand and reached the other up to the machine. You jutted your hips up to throw her off balance. She shrieked as her hand spread across the panel, pushing the wrong buttons.

The panel turned red and started to flash.

With a string of curses, the woman punched you hard on your jawline and ran down the hill.

“It’s going to blow, team,” you coughed. “Find cover.” There wasn’t time to disarm it, but you hoped you had enough time to crawl away to the hollowed car further down the slope.

You didn’t.

The gunfire and sounds over the com receded past the ringing point as the machine gave the sky one last burst of white light. You went spinning through the air as the concussive blast exploded outwards. Faintly you felt pieces of the machine scraping across your skin, then searing pain in your chest. Your vision went dark.

“Hold still!” Steve laughed as you pulled a petulant face. “Come on, Y/N. If you don’t stop fidgeting I won’t be able to finish the sketch.”

“I thought you were faster than this,” you moaned. Despite your complaining, you resolved your body to stay still with a huff. “Why are we doing this again?”

Steve grinned and continued drawing. “I believe you said something along the line of ‘draw me like one of your French girls.’ I don’t think I’ve ever actually drawn a French girl, but when it comes to you, perfection demands perfection. So, hold still; I’m almost done.”

You fought off a different kind of moan as Steve bit his bottom lip. His brow was creased with concentration. Every once in a while, you saw his blue eyes as he looked up to your posed form, then back to the paper. He smudged some of the charcoal with his pinkie, tilting his head to get the shading just right.

“Okay. Yes.” Steve stood and walked to sit on the edge of the couch next to you. It looked like less of a sketch and more like a black and white photograph with slightly blurry edges. “I still don’t think I got perfect-“

“It’s wonderful Steve.”

The praise brought a light pink into the tops of his cheeks. He gave your forehead a lingering kiss and moved to continue down to your lips. But your stomach growled.

“Seriously?” You fell back into the throw pillows and couldn’t help but chuckle. “You did interrupt the idea of dinner.”

“I guess I did. But I wanted to capture the image of you just like this.”

“I really need to teach you how to use a camera.”

“But if I did, then…” The doorbell rang. “…then the pizza I called for while grabbing my stuff wouldn’t have had time to get here.”

You leaned up to kiss him. “You’re wonderful, you know that.”

“Always good to hear. Grab the plates? I’ve got the rest.”

“Has anyone got eyes on Y/N?” Steve’s voice was tinged with the frantic hope he could find you. The junkyard was on fire and anything metal hit by the blast was glowing with the same green light as the sky.

“The last I saw her she was close to the machine,” Tony replied.

Steve thanked him and headed in your direction.

Nat caught the basketball you passed. She dribbled it for a few steps, then threw it back to you for the point. You both gave a crow of victory while Steve and Bucky groaned. The two-on-two was first to spell ‘agent’ scoring on the opposite team to decide which team was going to write up the paperwork for the next three missions. So far, the guys had ‘a’ and ‘g’ while you and Nat only had ‘t’ to go.

“You know,” Bucky said, “if we get stuck with the paperwork, you guys will complain. Can’t cuddle, watch a movie and write.”

“Perhaps,” you said, eyeing Nat.

“But we’ve got that worked out. I’ve got a friend coming in to teach the two of us belly dancing.”

With a giggle, you two began to undulate your hips. The guys shared a look.

“So, do we want to lose or not?” Steve’s gaze came back to your hips. “Either way we win in the end. No paperwork or private dances?”

Bucky sucked in a breath as Nat curled her fingers at him. “If you two had told us the plan earlier, we could have made it easier to for you to win.”

You both snorted. “No you couldn’t,” you said in unison.

“Fine.” Bucky motioned for the ball and you all got into position. “For all the marbles.”

Bucky faked to Steve, but Nat saw through him and stole the ball. You twisted behind Steve and caught her toss. A second later you tossed it back so she could score. The guys didn’t seem to put out by their loss.

“Like Bucky said,” Steve panted, “either way we were going to win in the end.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“Are you sure?” You backed away from him while swaying your hips. “I might save my first demonstration for that Hydra banker I’m supposed to distract. Have fun filling out that paperwork.” You squealed as Steve ran after you.

“Get back here,” he growled. He caught you easily and whispered into your ear, “your wiles are for my eyes only. You wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Get a room!” Nat called out. It never failed to make Steve blush, despite the hot warning just seconds before.

“We will,” you said. “Got to use up all the hot water too with our win.”

“No!” the guys groaned. You and Nat laughed, sharing the look agreeing to leave them a little.

“She’s not here, no, wait. I think I see her.” Steve shaded his eyes against the flames. The blast had crushed the junk into the former paths through the yard, creating a wrangled metal wall around the blast zone. Through a gap in the metal, he saw a huddled form slumped on the opposite side of the circle. His com crackled.

“Steve,” you croaked.

“I’m on my way, Y/N.” He stepped back to look at the wall for hand and footholds. “Hang on.”

“Steve. Steeeeve.” You scooted closer to him, sighing in pleasure as his body heat washed over you. He inhaled deeply and wiggled further under the blankets. “Steve, baby. It’s morning.” You ran your finger down his nose, grinning when he scrunched it.

“So?” he mumbled.

“Hold me. I want to go back to sleep. It’s cold on my side of the bed.” You smiled in victory as he picked his arm up so you could lay next to him. You fell asleep again and didn’t wake up until Steve’s alarm went off. You grumbled about how it was Saturday.

“Sorry. Forgot to unset it from last week.” You whined when he twisted back to turn off the beeping, taking the warmth with him. “Shh. I’m back.” He tightened his arm around your waist. “Can’t leave my girl cold in the morning.”

Your eyes cracked open with a thought. “Does it ever bother you? That I’m cold all the time?”

Steve opened his eyes too. “Not one bit. Makes me feel needed to the one person I care about the most.” Steve leaned in and nuzzled his nose against yours. “To me, you are the most important person.”

“I love you, Steve.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

“Y/N. Y/N!” Steve’s voice pulled you back up into consciousness. “We’ve go to get you out of here. Tony’s suit is out of commission, and the jet is too big to get in here. Can you walk?”

“Maybe.” You lowered your arms from your chest to brace against what you were leaning on. Steve’s gasp of anguish made you look down. A steel rod was poking out of your chest. “Oh,” you groaned. “That’s why everything hurts.”

“Tony. I can’t get her out by myself. Send me anything you’ve got.” He grimaced. “We’re going to get you home. You’re going to be okay.”

“I know. I trust you.” Your vision blurred, and your head fell back. Steve squeezed your hand, waking you up again.

“Oh, no. Stay with me, Y/N.”

“Yes, sir.” You grinned cheekily at him. “I’m ready for round two. Just give the order.”

“Your order is to stay awake.” Steve grinned too, though you could still see the fear in his eyes.

A wave of pain coursed through you, making your knees sag. The aching in your chest increased as you leaned heavier on the bar. Steve pulled you back up, but your vision was spotting again.

“I’ll do my best, Cap,” you said through gritted teeth. Your lips were coated with blood when you coughed. The pain became too much and you slipped out of consciousness.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Steve hesitated to touch you, but he gave your shoulders a quick shake. “Tony, where are you guys? Y/N?”

The jet hovering overhead created a mini windstorm, but Steve kept his focus on you, willing you to open your eyes.

“Come back to me, Y/N. Please.”

Masterlist 

Forever Tags: @blondekel77 @laochbaineann @lavitabella87 @savmontreal @zuni21798

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Simple Demon, Simple Pleasures

Aebli Leave a comment

The reader comes back to the bunker to help Sam with the sanctified blood cure. Dean intercepts her arrival into the bunker and convinces her he’s human. It takes too long to see where his facts don’t add up, but by then it’s too late.

Pairing: Demon Dean x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: SMUT, name-calling, orgasm denial, gagging and bondage, knife use (not in a fun way; including cutting), leaving the reader for dead, angst (damn, that took a turn), slight dub-con, arguably dark!fic

Word Count: 2500+

Note: Happy Dean-o-ween! I had another Dean fic planned, but it needs more time. In the meantime, here’s something a little darker than what I usually write. Again:

If you have a trigger for cutting, do not read this fic.

Please let me know if you liked it or not with comments, likes, and reblogs. Stay safe this Halloween!

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The garage sank into silence as you turned off your engine. It had been a long drive; worth it. Sam had finally found Dean. He called you on his way back to the bunker a few days ago, Dean snarking in the backseat.

Sam tried to talk over him, but you could still hear Dean.

“Did you tell her I said hi? How’s my favorite whore?”

White crested over the tops of your knuckles as you gripped the steering wheel. You’d wanted to be there, but took a bad lead and split up from Sam on the hunt. The hunt? Dean was a demon, but he was still in there, not as a monster. The defense sounded pitiful in your head.

You called from ten minutes out to check in.

“He’s… he’s not doing too well.”

“Tell me.” You stepped harder on the gas. “Sam.”

“He’s got all this human blood in him… says it’s burning. Y/N… this cure might be killing him.”

You swallowed hard. “It’s the last chance we have. No matter what, keep going. I’ll be there soon.”

“This had better work,” you grumbled, stepping out of your car.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

You flattened yourself against your car, arm outstretched with your favorite knife to Dean’s throat.

“Easy, sweetheart. It’s me.” His eyes searched yours as he kept his hands in the air. Dark circles hung under his eyes. His voice didn’t sound like it did. But demons were crafty, and it wasn’t like they followed good lifestyle habits.

“Prove it.” Using the blade, you guided Dean back so you could rummage in your bag for the flask of holy water. Dean flinched when the liquid touched his skin, but sighed in relief when it didn’t steam. You saw the pricks in his arms from the blood injections. They looked angry and swollen like they were still fighting. Dean wiped off the excess with his shirt quickly under your scrutiny.

“Convinced?” He kept his hands up as you lowered your blade. A second later he chuckled as you rushed to wrap your arms around his waist. He ran his hand through your hair as you buried your face in his chest.

“Are you really okay?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m okay.”

“Where’s Sam?”

Dean took a second to answer. “He went out to grab us some burgers. I could call him so he’ll grab you one too.”

“That’s okay. I ate on the way in.” You pulled back. “He left you alone?”

“I’m supposed to be resting, instead I’ve been testing. I’ve still got some perks. Seems the Mark doesn’t want to let go of some things.”

“Like what?”

Dean’s eyes glittered. “Can’t tell you. Have to show you.” His head tilted to one side as he watched you consider his proposition. When you took too long to answer he grinned and snapped his fingers. You found yourself sandwiched between him and the wall on the other side of the garage. “Like this for one thing. Cool, right?”

You giggled. “It will certainly come in handy later.”

“Hopefully sooner than later.” He kissed your forehead. “I’ve missed you so much.” He ran the tip of his nose down the curves of your face. Dean’s lips hovered over yours. You knew he wouldn’t initiate. He needed to know you wanted him. Needed him as much as he needed you.

You bobbed on your tiptoes to press your lips against his. He was tentative at first, barely parting his lips. But you ran your tongue over his bottom lip, drawing a groan from him. His hands began to roam your body hungrily. He gripped your hips and your arms and then your breasts like he was relearning your form. You let out a shuddered breath as he let one slip under your shirt to snake up and play with your aroused nipples. The other hand played with the waistband of your jeans. He popped the button and inched his fingers into your heat.

“Damn, Y/N. Did you miss me?” He chuckled when you could only gasp in reply. He dipped a finger into your slick and spread it up to your clit. Your hips jerked forward under his ministrations. You continued to buck onto his hand and scissoring fingers until your breaths were coming out in bursts. He kissed you hard and thrusts his tongue out of time with his hand untill you were crying into his mouth.

Dean rested his head on the wall over your shoulder. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.”

“Let’s.” You closed your eyes against the dizziness as the air chilled and shifted. When you opened your eyes, your back was against the inside of your bedroom door.

And you were naked.

Dean knocked your hands away as you tried to over yourself. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you before, Y/N. It’s just been a while.” You shuddered as the lock clicked shut. “Now let me look at you.”

He stripped off his shirt and sat on the edge of your bed. His eyes eased across your body, resting on your breasts, your hips, your thighs, then flicking up to your face. You were thrumming with need, shivering. Dean curled a finger, summoning you.

“Come here.”

You walked to him on unsteady legs. Dean guided you down to sit on one of his thighs. His jeans scratched pleasantly between your thighs; you couldn’t help but rolling your hips a few times. Dean’s hands flashed to grip your thighs, stilling you.

“Do you trust me?” His deep voice reverberated with need, and something playful. You mirrored him licking his lips and nodded. From his back pocket, he pulled out a bandana. He tied a knot in the middle, then held it questioningly over your lips. You opened your mouth. “I really want to hear you, sweetheart, but I’m supposed to be resting. Don’t want to traumatize Sam.” The bandana slipped coarse over your tongue as Dean tied it around the back of your head. You nodded to let him know it wasn’t too tight.

The bandana did its job as you squealed into it when Dean flipped you under him. He helped you wriggle further up the bed. His head ducked down to kiss across your collarbone, then down between your breasts. One hand massaged one breast while his mouth attended to the other. You arched until your back ached, desperately trying to somehow feel him closer to you. Dean groaned as you dug your nails down his back and down his ribs.

“You keep playing like that, sweetheart, you’re going to get yourself into trouble,” he growled. You hummed back in response and kept your nails moving over his abs. He chuckled. “Just like old times, huh? You still don’t know how to behave.” His green eyes sparkled as you batted your eyelashes. His head twisted to one side as he dipped into thought. “Just like old times…”

Dean moved away from you, ignoring your whine of separation. He kneeled by the bed and shuffled some things around under the frame. His face broke out into a grin when he found what he was looking for. The red silken ropes dangled between his fingers. You bought the set as a joke one year. It made you smile to remember how much Sam blushed and stumbled over his words when Dean pulled the ropes proudly out of the box. Dean’s present came to you later.

“Thinking about Christmas?” He smiled as you nodded. “You were a genius, just in case I never told you.”

“Weher?” you cheekily questioned through the gag. He chuckled and tied one end of each rope to the wrists you held up to him. You looked at him quizzically when he pulled your arms up at an odd angle so he could tie the ropes to the legs of the bed instead of to the headboard. You forgot to worry about it when his fingers danced down your arms to breasts. He played with them again until you were arching into his touch. When his hand drew away you focused on breathing while Dean stripped out of his jeans and briefs. As much as you hated to think it, the demon life had done his body some good. It was thicker in all the right places, healthier, free of the usual Dean Winchester guilt besides the dark circles under his eyes. And his cock was perfect as ever. With a snap, you realized you were staring. Dean smirked as you met his gaze.

“You ready?”

You nodded eagerly. Dean ran his warm hand down your arm to cup your cheek, then down your torso and your thigh. He crawled up the bed between your legs, putting on as much of a show as he was probably getting from your desperate breathing.

Dean smeared his leaking precome over his head and gave his length a few pumps. He leaned up, nearly nose to nose with you, feeling your breath on his face as he teased his head at your entrance.

“I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

He went slow for a while, then with a wink he sheathed himself fully. He waited for you to start breathing again before setting a furious pace. If this had been any other time, you would have thought he was racing some unknown clock. You couldn’t find the mental acuity to care. Your world dilated to the sensation of the rope digging into your wrists. The feeling of Dean’s body sliding against yours while his length slid in and out of you. The lightning coursing through you with each thrust until it felt like your skin was on fire. You closed your eyes to focus on listening to him grunt and growl. You’d never told him, but the sound of him was your favorite part. You could always tell when he was close by the sounds he made. By the sounds he was making right now.

When you opened your eyes, his green irises had been eclipsed by black.

Dean laughed openly as you screamed and writhed beneath him. He stopped his thrusts as you struggled to move away from him, an impossible venture.

“It was all worth it to see your face. I wondered what would give me away. Not the gag. Not the ropes. You are incredibly trusting, Y/N.”

Your mind reeled with every moment since you pulled into the garage. How easy you had made it for him. Your mind raced to find a way out, to find some way to call for help. Dean’s eyes made your heart stutter. But the tests?

“I was just as surprised as you when the holy water didn’t steam like usual. Seems there is enough human blood in me to make my blood not boil; was enough to get out of the trap too. Still burned like hell, though. Either way, we would have ended up here. With you about to beg for my cock like the slut you are.” Dean’s thighs flexed as he restrained himself from thrusting into you. Your walls contracted when his cock twitched inside you. “Do you want to come, Y/N? I have all the time in the world to wait for your answer.” You shuddered as he kept his black eyes on you while dragging a finger down your cheek. He reached out to tweak your nipple, chuckling when you squeaked. “I can wait, but I don’t think you can. Come on, one last good fuck, and then you can fight to ‘sanctify’ me. Deal?”

Your chest ached from heaving and gasping for breath. Your skin was slick with sweat. Already you could feel your release dribbling away. If you gave him what he wanted, would it be enough to distract him so you could get away? In tugging on the ropes, you could already feel them loosening like the knot was designed to.

“Het ghe cogh Dmphnn, theeze.”

“What was that?”

With a groan you wiggled your hips, your eyes rolling back in your head with the friction. In your mind you screamed for him to let you come, pleaded, reminding him that he was close too. That he never had been the patient one. Your heart thundered in your chest as Dean’s eyes flicked to green. He leaned down and sucked on your bottom lip under the gag.

You shrieked as Dean pulled almost all the way out and then thrust into you hard. He bit down on your shoulder as his hips continued their former pace. The edges of your vision began to fade out. Your eyes closed and you bit down on the gag, screaming through the waves of release flying through you. Your screaming continued as Dean kept thrusting into you, chasing his own release. When you opened your eyes, his black ones were staring down at you. Your muscles contracted in fear, pulling a shout from Dean as he came. He fell on top of you, crushing you under his weight.

He eventually rolled off you to stand next to the bed. His fingers glided up your arm toward the rope holding your wrist captive. You held your breath as he fumbled with the threads. Your blood ran cold as you felt the bonds tighten. Dean’s eyes flicked to green to glint at your eyes wide in fear. A blink later he was clothed and looking as fresh as you had seen him in the garage.

And he had your knife.

He pulled the tip up your stomach, just light of breaking your skin but with enough pressure to remind you he could gut you like a fish with a flick of his wrist.

“Sam’s probably figured out I’m not in the operation room by now. He could be roaming the halls right now, looking for me.” The blade circled around your breasts, then continued up across your collarbone and up your arm. “It’s been a while since we last played hide-n-seek, but I’m up for one more game before I kill him too.”

You winced as the knife cut through your skin by the rope.

“I’m a simple man with simple pleasures. Or should I say, a simple demon?” He gave your wrist a rough squeeze, jump starting the draining. He did the same to your other wrist, despite your struggling.

“Dmphnnn!” Your muffled cries made him snicker. He was just closing the door behind him when he turned around and pointed like he had forgotten something. With a snap of his fingers, your clothes appeared on your body. They were warm like Dean had pulled them out of the dryer.

“Can’t having you catch cold. Gotta keep that blood flowing.”

He left you in the dark.

Dean’s head rolled from one side to the other. Sam and Cas were immediately on the defense as his eyes cracked open. He blinked in the light as the darkness faded away.

“You guys seem worried,” he rasped.

Sam shared a glance with Cas, then splashed holy water on Dean’s face. Dean flinched, then looked up at them with clear eyes.

“Welcome back, Dean.” Sam’s voice cracked.

Dean smiled back, then memories came rushing back through the broken damn. “Y/N. Oh, God. Get me out of these! Cas, get to Y/N’s room. Now.” He tore from the chair and ran down the hall.

“What have I done?”

 

Masterlist 

Forever Tags: @laochbaineann @lavitabella87 @thiickreigns @zuni21798

Supernatural: @ilostmyshoe-79 @jensenandjaredintheimpala @jpadjackles  @quixoticcat @smandrews3 @supernatural-jackles @tamtamlov @vvinch3st3r

Dean Winchester: @19mmallory @aimee-grace-01@akshi8278 @ashmonet @bits-n-bowz @bringmesomepie56 @castianityislife02 @castielsbecky @catackles16 @cookie-dough-lova @dancingalone21 @docharleythegeekqueen @eve05glee @exp762 @gabbyrogers094 @helloenricanie @idontknow-canyou @its–killing–me @jpadjackles @juanitadiann @justtryingtogosomewhere @kaemarie23 @kittenofdoomage @lauriz67 @livelovebands123 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester @mein1928 @millie67 @mylostsoul28 @mysteriouslyme81 @peaceloveandplumbots @sabrinaoctaviagunner @sassy-losechester @sissysalvatore @supernatural-jackles @temprence-the-real-satan @thedeanwinchesterx @theriumking @thiickreigns @tinyium @uzum4k1-uch1h4 @valerieshubin @vutdidyousay @vvinch3st3r @windeango67 

Promises Part 6: What About Her?

Aebli Leave a comment
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Loki questions Theoric for what his plans were for you. They battle, stuck between Muspelheim and Asgard, for heart and realm.

Characters: Loki, Theoric, fire giants

Warnings: battle violence

Word Count: 900+ (wow, so short)

Note: I didn’t mean for this to come out so short, but it says what it needs too. Only one more chapter after this! Please reblog, like, and comment to let me know how you’ve liked the series so far. And please send me requests!

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(Gif by @anneboleyns)

“You know nothing of my plans,” Theoric growled. He pulled a dagger and launched himself at Loki, aiming for his throat.

Loki side stepped and pulled his pair of blades. He threw one at Theoric’s head, nicking his cheek as Theoric twisted away. When Theoric turned back around, his cut was flowing freely and he was livid.

“I know it is the ring. It stung me when she touched my arm in the library. I could feel the powerful magic then, but I was not sure how you managed it.” He pulled the papers from his pocket. “Your handwriting is distinct from Y/N’s. Yet, these are translations from the same text. There is a second volume, is there not?” Loki stayed planted as Theoric paced around him a couple meters away. “You gave her just enough to help your plan.”

“Yes,” Theoric growled. “She is more powerful than the fire giants realize. They would eliminate her. You should be thanking me for saving her life.”

Loki chuckled. “If my memory serves correct, she saved yours.”

“True. But their plan was to kill her in the conquest of the palace. With my ring on her finger, she cannot be hurt by their flames.”

By now Theoric was behind Loki, who could feel a powerful essence come into being and surge towards him. Loki rolled, crouching and ready to spar once again, but the blast kept flying. It dispersed upon contact with the stopped tunnel. With a quaking groan that rattled the floor, the tunnel started to grow again. Loki tried to stop it, but Theoric spun around him and slashed down at his wrist. Loki was able to escape most of the blade, but a thin red line welled up through his skin. Theoric flicked the air over his cut with a grin.

“Now we are even.”

Loki stood, following Theoric as he walked backwards into the tunnel as it grew brighter. “And what was your plan for Y/N? At some point, she was going to have to take off the ring. Even then, her mind is strong. Your spell would not have survived her will during the coup d’état, no matter how strong it was woven.”

“Trust my ingenuity, Loki, she would be surrounded on all sides. It is a simple spell at its heart. It only keeps her from thinking unwell of me past common irritation. Something common between a married couple.”

Loki leapt towards Theoric, wrapping his hands around his throat. “She will not yield to your treachery.”

“How do you know she has not already?” Theoric wheezed with a grin. As Loki’s grasp faltered in shock, Theoric kicked at his chest, sending him flying backwards. Loki was back to his feet in a second.

As he stood, he snickered at Theoric. He watched as the tunnel’s end began to come to a close. With a shrug, his green and gold shimmered into red and silver. Copies walked out from behind him, encircling the true and illusion Theoric. The center pair collided with each other in a tangle of limbs. They rolled and twisted till they could break apart and stand in opposite spots.

One slashed towards the other, then leapt back as he retaliated with his own swing. As he came in to land a punch, he tossed the blade to his other hand. The circle of Theorics stood silently as the two battled in the middle. As one they took a step inward, limiting the space. The tunnel was getting darker as it drew closer to Muselpheim. He took his chance to block the descending blade and thrust his own towards his opponent’s chest. They came to a quaking stand-still as muscles rippled under silver armour and the illusions stepped closer in. One twisted away as the other forced his blade to the other’s shoulder. This opened up room for the other blade to sink itself into an opening in the armour.

The red and silver shimmered away as the dark encircled the men. Hot red light streamed in as the door opened.

“Give me something to contain him,” the victor demanded. He received wrought iron shackles, which he smugly clicked onto the bleeding man. “Is all prepared on your side?”

“It is. Do we attack now?” The leading giant stepped closer, twisting his axe in hand.

“No. Not all is in place in Asgard.” Loki glowered up at Theoric and took a breath to speak. Theoric stuffed his mouth a glove, making him choke around the fabric. “There is still a wedding to take place.” Loki twisted against his bonds, shouting muffled commands at the giants in the space.

“You should be preparing for battle, not attaching yourself to the witch.”

Theoric twisted around to stare down the giant towering over him. “Without her magic, this plan will not work. Besides, I may need the time to tie up any loose ends that have unravelled. Prince Loki’s presence is… unsettling.” Theoric turned back around to view his fuming form, then kicked him in the chin. Loki jerked backwards and moved no more.

“Keep him here. If he wakes, do not listen to a word he says. He can transform and may try to confuse you. Once the ceremony is complete, I will come and open the final portal. If I do not come, then I have been captured and the Muspel conquest of Asgard will have to wait till I escape.” He faced the room and spoke to the gathered warriors. “The day will come though when you will see Asgard with flames in her turrets. It will come.”

He bowed to the room, then turned on his heel and walked back down the passage, leaving the fire giants to drag Loki away into the darkness.

Part 7 Finale: Sealed With a Kiss 

Tags: 

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Consequences Part 4: Rabbit Punch

Aebli Leave a comment
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Uriel and Raphael make sure that Dean pays for his insubordination… with Sam’s bout.

Characters: Reader (Y/N), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Uriel, Raphael, Cas, Virgil

Warnings: Boxing Violence, gun mention, blood mention, hospitalization

Word Count:  3200 (Sorry. Worth it.)

Note: Sorry this got out a little later than usual. If you can believe it, even this isn’t the climax to everything. Let me know how you like it by commenting, reblogging, and liking my fic. I hope you guys enjoy it!

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Dean was buttoning up his shirt when Sam burst in.

“Jeez, Sam, can’t you…”

“Uriel’s goons are coming down the hallway.”

Dean and Bobby shared a glance. “Bobby, take Sam and get to the ring; don’t let him out of your sight. They won’t hurt him before, they might try afterward. Sam, watch Bobby’s back while he watches yours and get out of here. They don’t need to see you warning me.”

Sam nodded and waited for Bobby by the door, keeping an eye on the hall.

Bobby clapped Dean on the shoulder, “Be careful, boy. Get out to the crowd if you can.” He and Sam left.

Dean finished his tie. He wasn’t going to rush. Maybe a little. He grabbed his hat and coat and almost made it to the arena entrance before they caught up to him, one running up behind him and two blocking his path.

“Come on, Winchester,” the back one said, poking something hard into Dean’s spine.

“I hope that’s a gun you’re packing back there,” Dean grumbled.

“No,” one of the front guys said pulling out his own pistol, “he’s just happy to see you.”

From her seat on the second row, Y/N twiddled her thumbs and bounced her knee waiting for Dean. He’d won, like what was agreed. Dean wondered on their way over if Cole was going to fight for real to go to the finals himself.

“You’re making me nervous, Y/N,” Cas chuckled.

“Oops. Why isn’t he back yet?”

“It takes a while to shift into civilian clothes. There’s a lot of cleaning to get the ring stench off.”

She sighed. “I’ll appreciate it… when he gets here.” She didn’t stop twiddling and bouncing.

Uriel pulled Dean into Raphael’s office, pistol whipping him to the floor. “You’re done breaking contract, Winchester.”

Dean rubbed his jaw and stood to his feet. “You said the win was mine, that Cole would take a dive. If anyone’s broken their word, it’s you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Dean,” Raphael growled from his desk, “you have been nothing but disrespectful. Uriel told me what happened this morning. Yes, you took your win fair and square, but you can’t leave the ring without paying your dues. Since Cole didn’t finish taking it out of your hide, our visitor is going to take it out of Sam’s.”

Uriel had the gun pinned to Dean’s ribs before he could launch forward. “You want me to pay? Then let Cole finish it out back. Sam stopped being part of the deal…ugh.” Uriel jabbed the muzzle further into Dean’s side.

“Just shuddup and watch. We’ve even got a perfect seat for you.” He shoved Dean towards a bar stool set up by the window. Dean looked down over the crowd and into the ring. Bobby was double checking Sam’s gloves. Dean took a split second to find Y/N and Cas, letting out a relieved breath to see her safe. Uriel forced Dean to sit down, then laughed, “enjoy the fight.”

The final people rushed to their seats as the announcer stepped into the ring.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our stadium’s trumpeter will play our National Anthem.”

Everyone in the stadium stood. Dean shot a look at Uriel as he stood too, but he didn’t turn his attention to the flag. He was too busy boring a hole into Castiel’s head, hoping that somehow he could get his attention.

As the Anthem finished with applause and whistles, Castiel looked up towards the office, growling to see Uriel backlit, and hovering over Dean’s shoulder in the window. He caught Bobby’s eye and directed him towards Dean, then turned to Y/N. “I don’t know how much of this you know, but Dean’s not going to sit with us.” He nodded up to the office, making Y/N gasp. Cas barely caught her in time to help her into her seat as her knees buckled. “They won’t kill him, he’s got to attend finals. They can still make money off him, but be ready to run just in case.”

The announcer spoke into the mic, “the officials appointed by the State Athletic Commission are: the attending physician attending at the ringside, Dr. J.D. Houston, the timer at the bell, Bill Stapleton, counting after knockdown, Bill Doty, the judges, Mike McAddams, and Captain A.R. Dowdy, and the referee, Balthazar Smith. The contestants: 10 rounds at 158 from Kansas, wearing white trunks with a black tracer, and weighing 183, Sam Winchester, the defending Cruiserweight Champion. And his opponent,” the announcer pulled a card out of his pocket and began to read, “from St. Louis, Missouri, weighing 182 and one-half, and wearing black and red trunks, Virgil Akins. Referee Balthazar Smith will now give the contestants their instructions.”

Balthazar stepped to the middle and ushered Sam and Virgil forward. He looked anxiously between them. He laid out the rules like he always did, but somehow the words “I want a clean fight” meant more. “Now go to your opposite corners, and at the bell come out fighting.”

The bell rang and the radio reporter in front of Y/N and Cas launched into action. “This is the opening round, and this is the chance of the spectators, as well as the fighters, to study style. This is a brilliant audience on hand, half of Chicago must be crowded into the space, and the other half listening at home. Movie stars, politicians, and of course the fans all squeezed into the hall here. They’re all watching Virgil Akins use his unique jumping-jack style. Referee Smith cautions him for a kidney punch Akins lands on “Law Breaker” Winchester. He shows no fear of Winchester; in fact, he’s bullying him around the ring to say ‘I’m the boss in here.’ They are matched nearly pound for pound, and looking like one of the greatest fights this ring as ever seen.”

Sam was taller than Akins, giving the smaller man plenty of space to hit him. Y/N couldn’t help but see how the smaller man used it. She could feel Cas’s nervousness, and she could see Dean watching them from the office.

“Akins landing punches like he’s the boss and he knows it. Winchester biding his time, learning his opponent. Beautiful long left by Akin. But he’s doing the most damage while in Winchester’s clinches. Winchester digging for the body, trying to lower that guard as he towers over Akins who carries his gloves high. Protects his chin well. Glancing right off the cheekbone of Sam Winchester. There might be blood early, folks.”

Dean tensed as Sam staggered back, stunned. He kept the smile to himself as his brother then dove back in. Every second he was watching Sam, he was hyper aware of the firearm in his back.

“Winchester digging with light left jabs. Akins using an up and down elevator style, now each pushing leather gloves into each other’s faces in the clinch. Beautiful right and a left hook, making Winchester coming back on his heels then; that was a stiff punch. Those thumps are the punches in close that Winchester had a great deal of trouble smothering. A champion, Winchester, but up against a very unorthodox boxer. And that’s the bell ending the first round.”

They sat in their opposite corners. Sam showed Bobby his mouth. It wasn’t gushing yet, but Bobby and Cas knew it could become a problem. Cas explained how it could possibly even choke him around the mouth guard if it got too bad.

Y/N watched Virgil sit in his corner and noticed him glance up to the office behind Sam. Virgil shrugged at something his coach said and stood up, sending up a quick prayer as the next bell rang.

“Akins relaxed in his corner, whether it’s phycological warfare or not, we don’t know. But he’s acting like this is just another outing. He doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s crossed himself as the gong sounds and comes out ready for round two. Winchester has suffered some cuts inside his mouth. He keeps circling clockwise around Akins’s best punch and his stiffest hand. The one that does the most damage is the left as Winchester staggers back again. Winchester is angry now, nearly puffing smoke like a bull ready to charge. Winchester, maneuvering to land his combination punches, steps back but Akins moves in swiftly. Gives him no chance to take a step.

“Come on, Sam,” Dean mumbled. “I know we’ve worked on this.”

Uriel chuckled behind him.

“Winchester bends down in the same kind of a bob as Akins. But Winchester is mostly fighting standing up while Akins bobs up and down as a very difficult target. Akins is a natural middleweight, but he’s gained some heavy muscle to fight at the cruiserweight level. Winchester reaches out and lands on Akins’s face, snapping his head back! The crowd cheers for Winchester!

“Akins grins through his mouth guard, clearly enjoying himself. Winchester disinclined to fight too much in the clinches. Referee Smith keeps cautioning against the whipping punch over Winchester’s shoulder. A blow to the neck is a strong reason for disqualification and for being disbarred from boxing altogether. Winchester has very little success blocking that. Both men are now trying to out-feint each other. Winchester keeps reaching down for Akins, who backs away out of reach of the taller boxer. Akins uppercuts, but misses him by a mile. And that bell is round two.

Y/N kept her focus on Virgil. Something about him seemed off. She watched him as he shot a look towards Balthazar, who nodded back.

“Cas, something’s wrong.”

The bell rang over her worries, preventing her from sending any kind of warning to Sam.

“And here we go, round three, still at the start of this match but it’s been hot. Winchester has held his own against the bouncing Akins, and Akins is not being kept down due to the height difference. Akins is out maneuvering him at every turn. Of course, what he has is a good punch in either hand and a lot of strength in those clinches. Akins really pounds Winchester with that left hook; you can see Winchester’s back jarring from the blow.”

Y/N turned with a shout into Cas’s shoulder as Sam was knocked into the ropes. She peaked out and whispered, “come on Sam. Hold him off.”

“Winchester still in the fight, but a little feeble with that right, shoulder hurt. Akins paying no attention to Winchester’s cut mouth or shoulder pains. He has his man really studied. Akins swings in with a right lead just as Winchester was feigning with his shoulder. Winchester steadies himself on Akins’s shoulders, rolling them into the ropes. The ref separates them, but no rest. As soon as Winchester steps back to ready himself, boom, Akins moves right in on him. Winchester needs a little bit of a moment to prepare an attack, and that’s when Akins takes the moment, breaking his opponent’s flow. Winchester over stretches his stance, cinching Akins’s arms where he can, but Akin reaches up to beat him around the head. He almost hits the ref that time. Akin seems to back just out of punching range, then Boom, shoot in.”

Dean laughed as Sam’s glove made contact with Virgil’s waist, sending him jerking upwards from the force. “This guy is definably yours.”

“What makes you say that, Winchester?”

“All cheap shots and no gut. Sound familiar, Uriel?”

Uriel replied with a low growl and tightened his grip on the pistol.

Y/N was not listening to the reporter anymore but heard it all as background noise.

“Akins is remarkably hitting powerfully with each hand, favoring neither the right or left. Winchester sets himself to move around and hit with a hard right only. Now he’s moving in retreat. He hasn’t had a hard shot at Akins’s head other than one or two times so far, and it looks like Akins is going to keep it that way. And of course, Akins is not cut up or marked in any way. He keeps back just enough to make Winchester overreach, then leaps in, giving him a little pat in the ribs. Getting in the closing minutes now of the round. There’s a champion in that ring, only time will tell which man it is. Winchester still pounding away, right down to the last second. His face is bleeding, and he looks groggy already, but he’s still rapping away at the body. Oh! And down goes Referee Balthazar Smith!”

The audience and judges leapt to their feet as Balthazar went over the ropes and apron. Everyone’s view of the boxers was obscured by the person in front of them, and the front row people were craning to see Balthazar. Virgil took the moment of distraction to hit Sam in the back of the neck, then upper-cutting him to explain the fall.

Sam fell to the canvas with a thud. The counting ref swooped in and made it to ten and could have made it to thirty before Sam even groaned, but there was too much pandemonium to get him off the canvas. There’s was a deliriously happy crowd circling Virgil’s corner, already celebrating the win.

Bobby jumped into the ring and pushed everybody back as the announcer lifted Virgil’s arm high. The crowd’s cheers died down as the doctor followed him in, cracking Sam’s eyes open. The doctor shook his head and motioned for the cot to haul Sam to the hospital.

“Well that was some fighting, wasn’t it Dean?” Raphael said, relaxed in his office chair.

Dean was fuming. He stood, even as Uriel pressed the pistol to his temple. “You won’t shoot me. All those witnesses down there? And how are you going to explain why the semi-finalist is dead, no matter which way you throw it?”

Raphael nodded and motioned for Uriel to lower his gun. Uriel sneered and twisted it. “Uriel. Put it away,” Raphael commanded. When it was out of sight, Raphael poured himself another shot of bourbon. “Even with what’s unfortunately happened to Sam, you are still owed a congratulation. You’re going to the Amateur Finals, well done.”

“What’s your play, Raphael?”

“Michael Mulligan. Smart kid. Young in the face, I admit. But he’s got a fighting wisdom about him. Beat our darkest prodigal to meet you.”

“Do you ‘not own’ this one too?” Dean mocked.

Uriel piped up, “you are correct. Not even the heat knows we control that canvas, and we are going to keep it that way.”

Raphael down the last of his drink then walked to tower over Dean. “You are going to lose one last time, then retire. Make it look good and you can leave with a shred of dignity.” His voice dropped, sending an uneasy shiver down Dean’s spine. “You will throw it, Dean, or I will personally pay a visit to Sam and your girl to prove my point.” He grinned. “Now go see your brother, I think he’ll want to be seeing you.” Raphael turned away like nothing happened. Uriel stepped out of the way begrudgingly.

Dean was off like a shot.

Y/N considered her stomach to be a strong one, but when she finally caught up with Sam at the hospital, she almost fainted dead away.

“How is he?” Dean croaked, catching her as she swayed on her feet.

“Dean, you’re alright.” She embraced him, shivering against him. She met his gaze, holding his face in her hands. “He’s really beaten up, Dean. The doctor hasn’t said how bad yet.” Y/N felt her heart shudder in her chest as he closed his eyes in defeat.

“This is all my fault.”

“No, it isn’t.” Y/N surprised herself with how strong her voices sounded but kept going. “It’s not your fault. Or Sam’s fault, or anyone who is held under your bosses’ thumb. They are the ones deciding who lives and who dies. You have fought against their power and they are doing everything they can to crush you. They are afraid of you, Dean. You can’t stop now.”

“Y/N,” Dean choked, “they’ve threatened to come after you next if I don’t do what they say. I can’t keep doing this if you are at risk. I thought Sam would be able to hold his own, but they stooped lower than I ever thought possible. I can’t let them take a jab at you.”

Dean moved to walk away, but Y/N grabbed his vest.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Winchester. You need all the friends you can get right now.” She poked him in the chest, flicking it into his nose when he looked down at her. “Do you think they’ll leave me alone because you broke up with me? They may be a lot of things, but they are not stupid. I am safest with you, and Castiel, and Bobby, and Sam.” Y/N sighed and wrapped his arms around her before wrapping her arms around his waist. “You are strong with a support system. Sam knew what he was walking into, and you need people to watch your back. Don’t push us away.”

Dean chuffed and squeezed her closer. “How did you learn me so good, so quick?”

Y/N laughed into Dean’s chest. “Cas ratted on you. He’s worried you’ll do what you always do when trouble comes.”

“That jerk.” Dean rubbed his hand up and down her back. He kissed the top of her head, whispering into her hair, “thank you.”

The doctor stepped out of Sam’s room. “Mr. Winchester?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean let go of Y/N, but held onto her hand, focusing on not crushing her delicate fingers with his stress.

“Sam is going to pull through.” He gave Dean and Y/N a moment to let out a sigh of relief before continuing. “We’ll need to keep him her for a while, and we won’t know the full damage till some of tonight’s boxing wounds heal, but I really think he’s going to be alright. If I could confide in you, though,” he looked passingly at Y/N. Dean nodded for him to go on. “It is of my personal, and professional opinion that this man’s injuries were not caused by an upper cutting punch. If you have anyone you can trust, I have enough evidence to prosecute his opponent.”

Dean thought for a second. “Thank you, doctor. I’ll keep that in mind and in my pocket. Thank you.” The pair watched the doctor as he left.

“You’re going to try, right?” Y/N asked.

“No. Not yet. It’s enough for Virgil, not for the top level.” Dean looked at her, taking in how her focus listed to one side. “No. Y/N you can’t go to the police. Not yet. You promised.”

“And your boss promised you’d win with no ramifications too,” she snarked. “Fine. I won’t go. But the second we have something I’m the voice. You guys are too close. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Bobby peaked his head out of the room. “Dean, he coming too.”

For a split second, Dean held back. Then he stepped forward, Y/N at his side.

Part 5: Prizefight 

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