Stab Wound - Tumblr Posts

Whumptober Prompt #8 Stab Wound

Heeeeeeeeeeey guys... Ummmmmmm

Here’s the thing.  I started this one last night. It didn’t really come.  It was like pulling teeth.  So I figured I could work on it today.  Aaaaannnnnnnddddd then I went into work- where my new manager made a mistake.  I’m allergic to lavender (which he knows I told him not even last week), and part of his job involves making henna with lavender (we make our henna from scratch that we sell).  Guess who didn’t cap the lavender correctly and let the scent go all over our office?  Yep!  My new manager.  Our old manager knew I was allergic to lavender (again, I let her knows as soon as I found out how we make henna) and I never had a reaction when she was in charge.  The first time he makes it, I told him five days ago!, I have a reaction.  And then still had to work the rest of the shift!  Thankfully I work outside so I could breathe a bit easier once I took some antihistamines.  I’m okay, though.  I’m so sorry, I’ll try to do better for #10.  I will not be posting this to AO3- it’s too short and basically unfinished.   I’m fine, guys. I really am, but I can’t write tonight.  I’m gonna post what little I have and I’m gonna go lay down.

PS I will not be posting a new story tomorrow for those who are looking, I will be reblogging my 7&9 one for number 9.

Line Break

No matter how times Lucifer got hurt around Chloe, the pain always caught him off guard.  The feeling of a bullet piercing his flesh, a garrote digging into his neck, and now a knife stabbed into his back.  He knew a knife when he felt one, he’d never forget the feeling after he asked Maze to cut his wings off, but as it slipped between his ribs, he’d mistaken it for a punch.  So he stumbled, knelt on the ground, and tried to keep his devil face inside.  The detective was here, and he didn’t want her getting caught in the crossfire.  All he had to do was get away from her without catching her attention and everything would be fine.

Fallen Magic Snippet

(Snippet from a book I'm writing, "Fallen Magic". Please DO NOT steal/copy.)

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“JOHN!” Blake cried, diving down to catch John before he ate dirt, grunting as the full weight of his friend crashed into him.

“John. John, can you hear me?” John sucked in a ragged breath, glazed eyes staring up dazedly.

“B-Blake? D’ we get ‘er?” Blake glance back at the Captain’s prone form.

“Yeah, buddy,” He said. “We did. Don’t worry about her. Focus on me.”

John coughed and groaned. “Ugh... Hurts...”

Blake pressed down harder on the stab wound. “I know, hang in there.” Nathan stepped warily around the Captain’s body and rooted through the saddlebag on the white and grey stallion, smoothing a hand along it’s hindquarters as it huffed uneasily. With a silent whoop he pulled out a small medical kit, and he brought it over to Blake, who was working to both apply pressure and keep John talking.

“Here,” Nathan said, handing over the kit. “Try this.” Blake nodded, accepting it with a trembling hand. He hesitated.

“Nathan, I–”

“Later,” The boy said sternly, shoving the kit into Blake’s palm. Blake set to work without another word, pouring disinfectant from a small glass vial over the wound, wiping at it with a gauze pad. John moaned miserably, pink eyes hooded and glossy. Nathan had never seen him look so weak, sweat beading along his brow and his normally tan skin pale.

“I know, hang in there. Almost done.” Blake murmured, wrapping bandages around and around until there was no bandaging left. A groan came from nearer to the lake, and Nathan shuffled anxiously. Some of the Royalists who’d only been knocked out were beginning to wake, and the boy had no interest in staying to see what they’d do when they did.

Whumptober day 8 - Stab Wound

My eight fill for @whumptober2019​, where Bucky is a doctor and Tony is a little less rich and famous. Also available on Ao3.

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By now, Bucky had been a doctor for a while, and he had plenty of experience being professional.

Which didn't explain the instant rush of attraction he felt when he saw his newest patient. True, Bucky was pansexual. Also true, his patient was undeniably gorgeous. But there were boundaries, and he’d never once had a problem with them.

Until Anthony Stark was brought in on a stretcher, bleeding from a stab wound to his arm and still looking bright and lively.

Just as quickly as his feelings appeared, they were crushed when he was immediately followed in by a beautiful redhead that was obviously beyond worried about him. The brief hope of the slightest family resemblance was quickly dashed, and the way the two of them spoke to one another made their mutual fondness more than clear.

“I’m just saying it won’t take more than a few stitches,” Mr. Stark was saying, smiling reassuringly at his companion.

“And I’m saying you’re staying here until they say you’re safe to go and not a moment sooner,” she replied instantly, looking sternly down at him. Then, her attention turned to Bucky. “You’ll take good care of him, won’t you?”

Pushing his personal issues aside, Bucky nodded at her, trying for his best and most professional smile. “Certainly ma’am. I’m Dr. Barnes, and I’ll be taking care of Mr. Stark for the evening.”

“Good luck on that,” she told him wryly, casting an amused look at the man in question. “He’s never liked hospitals.”

“He’s right here, thank you very much,” he huffed, eyes narrowed. Bucky wanted to smack himself when the phrase ‘offended kitten’ popped into his head. He was a professional.

“Of course, Mr. Stark,” he nodded. The full force of his patient’s eyes hit him, and it took everything he had to pretend to be unaffected. “Let’s have a look, shall we? See if we need to send this through to our radiology department to see if anything vital was hit, or if you were right and a couple of stitches will do the trick.”

“I swear, I could’ve just gone home and put a band-aid on it,” Mr. Stark shrugged.

Bucky wasn’t too surprised to see his partner puff up with anger. “You got stabbed, Tony,” she hissed. “That requires a little more than a band-aid.”

“It was a light stabbing?” he tried, wilting a little in the face of her obvious rage.

Telling a woman she sounded like a balloon furiously deflating was likely to get him killed, which was why Bucky made a note to himself never to mention the thought crossing his mind in that moment. “I am going to get myself something to drink, and you are going to let this nice doctor take care of you, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” was the immediate reply. Despite his laconic treatment of his wound, Mr. Stark was clearly not foolish enough to treat his partner the same way.

“Honestly,” she muttered, stalking out on heels so high Bucky rather worried about her ankles.

“Sorry about that,” Mr. Stark spoke up once she was far enough away that she couldn’t hear him. “I tried telling her it wasn’t so bad, but she insisted on coming to the hospital.”

“How about you let me be the judge of that, huh?” Bucky said with a grin he only partially had to force as he turned his attention to the wound. As much as he was disappointed that nothing could come of his feelings, the byplay of the two of them arguing couldn’t help but amuse him. (And if he kind of wanted to banter with Mr. Stark the same way, well, that was really not something he should be thinking about.)

Only a few minutes ago, Bucky had mused over the way Mr. Stark’s attention had just about stunned him. It had nothing on the grin now on that gorgeous face, however, or the way his brown eyes seemed to glow with an inner light. “I suppose you did study for this,” the man joked.

“Years,” he managed to joke back in return. “Multiple years of blood, sweat, tears and study debt to tell you that you need a little more than a band-aid for this.”

“Aww,” he pouted, and that shouldn’t be so attractive on a full-grown man. “Only a little though, right?”

He shouldn’t be flirting with a taken man, Bucky knew, but it was hard to resist when the taken man was this attractive. “So eager to get out of here, Mr. Stark?”

“Like Pepper said - I’m not too fond of hospitals,” he admitted with a half-shrug. Then, he grinned at Bucky again, making his heart rate go up a little more than was entirely comfortable. “Though if all doctors were this handsome, they wouldn’t be half as bad.”

And that was outright flirting, wasn’t it? Except he should be with the woman he came in with - Pepper, he’d called her. Which meant he shouldn’t be flirting with Bucky, and if he did, he was not the kind of guy Bucky should want to be flirting with.

Some of his thought process must’ve shown on his face, because Mr. Stark grimaced. “Sorry, I’ve been told I can be too much. Don’t mind me, just… thought you seemed interested, no biggie if you’re not. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he rambled, seeming dejected more than anything.

Really, Bucky should just finish doing his job and let it go. But he found he couldn’t. “It’s not that… I just thought that you and your companion were…”

“Oh.” Brown eyes opened wide in realization. “You thought Pepper and I are… No, no, we’re friends, and colleagues, but we’re not together,” he explained, and it was odd how utterly relieved Bucky felt at that.

And while he still had some stitches to do, once Tony Stark wasn’t his patient anymore… Well, he’d be free to ask him out then, wasn’t he? “Well then, I am afraid I do have to inform you that a relationship between a doctor and his patient is not allowed,” Bucky told him, continuing immediately when he noticed a faint hint of sadness on his face. “After those stitches are in, though…”

The smile he got in return made him worry he’d need a doctor of his own if he were to start a relationship with Tony Stark.

He thought that would be worth it, though.

Hello! Heard you were open for writing request? Had this idea in mind about a villain who's Russian and a hero who's falling for villain's accent? Maybe a bit of flirty banter as they fight 👀 your choice tho! Have a fun spring break ☀

The hero was pretty sure the villain was actually trying to kill them this time.

“Hey, don’t aim for the face, okay? It’s the money maker.”

The villain raised one eyebrow–and aimed for the hero’s face.

“Oh come on,” the hero groaned. “That’s just uncalled for.”

“Really? Is it now?”

If the hero had better judgment, they would have said something snarky back, or attempted to get the upper hand. Instead, in a move uncoordinated and wrought with embarrassment, they tripped over their own feet and blushed.

The hero was used to pretty. They were used to gorgeous.

But they had never expected to be attracted to someone’s accent of all things, and it was driving them mad.

“Yep, pretty sure it is,” they managed. They had to dodge halfway up the wall to avoid the villain’s next blow.

“You’re awfully chatty today,” the villain said, and the hero was going to lose their mind–

“Is this affection?” The hero blurted, and contemplated throwing themself off the building to spare both of them. “Because it feels like affection.”

“I don’t know,” the villain shrugged. Their mouth tipped up slightly, gone in a flash between one second and the next. “Do you want it to be?”

The hero froze. “You–I–” and found themself blinking up at the sky, the villain’s hand around their wrist. “Did you just judo flip me?” They wheezed, and the villain grinned.

“You’re blushing.”

“Yeah, because you just knocked the wind out of me. Excuse me for going red with oxygen loss–” the hero cut themself off with a cough, lungs protesting every word, and tugged the villain down to crash into the pavement beside them.

“Let me rephrase; You’ve been blushing this entire time.”

“It’s cold.”

“It’s July.”

“A very cold July.”

“If you’re going to lie,” the villain said, and truly, the hero was lucky they hadn’t had a knife pulled on them yet, “Do it well.”

The hero buckled the villain’s knees. Petty? Yes.

Satisfying? A good reprieve to try and get the blush that flared every time the villain spoke to subside? Also yes.

“Real smooth,” the villain rolled their eyes, pushing themself to their feet. “So, what is it.”

“Was that a question, or–”

“My winning personality?”

The villain was studying them with far too much care.

“Aren’t you supposed to be robbing a bank or something?” They said half-desperately.

“Smile? Laugh?” The villain paused for a moment, catching the hero’s punch as if it was nothing more than a mosquito–which was insulting, to say the least–before their face cleared of any confusion.

“Ah,” the villain said, and oh the hero was so screwed, because they knew that look. That look appeared regularly in their dreams. It was the villain’s signature ‘I figured something out and I’m going to use it to do nefarious things’ look. Their ‘I’m smarter than you and I’m about to prove it in an effortlessly ruthless maneuver’ look.

The hero saw it far too often.

“‘Ah’ what.”

The villain, damn them, grinned, releasing the hero’s hand.

“Accent.”

Any air that the hero had managed to regain after the judo flip escaped from them like they were a sinking ship.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“No,” the hero said, cursing every single moment of their life that had led up to this one. Maybe they really should have become a lawyer– “I’m just flabbergasted by how dumb that sentence was.”

Flabbergasted. Flabbergasted. Who the hell says flabbergasted?!

“This is cute,” the villain remarked as they drew a knife. They gestured with it towards the hero’s undoubtedly fire engine red face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this flustered.”

“I’m not flustered, I’m–”

“Flabbergasted?” The villain suggested wryly, and truly, the fact that this situation was funny in a hopeless and pathetic way was not helping. The accent absolutely was not helping either.

The hero truly had nothing to say to that, staring at the villain, the two of them impromptu statues.

“You like me,” the villain teased. “And my accent.”

The hero was not proud of what they did next.

Considering their life, it wasn’t the worst thing they had ever done out of embarrassment.

A close second, though.

The villain smirked, and in a move far more elegant than they had ever thought themself possible, the hero slid under the villain’s arm, snagging the knife from the villain’s hand as they went—and planted it into the villain’s side.

The villain blinked, hand going to their side. The hero blushed—

Finally, in the single coherent thought they had managed in seemingly their entire life, they did something not embarrassingly pathetic.

The hero bolted away, into side streets and alleys, to the sound of the villain’s pained and endlessly amused laughter.

“Real smooth,” the villain called after them, voice echoing between the buildings. “You’re handling this quite well.”

The villain was never going to let them live this down.

AI-Less Whumptober Day 4 - Non-Con Body Modifications

TW---This post contains a lot of blood, gore and violence.

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