Tumgik
#khan noonien singh fanfiction
pinkthick · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Something about me:
Hi! Thanks for checking my profile. My name is Mia, I'm 19, an amateur writer, who finally gathered the courage to post on the Internet what she writes. I'm a university student so that means I do not know how much free time I'll have. Also please do keep in mind that english is not my first language, so I'll certainly have grammar mistakes. 🙃
AO3 account: OnlyPink
Tumblr media
My smut writing will always be intended for female readers, primarily because that's what I feel most at ease doing.
I will remove requests from my inbox if they make me feel uncomfortable. Do not ask for fanfictions that involve rape.
If my requests are closed and someone submits an ask, I will delete them.
Tumblr media
I'll write for the following MCU characters:
➼Doctor Strange
➼Defender Strange
➼Sinister Strange
➼Supreme Strange
➼Doctor Strange Supreme(What if?)
➼America Chavez
➼ Miguel O’Hara
Tumblr media
➼Sherlock Holmes(BBC)
➼ Victorian Sherlock Holmes
Tumblr media
➼ Ryōhei Arisu
➼ Shuntaro Chishiya
➼ Rizuna Ann
Tumblr media
➼Khan Noonien Singh
Tumblr media
➼ Joel Miller
➼ Ellie Williams
Tumblr media
➼ Miles Quaritch
➼ Spider Socorro
Series
Tumblr media
➼ Simon Petrikov
➼ Marceline Abadeer
➼ Betty Grof
Series
Tumblr media
➼Tera Renard
➼Maria Renard
Tumblr media
Christmas prompts
This list may increase, depending on what I watch.
59 notes · View notes
Text
A Khan By Any Other Name
a prequel to Star Trek: Into Darkness
mystery, suspense, danger ~ romance & NSFW material to follow
Tumblr media
summary: Seraphina DiPietro is wise in the ways of the world; she has to be, as she travels the California coast as a torch singer in pubs, bars, and nightclubs. She knows how to take care of herself and stay out of trouble--most of the time. When trouble comes, it's usually because she lets her kind heart overrule her common sense. Stopping to check on a handsome stranger stranded roadside in the Mojave Desert, her curiousity is piqued as much by his classic, mint-looking Mustang, as by its driver--a tall, dark, mysterious drink of water, whom she quickly learns is so much more than he appears.
characters: Khan Noonien Singh (aka: John Harrison), Seraphina DiPietro (OC)
words: 1.9k
Chapter Two
“Drop it now,” he repeated, with the sure authority of a man accustomed to having his orders obeyed, “And I promise I will not hurt you.”
Despite his iron grip, Seraphina struggled to pull her arm away, hissing through teeth gritted against the pain, “Won’t hurt me?  You’re hurting me now.”
Harrison’s hold on her arm loosened some; she was still tightly caught, but the pressure of his grasp, the pain, had receded a fair bit—although she knew she’d find dark, finger-shaped bruises there in short order.  If she even lived that long. “Forgive me,” he told her, his voice low and even, “I’d forgotten how fragile your bones can be.”
What an odd thing to say, she thought, straining for release from his clutch and realizing it was all too impossible; she was no match for his strength, and even if she could manage to trigger the mace, she had no sure way to aim it properly.  She felt desperate, frightened tears well up in her eyes, but squeezed her eyes shut against them—for she would not give her assailant the satisfaction of her despair, nor would she beg for mercy.
He must’ve read that quiet resignation on her face, for he tugged her fist close and covered it with his free hand, urging her to see reason, “You cannot win this struggle, Seraphina.  Your resistance is futile; surely you understand this?”  Harrison’s voice was silk persuasion, rich and dark and seductive—at complete odds with the very real threat he presented.  “I could easily break your wrist and prize your little weapon from your fingers—but I honestly have no desire to hurt you. Just let it go.”  And then, to her great surprise, he added, “Please.”
Blinking through the tears that fell against her will, tears that betrayed weakness when she wanted to be strong, Seraphina met his eyes again.  His beautiful, deadly eyes—and saw in them an unexpected sincerity that matched his gentle “please”.  She bowed her head and opened her fist, leaving her key and the can of mace to fall onto the passenger seat.
“There—that wasn’t so difficult after all, was it?”  Why was his voice so soothing?  Fear of what he might do to her next coursed through her veins, yet Seraphina thought she could easily crumple to the ground, curl up into a fetal ball, and let his voice see her into untroubled darkness.  The heat, the fear, the adrenaline, the struggle—all of it had sapped her of the will to face whatever might come next.  She’d always believed it wasn’t in her nature to fall apart so quickly, but she felt that way now, all the same.
True to his word, Harrison released her arm, but Seraphina remained in place, braced against the passenger side door, shaking in the aftermath and considering her very limited options. She might try to make it to her hovercraft, but the stranger now held her key; and even if she had the strength to run and the speed to outpace him, to flee into the desert at her back would be equally as brutal as anything he might do to her. She'd have to make her stand right here, then--and though she was no match for his size and strength, she knew enough to leave him hurting before he took her down for good.
Taking stock of her condition--mentally preparing to fight him off as best she could--Seraphina flexed her left wrist carefully, wincing as she explored her tender forearm with cautious fingers. Nothing broken at least, though she felt a bone-deep ache; but it would not be enough to hamper any effort to defend herself.
Strangely, Harrison was ignoring her at the moment; having retrieved her keychain, he had torn the can of mace free with no effort, before hurtling it carelessly into the desert. Seraphina had a vivid image of her own broken, half-naked body flung just as easily and left upon the sand for carrion-eaters to feast upon. She shoved the idea down deep, knowing such fear would only cripple her--and was immediately dumbfounded when he held the key out to her.
"Did I not say I have no wish to harm you?" Harrison's eyes bored into her own, searching for calm and reasoned understanding. "In spite of how it appears, we are equally vulnerable in this place and situation. We must find a way to trust one another. " Sera only continued to regard him warily. "Take this," he insisted, "If I judge you correctly, simple concern for a traveler in need motivated you to stop. And in keeping with your nature, I believe that you will not deny me the help that I need."
Sera studied his face, looking for signs of deception, skittish to trust him but accepting his peace offering nevertheless. "You lied," she said, defiant yet holding her anger at bay, "This car isn't yours..."
Harrison nodded, his full lips pressed together against a small placid smile, "I never claimed that it was..."
"It's stolen," she fumed, irritated with herself for allowing him to so easily mislead her when her first instinct had been correct after all.
"An act of desperation, I assure you..."
"Just as this was," she exclaimed, extending her bruised forearm to him, "I have to wonder what happens to people who truly stand in your way, Mr. Harrison. "
Unruffled by her outburst, Harrison closed his eyes a moment and breathed deeply. When he looked to her again, he was the picture of patience. "I swear I have no desire to cause you--or anyone else--harm. But you must understand, I am in dire straits and as we linger here, my family is in imminent danger." He paused, weighing the effect of his words upon her. "Such a thing will make a man act beyond the measures of polite society."
Seraphina narrowed her eyes, skeptical of his revelation of a family, but suspending her disbelief for the moment, "How then? What sort of danger is your family in?"
"Their very lives hang in the balance, threatened by a powerful man who seeks to manipulate me into working for him." Embers of hate flashed in his eyes, and he gave a bitter huff as he added, "Forcing me to work toward the most nefarious of purposes."
Sera shook her head, clearing the double vision that had crept up on her; she cupped a trembling hand against her forehead, which came away slick with perspiration. It was the heat getting to her, obviously. She felt parched, although the thought of putting anything into her roiling stomach left her feeling even more nauseous, and her head was pounding in time with her racing pulse. She needed to get out of the goddamn heat before she collapsed from heat exhaustion--while the man before her looked completely unaffected by the desert climate. "And...and I suppose this mysterious man is so powerful that you can't seek help from the proper authorities?" Sera leaned all her weight against the car door, wondering if Harrison had noticed her current state of distress.
If he did, he gave no sign of it, a mix of pain and rancor coloring his strikingly handsome features. "So powerful that it would be in your best interest to remain ignorant as to his identity and position." Anticipating her next question, he warned her, "Do not ask--for I cannot reveal that information."
Though stymied by his vague replies--and sensing a much more complicated tale behind what he'd already admitted to--Sera read blunt honesty in his voice and body language. And the fact that he had willingly returned her key while asking for--rather than demanding--her help, seemed a testament to some underlying truth. She realized that she likely had only a few more minutes until she passed out, leaving her completely at Harrison's mercy. "Then how...how did you end up here, stranded in the Mojave," Sera asked, panting softly, "How does any of this help your family?"
He was watching her closely now, so that he had to aware that she was fading fast. "That is a rather long and complicated tale, Seraphina." His voice had again taken on a lulling pitch. "One which I believe would outlast your capacity to remain on your feet."
She held on to the window frame, white-knuckled but determined to remain upright long enough to learn his hidden agenda. "I'm fine...I...I'm just a little light-headed..."
"Step aside now, Seraphina." Again, that tone of a man whose orders were obeyed without question. "You have little time left before you lose consciousness." His hand was already on the door handle, and she stumbled back in time for him to swing the door open.
Then he was looming over her, a tall, cooling shadow, reaching out to brace her. His touch this time was firm, while surprisingly gentle. "We need to get you out of this heat." Unexpected concern in is stunning eyes, calming concern in his voice. The man was a beautiful enigma.
"No...please...tell me. If...if you want me to trust you..." Her world was darkening around the edges, narrowing so that only his face remained in her field of vision. "If you want me to help...I need...I need to know..." Seraphina felt herself going, and as her consciousness fled, so did her fear and curiousity; only one need remained. She sobbed against him as he scooped her up into his arms, "But you promised...you promised not to hurt me again..." Her eyes fluttered shut as she slipped away from awareness.
Harrison strode swiftly towards her hovercraft, cradling her as softly as he could, knowing that the cool, dark interior was the quickest remedy at hand for what ailed her. "Oh, pretty little Seraphina," he murmured, brushing his lips against her dampened hair, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine and honey, relishing how light and easy she felt in his arms. "Hurting you is the least likely thing I have planned."
(to be continued)
Tumblr media
If you enjoyed this, please reblog ~ it's the only way others can see this work.💟
tagging: @icytrickster17 @ironstrange1991 @strangelockd @groovy-lady @aphroditesdilemma @stewardofningishzida @battledress @mousedetective @dearmrsstephenstrange @lorelei-lee @mckiwi @shinebrightlikeafanbase @cumberbatchitis @doctorhelm @strangeflashholmes221 @prulock @stargirl-designs @hajile10 @dancingmushu @iloveavengersblog @fireonmybones @osugahunnyicedtea @brayleigh14
(There were a few more blogs that I tried to tag based on the response to chapter one, but tumblr's messed up url search function kept telling me 'no blog found'🤨)
47 notes · View notes
wisteria-lodge · 11 months
Text
I am currently in the middle of First, Do No Harm, a Garak/Bashir fic where it is a plot point that male human augments don't have body hair. Because, well...
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
they DON'T. (come on, you know I'm right.)
(for context, half these people have literally just escaped being marooned on a desert planet. They *haven't* been shaving)
EDIT: I tried to post some photos of Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Riker, Picard, and a bunch of the guys from Enterprise as a point of comparison, because all of them demonstrably DO have body hair. But that was just too sexy for the Mature Audience filter, so just. Know that's a thing, I guess.
264 notes · View notes
Text
Last Updated: 2024-03-21
Tumblr media
Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Khan Noonien Singh stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.
Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning
Tumblr media
✵ Everytime by mrsstrangewinter • 〔A〕 •
Summary: "It's been two weeks since Khan left you for good without a reasonable explanation to pay for his sudden cold behavior. You're trying to move on as you reminisce of your moments together until realization hits you."
✵ His Command by oknstark • 18+ • 〔E〕 •
Summary: "Khan [escapes the enterprise, taking] you in after you helped him while he was a prisoner. Now, he would like to take something more from you."
✵ I am Your Captain by all-fandoms-fiction • 18+ • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: A betrayal of your trust sparks a fierce argument between you and your captain, leading to Khan reminding you who's in charge.
✵ Not So Happy Reunion by all-fandoms-fiction • 〔E᜶A〕 • ♡ •
Summary: After spending a life-changing weekend with a man named Khan, you didn't know if you would ever see him again. Needless to say, You're more than a little shocked when Captain Kirk orders you to interrogate the prisoner, John Harrison.
✵ Remember Me by thepageofa1000worlds • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "Imagine losing your memory because of Admiral Marcus' brainwashing, and then finding out you're Khan's wife."
✵ So Wicked and Divine by bakerstreethound • 18+ • 〔E〕 • 🚫 •
Summary: "Khan has [had] enough of your backtalking, and, as his spy, he makes sure you know just who you belong to."
✵ Submit to Me by all-fandoms-fiction • 18+ • 〔E᜶A〕 •
Summary: "As a nurse [on the enterprise] you had countless… assignments and places to be... When you [graduated from star fleet], you thought your job would be peaceful, boring [even. Oh were you] wrong."
✵ Torpedo 22 by thatfanficstuff • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "Kahn had been operating on pure rage for far longer than was healthy. So many had fallen in his wrath, but it wasn't enough. Not yet. It would never be enough until he had you back."
Tumblr media
✵ Back and Gone Again by rreader • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♡ • 𑁍 •
✵ Behind the Façades by thranduilsperkybutt • 18+ • 〔F〕 •
✵ Classic by arkytiorwrites • 〔F〕 •
✵ Definitely by justauthoring • 〔F᜶A〕 •
✵ Final Goodbye by rreader • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •
✵ Insatiable  by classickook • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •
✵ Jealousy by thranduilsperkybutt • 18+ • 〔E〕 •
✵ Just Us by justauthoring • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •
✵ Monster You Hate to Love to F*ck by bakerstreethound • 18+ • 〔A〕 • ♡ •
✵ Overstimulated by classickook • 18+ • 〔E〕 •
✵ Preparation by classickook • 18+ • 〔E〕 •
✵ Snuggle Bear by the--blackdahlia • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✵ So Very Smooth by rreader • 〔F〕 •
✵ Soft and Slow by classickook • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •
✵ Stories of Your Life by the--blackdahlia • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✵ Suprise by thranduilsperkybutt • 〔F〕 • 𑁍 •
✵ Take What I Give You by classickook • 18+ • 〔E〕 •
✵ Ticklish by writingsfromstarfleet • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Tumblr media
✵ Khan's N.S.F.W. Alphabet by mykinkyyandere • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ • 🚫 •
Tumblr media
See Also: Navigation || Khan Noonien Singh Master Index
Authors: @all-fandoms-fiction || @arkytiorwrites || @bakerstreethound || @classickook || @justauthoring || @mrsstrangewinter || @mykinkyyandere || @oknstark || @rreader || @thatfanficstuff || @the--blackdahlia || @thepageofa1000worlds || @thranduilsperkybutt || @writingsfromstarfleet ||
40 notes · View notes
hummingbird-of-light · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
Twenty-fifth (and therefore last) story for @badthingshappenbingo ~ (Thanks so much for the nice card, it was a pleasure to write ✍️)
Title: Satisfied
Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)
Character(s): Montgomery "Scotty" Scott, Khan Noonien Singh | John Harrison
Relationship(s): /
Rating: T
Words: 841
Prompt: Stockholm Syndrome
Warnings: Spoilers for "Into Darkness", Not Canon Compliant, Gaslighting, Swearing
(You can also find this story on AO3)
~ Satisfied ~
"Mr. Scott, I see you still haven't started your assignment."
Montgomery Scott looked up when he heard the familiar voice and his expression darkened.
This man. Every time he saw him, his hatred for him grew.
Khan, who had somehow managed to escape from his cryotube and steal an old freighter, had kidnapped him! He had torn him away from everything that was familiar to him. Everything he loved.
His crew. His friends.
And then he actually believed that Scotty would help him with this insane plan to take revenge on the Federation! What was that bastard thinking?
Scotty wouldn't lift a finger. He would just sit in the room where Khan had locked him every damn day and wait for Jim and the others to find him.
Surely it couldn't be much longer.
"Leave me alone," Scotty grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He sat on the bed, which was in the right-hand corner of the cabin, and let his eyes wander out to the stars.
"Oh please, Mr. Scott. You know very well that I won't do that. I need your inside knowledge."
Scotty just grunted and a bitter smile formed on his lips.
"Well, Khan, I'm not going to help ye. I'll just stay here and do my time. My crew will rescue me."
A cool chuckle made Scotty's head whirl around and he saw that Khan was standing right next to the bed by now. Slowly, the dark-haired man sat down next to him.
"They'll try, but they won't find you. This ship is invisible. I've made sure of that. And even if they do find us, it won't be so easy to free you. After all, we are already in Klingon territory."
Khan whispered the last words with relish into the Scotsman's ear and he pulled his head back only to survey the shocked look on Scotty's face.
"Quite right, Mr. Scott. So don't waste your precious life. Help me and maybe I'll spare the Enterprise when I have my vengeance."
Scotty swallowed hard. Then he regained his composure and shook his head.
"I'm not going to help ye. Never!"
Khan just sighed.
"That's... a real shame. Well then... I'll see you for supper."
~
Weeks passed and slowly but surely Scotty began to doubt that anyone would come to rescue him.
Every day was the same.
Khan came to his room - or rather his cell - and ate with him. He told him about all the things the Federation had done to him. Of all the heinous acts. Of the crimes. And of how much sorrow it would spread if Starfleet was not stopped. Day after day, he made it clearer why he hated the organization so much.
And indeed, Scotty's perfect world was slowly beginning to crumble. When he just sat on the bed and stared out of the window, as he did every day, he thought again and again about the stories Khan told him.
He thought about Admiral Marcus, who had threatened not only Khan but also Jim and all his other friends. He thought of all the stories that told of 'the lives of the many', as if not every single life had value and mattered.
And with each passing day he wondered more and more how much good the fleet - hell, the entire Federation - was actually doing.
He thought of the Prime Directive and how many lives and planets had been destroyed by those laws.
There... was just so much hate in this world he lived in.
Khan said that it could be changed. He said that if one destroyed Starfleet - at least all the top admirals and captains and officers - one could save this universe.
And Scotty couldn't deny that he was beginning to believe the augment more and more as time went on.
With each passing day, Khan became more transparent to him. Every day he could see more behind the façade, could recognize a broken, desperate man who wanted nothing more than to save his family.
Was it really so wrong? Were his plans really as cunning and sinister as they appeared at first glance?
Scotty kept remembering a conversation he had had with Khan a few days ago and the statement the man had made.
"As long as you're part of this broken system, you'll never be satisfied."
Aye. Maybe Khan was right. Maybe there really was no place in this current world where Scotty could be content.
Maybe... they really would have to work for justice. Together. Side by side.
When Scotty's hands finally gripped the PADD Khan had provided him, he knew he was about to set something big in motion. Something good. Something earth-shattering.
And he couldn't help but smile when Khan entered the room, as usual, and looked at him in surprise.
Scotty had never seen such a look on the Augment's face before. It was beautiful.
And when Khan returned the smile, Scotty knew that together they would make the world a better place. So that everyone could be satisfied.
12 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
#291 by @theredlanternavenger
"i ship khan (aos) and the uss vengeance, please do not ignore"
9 notes · View notes
Text
((AU where La’an is still on the enterprise during Space Seed))
“There is a place for you at my right hand.”
No response. Unsurprising. La’an would not be so easily swayed.
“I have studied the history of Earth that I missed. My children did not meet a kind fate. Exile, forced sterilization, execution…it seems the only conceivable solution to Eugenics was further Eugenics.”
Still nothing.
“It pleases me to know that at least one of my children survived long enough to have children of their own.”
4 notes · View notes
phantomstatistician · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Fandom: Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
Sample Size: 413 stories
Source: AO3
50 notes · View notes
pennywaltzy · 4 months
Note
The best ship you've written for -- If I have to pick one, it's Khanolly. You've got the emotions down pat, way better than anyone else.
My Khanolly fics on AO3, if anyone would like to peruse them.
Thank you so much for the amazing compliment! ::blushes:: That means so much.
Fanfic Asks - For The Askers
2 notes · View notes
tostrekkiegirl · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
3 notes · View notes
los-ninos-tortugas · 10 months
Note
Sorry, just an addendum to what I said about Donnie being aggressive and arrogant: Obviously he is NOTHING like the original Augments; but would Donnie think that? Even if he tries to dismiss it, I can see it eating away at him. Donnie is more sensitive than he likes to pretend; he cares about what other people think of him, and is insecure despite his ego. He's also 16, and alone in a time where he doesn't quite fit in. He's already going to be having a hard time - I can just see this being the straw that breaks the camel's back, so to speak.
Oh yeah I totally get what you mean, there's a big difference between Khan, the infamous tyrant, and you know, a sixteen year old kid. Nevertheless it is definitely gonna be something that bothers him in a way that he's really gonna struggle to reconcile with, mostly because there is basically no one he can talk about it with.... well, almost no one. Trust me, I have plans ;)
3 notes · View notes
sobeautifullyobsessed · 2 months
Text
A Khan By Any Other Name
a prequel to Star Trek: Into Darkness
mystery, suspense, danger ~ romance & NSFW material to follow
Tumblr media
summary: Seraphina DiPietro is wise in the ways of the world of world; she has to be, as she travels the California coast as a torch singer in pubs, bars, and nightclubs. She knows how to take care of herself and stay out of trouble--most of the time. When trouble comes, it's usually because she lets her kind heart overrule her common sense. Stopping to check on a handsome stranger stranded roadside in the Mojave Desert, her curiousity is piqued as much by his classic, mint-looking Mustang, as by its driver--a tall, dark, mysterious drink of water, whom she quickly learns is so much more than he appears.
characters: Khan Noonien Singh (aka: John Harrison), Seraphina DiPietro (OC)
word count: 2.4k
Chapter One
Her first mistake had been slowing down to have a second look.  Three plus years with a vintage car enthusiast (her ex now, thank god; three months gone and good riddance to him, her mantra whenever he crossed her mind) had ingrained the habit in her. The habit, frankly, plus an appreciative eye for the sweetest of rides.  Thanks to Simon (and his obsession), she could distinguish in seconds between the genuine article and that which easily fooled the masses, a cunningly detailed replica—and the sleek ragtop that looked to have skidded to the side of the road, leaving a spray a gravel and black, burnt rubber in its tracks, was absolutely the real thing.
So she’d slowed down, only half meaning to, cataloguing the fine details and quickly estimating its worth, while admiring its classic lines and the bright flash of its chrome detailings.  Seraphina couldn’t keep from grinning, thinking about how instantly covetous Simon would be in the face of such a find, and how jealous he would feel to know that she had stumbled upon it with no effort whatsoever.
The man bending over the open hood
Tumblr media
straightened as she passed, arresting her attention with a commanding, steely gaze that left her feeling like a marked woman.  As though he not only saw her, in her every visible feature, but somehow inexplicably knew her—and needed her.  Vitally, and immediately. Despite the lick of common sense apprehension that fluttered through her vitals, simple curiosity and a deeply embedded tendency to act the good Samaritan had Seraphina making her second, even bigger, mistake of the afternoon--pulling over to park her hovercraft several feet in front of his stalled vehicle.
She looked into her rearview mirror; he had turned to watch how she would proceed, holding his hands up with his fingers splayed wide, surely his way of expressing she could approach him safely.  “Not so fast, buddy,” she murmured, “I wasn’t born yesterday…and I’ve seen your kind before.” Sera cut the engine, pulling the keys from the ignition and flicking the lock mechanism off the small can of mace dangling from her keyring.  She wasn’t so foolhardy as to face the tall, well-built stranger unprepared; nearly a decade of travels up and down the coast of California, performing in seedy, small town dives, then upscale pubs and bars, and finally city nightclubs, had taught her well to be ever on her guard.
And she’d learned a few tricks in the course of her career, for if the mace should fail; she could—and had—flipped a drunk onto his back a time or two, who’d tried to cop a feel when she passed across a darkened dancefloor; and she knew all too well how much force was necessary, knee to groin, in order to incapacitate those pigheaded brutes who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer when they followed her out to the parking lot at the end of a gig. Handsome he might be (decidedly so, she mused, angular features, piercing eyes, thick, dark hair, an errant lock strayed upon his brow; such a striking combination!) but she was not fool enough to ever judge the book by it’s cover.
The stranger stood motionless a moment more, the light breeze ruffling that wayward lock until he brushed it back, a swift yet languid move that spoke of cat-like grace and an elegance that didn’t fit the setting or the way that he was clothed.  He was straight-backed, slim-hipped, long-legged--and poised with a confidence befitting a prince, and not the work-a-day posture of a blue-collar joe or road-weary drifter.  Yet the smile he gave her did not reach his eyes; Sera found it a little feral, and felt her pulse increase as a taste of adrenaline—that trusty “fight or flee” response—hit her system.
But she was already committed, having left the safety and cool comfort of her two-seater; if he was an actual threat, the worse that she could do was show the weakness of timidity now. Sera left her sunglasses in place, determined he would not read a bit of doubt in her eyes or bearing, the can of mace tucked neatly in the palm of her left hand, and walking forward into the dry, baking, Mojave Desert heat.
Sera gave a low but audible whistle, advancing as casually as she could, finally calling out to him, "She's a real beauty--and someone's taken serious loving care of her too." The 300-year-old Mustang appeared as close to mint as any vintage vehicle she had ever seen; given its obvious value, she had to wonder why the hell he would even have it on the road--especially in desert conditions. That instinctive voice of warning sounded an answer in her head: that's because it's not his.
Okay, Sera, she cautioned herself, give him the benefit of the doubt; he could have come by that automobile in any number of ways. She stopped a half-dozen steps from where the stranger stood, aiming to read his reaction as she asked, "Early 21st century, right?"
The man smiled--more sincerely this time--and nodded. "That she is," he replied, sparing a brief look at the stalled car, "Unfortunately, she's not going anywhere, anytime soon." His smooth, deep voice was as pleasant to the ears as his form was easy on his eyes, and his accent distinctly British, leaving Sera to ponder how and why he'd found his way into the midst of the Mojave. "I believe it's the transmission," he added.
In an instant, his eyes flicked downward, as though he registered that small, innocuous movement. She rushed to fill the vacuum of silence that hung between them, hoping to distract him from whatever suspicions her little move might have awakened.  “I know collectors,” she told him, running her right hand through her hair, fluffing it a bit, hoping to draw his eyes upwards again “…fanatical ones, who would pay a small fortune to make such a treasure theirs.”  She leaned toward him, adopting a confidential tone, honest in her curiosity, “However did you manage it?”
Sera could hear the tick of the internal combustion engine as it cooled, informing her he hadn't been stranded long. Surveying the area behind the Mustang, she spotted several telltale puddles of transmission fluid in the car's wake. "Looks like you might've blown a hose," she speculated, indicating the fluid spotting the back trail. "Those kind of parts are few and far between these days...but I bet we can find a mechanic who might be able to juryrig something enough to get you on the road again."
She turned back to find him watching her, his exotic-looking eyes narrowed. Appraising her in a way that made her feel...exposed. Unnerved. Vulnerable. Sera squeezed her hand against the reassuring weight of the small, defensive weapon cupped in her palm.
He inhaled sharply, a fleeting look of calculation crossing his face.  “It was an unexpected…” he paused, studying her carefully, “…but well-timed acquisition of…convenience.”  Such a reply was far too vague to answer her question—but didn’t surprise her in the least.
“Then you must be a man of remarkable luck, Mr…” Sera let her voice trail off with the question, fully expecting there would be little truth in his answer.
And then he was moving past the safe cushion of space between them, extending a large, powerful looking hand towards her, as way of introduction. “Harrison. I’m…John Harrison.” His grip was firm, not too tight, but Sera sensed—felt—a strength restrained that fit his bearing perfectly. Intimidating, but not frightening; confident—and intriguing her beyond her good sense should allow; and his eyes were locked on her, regarding her with such curiosity and healthy appraisal, that she slipped her sunglasses atop her head without a moment’s hesitation, meaning to meet his gaze directly.  
Sera hadn’t realized she was staring until he cleared his throat. “And you are?” he asked, smiling warmly, surely feeling the advantage now of having gotten past her bravado.  Her mouth felt dry—it had to be the arid atmosphere and not embarrassment over her awkward reaction to him--so that her tongue actually stuck a moment before she stammered out her name. “Seraphina.”  She said it rather breathlessly, then bit her lip against revealing her surname.
Harrison had not released her hand, although his grip was gentle, and the warmth of his skin pleasant against her own.  “Seraphina,” he repeated, the small smile creases bracketing his mouth deepening, and a hint of his true smile finally reaching his eyes.  “Lovely name, Seraphina. Exotic in its way, and as rare and fetching as a desert rose.”
Ordinarily, Sera would laugh off such obvious flattery; she’d had enough of it--and insincere at that--throughout her years as a torch singer.  This stranger—John Harrison—looked a better class of man than those who usually tried to ply her with compliments.  That was no reason, of course, to take him more seriously than any of the others.  And yet she felt a sort of…solemnity…about him; a dignity and self-assurance that spoke of a far more purposeful life than those of plain, ordinary men. He was damned attractive too, enough to have her a bit flummoxed at so dear a distance.  
"Seraphina,” he reiterated, teasing the syllables along, the depth and richness of his voice making her shiver a little despite the desert heat. “A derivative of seraphim, the highest order of celestial beings in religious myth.  Heavenly, fiery, winged immortals, tasked with surrounding and praising the throne of god.”  He leaned nearer, well past that unspoken barrier of personal space, closing his eyes while inhaling deeply through his nose, seeming to seek her essence by scent alone.
Such unexpected intimacy left Seraphina speechless, every instinct she had telling her to give ground a step or two—yet she remained still, for when he opened his eyes, she found herself fascinated by their changing hue. Seraphina had never seen such striking eyes on a man before; and she’d have sworn that they were blue.  Pale blue when she’d seen them from a distance, in the bright, unfiltered sun; then a surprising, piercing, azure when she met him face to face.  Now they seem to shift unpredictably from purely blue to nearly green with however the light played upon them, with flecks of gold speckling around the pupils.
“I wonder,” he mused, almost to himself, while Sera remained entranced and silent, unable to look away despite knowing she must look utterly foolish, “Might you be the angel of mercy I’m in such desperate need of?”
Befuddled, Sera sputtered back, "I...um...what?", finally taking a step back and pulling her hand from his grasp.
"I mean to say how fortunate I am, you came along precisely as you did. " Harrison shrugged and took a step back as well, his manner self-effacing enough to lend sincerity to his words. "And that your nature is a kind one--I imagine most women would have cruised by without a care for my predicament, given this isolated location and the potential threat I could embody."
Regaining her composure, Sera lifted her chin proudly, "I've managed to look after myself for many years now, and in dodgier situations." Her usual insoucience restored, she asked the most vital of questions, looking him squarely in the eyes to read the truth before he even answered, "Do I have reason to fear for my safety, Mr. Harrison?"
His eyes widened and he grinned, and then he began to laugh. Heartfelt, and deep in his throat; the rich sound of melted, dark chocolate--the rare sort of sweet that was supposed to be healthy for one, but only if consumed in moderation. A woman could lose herself in such a laugh, she realized, and I'll bet he knows it too.
"If there was any reason at all, you've quite disarmed me already." Now it seemed he was sizing her up beyond first impressions--and liking what he saw, by the look of satisfaction on his face. "I promise you, Ms..."
"It's just Seraphina for now please, if it's all the same to you. " Sera pressed her lips thin against the smile that wanted to break forth, enjoying both his unspoken surprise at her overall boldness--and what she dared to believe was an appreciation for her physical charms.
Harrison acquiesced with a tilt of his head. "Then I promise you, pretty Seraphina, that I harbor no ill intent towards you. And I would be deeply indebted to you for the aid I am sure you intend to offer me."
She felt her cheeks flush at his easy compliment--not taken in, but happy to accept it nonetheless. "Well, it's a shame to have to abandon her here, but the closest hope you have for a spare part--and a mechanic with working knowledge of antique cars--is at least a hundred miles away."
"Alright then," he affirmed, moving past her to slam shut the Mustang's hood, "We should probably be on our way."
"Of course." Sera turned to follow him, wanting a closer look at the rare vehicle before they drove away. "You should put the top up too; you may not make it back here until tomorrow at least."
He nodded again, striding to the driver's side door to start the car and raise the top. Something not quite right here, she thought, frowning; I could swear that this model and the ones that followed, had a remote on the key fob to control the mechanism. It reminded her that she'd initially thought the car did not belong to him--and that somehow she had allowed his charm cause her to lower her guard.
She stepped to the passenger side, hoping for a peek inside to confirm her growing suspicion. "You ought to raise the windows, too," she told him, leaning close enough to peer inside the passenger side window, "No telling what might find its way inside here once darkness falls. It gets pretty cold here at night..." Sera swallowed hard when she got a look at the ignition cylinder; it had been removed from its place beneath the steering wheel and hung down by several wires. The wires themselves appeared to have been rearranged.
Her heart in her throat, Seraphina searched her memory for the word to describe exactly what she was seeing. Hotwired. That's what they called it; a quick and easy way to boost a car. Simon had educated her, marveling at the skill of those he'd read about who could do do in under a minute. She'd never dreamed of seeing something like it up close. Yet there it was, and the man who'd done it clearly hadn't wanted her to see it. Which meant...
He was faster than her by far; almost preternaturally fast. Harrison had grabbed her left arm ( --- damn, he had noted she was carrying something there! --- ) through the window opening, his iron grip digging into her flesh painfully. "Drop it," he ordered her, "Drop it now. I can explain everything if you just remain calm, Seraphina."
She didn't mean to, but she whimpered softly, not only at the discomfort he was inflicting, but also for the cold menace in his eyes. Had she thought them beautiful, compelling, alluring, just moments ago? Now it seemed to her they were the deadliest eyes she had seen in her life.
(to be continued)
46 notes · View notes
the-girl-is-no-one · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media
For my Jahlah x Khan fanfic!
Omg, I love them *---*
8 notes · View notes
Text
Last Updated: 2024-03-21
Tumblr media
Main
Khan Noonien Singh x Reader
Tumblr media
See Also: Navigation || Private T.B.R.
5 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Round 2: Seventeenth story for @badthingshappenbingo ~
Title: A Piece Of Art
Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)
Character(s): Robert "Robbie" Scott, Khan Noonien Singh
Relationship(s): Robert "Robbie" Scott & Montgomery "Scotty" Scott (mentioned)
Rating: M
Words: 1,317
Prompt: Human Shield (used in a kinda abstract way?)
Warnings: Graphic Depiction Of Violence, Blood and Injury, Major Character Death, Disgusting Themes, Swearing, Kidnapping, Skinning, Psychopathology, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
A/N: Based on my June of Doom story "You're doing great"
(You can also find this story on AO3)
~ A Piece Of Art ~
Robert "Robbie" Scott helplessly tried to pull at the restraints that were holding him down. He gritted his teeth in anger, twisting and turning his head as best he could, but found that it was of no use. He was tied to some sort of massage table, lying prone.
A muffled scream was all he was able to produce with a cloth gagging his mouth. Whoever had brought him to this place had definitely planned it.
He chuckled humorlessly. He knew exactly who had brought him to this place. It was the bastard who had kidnapped his brother. The reason why Robbie had come to the States in first place.
When the message about Montgomery Scott being missing had reached his family in Scotland, Robbie had known right away that he needed to get there. He needed to find out what had happened to his big brother.
So he had traveled overseas and within two weeks had gotten closer to an answer than the police ever had in a month.
The brilliant Scotsman had managed to follow every step his brother had taken before he had disappeared. He even had gotten access to some cameras the police had claimed to have been broken during the night of the kidnapping. It had been very hard to restore the 'deleted' footage, but Robert Scott was a damn good hacker.
And there he had seen him. The man his brother had run into on his way back home after work. The man his brother had chatted with for a moment before collapsing into his arms. The man who had 'helped' his brother into a nearby car, only to drive away moments later.
Robbie had thought about showing the footage to the local police, however, since he hadn't gotten the information the legal way, he had chosen to gather more proof first instead.
The Scotsman had thought about all the ways he knew to find someone.
The kidnapper had used a foil so that his license plate was unreadable for cameras.
He had also been smart enough to keep his face away from the cameras.
Robbie's only hope had been to trace the device the man had used to delete the security footage, but that hadn't worked either.
So instead, the Scotsman had focused on his brother's routine. He had visited all the places Monty used to go to.
His favorite café, the shipyard he worked at, the library he often visited, the pool.
And there Robbie had finally found him. The man he had seen in the video. The height, the dark hair, the car — there was no doubt.
Khan Singh, British physiotherapist.
He was the man who had kidnapped Montgomery Scott. And he was the same man who had taken Robbie now.
Tears of despair escaped the Scotsman's eyes as he once again failed to pull at his restraints. If only he had informed the police. If only he had been smarter. If only —
"Mr. Robert Scott."
The deep voice that suddenly echoed through the cold basement sent a shiver down Robbie's spine and he froze.
"My, my... what a pleasant surprise. I didn't think that I'd find another Scott."
The voice moved closer and closer and when Robbie managed to turn his head to the side, he met the handsome face of the bastard who had taken his brother.
"You are related to Montgomery Scott, aren't you? Judging by the appearance I'd say... his little brother?"
Robbie just glared at his counterpart, putting all the hate he felt into it. That man had no right to talk about his brother!
"Ah, I see. So I'm right about it. Now, what are you doing here? So far away from bonnie Scotland..."
Singh was mocking him! It was clear to tell! Robbie muttered some swear words into his gag and clenched his hands to fists.
"I suppose you wanted to search for your brother, huh? Well, I'm happy to be able to tell you, that you found him."
A frown crossed Robbie's face as he watched Singh get up from where he was kneeling next to the massage table and move out of his sight.
His heart started to race and various thoughts rushed through his mind, however, Robbie wasn't prepared for what happened next.
His kidnapper placed something right beneath the table's face hole and when Robbie looked through it, his stomach started to twist and turn.
A weak sob escaped his mouth and his eyes widened in disbelief.
There, right in front of his eyes, was a framed painting. Abstract lines in a dark red seemed to form what had to be a ship. At first, it looked like normal paint, but at a closer look, Robbie could tell the lines for the cuts they were. Cuts that had been carved into skin.
He wanted to throw up, but held it back, knowing that otherwise he might choke on it. Endless tears streamed down his cheeks, dropping onto the glass beneath him.
"Oh please. Don't cry. Your brother was the perfect canvas. This is one of my best pieces."
Singh's happy voice next to his ear disgusted Robbie even more and he moved his head away from the 'painting' to look at his brother's kidnapper... no... killer. The therapist was smiling at him.
That bastard had killed him! He had killed Monty!
Robbie screamed and sobbed into his gag, shaking his head vigorously.
"Now, let's see what we can do with your skin, huh? Right now I don't have space for a new piece of art since buyers are rare at the moment, but I'm sure we'll find something to create."
Slowly, Singh straightened his back and it didn't take long until Robbie felt his shirt being cut open, followed by cool fingers running up and down his bare back. The Scotsman winced at the touch, weeping quietly.
"Not as clean and perfect as your brother's, but it's something I guess."
For a long moment, Singh seemed to muse about what he should do and when he eventually made a determined and satisfied sound, Robbie squeezed his eyes shut in fear.
"Oh! Yes, that's good. You see, I have this wonderful friend. Her name is Kati."
The strong hands slapped the Scotsman's shoulder.
"She loves fantasy and medieval live action role-playing. Even though I see her more as a fairy, she prefers warrior characters. I'm sure she'd be happy about a new leather shield with handmade carvings for her birthday."
Robbie's breathing fastened and he shook his head in panic. His heart started to race as he yelled into his gag over and over again.
"I'm sure I can arrange something with that skin of yours."
A shield! That monster wanted to make a shield out of his skin!
No! Please! No! No!
Singh didn't seem to care. Instead Robbie heard him sit down on a wheel stool and roll over to the other side of the room.
"You should have stayed in Scotland, Mr. Scott. Well... at least you get to spend your last hours with your brother."
Robbie couldn't help but wince when loud classical music started to fill the room.
His eyes stayed focused on the painting as he felt the knife cut through his skin. With every line, his end was getting closer and closer and it hurt like hell, but when Singh eventually started to skin his whole back, Robbie didn't even make a sound.
He just stared at the ship. The ship that strangely enough represented his brother oh-so-well. The ship... Monty...
He only hoped that death had taken his brother quickly. For Monty hadn't deserved to leave the world in such a painful way. No one did.
And once again Robbie regretted that he hadn't told the police about his findings. For now it was too late. He'd end up as a piece of art. And no one could save him.
11 notes · View notes
fandommeld · 2 years
Text
Chapter update: Into The Light
Star Trek Into Darkness x Chronicles of Riddick
Tumblr media
Chapter 25 of Into The Light is now available on AO3!
Part 2 of the From the Darkness - Into the Light series.
7 notes · View notes