Tumgik
#the billowing of tall coats
vampsywrites · 8 months
Text
I — i remember her hands, and the way the mountains looked.
Synopsis: In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.
Tags: Female! Mountain Na'vi! Reader, Arranged Marriage, Sun & Moon couple, Strangers to Lovers, Neteyam is whipped
Word Count: 2.4k | AO3 LINK
SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >
Tumblr media Tumblr media
"With the return of the sky people, our journey led us far, far up the horizon, where a towering mountain stood. Beyond the winding paths of its rocky terrain, nestled in the heart of nature's embrace, lay the village of the Iuva'ri clan—the ikran people of the mountains.
Iuva’ri was a beauty which both awed and intimidated those foreign to it. The village was tucked deep in a sheltered valley, bathed in the warm golden glow of the setting sun against the snow-capped peaks. A sanctuary hidden from the outside world. A perfect place for us to disappear without a trace.”
Flutters of the ikran's wings echoed loudly through the crisp air, alerting the people of their arrival. The once peaceful ambiance of the secluded village turned into a stir of commotion. Warriors sounded their horns, their urgent calls spreading like ripples through the village. The sight of the newcomers had ignited a sense of both curiosity and apprehension among the villagers, for rarely did travelers venture into their remote home.
As the crowd gathered at the center of the village, their gazes fixed on the newcomers, a mix of intrigue and wariness painted their expressions. Jake dismounted from his ikran gracefully, gesturing for his family to do the same. Neytiri's hand instinctively moved towards her bow, a hint of concern in her eyes. But before she could react, Jake rushed to stop her, his expression urging caution.
"Don't. Leave it," he murmured lowly, gently easing the weapon away from her grasp and tucking it back into the banshee's pouch. His mate sent him a disgruntled look in response but made no attempt to fight his decision.
"Alright. Come on," with a wave of his hand, Jake began to lead his family into the village, arms spread at his sides in an attempt to appear as docile as possible. "Let's be nice."
Neteyam followed in his father's footsteps, carefully observing his surroundings as he ascended the treacherous mountain slopes. His calculating eyes swept across the rugged terrain, taking in the awe-inspiring beauty of the snow-capped peaks and the vast expanse of the chalky landscape.
As they climbed higher, the air grew colder, and Neteyam shivered from the biting chill that enveloped them. The icy wind gnawed at his bones, and he pulled his shawl closer around him, seeking any respite from the relentless cold. This mountain was a stark contrast to the warm and humid forest he was accustomed to, and he felt the tingling sensation of numbness spreading across his exposed fingers.
As he navigated through unforgiving terrain, he found himself yearning for the comfort of home, longing for the lush green forest that offered a familiar warmth. Despite his reservations about this desolate place, he remained silent, his lips drawn into a tight line as he focused on the task at hand.
His attention was momentarily drawn away when a low whistle lanced through the air. Tilting his head up, Neteyam's gaze followed the sound, and he watched as a banshee glided gracefully through the skies. 
With a thud, the beast landed before them, sending a thick cloud of dust into the air as its rider dismounted. The rider was a tall, elderly woman, her midnight black hair contrasting against her milk blue skin. Her frosty eyes scanned their features, taking in every detail with a sharp intensity. A thick coat of fur was draped over her shoulders, and a billowing cape trailed behind her as she sauntered towards them, her expression a mix of curiosity and caution.
“Olo’eykte Ìumayi,” Jake bowed his head low, fingers extending from his forehead in a gesture of welcome. “I see you.”
Neytiri too bowed her head, gaze drawn to the ground as she murmured out her greeting, “I see you, Ìumayi.”
The woman continued to remain silent, circling them like vultures. Neteyam stood firm in his spot, his eyes never leaving the chief’s stalking figure.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she broke the silence, her voice dripping with a leering caution, "Why do you come to us, Toruk Makto?"
Neteyam observed his father's reaction to the title, noting how he tensed up and his face contorted into an unsightly grimace. Given that the Iuva'ri clan's culture revolved around their sacred bond with Ikrans, it came as no surprise why his title held such immense significance to them.
In contrast to her husband's visible unease, Neytiri stood tall, her demeanor unyielding as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"We seek uturu," she declared.
In response to Neytiri's words, Ìumayi whipped around violently, her expression hardening as she directed a stern glower towards them. "Uturu?" she questioned sharply.
“Yes,” Jake affirmed. “Sanctuary. For my family.”
The people around them erupted into a hushed, agitated chatter, but the chief was quick to silence them all with a snap of her fingers.
“We have heard tales of your times at war, of your blood from the sky people, and of the victories that have earned you praise among many Na'vi," Ìumayi spoke with a measured tone, her voice heavy. "But my people are not at war. I apologize, but I cannot allow you to bring your bloodshed here."
Jake's response was immediate, a mix of desperation and determination evident in his voice as he hurriedly spoke, "I'm done with war," he asserted, lowering himself to scoop up Tuktirey into his arms. The little girl sought refuge in the safety of his embrace, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. "I just want to keep my family safe."
Observing the tender scene, Ìumayi's stern exterior softened slightly, her warm eyes studying the family before her. Bowing her head in contemplation, she took a moment to weigh the consequences of her decision, fully aware of the significance of this encounter. With a heavy sigh, she finally lifted her head and made her verdict, "I will allow it."
The relief that washed over Jake was palpable, but before he could express his gratitude, Ìumayi raised a bony finger, signifying there was more to be said.
"I will allow it. On one condition," she continued, her gaze now turning towards Neteyam, holding him with an inquisitive gaze. "I understand you are the eldest, correct?"
Neteyam acknowledged the chief's attention with a nod, his heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
With a wave of her pale hand, Ìumayi turned to the crowd before her, calling out a name as she gestured for someone to come over. The crowd parted instinctively, revealing your figure. As you stepped closer and closer, Neteyam found his mouth growing dry once he fully took in your features.
Inky jets of midnight-black hair cascaded over your shoulders like a shimmering waterfall, adorned with an enchanting array of bioluminescent gems woven into each braid. Your skin, a mesmerizing hue of cool blue, appeared as though it were delicately bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Jagged, milk-white stripes adorned your limbs and face in an intricate pattern, reminiscent of a celestial canvas. It was as if the very hand of Eywa herself had delicately painted them onto you.
“This is my eldest daughter, Y/N," Ìumayi spoke with pride, gently guiding you to stand by her side, a strong, protective arm enveloping your shoulders. "With the recent passing of my beloved mate, she has stepped forward, assuming the role of Tsahìk."
You took a moment to study their curious expressions, your eyes reflecting an understanding for their situation, “It is a pleasure to meet you all.”
Neteyam stood in awe, watching as you gracefully acknowledged and greeted his family members. The solemnity of your father's absence was palpable, but your calm welcome brought a glimmer of warmth to the otherwise tense atmosphere. And as you turned to face him, the warrior felt his heart leap to his throat.
“Neteyam,” you called out, his name dripping off your lips like a sweet, thick syrup. The Omatikayan watched intently as you curled your fingers, tracing your hand up from your chest up to your forehead before extending it out towards him, icy gaze piercing through his very being, “I see you.”
Fuck.
Neteyam feels his mouth go slack, skin breaking out into a cold sweat as a rich, deep warmth spreads through him. It was a simple greeting, no more. You were merely welcoming them into your village—Trying to be courteous. And yet, why is it that the way you were looking at him left a searing burn in his chest? Twisting at his heart and sending his pulse into a rapid thrum until he could barely breathe?
Both Lo’ak and Kiri observed his reaction with amused grins. To knock him out of his trance, Kiri roughly shoved at Neteyam’s side, gesturing towards your awaiting figure. Almost immediately, he grounds himself, cheeks burning into a dark indigo.
"Tsahìk Y/N," he uttered shakily, his fingers clumsily returning the respectful gesture. His heart pounded blaringly in his chest as he gazed at you, trying to steady himself in your presence. "I see you."
Your smile, gentle like a soft breeze, acknowledged his greeting before you turned your attention back to your mother.
"I have reason to believe that this meeting with Toruk Makto's family is fated," your mother spoke out, "Many nights ago, before his death, my mate was blessed with a vision from Eywa herself. In the sacred embrace of dreams, the spirits revealed to him a profound prophecy of two clans uniting as one—a woman and a man forging an unbreakable bond."
The words of their chief hung in the air, and a hushed silence fell over the gathering as the significance of her statement registered with everyone present.
"As you all know," she continued, her gaze sweeping across the crowd, "I am not getting any younger, and my time draws nearer to its end. And I remind you all that the weight of this responsibility was not one I bore alone; a Tsahìk needs an Olo’eyktan by their side."
A moment passed as the implications of her words settled into Neteyam's mind, and then realization dawned on him.
"This vision bestowed upon my mate," she began, "is not to be taken lightly. It is a direct call from Eywa herself, and as I stand before you today, I believe that the very individuals foreseen in that vision are here before us."
Ìumayi's gaze locked onto Neteyam, her eyes seeming to peer into his very soul. "With Eywa's guidance," she continued, "I propose a union between my daughter and Toruk Makto's eldest son."
The people around them erupted into chaos, their voices rising in a cacophony of opinions. Some had cried out in agreement while some were outraged at the idea of an outsider leading the clan. And as the concerns of his parents too filled the air; Neteyam felt a tumult of emotions within him. He knew their apprehensions were driven by love and care, yet there was an unexplainable energy surging through his veins, compelling him to step forward, to embrace the path laid out before him.
Before he could fully process the weight of his decision, his lips moved with a life of their own, the words escaping him faster than he could think, "I accept."
The crowd falls deathly silent at his declaration.
As the weight of his own words settled in, a storm consumed Neteyam. Accepting this union had been an unforeseen choice, one he had never anticipated making. It led him down a path he had never imagined walking, and uncertainty clawed at the very core of his being. 
And yet, as he turned to look at you, he found these worries falling silent. The sight of you ignited a surge of emotions within him, an overwhelming rush that defied comprehension. It was as though an irresistible, magnetic force was drawing him closer to you, as if every beat of his heart called for your name.
The warrior heaved a sigh, lowering his gaze to the ground and bowing his head as a gesture of respect to your mother.
“I am willing to accept this union," Neteyam affirmed, his eyes flickering back to meet yours, "Only if she will have me.”
Lo’ak's lips twitched, a hint of a grin threatening to break free, but he bit down on his lips, holding back the laugh that threatened to escape. His gaze met Kiri's, and they exchanged a knowing look, both equally amused and astonished by their older brother's unexpected behavior. Neteyam had always been the pillar of stability and composure in their family, making his impulsive acceptance of the proposal all the more surprising.
Lo’ak turned to glance at their parents, noticing his mother's eyes which were wide with concern. It was evident that she wanted to say something, but their father subtly pulled her back, silently urging her to hold her words for the moment.
Neytiri took a moment to study Neteyam's face, the resolve and determination etched across his features. Their gazes locked, and she saw a depth of conviction in her son's eyes that she hadn't witnessed before—a fierce certainty that he had made the right choice, even if it was sudden.
In that moment of silent understanding, Neytiri nodded her head, her concerns momentarily quelled. "If that is what he wishes," she said, her voice softening with acceptance, "we will support him."
Ìumayi’s smile grew slightly wider, her eyes shimmering with approval as she turned her attention to you. "Good. Now, ma’ite, what say you?" she inquired, her tone gentle yet expectant.
The world around you seemed to blur for a moment as you locked eyes with Neteyam, the unspoken bond between you both intensifying.
From the days of your childhood, you had already accepted the prospect of a planned marriage, or at best, one founded on companionship. To you, as long as your partner proved amiable and undemanding, it would be enough. And yet, you could not have even begun to imagine that you would end up in a marriage with Toruk Makto's son.
In the face of the unexpected proposal, you responded with a firm nod, your voice steady with conviction, "If Eywa wills it, then I shall accept as well."
The sight of Neteyam's smile and the exuberant whip of his tail around his feet brought a surge of unforeseen warmth to your heart. The moment felt surreal, like a dance with destiny that had been set into motion long before this day. Perhaps, just maybe, it wouldn't be so bad after all.
Your mother nodded, her expression reflecting satisfaction and pride.
"Then it is settled," she declared firmly, "Toruk Makto and his family shall stay with us, and his son shall be promised to my daughter. We'll teach them our ways and treat them as our own."
“May Eywa bless their path."
Tumblr media
SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >
2K notes · View notes
quite-right-too · 4 months
Text
Animal I Have Become
Tumblr media
Dark!Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader / requests are open
Summary: The Doctor doesn't like seeing people harm what's his. (18+ only)
The Oncoming Storm.
The Time Lord Victorious.
The Destroyer of Worlds.
The Doctor had many names in many different languages that spread across the stars. Tales of the last of the Time Lords echoed through the galaxy — the man who had destroyed two entire races, including his own people, and stopped being merciful many years ago.
Nobody quite knew how old the Doctor was, or how far back the legends had been traced, but one thing was certain.
Everywhere you went, people were afraid of the Doctor.
The Doctor you knew was gentle and kind. He made you breakfast in the mornings and told you how much he loved you. His eyes were so full of adoration and joy when he was around you.
However, that didn’t mean he was always like that.
All you had done was stop for repairs. You had a task to complete; find the market stall and acquire a list of parts. The Doctor had already written a list and drew some pictures next to each part to make it easier for you to find.
The city you were in was disorienting. It had already gotten dark, making the directions you were given nearly useless. One wrong turn and you found yourself in an alley. As you went to turn around, a man approached you.
His skin was a dark, rich shade of blue. He looked human aside from that. And the small horns that stuck out of his forehead. ‘Like a devil,’ you thought.
“So,” the dark humanoid man standing in front you took a step forward, prompting you to take a step back. “What’s someone like you doing in a place like this?” The street lamp above you flickered unnervingly as you inched further and further away. Each step forward was met with a step back until you were cloaked in darkness, just outside of the small illuminated circle you were relying on for just a modicum of safety.
You felt your back hit the wall as you took another step backwards — it was a dead end.
You were trapped.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
Your heart began to race as a silver glint in the man’s hand caught your eye. The low light reflected off the knife that he held tightly.
Uncertainty makes you afraid. Fear makes you reckless. Just be confident in everything you do and above all else, just remember…
The Doctor’s words echoed through your head as you tightened your fists, preparing for whatever was going to come next. If you were going to die, you would not make it easy. You braced for the inevitable as your attacker surged forward.
I will always be there to save you.
The blue-skinned man was pulled backwards into the light and tossed to the ground. A sickening crack echoed through the dark alley followed by a groan and a cough.
Towering above him was the Doctor. Tall and powerful, long coat billowing around him from the speed he had run over. This was not the man you woke up next to that morning or made love to the night before.
This was the Oncoming Storm.
And he was pissed.
Even in the faint light, you could see that his eyes were impossibly dark. He stared down at the man on the ground with a sneer, his converse-clad foot pressing down on his throat. Below him, the stranger clawed at the Doctor’s leg.
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you right now,” the Doctor murmured coldly. “Why shouldn’t I spill your blood all over the pavement like the filth you are?”
Fear flashed in the alien’s eyes. “Please, I’m sorry,” he choked out breathlessly. “I didn’t know you- I would never have-” He was cut off as the Doctor put pressure on his throat, kneeling down to pick up the dropped knife.
The Time Lord twirled the blade in his hand. “Oh,” he cooed. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have.” Without warning, the Doctor quietly and subtly drove the knife into the man’s chest. “And you never will again.”
The thrashing subsided and the Doctor stood up, leaving the knife in the man's chest as thick red liquid began to form a pool underneath him. Wiping his hand haphazardly on his pant leg, he stared down at the body below him.
“Don’t touch what’s mine.”
Before you could even get a word out over what you had just witnessed, the Doctor had you pinned against the wall with a bruising kiss. “You heard me,” he growled. “You’re mine. All mine.” His hands gripped your hips with such force that you couldn’t move, even if you tried.
You gasped as he moved his mouth down your neck. “Fuck, Doctor!” That spurred him on further as he rutted against you, his hardening cock pressing against your lower abdomen.
Nimble fingers undid the button on your jeans, ripping them down your legs with your underwear. “You’re all fucking mine,” he growled as he unbuttoned his own trousers and shoved them down to his thighs, pants following. 
You were desperate for more. Hard and fast and brutal.
The look in the Doctor’s eyes indicated that he knew exactly what you wanted.
Wordlessly, he helped lift you so could wrap your legs around his hips, cock resting at your entrance. “Oooh, so wet for me already?” he breathed, thrusting himself against your slit. “You got absolutely soaked watching me make sure nobody ever touches what’s mine.” His long coat settled around the two of you, offering more privacy in the darkness.
The head of his cock slipped inside you, resting just for a second, before he slammed himself into you to the hilt. “Oh, gods,” he groaned, beginning a punishing rhythm. “You feel so fucking good.” His mouth began to wander down your neck, sucking deep purple bruises into your skin.
As he pushed you harder into the wall, one of his hands wandered up to the back of your head, keeping you from hitting the wall as he fucked you mercilessly.
Even in the situation you were in now, you found it extremely endearing.
“Doctor, please,” you choked out, hands grasping at his back. “I need you, all of you.” You felt him grin against your throat at your words.
“Damn right you do. You’re mine. Only mine. Nobody else gets to touch you.” He enunciated with a particularly hard thrust, “Look at you. Fuck, nobody even gets to think about you.” He let out a filthy moan as your fingers tangled in his hair. “I’ll kill the next bastard that thinks they can take you from me.”
Tightening around his cock, your impending orgasm was making itself known. The Doctor knew it too, keeping his thrusts hard and fast.
“You’re going to come, aren’t you, love? When you do, you’re going to scream for me. Scream my name so everyone knows who you belong to. Be good and come for me. Now.”
You felt the coil snap as your orgasm crashed over you. You followed his instructions, screaming his name. Calling out for the universe to hear. Making sure everyone knew what you were.
Property of the Doctor.
A few more thrusts and the Doctor followed with a shout, burying his face into your neck. He marked you inside and out, filling you just as you liked. Spurting his come into you and letting it trail down your arse. Leaving you absolutely fucked filthily and ruined for anyone who even thought of trying their luck with you.
“Thank you,” you sighed happily as he helped ease you down off of him. It didn’t take long for him to clean you both up and drag you off to the TARDIS.
He made sure you knew you were his at least five more times that night.
314 notes · View notes
omgstarks · 4 months
Text
The Doctor Will See You Now (Stephen Strange x Reader)
Tumblr media
Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader
Summary: Nervous for your first ob-gyn visit, you meet the handsome Doctor Stephen Strange. As he guides you through the examination, a mix of anxiety and attraction brews.
Warnings: SMUT over 18+ ONLY, semi-public sex, creampie, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving)
AN: Just had my first cervical exam so...
“Hi, I’ve got an appointment at 4:00.” You leaned against the counter while the receptionist behind it typed away at her computer.
“Your name?”
“Y/N, L/N”
“Great, I’ve checked you in. If you can have a seat, one of the doctors will come out and call you.” She gave you a reassuring smile. You took a seat in the waiting room. It was a cold, bright room that was illuminated with harsh LED white lights. In the background, played some local radio station. You were feeling anxious. It would be your first time seeing an ob-gyn, and the thought of being bare from the waist down to a complete stranger was intimidating, even more so if the doctor wasn’t a woman.
You looked around the room to see some other patients of all ages waiting. Mostly women, but a handful of men. It was nice to know some men actually cared about their sexual health.
You waited patiently as patients came and went, scrolling through Instagram to past the time or just sitting alone in your thoughts, periodically skipping through songs on Spotify. Suddenly, the big doors leading to the examination rooms swung open, and a man walked through, clipboard in hand. All eyes followed, hopeful to be the next one called.
The doctor, tall, with a slender figure and dark hair graced by white at his temples, wore navy blue scrubs beneath a white lab coat. He wore a face mask which he took off revealing a sharp jawline and high cheek bones.
“Y/N? Y/N L/N.” He spoke in a low baritone voice, scanning the room. You lifted your hand and quickly grabbed your things, standing up to meet him. His eyes met yours, and smiled.
“Hi, I’m Doctor Stephen Strange, and I’ll be conducting the examination and tests with you.”
“Hi,” you replied, a touch more nervous at the realization that your doctor was a man- even worse, an attractive one at that. He looked slightly older than you, probably in his late 30’s early 40’s But his clean-shaven face and styled hair, made him look younger.
“You can follow me this way.” He held the door open for you to walk through and led you down a hallway. You followed him, watching the white coat billowing behind.
“The room is just down here.” He motioned to the examination room at the end of the hall.
“Just take a seat in the blue chair by the computer, please.” You nodded and took a seat, scanning the room you were in. The room was small and sterile, with white walls and tile floors. A single circular window offered a view of the city below. 
On the wall by the door were a couple of large posters. One with the different forms of contraception and the other an infographic of the female reproductive system. Your eyes scanned the poster, and you felt a slight shiver run down your spine. You knew that this doctor would be examining your reproductive system in just a few minutes, and you couldn't help but feel nervous. He was an attractive man- a part of you just hoped you wouldn't embarrass yourself by doing anything inappropriate during your examination.
Doctor Strange sat at the computer, reading up on your record on the clipboard, and he cleared his throat and met your eyes.
“So, how are you feeling today?"
"Good. Just a little nervous." You admitted.
"That's understandable." Doctor Strange said. "But I promise that I'll make this as comfortable as possible for you." You nodded.
“I just have to ask you some questions before we start. Is that okay?”
“Yes.” You replied. He looked back to his computer and pulled up a long form.
“Can you recall when your last menstrual period was?”
“Umm, about two weeks ago.”
“Normal bleeding?”
“It’s been pretty irregular since I had the implant inserted a couple of months ago. I’ve heard it might just be the hormones?” You fiddle with your thumbs.
“Most likely. The progesterone in Nexplanon often induces variations in the menstrual cycle. But we’ll assess and rule out any potential underlying concerns." A reassuring smile accompanied the explanation.
“Great.”
“Are you currently taking any medication or supplements?” 
“No medication, but I am taking some vitamin D supplements.” This earned a small chuckle from him as he typed. “That’s a good idea during this gloomy time.”
“Just trying anything to combat the seasonal depression.” you joked.
“Maybe I’ll give that a shot.” He smirked.
Doctor Strange continued asking you questions, delving into your medical history and current health. He diligently typed your answers into the computer.
Your eyes flickered down to his fingers with each keystroke. His hands were big and the pads of his fingertips were almost the size of the keys themselves. Your eyes roamed up to the prominent veins etched on his hands, and you wondered how they would might feel pressed against your skin-
“And, when was the last time you had sex?” This took you out of your trance. You choked on your breath, a bit startled by the question. You knew it was routine—a standard procedure at a sexual health clinic. Yet, discussing your sexual history with a stranger felt strangely awkward. It was the kind of conversation you'd normally have with your best friend, someone who knew every detail of your life.
“Oh, um, probably 4 months ago.” The thought of your ex boyfriend brought a bad taste to your mouth.
“Was it oral or vaginal?”
“Both.” You said shyly.
“Both.” He murmured under his breath.
“And was the oral sex female or male receiving?”
“Male.” Unfortunately for me.
“Was this with a partner or casual?” 
“A partner- well, a former partner.”
"I'm sorry to hear that," he expressed sympathy. You shrugged, shaking your head.
"No don’t be. It's actually a blessing, more time for other important things."
"Let me guess... Playing the piano and reading?" you quirked an eyebrow.
"Yes..? How did you—"
He pointed to your purse at your on the floor. "You've got a piano keychain on your purse, plus I’d recognize 1984 anywhere. Just putting two and two together."
"You're quite observant."
"It’s what makes me a good doctor," he responded, the trace of a smile lingering on his lips before he cleared his throat and shifted his attention back to the computer.
“So that’s all the questions. I’m just going to take your height, weight and blood pressure before we proceed with the exam. If you can stand on the scale for me.” He motioned over the scale in the corner of the room. After taking your weight, he showed you where to stand to take your height.
“If I can have you here..” He gently placed his hands on either side of your arms and subtly shifted you to the correct position. Standing close, he measured your height, his baritone voice murmuring softly as he read the numbers above your head. His demeanour, a blend of professionalism and subtle warmth, left an intriguing impression on you. Stepping back, he instructed you to take a seat for the blood pressure test.
You nodded and rolled your sleeve up, exposing one of your tattoos. He rolled his chair towards you, taking your arm and wrapping the blood pressure sleeve around your bicep, his eyes flickering down to your tattoo of a treble and bass clef in the shape of a heart.
"That's a lovely tattoo," he complimented with a smile. "Any special meaning?"
“I just love music.” you chuckled. “So much so I’m doing a masters in NYU in Music Theory.” 
“Impressive.” He commented. “I take it you’re quite skilled at playing instruments.”
“Piano mostly. I could probably make it with the violin and the French horn as I grew up playing those as well.” 
“Quite a range. I have a baby grand at home, though my duties as a doctor don't afford much playing time."
"You must play well. No one just has a baby grand in their home. Maybe you’re just as skilled as I am." you teased, earning a smirk.
"Observant, aren't you?"
"You’re rubbing off on me already," you quipped, realizing right after your unintended flirtation. Fortunately, the blood pressure machine's timely interruption spared you the potential embarrassment of Doctor Strange witnessing your flushed face.
"So- Before we proceed with the examination, let me outline the tests we'll be conducting today. We'll check for STIs like gonorrhoea or chlamydia, BV and thrush, HPV, and perform a pap smear and pelvic exam," he explained.
“Okay.” you replied.
Standing, he moved to the other side of the room, drawing back a yellow curtain to reveal an examination table. A crisp white paper sheet ran down its length, with stirrups at the end for leg support.
“So you’ll need to take everything off from the waist down, lie back on the table, and position yourself at the edge," he instructed, tearing off a piece of the sheet. "Here's a covering for you while you're on the table." You nodded, and as you approached the exam table, he closed the curtain to give you some privacy during the undressing process.
"I'll be back shortly with all the necessary supplies," he assured.
"Okay," You responded, and the door closed behind him as he exited the room.
You positioned yourself by the bed, swiftly removing your pants and underwear. Folding them neatly, you placed them on the chair next to the head of the exam table, subtly concealing your underwear beneath your pants.
As you lay back on the table, draping the paper sheet over the exposed lower half of your body, the realization hit you—this was really happening. Your gaze fixated on the light fixture above, and the door creaked open.
You could hear him on the other side of the curtain, likely organizing the tools needed for the examination.
"Just locking the door to ensure privacy during the exam," he informed.
"Okay." The prospect of being alone with him in a locked room, your lower half exposed, triggered a whirlwind of thoughts. It was probably all routine for him. You’re just another patient.
"All set up. Ready for me to pull back the curtain?" he asked.
“Yes, I’m ready.” He pulled back the curtain, looking down at you as you lay before him. Your eyes met his, and this made your thighs twitch a little. He sat down at the other end, between your legs and pulled the table holding all the supplies towards him. 
"Could you shift a bit more towards the edge?"
"Um, yeah, sure." You attempted to move, struggling a bit due to the stirrups.
“I know, I’m sorry, it can be quite difficult,” he reassured, aiding you by holding the stirrups in place, and his hand subtly grazed your inner calf. Eventually, you managed to shift forward enough for him to proceed.
“Now, I’m just going to lift the table up.” He informed you. The table started to move up until you were almost at eye level with him. You laid back, hearing him putting on latex gloves on his hands.
“Before we begin the exam. I’ll be examining the outside of your vagina to make sure that everything looks okay.” You nodded, and you started to feel your face heat up as he pulled back the paper covering you, exposing your vagina to him. You let out a soft exhale as you felt his warm, gloved fingers open and move your vulva to the side. Before you could think much of it, it was over.
“Everything looks good, now for the swab tests. Again, the first test will be the STI screening test, and I’ll be inserting a swab inside your vagina. Shouldn’t hurt, but please let me know if you feel any discomfort.” 
“Sure.” You nodded. You felt a thin object slide into your vagina with ease. He twisted the swab before removing it and placing it in a test tube.
“Next will be the internal exam, I’ll use the speculum to gently widen your vagina so then I can collect a small sample.” You nodded.
“Have you had an internal exam before?”
“No.”
“Would you like to see what it looks like before I start?” You nodded, and he held up the plastic instrument. It looked quite small initially before he started to open it, showing you how it works.
“This might cause some discomfort, so please don’t hesitate to tell me to stop.”
“Okay..” You breathed, laying back down on the table. Before you knew it, you felt the cold, lubed-up plastic tool sliding into your vagina. You took a sharp breath, and your thighs started to quiver. 
“It’s okay, Y/N. Just breathe.” he spoke in a in a soothing manner. You felt a hand on your inner thigh- like that was going to help you relax any more. Your thighs trembled under his touch, all a mix of nervousness, and discomfort and just a hint of arousal as you felt his thumb lightly caressing your inner thigh. You squeezed your eyes shut, lightly gripping the hem of your shirt, trying to focus on your breathing and not so much the discomfort the speculum was causing. 
“You’re doing well.” He spoke as he inserted the small brush to collect the sample from your cervix, then inserted cotton swabs for the other tests. 
“Just one more..”
The last swab test was done, and Doctor Strange closed the speculum and slid it out of you.
“How are you feeling?” You opened your eyes and nodded.
“I’m okay.”
“Would you like to take a break before I proceed with the pelvic exam?”
“I think I’m okay.”
“This shouldn’t cause much discomfort as the speculum, but I’ll be gentle.” He quickly changed out his gloves for a new pair and squirted some lube on his fingers. He placed a hand on your lower stomach before slowly inserting two fingers into you. Oh god- 
“Tell me if this is okay…”
It was more than fucking okay. Not having sex in 3 months was going to be the death of you.
“I-it’s okay.” you stuttered. His hand started to press into your stomach as his fingers moved in a circular motion, palpating the organs within. You felt a slight pressure, but it was not painful, more like a gentle exploration.
The examination continued, Doctor Strange’s movements were precise yet gentle. As if you were an instrument, he was expertly playing. His fingers were thick and felt amazing inside you. No one- not even your stupid past boyfriends had been able to make you feel like this during sex.
The feeling was getting almost overwhelming for you, and it caused you to roll your head back into the exam table and let out a soft moan. Oh fuck.
The silence was broken, with Doctor Strange clearing his throat and withdrawing his fingers from you.
“I-I am so sorry. I- I didn’t mean to do that. God-” You quickly covered yourself with the sheet in shame. You watch as Doctor Strange removed his gloves with a loud pop from the latex before tossing them into the trash. For a moment, he was silent, as if he was trying to assess the awkward situation you had put on him.
He stood up, quickly glancing over to the locked door, before turning his head back over to you, his eyes scanning your bare legs.
“Are you sure?” You raised an eyebrow at him, confused about what he had meant.
“You said you didn’t mean to do that- but why do I get the feeling you were..enjoying it?”
Your face burned, unable to answer his sudden questioning. You tried to deny it, although deep inside, you know his words to be true.
“The way you looked at me this whole time. The way your body has responded to my every touch. Not to mention how soaking wet you were when I put my fingers inside you. Surely you could feel your arousal dripping onto my table?”
He was now towering over you; his cold blue eyes were darkened with lust. 
“I’m sorry about the table.” You gave him an innocent look, which caused him to smirk.
“No, you’re not.”
He shed his coat, tossing it casually beside your neatly folded pants and underwear. Your eyes couldn't help but trace the contours of his arms sculpted with toned muscles, veins subtly weaving along their sides. A lump formed in your throat as you swallowed, caught in a moment of silent admiration for this god-like man standing before you.
He walked back around to the edge of the table. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him from between your legs. He looked at you before pulling the curtain close and moving the exam table down a bit. 
“I just need a taste.” He groaned, then buried his head between your legs. 
“Oh fuck-” You breathed out, feeling his mouth envelop you. You let out a shaky breath as he found your clit a moved his tongue across it, softly playing with it with the tip of his tongue. He placed each hand on either side of your thigh to hold you open and keep your hips from moving while his mouth worked on you.
“Talk to me, sweetie.” He said before pushing his tongue inside you. 
“Oh my god..” You groaned, your eyes rolling back. You physically couldn’t speak, not properly, that is.
“Tell me how good this feels.”
“It-it feels so good, Doctor-” You managed to say. He pulled his face away from you for a moment, and you looked down at him, the bottom half of his face wet with your slick- which made him even more sexy.
With his fingers, he traced your slit slowly, watching you twitch every time his finger brushed against your clit. 
“Look at you.” He licked his lips as if he was a starved man. “Look how your body responds to me. No one has ever made you like this, have they? Not even your idiot ex-boyfriend who doesn’t know how to eat cunt.” You vigorously shook your head, wanting him to stop talking and continue where he had left off. You were close, and somehow you knew that he knew that.
“Please. I need more.” You moaned.
He carefully pushed his finger into you, his eyes never leaving yours. He added another finger, watching you carefully, and he curled his fingers up to caress your g-spot. He moved his fingers back and forth in this motion, finding arousal not only from your body but your reactions.
“I can see you’re close, sweetie. Don’t hesitate. Give me a taste of your sweet nectar.”
He leaned back in and found your clit easily- sucking hard then flicking his tongue against the small sensitive bud that immediately sent you over the edge. 
You let out a choked groan, hips buckling against his face as you came and flooded his mouth with your cum.
He removed his mouth from you, and you looked down at him, seeing your arousal drip from his chin. His mouth twitched up in a small smile as he stood. He grabbed the end of his shirt to remove it in one fell swoop. 
“No- wait.” you stopped him. His eyes quickly flicked with concern.
“Um...Can you leave it on..?” He gave you a look of confusion before understanding what you were asking of him.
“Are you saying you want me to fuck you with my scrubs on?”
You nodded shyly, wanting to fulfil the fantasy of fucking a Doctor.
He hid his wide smile and shook his head in disbelief. “Ohh, you dirty girl.” He pushed the waistband of his pants down to his mid-thigh, and you watched his cock, sprang up from out of his boxers. My God was he was thick. When you thought the speculum opened you up too wide, you wondered how his cock would feel stuffed inside you.
“Is this okay?” The lust from his eyes disappeared for a moment when he asked. You reassured him with a nod. 
“All I want is you right now, Doctor.” his eyes darkened once again, and he lined the thick head of his cock at your entrance, using some of your cum as lube. He put one hand on your knee and the other on the base of his cock to steady himself as he pushed inside you. You squeezed your breast as he moved slowly, inch by inch. 
“Shit-” He breathed once he was sheathed inside of you. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his breathing shallowed.
“Are you okay?” He asked once again. 
“I-I’m fine. You’re just too big.” The corner of his mouth twitched, almost like he was proud of his size. Who wouldn’t be?
He rubbed your lower stomach soothingly, saying, “Just breathe, relax your core for me.” You nodded, trying to relax until the pain started to transition into pleasure.
“Okay, you can start moving now.” He nodded. He pulled his hips back a little, watching his cock inch out of you before pushing himself back into your heat. He continued this slow, shallow pace until he could move in with ease.
“Fuck-” You allowed yourself a soft moan, letting your head roll back from his thrusts.
“God, you’re so tight I might actually cum.” He stilled, moving his hands across your legs and touching your skin. 
“I don’t mind.” You winked teasingly.
“And cut all of this short? I’ll fuck you all day if I could.” Your face warmed up at the idea. He rocked his hips back and forth, holding you by your legs to pull you into him. You gripped the sides of the examination table, letting out a guttural groan with his every thrust. You didn’t know it was possible to feel this much pleasure.
“I’m so close, Doctor.”
“Stephen. Call me Stephen.” 
“Cum with me, Stephen, please.” You begged, watching him fuck you in an animalistic nature.
“Oh, Y/N-” After a couple of thrusts, you felt his cock throb inside your walls at the same time, the pressure in your stomach began to roll over. Gripping your thighs tight, he thrust into you one more time as deep as he could, letting his cock pump his cum into you.
His head fell back as his orgasm coursed through him, wave after wave, until Stephen filled you up to the brim. You felt the slick of your combined arousal leak out of you, dripping down between your ass.
He ground his hips to keep his cum from spilling out completely. He looked up from where you two met, and you reciprocated his exhausted smile. Your eyes were glassy with tears from the intense orgasm that had left your body and thighs shaking. His chest heaved deeply with each intake of breath.
Whilst still inside you, Stephen carefully moved your legs from off the stirrups, placing them down on the tabletop carefully. He got on top of you carefully to hold you for just a moment.
He lifted his head to look at you, sweaty and dishevelled. He leaned down to give you a kiss. You could still taste yourself on his lips, but it didn’t matter.
“We should do this again.” You broke the silence as he pulled his softening cock out of you. You groaned softly, suddenly feeling empty.
“Oh sweetie, give me at least 10 minutes before we start again.” He laid by your side with a deep groan.
“No, I mean in general, old man.” You teased. “I want to do this again sometime.” 
“Come over for dinner tonight, and I can show you more.” his lips curled into a teasing smile.
“Like your baby grand?” He let out a deep laugh. “Only if you promise to play something for me.”
“Fuck me good, and we’ll see.”
“Oh baby, there’s no doubt about that.” He smirked, pulling you into another deep kiss again. A thought popped into your head, and you pushed him back gently.
“By the way, was everything good..you know, down there?” He responded with a light-hearted chuckle to your unexpected inquiry and gave you a kiss on your temple. 
“Yes, you're perfectly healthy.”
246 notes · View notes
Text
Treat You 2
Warnings: dark elements, noncon, violence, mentions of abuse, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Tall!reader)
Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.
Part of The Club AU
Tumblr media
Right before you leave, you notice the young barista in his jacket with a canvas knapsack slung over his shoulder. You keep your head down as you leave the porcelain mug on the counter and head out. It’s been about two hours, spent sipping cold tea and dreading your return home.
As you come out onto the street, the wind billows around you violently. The autumn whips at your clothing as you cling to the collar of your jacket to keep it out You shiver as leaves crunch under your soles and those of other pedestrians hurrying by. 
You turn onto the street with the night club. A few employees disappear behind the heavy doors as they prepare to start the evening shift. The sky dims with each step, shadows pooling beneath parked cars and behind light poles.
You turn your head, sensing something looming behind you. Your heart picks up and you turn straight again. Once more you look across the street, searching for one of the burly bouncers. There’s a man in his black jacket but he’s thoroughly distracted by a girl with a stuffed animal in her arms, waving at him as she noisily chatters.
You veer towards the curb, acting as if you’re going to cross, taking the excuse to look up and down the street. There’s no one there, just you and your paranoia. Why are you so afraid of the dark when your father’s waiting for you at home?
You shudder and carry on. Another day wasted hiding away. You’ll have to catch up on your projects tonight. Your job isn’t much but it’s the only one you could find without college. Even Dairy Queen didn’t call you back. Online work captioning videos; simple enough but pays about the same.
As you reach your street, you peek over your shoulder again. It’s as if your steps are in a perpetual echo yet no one’s there. You’re tired. It’s been a long, endless day. The rude awakening of your father breaking dishes had your adrenaline spike too early.
You dig out your keys and find the grated front door on the old brick walkup. You shoulder inside, your heel hitting the door and kicking it wider. You drag your feet and wait for the heavy door to slam. It doesn’t. Not when you think it will.
It sounds almost like someone caught the door. You stop at the base of the stairwell and look back. Again, no one.
You shake your head and continue on. You brace yourself for what comes next. Down the hall, you stop at the door. You listen and hear the television blaring. Gently, you slide the key into the slot and twist.
Quiet, quiet. You enter and take off your shoes on the matter. You unzip your coat as your father’s lounge chair creaks. You tiptoe by the doorway of the front room, head bowed.
“That you?” He growls.
You stop short, “dad.”
“Where ya been? Staying out late.”
“It’s six.”
“I didn’t ask the time,” he retorts.
“Sorry–”
“Place stinks. You didn’t take the trash out.”
You look at him as he sits in the glare of the television. The old 60s serial plays loudly as his eyes don’t leave the screen. It’s like he’s hypnotised by the screen. He’s docile like this, distracted.
“I’ll take it out.”
“Damn right you will. I’m fucking starving too. Been waiting on my dinner since five.”
“Okay, dad, I’ll make some Kraft Dinner,” you offer.
“Put some hot dogs in it,” he demands.
“Well, dad, we gotta save those so we have dinner tomorrow–”
“Shut up!” He whips his beer can at you, its contents splashing over the carpet, “I bought the damn things so do what I fucking tell you.”
His voice thunders louder with each word. You push your shoulders up and shrink down, “I will, I will. I’ll get the trash first.”
“You come in her, back talking me, after you made me fucking WAIT!”
“Dad, please–”
“One more word and I’m going to get out of my fucking chair,” he warns.
You back away. It’s better to just do what he says. You won’t ever tell him you paid for the groceries that week since he didn’t have enough for the electric. No, he can sit in his beer-stained throne as you play his jester.
You tie up the garbage bag and pull it out of the bin. You carry it to the door and angle it out into the hall. It smells like cigarette butts and something rancid. As you come out, you nearly walk straight into someone else.
You wince and press yourself to the door as you shut it behind you. You blink as you recognise the man. How could that be possible?
“Uh, sorry, do you know where 2F is? I’m just dropping something off for my buddy’s nan,” the barista asks. 
Does he not know you? Maybe you overestimated his kindness. Why would he remember you? He just sees a customer to coax a tip out of. You are so dumb.
“I…” you point down the hall. It’s right around the corner but you didn’t know an old woman lived there. You suppose you don’t pay much attention to your neighbours.
“Thanks, I… you know me, right? Peter, from the cafe?”
Oh, he does remember.
You shrug and look down at the garbage in your hand. “Hey, you want me to take that? I’m just slipping what I got in the slot before I head back out so–”
You shake your head and sidle away from him. It feels like too much of a coincidence but you’re well assured that you could never be that special to anyone. He wouldn’t follow you there. Just like your father says, you’re stupid and ugly and worthless.
“Alright, well, I hope you have a good night,” he chimes, “maybe I’ll see you on my way out.”
You don’t say anything as you turn and quickly carry the garbage down the hall. It’s not just the stench wanting you to get it out of there. You go down the stairs without looking back and burst out into the brisk evening.
You go around the side of the building and swing the bag into the dumpster. You’ll have to go right back up or your dad will lose it. At least you can use that as an excuse if you see that guy again. ‘Sorry, gotta make dinner.’
157 notes · View notes
urcursebreaker · 5 months
Text
burning body waiting. (ellie williams x fem!reader)
warnings for this chapter: 18+ content, graphic violence/gore/blood and animal death.
chapter 1: blood-soaked beauty
Tumblr media
ᖭི༏ᖫྀ
The floorboard creaks under your featherlight footing. You drag yourself to a fluid halt, cautiously analyzing the drab sunroom.
The crooked, off-kilter shelf; a ratty, blood-crusted sheet draped over it. A murky puddle of rain water reflecting the forlorn, dim winter sun, plumes of old motor oil dancing in an iridescent swirl. A lopsided, rusty tricycle. A pile of chipped cement bricks.
Nothing of use; and no one to hear your misstep.
You exhale shakily, resuming your calculated strides. You shuck the grimy, makeshift curtain away from the shelf, deftly pocketing a stray razor blade and half-used roll of duct tape.
After surveying the room and gathering what you need, you shove through the dry-rotted back door, the frigid breeze cascading through your unbound hair.
"Shit," your teeth clatter over the curse; the cold, penetrative rain aiming spears of ice straight through your bones.
You tighten the soiled fur-lined coat you had stolen from your brother around your frame, adjusting the shotgun slung over your shoulder. The rain soaks through the corduroy and saps your hair to your face.
You shield your eyes from the ferocious patter of rain and give the collapsing back porch a brisk once over, before making a run for the darkening tree line.
Mel had informed you of a vacant trailer park they'd encountered on their last sweep, just through the thick of the dense forestry. They'd killed the lingering infected on their way through, a few runners feeding on the steaming carcass of a horse.
She assured you there were no live cordyceps in the area, so they'd deemed it safe enough for you to loot it alone, as long as you returned to base before night descended and followed the precautions they established after Nora's death.
This was the final step of your initiation into the WLF; endure a loot run, alone, and with minimal supplies. Then you were officially one of them.
You and your brother had arrived in Seattle a month and a half ago, where you were grudgingly taken in by the Wolves after incidentally stumbling into one of their self-made traps.
After confirming you weren't a Seraphite, they'd permitted you shelter in exchange for your faithful camaraderie and proof of your usefulness. Which, even after all this time, you were still laboriously proving. You had to double your efforts to solidify your value in order to compensate for your brother.
He had his own beneficial qualities, but his blindness limited him to organizing and rationing stock, refurbishing broken supplies, and cleaning everyone's weaponry. Nobody wanted to risk sending him on a mission when there was a highly probable chance he wouldn't make it back.
So you had to act as two people when exploring the outside world.
The canopy of leaves give you decent coverage from the relentless rain as you move swiftly through the heavy greenery. The sun would set in precisely two hours, granting you sparsely half an hour to get to and search the sight.
The thought itself sends you into greater motion. You break into a sprint, hopping over fallen, mold-shrouded logs and winding around the towering, western pines, until the rain mutes to a dull sprinkle.
The trees eventually open up to unveil an expansive clearing. About a dozen overgrown, warped mobile homes dot the field, shadowed by swaying tall grass and curling canary.
You stop idly to catch your breath and do a cautionary visual sweep of your surroundings. It's all nearly peaceful; the distant span of rolling mountains. Silence, but the water dripping gently off the leaves, the bristle of the dew speckled grass. Wet vines billowing with the wind.
You rummage through the first few without difficulty; they were filthy and crumbling, but free of any infected or evidence of death. The trailer park was likely abandoned in the wake of the outbreak.
You collect an impressive variety of canned foods; beans, corn and even a dented can of mandarin oranges, alongside a few rolls of toilet paper and a box of unopened bandaids. You even found a collapsed bookshelf and salvaged a few books, snagging one for yourself to indulge in during your watch shift. You only allow yourself the selfish luxury as a celebration for you upcoming place among the WLF, once you return with the goods.
You begin to search the fourth to last trailer, this one partially seeping into the sunken, mossy earth and caving at the roof. Half of it was obstructed by the collapsed ceiling, but in the reachable area you find a toolbox under the sink, dump the miscellaneous screws and bolts into your backpack, and hook the baby hammer you find to the belt loop of your worn, bootcut Levi's.
You slip out of the trailer once you gather the necessities. A mockingbird chirps, it's tweet eerily reminiscent of a human whistle, it's wings beating overhead as it soars across the field and into the encompassing trees. You wipe your dusty, damp palms on your pants uncomfortably, glancing around before regaining your footing and making your way toward the neighboring trailer.
You're vigilant as you scan the interior, the birds song unsettling you deeply. It rung as if it were warning you; as if it were fleeing. You make sure to take the apple-cutting knife you spot on the counter.
You were sidling out of the derailed door when you heard it, plainly and resolutely; a sharp whistle from your left.
You freeze. Your hand subconsciously jerking to your holster.
Silence.
The pines creak. The grass wisps faintly.
Another whistle, this one long, melodic, and from your right; closer.
You duck into the brush, your heart hammering wildly against your chest. You withdraw your gun, fishing the stray bullets out of your pocket, loading it with trembling fingers.
The grass rustles forcefully from both sides, followed by a series of coded whistles, all nearing by the second. Your breaths heave from your lips in panicked spurts, as you crawl under the latticed underbelly of the trailer, mud plastering to your elbows, your brothers coat.
Seraphites. Fucking Seraphites.
You'd rather it be a herd of infected.
Especially when you hear a dog's frantic, frothing string of furious barks.
"She was just over here. She can't be far," a male voice boom's authoritatively, too close for comfort. "She's close."
The mud must be deflecting the dogs of your scent, as you can make out their nearby blood-thirsty sniffing. You quietly lather it on your face, smearing it all over your exposed skin, suppressing your labored breathing.
Two Seraphites enter the trailer you're tucked beneath. The floor screeches precariously under their footing, inching closer to where you lay. You shimmy toward the small gap on the opposing side of the crawlspace, accidentally slicing your cheek on a stranded, dangling pipe in your attempt to avoid them.
You grimace, stifling the whimper rising in your throat, the split searing your cheek, hot blood leaking down your face.
It's only a few seconds later when the previously sedated, off-course dogs begin to bark ravenously, harmonizing as they bound for you in a frenzy.
They must've smelled the blood.
You curse openly now, clambering for the small opening, shredding it open with your adrenaline-piqued strength, stumbling to your feet and dashing down the hill.
"There she is!" Someone hollers, followed by a stampede of Seraphites hurdling behind you, gunshots renting the evening air.
Bullets whistle by in whirs as you stagger zig-zaggedly away from them, the dogs barking intensifying as they speed through the slick grass.
"Fuck," you seethe, tearing through the terrain, toppling down the hill, nearly losing your balance. You manage to shoot over your shoulder without falling, clipping a Seraphite on her waist, sending her plummeting to the ground.
More resounding gunshots. Exchanged shouts. One of the dog emits a loud, wounded whimper.
You run far and fast enough that you lose the dogs for a couple of minutes. You press yourself against a wide berthed tree and breathe raggedly, painfully, rubbing a heap of mud onto your gash, blanketing the blood in it.
You barely have time to catch your breath when a twig snaps to your left.
And you barely have time to react before a body is pummeling into you, knocking you to the rain-sullen floor, eliciting a grunt out of you.
You blindly wrestle the man off of you, stabbing him directly in the gut with the knife you'd thieved. He gets a powerful punch in despite the wound you'd inflicted, your head reeling back, slamming into rock.
The world spins around you, blood coats your tongue, but you stab him again, twisting it up and penetrating an organ, a guttural scream tearing through his throat. It weakens him enough that you manage to shove his body weight off of you, and he rolls onto the wet moss with a thud.
He reaches weakly for your ankle, and you flip the knife, bringing it down on his skull with a deafening, sickening crunch, as it spears through scalp and drills through bone.
You don't bother beholding the gruesome scene or dislodging your new weapon from his head; you turn away from the act you'd committed and hobble away, vision distorted and mind fogged from the impact of his attack.
You slip the fully loaded shotgun off your shoulder and cock it, creeping back toward where you had fled. If you didn't kill them all now, they'd track you back to the base.
There were five that chased and fired at you; two of which were accompanied by a hellhound. One of the dogs was seemingly injured in the crossfire, leaving one dog, and four Seraphites, if you exclude the woman you'd momentarily impaired. The man you killed must've been stationed in the woods, meaning there had to be more located somewhere.
You do all the calculations mentally, your shoulders strung high in alert, eyes feverishly darting around, assessing the vicinity. The sun was setting, darkness eclipsing the trees.
Another cycle of distant gunshots ricochet through the forest, from where you had run. No dogs barked. Everything around you remained unmoving. Your fear had taken you far.
Eventually, you arrive back to the yawning field. The trailers were pierced with steaming bullet holes, blood spattering the rusted metallic sidings. Three Seraphites stand back to back in the opening, including the pixie-cutted woman you'd shot, muttering apprehensively amongst themselves.
You crouch behind a bush, aiming at the cluster of people. One of the dogs lay unmoving and rigid, face-up in the grass, a puddle of blood accumulating around its body. Your brow pinches in bewilderment as you notice a Seraphite girl sprawled lifelessly beside it.
And another one, by the feet of one of the living soldiers, his gun clutched tautly to his chest. He flickers his gaze around dubiously, frightfully, mimicking yours and the others confusion.
You take advantage of their preoccupation with their uncounted for enemy and lock in on the befuddled man, zeroing in on his head. You steady your hold, let it linger on him, before pulling the trigger.
It blasts through him, brains and blood exploding through the air, birds flocking from the trees with high-pitched guffaws. You'd already vacated your spot when the other two began listlessly shooting in that direction.
You seek new lodging behind an abandoned CRV, studying them from a new angle. You zone in on one of the women, finger hovering over the trigger, when two gunshots erupt. Seamlessly killing each of them.
You hesitate for a brief second, before deigning to head back the way you had come, not wanting to cross paths with the dangerous, exceptional force that had swept in and took each of them down one by one.
The past gunshots ring perilously, hazily in your ears. You lethargically flick the drying mud off of your face, trudging through the forest, still wary of any potential threat, as the person who'd been capable of single-handedly decimating that entire group of Seraphites was still wandering through these woods somewhere with the knowledge you were alive.
You're nearing the old farmhouse you were scavenging earlier when a soft, hesitant, questioning whistle sends you halting in place. You tuck yourself behind a tree, scouting for the source of the noise. They repeat the whistle, more insistently.
You shift to step out from behind the tree when a calloused hand clasps over your mouth, steering you into a lithe, toned body. You struggle against the firm, strapping grasp, hot breath fanning your ear.
"Quiet." A soft, raspy female voice murmurs lowly. Arm secured around your waist, anchoring you to her blood-soaked front. Her words tickle your cheek as she whispers, "We're not alone."
You reluctantly concede, only lightly squirming in her oppressive hold. Fearing that if you refuse to comply, she'll aim her wrath at you next. Loathing that she can feel the trepidation emanating through you, the rapid thundering of your heart against her arm.
Boots rifle through the damp leaves, the hushed footing sloshing through mud. Your wheezy breathing escalates as your unknown captor leisurely maneuvers around the tree, grasp on you unyielding as she expertly avoids the prying Seraphite.
"Shh. Easy now." The woman mutters with lethal, calm calculation. The soft, fatal edge filtering her tone sending an unexpected, quavering shudder through your icy body.
You nod stiffly under her sweaty palm, and she marginally appeases her bone-crushing grip on you. She slowly, deliberately removes her hand from your mouth, absentmindedly dragging it down your chin, her rough fingers ghosting your jaw.
You anxiously glance down to find your heels on top of her scuffed boots and stumble off of her in alarm. Her hand catches your waist, grave-cold digits inching up your jacket, clawing at bare skin, as she yanks you back behind the tree.
You make to glance at her in a conjunction of gratitude and terror, but she had dissipated seamlessly, whirring by like a vengeful phantom in the night as she stations herself behind an adjacent tree, back plastered to the moss-cushioned, sappy trunk. Elaborately designed switchblade in hand.
She eyes her target, deadpan, excluding the twitch of her bruised under eye. She presses a trembling finger to her chapped lips, slicing a cautionary glare at you.
You sardonically hold your breath, emphatically puffing your cheeks, and you swear you discern an amused lilt to her lips. Or perhaps it was just the waning, dimming sun light, glazing over her slim figure, quelling dancing shadows across her battered face.
Whatever it was vacuumed out of her face, overcome by a grim, stoic solidity, when the Seraphite inched hesitantly in her direction. She creeps around the base of the tree as he rounds it, leisurely prowling up to him.
It happens briskly, lightening-quick— you blink and she was fisting his unruly hair and hauling him back, baring his throat to her— which she drills through efficiently and relentlessly, blood spraying in jagged spurts, sprinkling her wrath-warped face.
Another whistle cuts distantly through the humid air.
She's already slipping through the night-shrouded greenery before he even falls, his gurgled, floundering whimpers following him down as he thuds to the ground, blood still sputtering out of him, large frame twitching.
She disappears through the vast darkness of impending nightfall, her bloodied knife glinting faintly, distantly in the minute moonlight, as she takes determined strides toward the source of the second whistle.
Horror clutches your heart and squeezes unabashedly as you linger, the man's lifeless body still pulsating with the remnants of life it harbored.
You cast a suspecting glance around, the brush tranquilly silent, death idling in the dampened air.
And then you throttle back the way you were originally headed, wanting to put as much space between you and the ominous woman as tangibly possible, in case she returned, regretting keeping you alive.
You don't make it very far.
An arrow soars through the air and strikes the back of your thigh, puncturing flesh, narrowly missing the bone. Searing, white-hot pain bursts through your body as you slam to the ground with a sharp cry— your scream ricocheting through the trees.
You clamber for purchase, using your arms to crawl through the dense mud, dragging your injured leg dejectedly. The pain scathing, shooting up your body in fissures of agony, as you seethe through your teeth, the full arrow protruding from your skin.
You hear the whistle of a second arrow and duck. It spears through the earth inches from your head. You speed up, using your unwounded knee to push you forward, colorful dots edging your vision.
Twigs snap all around; muffled shouts resounding through the forest, an electric current of danger thrumming through your numbing body, as you drag yourself weakly, futilely.
You halt under a curling, dripping fern, fumbling for the arrow gauging your thigh. You take a few deep, alleviating breaths, before ripping it from your leg, stifling a scream at the scathing pain. Crimson saturates your pants, blooming in a dark pool.
Seraphites are storming by urgently, mud flicking off their boots. You remain unnoticed by a quad of them that hurdle by.
For a couple minutes it's silent. You don't move, afraid that if you shift even slightly, you won't be able to suppress the noise that would leave you at the blistering, twinging agony.
You think you're remotely safe, shielded from searching eyes, superficial wound already sealing.
That is before your head is unexpectedly cracked against something colossal, and your wisked away into a world of unfathomable darkness.
ᖭི༏ᖫྀ
Drip.
Your finger twitches, pulse thumping in the pads.
Drip.
Your heartbeat thunders through your skull, the drumming nearly muffling the faint noise. Your face spasms; the mobility slowly begins creeping in, though your mind has been reduced to a vacant chamber of incoherence.
Drip.
The hairs on the back of your neck stiffen. A keen awareness begins to slither back into your numbed body; you're not alone. Your mind may be buzzing, it's cognition still restoring by the second, but your body tingles under watchful eyes. You remain frozen.
Until a boisterous crackle sends you lunging up, triggering a sharp intake of breath. You gasp for air, shaking violently, your vision still murky from earlier's collision.
Through your fragmented sight and a stream of dense smoke, you decipher a red figure. They hover just across from you, the small, roaring fire the only barrier dividing you from the eerily, predatorily still stranger.
You blink rapidly, disorient. "Who are you?" you bleat, voice hoarse with misuse. You attempt to lift your hands as a last resort of protection, to find them bound in front of you. You wriggle them senselessly, panic bubbling in your chest, the thick, tethered rope rubbing your skin raw.
The figure's head tilts inquisitively. "Who are you." A husky, feminine voice drawls.
That voice...
You gulp, saliva syrupy like molasses. It's the girl; you knew from the way her voice alone sent a bolt of hot, electrifying shivers up your spine. "You," you breathe softly, licking your teeth, the taste of your own blood relinquishing on your tongue. "You're the girl. You helped me."
The figure straightens, rigid, arm dangling off her thigh as she crouches before the fire. Though you can't directly see her eyes through the haze, you can feel her gaze penetrating through you, prying you apart piece by piece.
She's silent for a moment, before picking up a stick and delicately prodding the flames, the smoke lightly defusing, the embers flickering. "I was going to kill them all anyway." She informs blithely, shrugging with one bandaged shoulder.
You could see her clearer than before, now; she was doused head to toe in crimson. Blood billowed down her sharp face, dripping to the floor in slow but ferocious spatters. The blood accentuated the verdant-blue of her crystalline eyes, dull and piercing yours. "I could tell you weren't one of them. And I don't kill just for the fuck's of it."
You sit in uneasy silence, studying her outline apprehensively. She withdraws her switchblade from her pocket and continues, "Which raises the question; if you aren't one of them, who are you?" She asks conspicuously, as if to herself, as she begins sharpening the blade.
You hesitate, your mouth dry as you reluctantly offer her your name. You know better than to share anything beyond that; the WLF had everyone under lockdown. Abby believes Nora's murder was a targeted, vengeful attack, and had warned all of you not to disclose your ties, in case you stumble upon someone who knows the killer.
"Do you move alone?" The woman interrogated unabashedly, peering down at the knife as she ran a dirty rag across its shiny surface.
"No," you admit, swallowing harshly, shaking your head. "It's me and my brother. He's blind, so I go out and get supplies, he protects our stuff."
Half truths are the most believable lies.
"Where did you two come from?"
"Ohio," you respond baldly. "We left with our family, but. It's just us now."
She pauses to assess you for a moment. "I lost someone too." She mutters, haunt dwindling in her eyes.
It's your turn to analyze her. Even caked in grime and unapologetically coated in her victims blood, she was beautiful. Her mussed auburn hair was partially tied back out of her angular face, her features neatly carved like a statues, emphatic and naturally alluring. Her eyes were a brewery, swirling with color and indistinguishable emotion, framed by expressive eyebrows, one of them slitted.
Maybe it's wrong to look at her— the woman who'd shamelessly, brutally wiped out dozens of people before your eyes— and notice these things.
But you've always been an optimist.
You can tell by the wariness glinting in her eyes that she doesn't share that sentiment.
"I'm sorry to hear that," you whisper sincerely, sorrowfully, gulping down the lump of emotion cementing in your throat.
She glances away, her jaw clenching. A muscle spasms in her blood-spattered neck. "Yeah," she whispers tightly, the word emitting from her lips in an unintentional seethe. "Yeah, I'm sorry too."
There's an awkward duration of silence.
"So..." you snort, and she startles at the noise, glancing up at you in bewilderment. Her swampy blue gaze roving over your slick face. "Can you maybe untie me now?" You lift your bound wrists in emphasis, arching a brow, trying to appear undeterred by her astute stare.
Her eyes brighten vaguely. "Why? You don't like it?" She teases monotonously, a frail smirk tugging at her cracked lips. Your cheeks tingle with warmth at the insinuation, and you shift, coyly angling your face away from the blood-soaked beauty.
"Not when it's against my will, no," you respond, half-quipping.
"But when it's not?" She raises a challenging brow, that sort-of smirk still pulling at her lips.
Against your better judgement, a conclave of butterflies erupt in your stomach, fluttering around. It's evident that she's just joking, which, in contrast to her rumpled, grizzly appearance, is funny in itself. The fear you felt around her from before seems to have dissipated and been replaced by a morbid curiosity.
"Untie me and try again. We'll find out."
"Huh," she coughs out a sheepish laugh, sliding her thumb across her lip, ridding the blood that had dripped there. She's silent for a moment, before pointedly clearing her throat. "That wound was pretty gnarly." Her voice comes out in a ragged breath.
You smile to yourself at her sudden timidity, glancing down at your thigh. Crimson blossomed through the bandage enveloping your wound— she must've dressed it herself, when you were unconscious. Which means she must've also...
"Did you carry me here?" You question in disbelief. She must be insurmountably strong if she was able to move your dead weight...
"Yeah," she clears her throat again, eyes uncertainly darting between you and her blemished green backpack. She grazes a finger over a tiny spaceship pin clipped to the front contemplatively. "It wasn't very far from where you dropped."
"Ah," you chirp airily, nodding slowly, watching her unzip the front pouch and unveil a sack of cashews. "Well... thanks."
She hums noncommittally, tossing the sack of nuts to you. You eye her warily, awaiting her curt nod of confirmation, before ripping it open and gratefully popping a couple in your mouth. She watches you eat mutely, blankly.
A gentle stream of dewy morning sunlight begins to beam through the torn netting of the rusted window, softly illuminating your previously shadowed surroundings. It's the garage of the farmhouse you were looting before.
The loot.
Your chewing slows, and you cast your gaze around frantically in search of your bag. And your guns. They're no where to be found.
"I left all your stuff there," the girl states knowingly, shrugging at the look of pure panic on your face. "It was too heavy for me to carry both you and you're stuff. We'll go back for it once the sun rises."
The implication she'd be accompanying you made a part of you uneasy; but on the other hand, you were thankful you wouldn't have to relocate your things all alone.
"Okay..." you reply dubiously, flexing your bound wrists, the muscles beginning to ache. "When am I getting these off? It's not like I can hurt you. I'm unarmed."
She shoves off the concrete and to her feet with a soft grunt, absentmindedly rubbing her side, wincing at her own touch. She shoulders her bag, smiling down at you wolfishly. The orange glare of the dimming fire reflects off her blood-stained face. "Not yet."
ᖭི༏ᖫྀ
You examine your reflection in the rippling water. A cracking layer of mud mutates your face, greases your hair. You cup a handful of oil-contaminated water and splash it into your face, rubbing vigorously, the now wet rope heavy against your wrists.
Sunlight gleams through the overhead awning of leaves, ricocheting off the water. The morning birds chime in benign song; the rest of the encompassing world silent, save for the gurgling of the stream. Fog creeps in from the distant forestry; dew speckles the frost-tipped grass.
You pat the dampness from your eyes with your sleeve and glance at the woman. She's half-submerged in the pond, plumes of blood roiling off of her, tainting the water a murky crimson. She scrubs her blood-crusted arms vehemently, grimacing, pointedly disregarding you.
You waltz over to the large, upturned rock where she'd draped her coat, moving slowly and methodically as to not disengage her from her trance. You toss your coat down beside it and unlace your boots, setting them aside, eyes trained on her carefully, still afraid that one wrong move could send her lurching.
On the trek here, she'd been passive and silent, her face ghoulish and tense. It was as if with the rise of dawn came the fall of her peace; there was tension in her jaw, and determination in her strides. Though she'd been the one to suggest accompanying you, she seemed suddenly inconvenienced by it, like she was in a haste to finally be rid of you.
Which, gladly. You didn't want to be tied up and leashed around any more than she wanted you trailing her and nosing her plans.
She may have helped you, nursed you back to health, but you didn't forget what she was capable of; the mass destruction at her singular hands.
You wanted to remain on her good side, or whatever side emboldened her to save you, for as long as you could; at least until you were released from her clutches.
You peel off your socks and keep the rest of your clothes on— a soiled green camisole and blood-stained Levi's— and hesitantly breach the shore of the cold water, creeping toward her unsurely. You gasp quietly when the icy water rises to your midriff, raising your goose-pimpled arms over the surface, teeth clattering.
"How are you not freezing!?" You yelp as you dive into a breaststroke, swimming past her, shivers wracking your body. You spin around and float on your back, exhaling obnoxiously. It's hard to move without using your arms, but you manage to keep yourself afloat with just your legs.
She glances at you furtively, her eyes flickering between your face and your chest, before chagrinly dropping back to her arm. "It's not bad," she mumbles mundanely, her skin raw and blistering from her violent scrubbing.
You notice a bold tattoo curling over the length of her forearm. Curiously, you inch nearer to her, taking in the ink. It's a detailed moth atop
a long, winding fern.
"Cool tat," you chirp, absentmindedly extending a finger and lightly caressing the thick line of ink. She stiffens but doesn't recoil, her lowered eyes meeting yours uncertainly.
"Thanks," she says gruffly, simply, retracting her hand, eyeing you for a prolonged second before returning to her scrubbing. This time she soaks a cloth she must've cut from her shirt. She half-heartedly sweeps her hair off her neck and runs it down her back, blood beading off in loud droplets.
You take a step back and fully duck yourself into the water; despite its nearly debilitating chill, it was refreshing— the mud and blood flaking off and floating in particles around you. You aggressively massage the water into your hair, digging out the caked-up grime to the best of your ability with your bound wrists partially disabling you.
You break the surface with a gentle gasp for air and find the woman staring at you. Except this time, instead of sheepishly breaking your gaze, her stare remains resolute. Her eyes leisurely rove over your face, where water drips languidly from your lashes and scars brand your skin, and down your chest, where your nipples are peaked from the cold.
You feel them harden further at her gaze, as it seems to indulgently trace the shape of them. You swear you detect a hitch in her otherwise steady breathing before her eyes wander, slowly, back up to your face, darkening when they meet yours.
She doesn't say anything, her now mainly bloodless face masterfully blank. You tentatively take a couple steps closer, the ground rough and littered beneath your feet, until she's practically peering down at you. Freckles form a vast constellation on her cheeks and nose, a light smattering dusting her face. A nearly microscopic scar mars her lip.
"You never told me your name," you say pointedly, raising a brow, projecting an illusion of confidence. Her eyes dart to the roguish smile splaying on your lips, and you lick them subconsciously, the rancid tang of dirty water dissolving on your tongue. "You know mine. Doesn't seem fair."
She contemplates you for a second, craning her chin up, donning a faint smirk of her own. "Ellie."
You sink deeper into the water, shielding the entire upper half of your body, peaking up at her. "Well, Ellie," you taste her name on your tongue, drawling it out deliberately, precisely, as you attempt to swim backwards. "It's not very easy to swim with no hands."
"Then stop swimming." She states matter-of-factly, and you roll your eyes, gliding towards the shore nonetheless.
But on the way up, your knee grazes something sharp, and you hiss a curse, wincing internally. You dip your fingers into the water and fumble for the object, forcefully yanking it out of the mud where it's lodged.
It's a thick shard of glass.
You glance over your shoulder at Ellie, blissfully unaware and dragging the cloth down her reddened face, before pocketing it covertly and marching up the shore.
You linger for a moment, water dripping out of your hair and off your seeping body, before wringing out as much as you could and calling, "Gonna go piss, be right back!"
Ellie doesn't respond. You take that as your cue to go, hurrying through the dense tree line and crouching behind a hefty bush. You strain your neck to peak at her through the branches, assuring yourself she's still preoccupied, before pulling out the shard and sawing into the rope.
You saw and saw and saw, slowly but surely cutting through the rope, its grip loosening by the second.
A twig snaps behind you.
You swivel around swiftly, freezing in horror as Ellie stares down at you, her switchblade unsheathed. You hadn't heard her wading through the water; she'd moved silently and stealthily.
Her face is blank, that expertly devoid expression she'd tailored when hunting down those Seraphites plastered on.
She reers the knife back, the only sign of life the twitch of her upper lip. You close your eyes and brace for the impact; this was it. You should've played the long game, gained her trust, earned your freedom. Now she was going to slaughter you like the rest.
You flinch at the grunt that tears through her lips as she brings the blade down.
Only instead of agony, blade breaking flesh, your hands snap to the ground, free of unbearable tension.
You fearfully squint down at your wrists; the rope now split in half, cuffing your wrists but no longer knotted before you. You stretch them apart, rolling your shoulders, looking up at her with pure, undiluted trepidation, gulping.
She meets your gaze unapologetically and throws your coat down at you. "Let's go," she says dispassionately, cooly, already turning away and marching up the hill. "Your stuff isn't far."
. . .
142 notes · View notes
rookthorne · 9 months
Text
⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝
Tumblr media Tumblr media
It was a punishable act to not follow the Captain’s orders, just as much as it was to cross him when his fuse was already so short. Luckily for you, you had the one thing that would calm the brusque fury into a simmering wave. 
Tumblr media
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✗ Pirate!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✗ 1.7k
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✗ Fluff ჻჻჻ SMUT: Unprotected, angry piv, Dom!Bucky, no prep ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, degradation, dirty talk, sir
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✗ So... I think it would be a bit foolish for me to say that I am innocent at this stage — but, I will say it anyway.
Tumblr media
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✗ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer ჻჻჻ Week 6 — "How do you want me?" — Masterlist
Tumblr media
𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Tumblr media
The tension on The Soldat’s deck was thicker than the fog in the early hours of a cold morning. 
All day, your Captain had been snappish in his orders – quick to berate and growl out a reprimand if a crew member dawdled too long or made a mistake. 
It was unnerving. 
Bucky had always remained composed – very little could rattle the seasoned sailor, but the first sighting of an encroaching armada seemed to have set his last nerve ablaze. A couple days’ worth of sailing had taken your ship out of their sights and back into corsair territory, and as a result, Bucky had given the command to port at the closest settlement – a pirate port, one infamous for shady men and even worse devils. 
“First mate,” Bucky snapped from the helm as night began to fall. You strode over from your station, brow raised in question, watching as the black leather coat Bucky wore flapped in the cold evening air. He flicked his head in a gesture for you to step closer, and you did so with no hesitation, right up to his side so his lips could brush against your ear. “Cabin, now. Get on my bed and wait for me. Ass up.”
The shock made you freeze for a split second, and Bucky’s lips curled into an arrogant smirk. “Move it, lass; follow your Captain’s orders, now.”
“Aye, sir,” you said, staring at him through doe eyes. 
If you put a little sway in your hips as you made your way down the stairs for his benefit, it was no one’s business. 
The Captain's cabin remained as warm and inviting as ever, with dark timbers and even deeper accents. A very recent haul had allowed some art to decorate the wooden walls, and they added a flair of colour to the otherwise brooding room. Your shared bed took up a fair amount of space on the far wall, and the sheets and covers tousled from the previous night’s coupling and fitful hours of sleep. 
“Such a slob,” you muttered, moving over to the mess and tidying it up. 
Once tidied, you fiddled with your buckles and belts, pulling off your cutlass and pistol to place them on the armoury table. The garments you donned were easy to remove, cotton and leather peeling away and allowing your flesh to breathe, yet you left your billowing shirt on, unsure how long Bucky would take to make his way and retire to his cabin. 
Waves made the ship pitch and roll as you waited, and the setting sun casted an orange glow through the glass windows. 
As darkness bloomed, you struck a few matches and lit a few candles that were dotted around the cabin – the light flickered and glowed, a beautiful dance of flame that you admired for just a moment.
Muffled voices could be heard through the door, and then heavy bootfalls above your head, trailing down the stairs and coming to a complete stop at the cabin door. The figure behind the glass was tall, broad, and angry. “Oh, fuck,” you muttered, and you scarpered to the mattress, quickly laying down on the soft cottons, and canting your ass up into the air – just as he had ordered.
“If any fool knocks on this damned door,” Bucky yelled at large, his voice muffled by the doors, but no less fierce. “I will give them a third eye.”
The very same door swung open with a crash, and you startled with a muffled squeak. Your head came to rest in the crook of your elbow, and as if on instinct, you held your breath – awaiting Bucky’s next move.
“Well, well, well,” Bucky said, the sound of his leather coat and thick armour hitting the floor louder than cannon fire in the nervous energy of the cabin. “Just how I wanted my Minx–presenting that sweet cunt for me, aren’t you a good girl…”
“What’s wrong, sir?” You asked, voice muffled by your arm, and Bucky hummed. “You have been tense all day–you want to be in control of me? That why I’m prone on your bed waiting for you to fuck me?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Bucky breathed, and you peeked from your arm to behind you. His predatory grin was warped by the candlelight and shadows, though his gaze was entirely focused on your bare ass and weeping entrance. “Don’t tell me you don’t like pleasing your sir, fuckin’ look at you–filthy and already dripping wet for me.”
A low moan started in your throat before you could stop it. Bucky’s attention focused on your face – softening his manic glint only slightly. “Hands behind your back, lass,” he ordered, stepping closer to the bed and kneeling on the edge. “Go on now.”
“Sir,” you whined, shuffling your knees and arching your back further. “Please.”
“Do as you’re told, Minx, be a good girl. Hands behind your back.” The bed dipped behind you from Bucky’s weight, and you hastened to obey – his proximity and authoritative tone making your brain grow fuzzy. “That’s it, good girl.” 
The bed creaked as Bucky removed the last of his clothing, and you looked back to see him stark naked, hard and swollen cock bobbing between his legs as he shuffled closer. “We don’t need this,” he said, and the sound of fabric ripping filled the air and a chill settled over your bare back, shirt long gone. “Much better.”
“Please,” you whispered, and Bucky cooed, his scarred, rough hands rubbing over your ass and hips before one grabbed your crisscrossed wrists. “Please, sir.”
“Is my Minx achin’, hmm? Here?” The sudden brush of a finger against the weeping entrance of your cunt made you gasp, and you jolted forward. “Such a sensitive lass,” he whispered, rubbing his fingers up and down slowly, teasing your entrance. Biting your lip, you nodded. “Can’t have that, can we?”
“No,” you replied. The anticipation of finally being filled made your breath come in heavy pants, and you wiggled your hips to entice him to move, to finally get on with it. “Use me, sir–fuck me, and you’ll feel better, promise-”
“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” Bucky chuckled darkly, and he draped himself over your back and kissed your shoulder. “You just need to be a good girl and take it.”
A shout of surprise tore from your throat when Bucky finally thrust forward, his cock forcing its way in to sit to the hilt in one swift movement. The burn and pull of muscle as your body gave way to him made you hiss through your teeth, “Fuck!”
“God,” Bucky groaned, draping his chest over your back. “You feel so good, sweetheart, fuckin’ hell.”
A nonsensical moan fell from your lips as Bucky shallowly thrusted, his hips rocking back and forth so the head of his cock brushed against your walls in all the right places. “Oh my god,” you moaned, blinking rapidly to clear the tears that had gathered on your waterline. 
“Just stay like that, little Minx,” Bucky growled. His body heat left your back as he sat up, and you whimpered. “Easy, ‘m here,” he cooed. You felt the rough calluses of his hands brush over your hands just as he gripped your crisscrossed wrists. His other hand forced your face into the bed – effectively immobilising you. “You’re gonna let your sir fuck his anger out, aren’t you? You’re gonna sit there and take it?”
“Yes, yes–use me! I can take it,” you rushed, grinning against the soft cotton on the mattress, and you were rewarded with a sharp, quick thrust. “Sir!”
“Knew you could, lass.” The grip on your wrists tightened to be bruising, and you huffed, wriggling slightly in his grip to get closer, only to feel the sting of his palm and hear the resounding crack from his palm spanking your ass. “Sit fuckin’ still. How am I meant to fuck you if you keep squirmin’, sweetheart?”
“Sorry! ‘M sorry, sir, I’ll be still,” you gasped, rocking slightly. 
“Good girl,” Bucky praised. 
The first thrust punched the air from your lungs in a keening moan, and Bucky hummed approvingly, bending over your back while still rocking his hips. His hot breath fanned over your ear, and you whimpered, chasing the feeling of skin on skin. “Sound so pretty, Treasure, huh?” he purred. “But I think you can be louder than that. Let it out; let your sir hear you.”
The drag of Bucky’s cock over your walls made you moan loudly, and the sudden change in speed caused a domino effect you were powerless to control. “Feels s’good, sir! Fuck!”
Bucky’s hips slammed into yours, his growls and grunts of efforts adding to the litany of sounds that echoed off the walls of his cabin. His hand gripped your wrists tightly, the pain of his grip only adding to the pleasure that crested in the coil between your legs. 
The hand that held your face to the mattress still pinned you, and with the force of Bucky’s thrusts, your knees started to spread even further apart, forcing your back to arch – the angle sent him far deeper in your cunt than ever before.
You called out wordlessly the faster he thrust, the pace turning brutal as the bed frame below you creaked and groaned, the rocking matching the ferocity of the waves that gently swayed the ship. 
“Fuck, you feel s’good–never gonna leave your tight cunt,” Bucky moaned, his voice raspy with feral need. His words made your walls flutter, and you could just feel the arrogant smirk that quirked his bitten-red lips. “You like that idea, huh, little Minx? Jus’ being a hole for your sir to fuck and fill whenever he wants–’specially when he’s angry?”
“Oh my god,” you cried, “please!”
“Tell me, Treasure. Tell me you want it,” Bucky ordered, each word followed by a harsh thrust. “Go on.”
“I want it! I want it, please,” you begged. It was getting hard to think through the onslaught of pleasure, and If Bucky kept hitting that spot, you wouldn’t last much longer – not to mention if he kept up the train of filth falling from his lips in that tone, the tone of a Captain and sir. 
“Fuckin’ take it then, whore,” Bucky spat, and his hips pistoned into yours, each thrust became a sharp stab of pleasure adding to the inferno burning through every last one of your nerves. “Cum for me, cum on your sir’s cock–lemme feel it.”
Your thighs began to shake, the wave becoming too hard to keep your head above. “Oh, fuck, please! I’m close!”
Bucky angled his hips down and fucked you onto the bed, a snarl on his lips and his panting breaths fanned over your ear and cheek. “Give it to me, sweetheart–fuckin’ cum, now.”
The command made your eyes roll and your body seized as the waves consumed you. A scream tore from your throat as you fell off the cliff into the waves, and Bucky moaned loudly, grinding his hips and digging his cock further into your heat. “That’s it, lass, fuckin’ good girl–such a good girl, milkin’ my fuckin’ cock, shit.”
Bucky’s breath hitched on a moan while you pulsed around him – his hips faltering before a whimper fell from his lips as warmth spread in your cunt, his spend leaking from your entrance and onto the cotton sheets covering the bed. 
“Fuck,” he breathed, lowering himself over your back, still thrusting shallowly. “Good god, my love–y’know just how to snap me out of it.”
“Sure do,” you giggled, sighing contentedly. “Love having my sir fuck me.”
A soft kiss landed on your shoulder, and Bucky exhaled heavily. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No–no, you didn’t, love,” you replied quietly, smiling. “I hurt just as I should, just as I wanted.”
Bucky chuckled and shifted to sit up, his softening cock leaving your cunt and making you feel empty. “We made a mess,” he observed, his hand running up and down the back of your thigh. “Should fuck you like that more often.”
Just to fuck with him a little more, you tensed once, twice, and a groan echoed behind you. “Good god, you fuckin’ whore–teasin’ me like that. You have no idea what that does to me, Minx.”
“Oh, but I do,” you replied, winking. 
Bucky stared at you, his lips in a firm line and eyes flashing dangerously. “I’m not done with you. Stay there while I get something to clean you up with.”
Following orders, while second nature, had never been so rewarding.
Tumblr media
⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁
⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁
261 notes · View notes
arealphrooblem · 1 year
Text
Deathtouched
For @heroes-villains-side-blog because I saw your little collection of Villain with Death Touch powers/Hero who is immune fics and got inspired. ^.^
Technically, Hero was not cleared for field work. Sure, they knew some self defense moves in case of emergency. They carried a taser and knew how to shoot a gun with great accuracy. But their power was not an offense-based power and so Hero’s job happened after the villainous defeats at the hands of other Heroes.
Hero was a Nullifier. A touch from them prevented any other Powered individual’s abilities from activating. Their blood was drawn monthly and used in serums given to imprisoned Villains. Sometimes, when a Villain’s power was particularly dangerous, Hero stepped in to bind them or dose them with serum.
But they had never faced a Villain awake and at full power. They never confronted anyone.
Until today.
Villain first appeared on body cam footage, in the middle of a street fight between Superhero and some low level villain grunt. He appeared like a ghost, a shadow figure that materialized from the shadows. In fact, his sudden presence stopped both Superhero and Grunt mid swings.
 Hero had initially rolled their eyes. Villain was tall, dressed in all black, complete with billowing cape and leather gloves. Like a Darth Vader fanboy, but without the mask.
No obvious powers either. No electricity or super speed or invulnerability. Hero wondered if this really was just some glorified cosplayer with a couple of gadgets and no real power to speak of. Just someone desperate for a little notoriety from the body cam footage.
“Who the fuck are you?” the Grunt had demanded.
Villain ignored him and looked straight at Superhero. “I need him. Hand him to me and no one else gets hurt.”
“Why?” Superhero had asked suspiciously. “What do you plan on doing with him?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“I’m afraid, as an Hero of the Agency assigned to this area, it’s every bit my concern.”
As Superhero and Villain faced off, Grunt had tried to slink away. Before Hero could warn Superhero, Villain whirled around and grabbed a handful of Grunt’s jacket and slammed him up against the wall.
“Look, we obviously both have an interest in Grunt,” Superhero had said, approaching the Villain in slow cautious steps. “Why don’t we work together? You could come with me and question him back at the Agency.”
Villain leveraged Grunt against the wall with a forearm to the throat as he worked one of the leather gloves off.
“I don’t want to question him,” he had said before placing a long-fingered, elegant hand against the side of Grunt’s face.
Grunt let out an earsplitting scream of agony that lasted only a few seconds before he slumped over.
Lifeless.
The camera shook as Superhero immediately took several steps backward.
“What did you just do?” he had demanded.
“Walk away and you won’t have to find out,” Villain had warned.
If only Superhero had listened; he would still be alive.
Over the next week, a trail of bodies followed Villain, mostly grunts and spies and brokers for Supervillain. This was clearly a mission of vengeance.
 The Agency had debated on teams to send out, but hesitated to act. Superhero had been one of their strongest agents and he died in seconds at a mere touch. They didn’t want to risk anyone else to fight a Villain they knew nothing about.
And frantic searches revealed nothing about this guy.
Time ran out when Villain himself appeared at the doors of the Agency, like a nightmare come to life. The only person who volunteered to meet him was Hero.
“What is your name and why are you here?”
Hero’s voice didn’t shake, but their hands did. They kept them tightly in their coat pocket, fingers tightly wrapped against the glass syringe.
“I am here for Supervillain,” he said. “And if you let me kill him, no one else needs to die. I’ll even turn myself in.”
Revenge, just as Hero expected. Supervillain, locked away deep, deep, underground, was probably the worst of his kind. The personification of pure self-serving evil. If Hero was head of the Agency, they would roll the red carpet out for this villain to do exactly that.
But that would set up a dangerous precedent.
“I’m sorry. Even if I could take you at your word, I can’t allow you to waltz in and execute a Depowered individual.”
The Villain’s eyes narrowed and he took slow steps forward. Hero took several steps back before they even realized it, until their back pressed against the front door.
The locked front door.
Villain loomed before them, and Hero remembered how much the galaxy had feared Darth Vader, even if he did look ridiculous.
“You are not a fighter,” he murmured. “You have no profile in the Agency.”
 One gloved hand rose slowly to to cup their face. Hero shrunk back on instinct but had no where to go. Their heart thundered in their ears.
“You’re a sacrificial lamb they threw to the wolves while they scramble for an escape.”
He sound almost sorry for Hero, a thread of sincere empathy in his dark velvet voice. It did nothing to quell the choking fear. Villain’s power couldn’t hurt them, no. But a bullet could, or a hand wrapped around their throat, or even a good old fashioned beat down. Villain was much bigger than Hero and there were a thousand ways to die that had nothing to do with powers.
“There is no need for you to die,” he said softly. “Go home. Stay out of my way.”
He took a step back, putting enough distance to allow Hero to follow his orders. A locked door wouldn’t stop him and if he got into the facility he would kill every single person who stood in his way.  
They had one chance to take him out and they had no hope to win a fight. So Hero used their only other advantage — surprise.
Steeling themselves, Hero took two firm steps forward, fisted their fingers in edges of his cape, stood on the tiptoes and kissed Villain square on the mouth.
He flinched back immediately, but Hero kept their grip strong and did not pull away until the Villain’s mouth went slack in shock.
His gaze was a dark, glittering abyss.
“How,” he said hoarsely. “How?”
Hero’s only reply was the sharp jab of the needle into his neck as they plunged the sedative into his system.
Part Two:
472 notes · View notes
alltheirdamn · 4 months
Text
A Bounty for Reward (Mando x f!Reader)
Tumblr media
CHAPTER 1
Summary: when you discover a bounty has been put on your head, your future and freedom are on the line. Warnings: mentions of death, drugs, weapons, angst, language (future smut, don't worry) Word Count: 6.5k A/N/: this is my first time dropping any sort of writing into the world, so pls be kind & i hope you'll stick around for the rest of the fic <3
Swiping greased hands over your work smock, you looked towards the horizon to see the Twin Suns dipping below the rolling sand dunes. The work day was over, yet you felt you barely made a dent in the new land speeder your parents had bought. You were accustomed to working with older models of land speeders, preferring the engine types over the newer models. The new models were made for looks rather than efficiency, and you didn’t understand how the citizens of Mos Eisley could afford them.
Composed of a ship hangar and various piles of scrap parts, the junkyard overlooked the southern border of the city, your own home barren and abysmal due to years of decline in business. It was rare your parents got business, and if it was… it usually wasn’t the best clientele. You had your run-ins with smugglers, pirates, and crime bosses, and every time, you worried for your family’s safety. It was only you and your parents, after all— you had no one else to call home.
As you tidied your workbench, stowing away the tools, scrap metals, and loose wires, you heard an unfamiliar buzz of speed bikes approaching the junkyard. It was unusual to get clients this late, let alone any visitors. Your family was nearly invisible to the citygoers, barely knowing one or two vendors on the streets that sold food. 
In a haze of dust and dirt, the men made laps around the junkyard, their voices loud and violent as they called out for your parents. Heart thudding in your throat, you rushed to the small home tucked in the dunes, frantic to find your parents. 
You hadn’t realized your father was already at the front entrance, sniper rifle in his grasp. 
“Kono Halcard!” One of the front men yelled, his speeder coming to a halt in front of your father.
You watched from afar as your father stood tall and strong, his suntanned skin glowing in the golden hour of the falling suns. Time had aged his skin whitened his hair, but he was still a force of nature. He had lived in Tatooine his whole life, as had you, and he was no stranger to the scum that roamed the planet. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted your mother, Mana, peering behind the windows of your home. She was not so much the fighter as your father. 
But you were your father's daughter. 
Grabbing the hidden blade on your work belt, you followed the trail up to the front entrance, watching the wind kick the billows of dust into tornados of sand as the men’s bikes stopped behind their very vocal leader. 
“We want nothing to do with you, Jissard,” your father’s voice was stern. 
Jissard, which you assumed was his last name, was a hateful-looking man. He was human, at least from what you could discern, as he stood several feet taller than your father, wearing a tattered tunic and worn leather coat. Most of his face was covered by a low-brimmed hat, the same color beige as the sand surrounding you, but you could still glimpse his piercing yellow eyes. The look of them alone forced your spine straight, nerves electrifying within every inch of your body. 
The men behind him wore the same type of clothes– all worn, all dirty. It was obvious from the looks of them that they were a band of spice traders, the residual of the drugs lingering on their fingers and skin. They dismounted their speeders, flanking Jissard on either side, their hands resting carefully on their concealed blasters. You shifted your weight, your grip tightening around the handle of your blade. 
“Oh, Kono,” Jissard drawled, a thick accent falling off his tongue. “You’re a few payments behind, aren’t you?”
“I owe you nothing. I paid the Pyke’s back in full nearly three months ago.” Your father straightened his spine; the rifle still lifted at eye level towards the traders. 
“If you had, I wouldn’t be here, my friend,” Jissard grinned, revealing a row of rotting teeth. It was a menacing grin, one meant to elicit fear. 
It didn’t elicit it from your father, but it did from you.
“Ah, and I take it this is your daughter, no?” Jissard continued, glancing in your direction. 
The handle of your blade was cutting into your palm now, your pulse thudding in your ears. You stepped forward, aligning yourself with your father, exchanging a weary glance between one another. He wasn’t shocked you were beside him, but you caught a glimpse of regret in his eyes. A fading sentiment of, I’m sorry, as you gathered the unspoken secrets of your family’s business. You had an inkling that crime would one day touch your family, yet you hadn’t expected it to be already seeping into the foundations around you. How long had your father been mixed up with the Pyke’s? Had this been the reason for the junkyard's business to decline? Either way, you were seeing the truth come to light, but you wouldn’t back away from a fight. 
Not when it came to family. 
“She does not concern you,” he was firm, words gritted through clenched teeth. 
Jissard smiled again, dipping his hat towards you as a gesture of hello. 
“Kesi Jissard,” he smiled, “ I’m a friend of your father's here.”
“I wouldn’t exactly label us friends,” your father sneered. 
He cocked the rifle back, the sound of it echoing around you. He was done playing Kesi’s games, yet Kesi hadn’t had his fill. The men behind him drew their blasters, your father becoming the target for every weapon. You exposed the blade behind your back, a minor threat you knew wouldn’t do much. Kesi noticed the slight reflection of metal in the fading suns, a small smirk pointed in your direction. It made your stomach churn, seeing the way he welcomed the threat. He wasn’t afraid of you, and you had yet to understand why you were so afraid of him.
You just were. 
“I’m not here to collect bodies,” Kesi tossed his attention back to your father, “I would like to settle this as civil as possible. Unless you force my hand, Kono.”
“I don’t think you people know what civil means,” your father bit. 
Kessi stepped forward, cocking his head to the side to gesture his men forward. The look of ‘civility’ shot past his eyes, replaced by something far more menacing. His hand grazed over his own blaster, eyes flickering between you and your father. In the distance, you could hear a familiar voice shouting, this one of your mother.
“Ah, Mana,” Kesi smiled, rotting teeth exposed across dirtied skin, “So kind of you to join us. We were just discussing some matters of business.”
Your mother joined your father, her hands twisting together in an anxious manner. There was an expression of fear on her face…yet she held her breath as if she anticipated the worst.
“We have no business with you traders,” she spewed. 
It was the first time you had ever seen your mother speak in such a violent manner. She was always coolheaded, kind, and extremely closed off to strangers. She made no part of any business deals the junkyard had and kept herself in the shadows where she felt safest. But now, it was your family against him, his men, and ultimately… the Pykes.
Kesi slanted his head to the side, watching your mother and father with silent regard. The men behind him were growing agitated as they swayed from side to side, their weapons still raised towards your parents. The knife you bared down in your grip was feeling all too heavy; the concept of having to defend yourself grew more likely. You silently begged your father just to comply, to give Kesi whatever he wanted, and to move on as usual. If they were to go broke, they would still be alive. 
Maybe. 
“Listen, Kono,” Kesi sighed heavily, tightening the brim of his hat over his eyes, “I don’t like wasting my time. So, either you pay up, or we can take payment in a different form.”
His gaze shot to you, shadowed eyes tracing the outline of your body until your skin crawled from disgust. Every vile and unnameable thing washed over your mind– the countless things he could do to you. You pleaded internally to your father, hoping he would just give in and do as Kesi asked. 
But your father, like you, was stubborn to the end. 
“Fuck you,” your father spat.
Without another word, his gun was aimed at Kesi’s head, the rifle shooting forward yet somehow suspending itself in time. The sequence of events grew hazy as you watched from the ground on which you fell. You didn’t register that your father had pushed you back or that Kesi’s men struck down your mom in several shots; her body lay lifeless on the sands of Tatooine. The sound of your father's cries delayed in your mind as you watched him crumple over, a gaping shot tearing apart his chest. They were gone. Both of them. And you had been too dazed to react, the knife having been lost from your hand in the midst of the attack. 
All you could see were the remnants of your parents in the wreckage of brutality Kesi had left them in. Broken sobs erupted from your chest, screams that did not make it past your lips, and yet the world continued moving. Kesi’s men grabbed you, yanking you to your feet as you struggled to breathe. Your eyes couldn’t tear away from your parents, their eyes staring absently at the sky as it faded to darkness. Everything in your world had gone dark. 
Everything was gone. 
“I guess I’ll settle for you as my payment,” Kesi smirked. 
___________________________________________________
Eyes slamming open, the nightmare jarred you enough to catapult you upwards from your sleeping position. This had been the third night in a row you had dreamt of that night, the third night you were reminded of all you had lost. Rubbing your eyes aggressively, you felt the start of tears pooling over your knuckles as you dug into the skin of your eyelids. Sounds of airspeeders and taxis whizzed by in hushed vibrations, the windows of your hotel room shaking ever so slightly. It wouldn’t be very noticeable to anyone else, but you were acutely aware of every sound around you. You were always holding your breath as if the past lurked in the shadows, waiting for the moment to strike and kill. 
It had been four standard months since you arrived in the lower levels of Coruscant– four months since you had found an escape route from Kesi. It had taken nearly a year to arrange a meticulous plan that stripped you from his grasp, and you had pulled it off. Gathering—stealing—enough credits to buy your way off world, you took refuge in a hidden identity and made a new life in the capital. The hotel room was temporary, at least until you ran out of credits—or luck. But getting credits was easy now that you learned the ways of the underground. Rich men traveled to the lower levels looking for drugs or prostitutes, and you knew the best spots in the city to track them down. Some small talk, maybe a few drinks, and it was easy for you to card your hand into their pockets and stash away credits while they remained distracted. 
Eager to leave the darkness— and the past— you gathered yourself and threw on your heavy jacket, tossing the hood over your head. Strapped to your thigh, you kept your vibroblade, the last thing you kept from all the years under Kesi’s hold. It had been your protection against aggressive clients, yet you never had the courage to use it. They were aggressive, but there was never enough strength or freedom to fight back. Freedom was something you never knew. 
Finding your way through the streets, you ventured into one of the run-down playrooms in the center of town. Through a cloud of smoke, you found small groups of men hunched over drinks as they played sabacc fervently. Some turned to scrutinize you as you walked in, but you kept your head low, finding your way toward the bar. Nerves didn’t get to you, but a drink could help suffocate the lingering memories. Nursing your drink, you felt the warmth of someone sliding beside you, their hand tracing your arm. It was enough to tense all the muscles in your body, your free hand coasting down to graze the blade on your thigh.
“Are you the entertainment for the night?” The voice asked.
Concealing your amusement, you turned to him, pushing down the hood of your coat. The man had a devilish grin that was both unwelcoming and horrendous. You had no interest in entertaining him. Downing the rest of your drink, you shoved away from the bar, walking towards an open booth to watch the games. 
And he followed. 
“C’mon princess,” he crooned, sitting across from you, “Don’t gotta be stubborn.”
“I suggest you leave me alone before I slice open your stomach.” You spat.
He leaned back, clearly alarmed, and stood without another word. But it was as he left something else caught your eye.
A shadow, but reflective, tore your focus away from the games. Whatever it was, the shine alone was enough to stall every player, their motions slowing as they observed the stranger. Walking in the entrance was a bounty hunter clad in shiny armor, his helmet trained on you. 
Your initial reaction was to run, but as you took in his silhouette, you narrowed your gaze on the blaster at his hip. Returning your gaze back to his helmet, he cocked his head to the side and slid a hand down to rest on the handle of the blaster.
An invitation to run.
A warning if you did.
Neither sounded appealing.
You sunk further into the cushions of the booth, pulling your hood up over your head. It wasn’t lost on you that he had already scoped you out, but to your wishful thinking, you hoped he was in the playroom looking for a bounty. Why would he be looking for you? A better question: who wanted you? A chill ran up your spine as you considered all the possibilities of why he’d be after you: theft, assault, spice smuggling. Worse of them all… Kesi had placed a high price on your head. 
But you would never return to him. 
You would fight for freedom, even if it cost you everything.
The bounty hunter stalked towards you, his steps calculated and slow as if he expected you to run. Your fingers twitched against the blade on your thigh, assessing your options.
You could run, fight, or die, and none of them sounded appealing as he grew closer, but you had to make a decision. 
And option one it was. 
You shoved out of the booth, booking past the game tables and towards the back door. The hood on your coat fell down onto your shoulders as you pushed your body into a full sprint, weaving through the smoke and crowds. The back door opened into a hazy alleyway, and you took off to the left. People stared at you strangely as you belined through the throng of citygoers, shoving through the crowds with curses falling off your lips.
“Fucking move!” You huffed, your feet padding against the asphalt. 
Distance sounds of running caught your attention, and you made the mistake of looking back to see the hunter closing the gap between crowded bodies. You pushed yourself harder, your body aching but persistent from the adrenaline rush. You’d had your fair share of spice before, but nothing compared to the rush of being hunted down. Never did you think your freedom would come to this.
A wall of bodies formed before you, onlookers enraptured in a daze of street performers. Their blissful unawareness would cost you your life, and you reached for your blade at the same moment a gloved hand wound around your bicep in a vice. You swiveled to meet the hunter face to face—well, face to helmet— and slashed the blade against the armor. It did nothing to the metal, not even a single scrape. The bounty hunter huffed, amused, and caught your wrist with his free hand. Your skin pinched between his leathered fingers, and you winced as his grip tightened. 
“Let me fucking go!” You yelled, jostling against his hold.
But he was firm, and the sounds of the crowd began to flood your ears as you attempted to break away.
“…a Mandalorian…”
“Look at the beskar…”
“Have you ever… seen one?”
A Mandalorian? 
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
This wasn’t just an average bounty hunter. This was a skilled and deadly one, and you just happened to be in his grasp. You had heard stories of them while under Kesi’s control; some spice traders talked about how ruthless and dangerous they were. They were sworn to Mandalore, and they had no moral duty to anything but. 
The Mandalorian drew your body closer, his helmet dipping close to your ear.
“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” His voice was warm and smooth and threatened to buckle your legs under you. “Your choice.”
Reeling back, you slammed a foot into the center of his boot, only for him to spin you around and pin you against his body. 
“Wrong choice,” he growled.
He twisted your arms back, clasping cold binders around your wrists. Shoving you forward, he guided you through the crowds of bodies, his hand tight around your elbow. You twisted your head to look back, seeing his helmet set in a firm line and his fingers wrapped around the handle of your blade. 
Fuck, this wasn’t how you expected your night to go.
The Mandalorian’s gunship sat on the city's outskirts, parked in a docking bay surrounded by other speeders and racers. A few docking employees strolled about the platforms, barely paying attention to your struggle against the beskar-clad body behind you. You had attempted several times to rip yourself from his grasp, only to be met by a hard shove forward and a few sharp words. 
(Words that flooded your bloodstream like a liquid drug.)
The ramp lowered with a hiss, and your feet stumbled up the metal flooring as the Mandalorian pushed you into the dark cargo hold of his ship. You barely had time to register your surroundings as he led you toward a carbonite chamber. Your heart sputtered erratically the closer you got, and you fought against him harder.
“Please,” you begged, dragging your feet as far as he’d let you.
“Enough,” he barked. 
Pressing you against the wall with one hand, the Mandalorian used the other to punch in a code to the freezing chamber. The metal doors opened with an expulsion of cold gas, the air sending shockwaves over your skin. As he reached for your shirt to drag you towards the chamber, you let out a series of pleas in hopes of stopping him.
“You can’t!” You cried, tears stinging your eyes as you pulled away from his grasp. “Please, I swear I’ll do anything! Just don’t put me in there. Maker, please.”
He hesitated a moment, his helmet assessing you. 
“I’ll do anything, okay?” You heaved in a breath. “I don’t know who wants me, but please!”
A beat of silence passed as he considered your confession. Tears flowed freely over your face, the shiny beskar blurring as you tried to blink them away. Everything was becoming too hazy, too much. Maker, how did you end up here?
Your body ached from the chase, your wrists burned under the friction of the binders, and the cold air from the chamber beside you was enough to fog your mind. You were teetering on the edge of passing out or dropping dead. It was becoming all too hard to breathe, and you began to gasp for air, sucking lung-fulls in to help ease the pain vibrating through your nerves.
“Just…” You panted. “…Please.”
Your body slumped against the wall, your head hitting the metal sharply, and the world around you blackened.
**
Mando had his fair share of interesting bounties, but an unconscious girl on the floor of his ship had never been one of them. Her head lulled to the side; her body crumpled against the metal ground. He had checked for a pulse, thankful there was one, and let her lay comfortably on the ground. He couldn’t just toss her into the carbonite chamber when she was unconscious. The gas would be all too powerful on weak lungs, and she would die instantly once the metal encased her. And it wasn’t a part of the bounty to bring her in dead. Nor did he particularly relish in killing women— beautiful ones at that. 
It had struck him curious that someone as beautiful as her would wind up in the hands of a bounty hunter. Her face on the holopuck had initially been a shock, and he wondered if he had received the right bounty to begin with. But Greef Karga had assured him it was correct, and the bounty price on her head was high. Too high not to pass it up.
Mando wasn't ‘soft’ by any means. He was used to the brutality and violence that surrounded his lifestyle. He welcomed the silence after a kill and the isolation of the Razor Crest between hunts. Alone. That’s all he had ever known, and nothing would make him give that up. 
But, maker, her soft breathing wasn’t helping his cause. 
He forfeited all options and made the decision to leave her sleeping on the floor. He’d set the nav to Tatooine and reassess later. Once in hyperspace, she would have nowhere to go, and when she finally woke up, then he’d put her into the chamber. That was his plan.
At least for now.
Mando sat in the cockpit alone, his hand flipping her blade in fluid motions. She was a fighter, he knew that much, and cunning. Her first instinct was to run, but she put up just as much of a fight. Usually, he’d be annoyed by a bounty that fought, but for her to fight that hard… It gave him a pause. And her pleading for help? Maker, he wondered what made her into a big enough criminal for a bounty puck. But she had to have done something to catch the eye of a hunter, let alone a hunter like him. 
He tossed her blade up in the air, catching it and flipping it back up for several minutes. Her face danced around his mind the longer he thought about her, and he gave in to climbing down into the cargo hold to check on her. 
As he climbed the ladder, he heard rustling between the cargo crates in the corner. She had tucked herself between them, making her body look smaller and more frail than before. She looked utterly helpless— like a scared child—  and something in his chest tightened. 
“Are you going to kill me?” She whispered, her eyes barely visible in the dim lighting.
His helmet moved side to side slowly as he approached her. Her arms were still bound behind her back, tightly cuffed in bindings, but her small frame fit snugly into the corner against the metal walls. Crouching down, Mando held out a hand to her.
“I’ll take the restraints off,” he offered. “But only if you promise not to cause a problem. I’m not opposed to putting you in carbonite for the rest of the flight.”
She nodded fiercely, twisting her body so that her hands were toward him. Rough hands clicked the lock open on the bindings, and Mando watched as she rubbed the skin of her wrists fervently. Still, she shrunk away from him, pulling her knees to her chest. Her slender arms wrapped around her legs, tucking them closer to her body as she shivered against the bitter cold from traveling hyperspace. 
She stared at him wide-eyed and afraid. Every bounty feared him; his beskar was a telltale sign of danger. But something about her fear didn’t sit quite right with him. 
Only a few more hours, he told himself. Then she’d be off his hands, and he’d be a few credits richer. 
“Do you know who put the bounty on me?” She asked, her voice small. She had been so fierce and loud earlier, but it was apparent she had accepted defeat.
“No,” he said truthfully. He didn’t offer much, but it was enough. 
She exhaled, eyes floating around the cargo hold and avoiding the heavy stare from behind his visor. 
“I’m afraid,” she whispered.
Fuck. He didn’t want to hear that. 
Mando had nothing to respond with, nothing that could console her. He turned from her crouched body and turned back towards the cockpit. The further a distance he could put between them, the better.
She was dangerous. 
**
“No.”
His statement was final, not allowing you to seek answers that you could cling to. The unknown was worse than knowing because there were endless outcomes you could face. You had wronged so many people, a trace of your selfishness scattered across the galaxy. You allowed yourself to lose control of the greed– finding comfort in taking from those undeserving. Too many people had taken what they wanted from you, leaving an emptiness inside you that was insatiable and never fulfilled; you only wanted to do the same to them in return. You could spend eternity trying to find ways to fill the void within you, but you wondered if it was ever enough.
“I’m afraid,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.
 The Mandalorian remained motionless and then turned suddenly back towards the cockpit, silence filling the space between you. A sigh left your lips, and you closed your eyes, hoping to slip away from the moments that pulled you closer to an unknown fate. 
You awoke to a distant beeping from the cockpit; you were nearing the coordinates the Mandalorian had punched in hours ago. Unsure of your actions, you climbed the ladder up, peeking into the cockpit to see where he was taking you. It wasn’t until your eyes adjusted to the dimness around you that you realized what planet you were flying towards. Tatooine. 
The last place you expected to be taken to, and certainly the worst possible outcome of being captured. You knew exactly what– no, who– awaited you on Tatooine. If you had given up on pleading before, you regained the strength now, taking this as your last chance to save yourself. 
“I can’t go back to Tatooine,” you blurted out. The Mandalorian whipped his head around, glaring at you through the visor of his helmet. 
Without a response, he leaned forward in the chair, guiding the ship into a descent into the atmosphere of the desert planet. The lower it descended, the higher fear crept up inside you until it clouded all senses. He wouldn’t care what became of you; you were a pile of credits waiting to be collected. If he knew your name, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the reward and the allegiance to his creed. You may not know him well, but you knew enough about the Mandalorian creed to know everything now was hopeless. 
The endless expanse of beige sand came into view, the winds drawing it into waves amongst the dunes. The ship flew further into the terrain, coming to a halt on the outskirts of Mos Eisley. It had been only a few standard years since you had been taken from your home, vowing never to return. Now you were back, existing among the ghosts and regrets of the past. 
The gunship touched down onto the rolling sands of Mos Eisley, the ramp opening slowly, giving way to the heat from outside. It flooded through the ship, a light sweat breaking out on the nape of your neck. The Mandalorian rose to his feet, his armored body turning your way. He reached down, grabbing your wrists, easing your body down the ladder. There was no inclination of emotions from his body, the rise and fall of his breastplate the only evidence that he was indeed a living creature. 
Creature he was as he pulled you down the stairs, leading you through the cargo hold that was littered with mindless tokens he had picked up along his trails of bounties. The ramp exposed you to the brightness of the sand, your eyes quickly squinting against the landscape. You drug your feet against the metal, hoping to stall your exile from all human existence. If you were certain of anything, your fate was not too far off. 
Below the binary suns stood two dark figures, their faces hidden by brimmed hats. The hats were enough of a giveaway to know who they were… and exactly why you dreaded stepping foot on the planet. Your body halted, feet firmly set against the sand, body paralyzed. The Mandalorian slid his hand under the crook of your elbow, urging you forward in silence. He didn’t flinch when you tried to hit him, wrists falling against hard beskar. 
“Please,” you begged, tears brimming your eyes. “You can’t give me to them.”
He remained wordless, only nudging your body forward once more. You mustered up enough energy to fight his hold, spinning to face him fully. His helmet slowly rolled to the side, studying your face as tears fell onto your cheeks. Desperation kicked in, your mind reeling with any offer you could give him. 
“Please,” your voice was weak, “Kill me.”
He made no reaction to your words, so you tried again. 
“Keep me. I’ll do anything you ask. Just keep me from them. You can have me!”
The Mandalorian hesitated a moment, a beat passing before he reacted. The reaction was the exact opposite of what you had hoped; your body pulled further away from the ship… and closer to the figures standing firm within the sand. Tears dried against your cheeks as the warmth of the air burned your skin, leaving your eyes red and dry. The faces of the men came into view as they lifted their heads and exposed their dirtied faces. 
“Mando!” One exclaimed. He was the taller of the two, yellow skin nearly blending into the background behind him, purple eyes piercing you below his hat. You knew him as Jado, an employee of your former employer. “Your efficiency is commendable. She is precious cargo for our boss, and he thanks you for your work.”
The other man, whom you knew as Gaff, tossed a satchel of credits at the Mandalorian’s feet. He didn’t break his gaze from the two men, caring very little of the reward now in his possession. 
“Please,” you spoke once more. His helmet turned to you slowly, and you hoped he could see life fading from your irises. 
“Alright, come on,” Jado spit out your name, ripping you from the Mandalorian’s hold. The bounty hunter freed your wrists from his grasp, only for them to be tugged forward by Jado’s dirt-covered hands. His hands were caked in dirt, traces of spice crusted under his fingernails. The metal restraints you had worn only a few hours ago were now replaced by their own bindings, ones made from rough rope that scratched your skin enough to bleed. 
“Kesi will be very happy to see you,” Jado said sarcastically. 
Your head turned back to watch the Mandalorian– now understood as Mando– fade into the distance. The shine of his beskar glinted in the harsh sun, splintering into fractures of metal and weapons. The nerves within your body sparked in anger, anger from knowing he brought you to your ultimate fate. You knew it was his job; you were merely a bounty fit for a large reward, but you wanted to believe he was still a man under the layers of armor. A man who battled empathy far beyond the bounds of his creed. 
Jado situated your body on the speeder, hauling his own body behind yours. You were all too aware of his body pressed against your back. The heat radiating from his mouth and onto your neck began to nauseate you. Glancing over, you saw Gaff straddle his own speeder, nodding once at Jado– an urge to begin moving. Gaff followed behind Jado’s speeder, the sound of its engine muffling your ears until they grew deaf. Mos Eisley was exactly as you had left it: crawling with slimy criminals and reeking of sour booze. As your heart pounded heavier against your ribs, you watched as each cantina and spaceport drifted out of view. With each passing moment, you grew dreadfully close to Kesi’s junkyard and closer to your death.
The junkyard was littered with newer ship parts; bolts and metal plates scattered the ground. The familiar workstation that sat vacant in the corner caught your eye. It had been your workstation, at least back when your family owned the yard. Now, it was in the possession of Kesi Jissard, one of the most feared spice traders in the galaxy. The same man that forced you into the trading world, baiting you to sell and trade on the promise of freedom. But freedom never came. Not until you found a way to buy it. 
The slow rhythm of hands clapping echoed around the empty ship hanger. Your head was on a  swivel, eyes wildly searching for the origin of the sound. Emerging from the shadows, Kesi continued to clap, an evil smirk creasing his yellow-tinted skin. 
Kesi spoke your name, his thick accent cutting the silence. “I’ve missed you.”
You bit your tongue, suppressing the urge to talk back, knowing it would only lead to more suffering. Kesi had a short temper, usually satiated by bruising skin and smoking blasters. But when you didn’t respond, he stepped forward, reaching for your jaw. His grip was bruising as he wagged your head back and forth. 
“You’ve caused me a lot of damage,” he spoke slowly as if every syllable was a drop of poison on your skin. “I’m in debt for thousands of credits, and because you decided to run, I had to spend even more just to hunt you down.”
“You could have let me keep running,” you said, words muffled from his hold on your chin.
Kesi’s dark eyes widened, glistening with premeditated thoughts of harm. He squeezed your chin and pulled away with such force that it left your head falling backward. 
“You’ve missed out on a lot of work,” he mused, pacing between you and the workstation aside from you. “There will be a lot of clients happy to see your return.”
“I’d rather die,” you spat, stepping forward. Where you found the courage, you don’t know. 
“Trust me,” Kesi chuckled, “I would love to kill you. But you’re far more valuable alive than dead. You’re of more use to me when you’re breathing and working.”
Kesi turned away from you, searching through the remnants of the workstation. With his large body blocking the view of what he found, your heart lurched with uncertainty. He clicked his tongue in satisfaction, holding a black bag up to the dim light of the station lamp. Your heart plummeted into your stomach, nausea coursing up through your esophagus. Turning to you, Kesi donned a broad grin, evil basking in the stretch of his lips against his cheeks. 
“We’ve got a new product on the market now,” he began, walking towards you again. 
You stumbled as you took a step back, knowing you wouldn’t be able to go much further without someone snatching you and dragging you right back. 
Kesi continued, “Since you’re going to sell it for me, you might as well try it.”
You watched as he unraveled the string of the bag, a smaller wrapped bag falling into his hands. The spice was an unusual color compared to the rest; its pigment was closer to black than the usual beige-brown you had been used to selling. Your pulse was rising alarmingly, and you wondered if Kesi could see the fear seeping from your eyes. The fear fell in waves of quiet tears, your lips wavering but never making a noise. 
“Why don’t you sit?” he insisted, yanking you by the elbow to the workman's chair by the desk. 
All you could do was comply, regardless of the nagging that pricked your brain in sharp pinpoints. You wished you had the strength to fight him. You wished you had the words to beg for a different outcome. 
You wished the Mandalorian had listened to your pleas. 
But the Mandalorian was gone and a richer man now, too. And here you were, helpless once more and three steps back from freedom. 
The second your ass hit the seat of the chair, Kesi was wrapping a hand around your wrists, pinning you against the wooden material. With the free hand he had, Kesi dipped a finger into the powdered substance, lifting it to your lips. 
“C’mon princess,” he hissed, “Open that pretty mouth of yours.”
You made no effort to open your mouth, your jaw locked and refusing to fall slack. Kesi’s mood changed into a slow-burning anger, his fingers bruising your skin. You squirmed against the seat, looking around the workstation for anything capable of substantial harm. The desk was nearly clean, sans a few miscellaneous tokens and scrap spice containers. 
“Open. Your. Mouth.” 
Kesi’s removed his hand from your wrists, only to deliver the most jarring slap across your cheek. It sent your head reeling, leaving you little time to recover. Your mouth fell open, groaning at the severity of the hit, and the surmounting pain replaced every emotion stirring within you. He took your vulnerability as an opportunity, his spice-covered finger slipping onto your tongue. 
You hadn’t tasted spice in years. It was not something you enjoyed recreationally, nor did you enjoy selling. In a professional setting, spice was seen as a delicacy for some of the richer citizens in the lower rim. Spice was well sought out, and if you had access to the right employers, spice production would be endless. 
But as the product dissolved on your tongue, it didn’t take long for the effects to begin to form. Words from Kesi’s lips grew into jumbles, falling on deaf ears. Your vision began blurring, too, and soon enough, all of your senses were paralyzed. It was as if you were watching from the furthest part of your brain, floating away from the controls inside your body. Becoming all too aware of the heaviness of your body, you slowly felt your shoulders slump over, your body weight no longer supported in the chair. Eyes fluttering shut, you wondered if another side effect of the spice was hallucinations. 
Because you could have sworn you saw a glimpse of shiny metal walking into the junkyard.
125 notes · View notes
ruh--roh-raggy · 3 months
Text
Heart of Wires (Sundrop/Moondrop x DCA!OC Piper)
Tumblr media
Hello hello! Welcome to something new and different from me!!! This is my first time writing Sundrop, this is also my first time making an OC! It is with my greatest pleasure that I introduce you to Piper Belle Healy! This whole fic is going to be slow burn, super tooth rottingly sweet fluff. I'm just enamored by these big Bois, I wanna hold their hands and kiss them on the cheek. SO THATS WHAT IM GUNNA DO!! I hope you enjoy! Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!
WARNINGS: None
You can find my Masterlist here!
Word Count: 3,985
Part 2
Tumblr media
“Good morning!” The chipper blond welcomed her with a gapped tooth smile as she sang her greeting. “Piper, right?” The red head nodded in confirmation. “Perfect. I'm Meredith, everyone calls me Merry, I'm gonna be the one showing you around the Pizzaplex!” She motions for Piper to follow her, pushing through the turnstiles with ease before walking into the main lobby. “I’ll give you a more thorough run down after your shift, they never listen when I tell them to have you come tour the place beforehand.” She sighs, stepping onto an escalator and casually leaning up against the railing. “You’re going to be in the daycare, so you’ll be working with Sundrop. It should be pretty easy; arts and crafts, making sure the kids don't hurt themselves, nap time, nothing too crazy. Sun can walk you through it, anything you need, just ask him.”
“Some interesting nicknames around here.” She remarks with a lopsided smile. “Merry and Sun.”
“Oh, Sundrop is his real name!” She responds with a laugh. “I take it you haven't gotten to meet any of the animatronics yet?” Merry gives her an excited glance.
“No, I've seen the posters and stuff, pictures of them in the office when I went in for my interview, things like that, but I haven't, uh, met them?” She says giving the taller blond a look of confusion. ‘Why would I have to introduce myself to a robot?’ She thinks, quickly shaking the thought as she rushes to keep up. She approached a set of large, wooden double doors, the gold handles glistening in the low lighting. She holds the door open for her with a smile, motioning for Piper to walk in ahead of her. Piper fidgets with the sleeves of her sweater, looking around the room to see shoe cubbies and hangers for coats and bags about halfway up the wall. The faded paint was covered in drawings of kids standing next to who you were assuming to be the daycare animatronics. Both of them are tall and slender, one with a sun shaped head, the other a moon. The sun wore yellow and red striped pants that billowed loosely down his legs, you noticed most of the kids had drawn what must have been bells on his wrists and ankles. The moon was dressed similarly, only his pants had white stars against a dark blue background, a matching sleep cap sitting atop his head. She smiled, breathing out a soft laugh as she ran her finger over the waxy artwork.
“We could take the stairs, but the slide’s faster.” Piper jumps as Merry suddenly starts talking. She chuckles seeing the shorter woman’s expression, pointing to a tube that must have led down to the daycare.
“Slide it is.” Piper giggles in response. Merry grabs onto the railing above the slide, jumping slightly before flinging herself down the plastic tunnel. Piper hears the clatter of plastic below before Merry calls for her to come down. She excitedly hops into the slide, unable to stop herself from smiling as she rushes downwards. She yelps slightly as the slide abruptly ends and she’s flung into the waiting ball pit below.
“Sunny! I’ve got a new friend for you to meet!” Merry cups her hands around her mouth as she calls out in the massive playroom.
“A new friend? Oh, how exciting!” Piper hears a voice call from above. Her eyes widen as she sees a large clown with a sun shaped head spin out onto a platform overlooking the daycare. In one swift motion he dove from the platform and into the ballpit, mere feet in front of her. Piper scrambled to find solid ground, hoisting herself up onto the rubber mat covered floor, her foot slipping on one of the yellow pool noodle covered edges. Two sets of articulate robotic fingers wrap around the foam in front of her before the robot hoists himself up to his full height, she scrambles backwards, screaming as she bumps into Merry.
“It’s alright! Piper, this is who you’re working with!” She drops down to her side, shaking her slightly in an attempt to break her out of her panic. She froze, her chest heaving as she watched the golden points whirl around his face.
“You said he was an animatronic!” She exclaims, motioning rapidly to the human-esque figure in front of her.
“He is!” She exclaims. “The technology for him is very advanced, it’s something the owners have been perfecting their entire lives.” She explains with a smile. She looks between the animatronic and the nearly shaking girl in front of her. “Sundrop, this is Piper, she’s the new daycare attendant.” He stands there for a moment. His unreadable expression makes her heart race.
“New daycare attendant, hm?” He suddenly speaks, his voice was so expressive, if she wasn't so terrified of his monstrously tall stature Piper would've been amazed. He slinks closer to her, kneeling down to bring his face directly in front of hers. “I’ll warn you now, the daycare isn’t a place for amateurs.” She furrowed her brows at him.
“I’ll have you know I’m wonderful with children.” She sits up, he jolts back as she suddenly gets close to him. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t make assumptions about me considering you just met me a few seconds ago.” He seemed a bit taken aback at her sudden change in demeanor. Just a moment ago she looked so timid and scared, but now she looked like she was ready to bite his head off.
“I’ll let your work speak for you then.” He stands, grabbing her gently by the wrist and hoisting her up with him.
“Sun, play nice, she’s the best resume that’s applied for the daycare in a long time. Who knows, maybe you might even like her.” She smiles and winks at him. She turns to Piper, “I’ll swing back by here at lunchtime, I’ll help you find your way to the cafeteria.” She offers happily. “And don’t let him make you nervous, he’s a drama queen anyways.” She teases, making Piper giggle.
“I wonder why? It’s not like my programming was originally meant for the theater or anything.” He responds sarcastically.
“Show her around the daycare, give her a run down of the schedule, don’t kill each other.” She counts out the tasks on her fingers. “Think both of you can handle that?” They both nod. She gives both of them a wave over her shoulder as she heads off to get ready for her shift.
“So, we start off with free play.” He motions for her to follow him as he prattles on about the schedule for the day. He shows her where all the craft supplies are, where to find the adult-only tools like sharp scissors and permanent markers. He explained that during naptime is when she would meet Moondrop, “let him handle putting the kids down, he doesn’t like it when someone interrupts his system.” He explains. “Other than that, if you’ve worked with kids before, you should know what you’re doing already.” He sighs, obviously expecting her to fail from the start.
“I think I can handle it, don’t worry.” She squeaks with mock confidence, trying to find some way to change the animatronics tune towards her. “Sundrop?” He turns to her. “I’m really looking forward to working with you, I’m sure I can learn a lot.” She noticed how the whirrs and pings of his internal mechanisms grew slightly louder at her compliment. His eyes flicker over her face for a moment.
“Thank you, Piper.”
Tumblr media
Piper watches as child after child comes down the slide into the Superstar Daycare. “Friends, if I could interrupt your playtime for just one moment, I have an important announcement to make!” She was pleasantly surprised at how quickly the screams and laughter of the children died down, Sun easily able to catch their attention. “Some of you might have noticed there's a new face around the Daycare today. I would like to introduce all of you to Miss Piper.” There was a chorus of small hello's and hi’s from the group. She jump as Sun suddenly claps his hands together, telling them all they could go back to playing. He strides up to her, her eyes trailing up his long thin frame as he stretches farther above her than anyone she had ever met. She guessed that Sun stood somewhere around 7 feet tall, compared to her short stature he looked nothing short of a gigantic. “Go grab the markers from the supply closet, I'll take care of pulling out the tables and chairs.”
“You know it wouldn’t kill you to say please.” Piper huffs before turning on her heels and hurrying off to get set up for drawing time. Sun can’t help but watch her retreat. Out of all of his time in the Pizzaplex he had never met anyone like her, staff member or otherwise. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind, that was apparent from the small little quips she had spit out at him. Granted, he knew he had a tendency to be a bit harsh towards new hires, but that was only because almost everyone they sent him was incompetent. It's not that Sundrop was mean, he was just a perfectionist. The Daycare Attendants he has worked with in the past didn't care about the kids like he did, they didn't have the same passion for the glitter covered stick figures they would be presented with. But there was something different about Piper. Sun saw how you immediately stopped when one of the kids ran up to you, stooping down to scoop the small boy up in her arms to head in the direction he was pointing in. A ball had gotten stuck in one of the rungs on the play place, too high for any of the kids to reach safely. He watched as she maneuvered herself carefully up the brightly colored structure, wiggling the ball loose before climbing back down. She hands the ball over to the boy, giving him a high five and praising him for asking for help. She smiles as the boy runs off to play with his friends. Her eyes meet Sun’s, causing her to freeze. She lets out a sigh of relief, smiling softly as he offers her a subtle thumbs up. Sun walks away, going to set up the tables for the next activity.
“What do we have here?” A voice purrs in Sun’s head.
“There's a new Daycare Attendant.” Sun mutters quietly out loud.
The voice groans, “another one? They keep sending us these stupid humans-”
“I thought the same thing. But she seems… different.” He explains, sliding the tables across the floor.
“So that's what woke me up.” He lets out a raspy chuckle. “I guess I’ll have to see what she’s like in a couple hours.” The warmth in the back of Sun's head dissipates as his counterpart returns to sleep.
“Sundrop?” He's snapped from his thoughts by her melodic voice. He turns to find Piper standing there with multiple bins of art supplies stacked in her arms. “I have all the crayons, markers, glitter, stickers, glue sticks, and stamps.” He smiles as he listens to her list off everything he would have grabbed. “I'm having some trouble finding the paper.” She admits bashfully.
“Here, let me take these.” The cold tips of his metal fingers brush against hers as he takes the stack of containers from her. He spreads them out across the tables before turning back to her. “Let’s go look for that paper.” She was a bit shocked by his response, she was waiting for him to start yelling at her. He didn't seem too keen on working with someone new, her not being able to complete such a simple task should've set him off. She follows him into the supply closet, he lets out a soft hum as he scans over the shelves. “Here we go.” He pulls out a pack of paper and hands it to her. It appeared to be at the back of one of the very top shelves, a place she couldn't have reached if she tried. “I'll make sure to get all the paper moved down to where you can get it.” He states simply before walking back out into the daycare, leaving Piper to watch him duck out of the closet in a state of confusion. He had seemed to completely change from the animatronic she had met earlier this morning, and she couldn't figure out just what exactly had spurred the sudden shift. She got everything set up for drawing time; separating the stack of paper into smaller piles to make it easier for all the kids to share, opening all the containers and removing a couple markers that had been left uncapped and had dried out. You heard the excited screams and talking of the kids as they ran over to draw. Sun had a child in either arm, a third clung to his leg as he moved in your direction.
“Miss Piper?” Her attention was caught by a girl with strawberry blond pigtails as she tugged on her sleeve.
“Hi honey, what’s your name?” She asks cheerily, kneeling down to be closer to the girl's eye level.
“Haley.” She responds with a huge smile, her two front teeth missing.
“It’s nice to meet you Haley, what’s up?” She looks bashfully over at Sundrop before her eyes immediately dart back to Piper.
“Do you think you could help me draw a picture for Mr. Sun?” She holds out the orange crayon she had clutched in her fist. “I want to make something for him but he’s really hard to draw.”
“Of course I can.” Piper smiles brightly at her, letting out a soft chuckle at her excited expression. Haley grabs Piper by the hand, tugging her back to where she was sitting, telling all of her friends that Piper would help them make pictures for Mr. Sun. She couldn't help but smile as her time was filled with giving high fives to all the excited kids as they showed off their drawings to her, drawing a quick Sundrop head for the kids to color, and being asked a million questions about her bright colored jewelry and fun outfit. Little did she know, the whole time Sun was keeping a close eye on her, absolutely delighted by what he saw.
“How’s everyone doing over here?”
“Sunny!”
“Mr. Sun!”
“Sundrop!” Piper looks over her shoulder to see the large animatronic had made his way over to where she was working.
“Is it okay if I sit here Miss Piper?” He asks with a smile, motioning to the chair next to her. He noticed how some of the kids must have placed stickers on her cheeks, her freckles laced with sparkly stars and neon smiley faces.
“Sure, Sundrop.” She smiles sweetly at him. He crouches into the comically small chair, his knees pressed to his chest.
“Miss Piper’s been helping us draw you Mr. Sun.” Haley exclaims, giggling when the animatronic gives her an amazed expression.
“Really? You all wanted to draw me?” They all clamored over to him, wanting to show off their pictures, most of them drawings of Sundrop holding hands with that child, ‘best friends’ scrawled across the bottom in messy script. “These are so wonderful!” He leans in closer to the group, they all copy his motions with wide eyes, waiting eagerly to see what he would say to them. “How about next you guys draw some pictures of Miss Piper?” They all silently agree before hurriedly turning back to their papers and crayons. He leans back in his chair. “I'll have to admit Piper, you're doing an amazing job.” She found heat settling behind her cheeks at the compliment, her eyes darting over to meet his glowing white ones.
“Thank you, Sundrop.” She smiles shyly.
“You can call me Sun, less of a mouthful.” He chuckles. “If Moon likes you you'll have passed your trial run.” There was a slight teasing tone in his voice.
“Well, lets hope for the best then.” She smiles at him.
She was grateful for nap time once it rolled around, with so many kids it was hard to find a moment to catch her breath. “Go pick your spot.” She shoos off a small boy into the other room, dimming the lights as they all settle in. She softly shuts the door, tucking herself away in a corner so she wouldn't get in Moon’s way. She wondered why she hadn't seen any sign of the animatronic all day. Her eyes immediately drifted to Sun as he stepped in the room, as he shut the door you watch his face spin around, all of the points surrounding his head getting tucked away as a sleep cap appeared. She blinked, the gold and red stripes on his pants suddenly turning to stars.
“You must be this new Daycare Attendant I heard about.” His voice was much raspier than Sun’s, he turned to face Piper, a noticeable difference in his face from the animatronic that had just stepped in the room in front of her. The moon on his face was much more prominent, the other side of his face being blacked out save for his glowing white eye. She was amazed at the complexities of their system, not to mention the immediate difference she noticed in their personalities, if she hadn’t just seen the change in front of her she wouldn't have believed this was the same animatronic. “You just sit back here, I’ll make this quick… and try to stay awake.” He chuckles before slinking off into the dark room. She heard the soft gasps and calls for Moon that he gently shushed, patting each child's head that greeted him as he made his way to the center of the room. The soft sounds of a music box beginning to chime filled the room, a tapestry of stars slowly rotated around the ceiling. Almost like magic Piper noticed the kids near her fall asleep one by one, every one of them in the room asleep by the time his song ended. She found herself yawning, pushing her round, wire framed glasses onto the top of her head as she wiped her eyes. She stretched, her spine letting out a soft pop as she pulled her arms over her head. Her eyes fluttered open, her hand immediately clapping over her mouth to suppress the scream that had welled up in her throat. Moondrop’s face was mere inches away from her own, he studied her closely, slowly crawling around her with almost spider like movements.
“I'm assuming you must be Moon?” She whispers nervously, his gaze didn't feel as judgemental as when she first met Sun, but he still made her nervous nonetheless. He offers her a small nod in response. “I’m Piper.”
“Sun seems very impressed with you Miss Piper.” He coos softly. “I do have to say you're definitely a lot prettier than the usual Daycare Attendants they send us.” He chuckles at her flustered expression. He runs a finger over one of the star stickers on her cheek. “The kids seem to like you too, that’s good.” He carefully maneuvers around her, propping himself up against the wall at her side. “How are you enjoying your first day?”
“It’s been good, definitely not what I was expecting.” She giggles, Moon felt a strange pang in his chest at the sight of her smile. She looks out over the group of sleeping children. “You know, that?” She makes a vague motion to the room. “Very impressive.”
“I have a bit of a talent.” He chuckles in response.
“Do you only come out for nap time?” He was a bit surprised by the genuine curiosity in her tone.
“I can only come out when the lights are off.” He explains. “Nap time, sleepovers, Sun and I switch off after hours.” She sat and quietly chatted with Moon for the rest of nap time, Piper found herself a bit sad to see him go.
“It was wonderful getting to know you.” She smiles softly at him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Piper.” The lights gradually grew brighter as nap time came to an end. The sleepy yawns of kids and soft giggles of them talking amongst themselves filled the room.
“Well, good morning!” Sun greets the kids cheerfully as they head back out into the main play area. She timidly makes her way up to his side, feeling a bit awkward standing next to the tall robot. “I take it everything went well with Moon?” She could tell by the softness his expression held that he already knew the answer to that.
“I hope so.” She smiles at him. “I don't want either of you to think I'm an amateur.” She mocks his assumption from the morning with a wink, making him chuckle.
“You definitely proved you're not an amateur Piper.” His hand gently comes to rest on the top of her head. Piper feels a blush spread across her cheeks as he pats the spot between her messy, copper space buns. “I'm sure they're all hungry, let's get them set up for snack time.”
Tumblr media
“He hasn't been giving you a rough time, has he?” Merry asks as she hands you a tray.
“No, I've actually been having a lot of fun working with him.” She admits with a small shrug and a bashful smile.
“What about Moondrop?” She follows up.
“He was also wonderful.” You reassure her.
“I'm impressed.” She mumbles as she starts to grab things to eat. “The last three people they hired had already been run off by now.” She chuckles. “I guess they did end up liking you after all.”
“I can't get over how much personality they have.” Piper smiles excitedly.
“I mean, they might as well be people with how complex of a machine they are. They're fully articulate, their AI lets them experience emotion, they're pretty much just like us without the internal organs.” They both pay for their lunches and sit down. “So, now that you've spent a couple hours with them, do you think you’re going to keep the job?” She seemed almost nervous as she asked her.
“Oh, absolutely!” Piper beams. She hurries through her lunch, exchanging goodbye’s with Merry before she heads back to the daycare. So she wouldn't cause a disruption she decided to take the stairs down to the main play area.
“Welcome back.” Sun smiles at her as she approaches. The rest of the day flew by as Piper got dragged off by a small group of kids to go play. She couldn't help but laugh as she caught sight of a girl wearing pastel pink fairy wings riding around on Sundrop’s shoulders, pretending like she was flying. Slowly your group became smaller and smaller as parents arrived to pick up their children, before you knew it you and Sun were alone, cleaning up the disaster left behind. “I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot this morning.” He suddenly apologizes, nervously tapping the curled golden toe of his shoe on the floor.
“It’s okay, from what Merry told me they threw in some real pieces of work before me.” She giggles in response. “We can always try again tomorrow.” He pauses, straightening up to look at her.
“Piper?” She hums softly, her blue eyes landing on him. Sun felt the words catch in his throat for a second. He takes a few steps closer to her, retrieving a yellow sun sticker from the booklet he kept in his pocket. He presses it to the apple of her cheek, her soft warm skin squishing under his finger as she smiles at his action. “Welcome to the team.”
Tumblr media
Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @twelvelevens
54 notes · View notes
moonmaiden1996 · 2 years
Text
Claiming his Queen- Part 8 Full
So I just realised I only posted half my chapter- Which was super intentional- *facepalms* So last chapter was just to tease you for this
How it happened I have no idea! I’m gonna blame it on Desire they messed  with it somehow- think they are jealous they don’t get a mate ....yet
So please enjoy and like and comment 
DARK THEMES/SEXUAL ASSULT/ MORPHEUS BEING MESSED UP.
Tumblr media
You had begun to hate waking up like this, in another strange bed in another bizarre surrounding. It had become such a regular occurrence that it seized to phase you. Your body was swaddled in the softest blanket, a gentle sea breeze caressing your face as it rolled off the lulling ocean. Brow crinkled as you blinked away the thick crust that coated your eyes as pristine crystal waves crashed against the shoreline, the gentle patter of rain in the distance sending ripples across the water. On the horizon, a billowing storm swirled, sending shocks of light across the sky.
Pulling yourself up, the cool air nipped at bare skin, blanket pooling around your waist as you sat up, leaving your naked torso exposed to the elements.
‘You’re awake.’ the deep voice filtered over the soft sounds of the weather.
A terrified shriek vibrated across the little oasis as the physical form of Morpheus manifested himself in a cloud of black sand, his silver eyes trained darkly on you as you scrabbled to cover your bare chest. You didn’t fail to notice the hungry look that sank deeply onto every edge of his face.
‘Where am I?” You snapped, huddling under the pile of blankets.
‘You are in the inner sanctum of the Dreaming, my heart.” The deep voice whispered as he inched closer, his eyes never wavering from you.
Anger prickled underneath your skin as you forced your eyes away from him. ‘Why am I here?’
‘I overwhelmed you. I blame myself for this, this can….’ His eyes lingered on the mark that mocked you from your arm. ‘be…. intense for baser creatures. I see that now. Here we are away from everything, where we can be alone to become one.’ Morpheus cooed.
Scoffing up at him, you felt a growl, only rival to his, fill your chest. ‘Baser creatures… you are deluded.”
The god stood tall, smouldering eyes burning down at you. “Deluded? Is it deluded to dress you in finery, give you every comfort and luxury? Love you, unlike anyone can be loved.”
“Love me? You insulted and kidnapped me,” You scoffed.
Silver eyes invaded your vision as his face hunched over you. “Kidnap? Is that what you think? I liberated you from that sallow pit of emptiness. You were alone. Suffering in silence just like me.’’
“Was Calliope the same’’? You gritted out, forcing yourself to stay still. You saw the fire erupt in his eyes and knew you had gone too far, but you couldn’t help; you needed to hurt him just like he hurt you. ‘I am sure she was lonely just like me; that’s why you married her, and then when she hurt you, you destroyed her.’
“Listen, my love, and listen well. Those dalliances were mere bleeps, cries for affection in my dark eternity, and nothing I felt for her or any of them comes near to what I feel for you. None of them wore my mark; none of them made my heart beat fast. You are mine. As I am yours.’’ Morpheus steely spoke as he stood straight, flicking his fingers and sending a command into the air.‘’Now we are together, that emptiness is gone, and I refuse to return to it. I will make you see that. Make you see that we belong together.’’
Wide eyes took in the god as he glowered down. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as the sheets disintegrated into nothingness, leaving you bare under his gaze.
You squeaked as you attempted to cover yourself, your eyes glaring up at the untamed god; his hair was wild, features feral as they devoured your form. ‘You truly are my goddess.’ He hummed as his clothes disappeared, leaving his taunt, wiry nakedness exposed in the light of the moon, his thickness firmly pressed against his stomach, taunting you.
Screwing your eyes shut, you turned your head.‘‘Morpheus!’
‘It is okay to look, my love; I am yours’’ His voice sounded closer now, warm breath hitting your face.
‘Morpheus, please no….’ you screwed your eyes tighter shut, his cock pressed warmly against the side of your hip.
‘Shhhhhhh’, he cooed. Lips ghosted over your neck. ‘Shhhhhhh, my dream, I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.’ His lips dipped down and suckled across the base of your neck and throat.
‘I am sorry, my dream. For it all, but I will take care of you.’ He mumbled into your skin, pulling a soft whimper from you.’
‘Please, we can’t, you…we….’
‘I know you’re confused and scared, but this mark means you are mine and belong here with me in our marriage bed.’ He spoke with utter certainty, his hand beginning to trail down your arm.
Feebly you tried to wiggle from his grip, but his grip remained firm. ‘Don’t worry, my dream that is to come; now I will just show you how good I can be to you.’ His lips latched onto your shoulder as his slender digits trailed down your arm, getting closer and closer to that tender mark.
‘‘Please don’t,’’ you whimpered as his fingers found the raised skin of the brand.
Fire coursed through your veins as the soft fingers prodded down the mark. A burn bubbled beneath your skin, setting your whole body on fire.
‘You feel that, that inferno that brewed within you. That is your soul yearning for our bond, for the ritual that will connect us.’ Morpheus rumbled, a deep growl vibrating against your skin. You stared into his silver eyes and shook your head violently.
A frown tore at the corners of his face as he stared down at you. For the briefest moment, there was a small reprieve. His touch disappeared from your mark, and the ferocious want inside you disappeared, but only slightly. There was still that shameful eagerness that strummed at your core. A sigh of relief escaped your mouth and turned into a wanton wail as two fingers plunged into your pussy, curling up to hit that spot.
‘Don’t deny it; you are so desperate for me. Your soul and body are begging for me, and I won’t refuse its cries.’ Morpheus hissed as he pressed his body against you fully. A smirk stretched out across his lips as you gasped loudly as his cock skimmed across the side of your hip, nestled against your sensitive skin.
His fingers remained still in your core as shark-like eyes gazed into yours as his fingers rolled over that spot repeatedly. A string of lazy moans fell from your lips, and he pushed you closer to the edge with every massage of his fingertip, sinful lips working at your neck.
‘Morpheus!’ you wailed as your legs shook.
You hated to feel this vulnerable, but the pleasure was so much, more than you had ever managed to gain with your fingers or toys; you wanted to bath in the release of this warmth, but every time, you seemed ready to surrender to it he pulled it from your grasp.
‘Not yet, my mate.’ He rumbled into your ear, ‘you need to beg for me to take you as mine; I want to hear your plea for my cock to start our soul bond. We aren’t leaving here till I have you.’’
The last bit of your sanity kept you grounded as your whimpered no. You could refuse this; you had strength; he would soon grow bored with this game and retreat; if he didn’t, his ministration would numb you and seize to give you pleasure. No human could keep up this feeling of bliss for that long. Either way, you would not submit.
Xxxxxxxxxx
You were wrong; he neither grew bored nor complacent with his movements. Even adding a  languidly rolling thumb over your clit as he plucked your sweet spot. The pleasure you felt only gained momentum, never wavering, just building an insane intensity. You had lost count of how often he brought you close to the edge and ripped you away again.
‘Morpheus, please, I can’t.’’ You jerked against his hold, but it was unrelenting.
‘Not until you give me that plea, my mate.’
Tears of need rose in your eyes as the climax was snatched away from you. His face was deep in concentration as his fingers now pistoned in and out of you. He could sense your resolve breaking, and like a floodgate, you burst.
‘Please, Morpheus!’ you pleaded to the god above you.
A feral cry of victory drifted across the heart of the dreaming as Morpheus pulled your thighs apart and nestled himself against your core, coating himself with the mess you created.
His mouth was on yours instantly, slow and needy; the love and tenderness expressed almost made you sob. A shudder ran through your body as he nipped at your lips. Soft fingers tangled in your hair, giving him more access to your mouth. His other hand trailed down the side of your body, settling possessively on your mark, and he shifted his hips, his thick cock against your burning core with a hiss.
‘I am going to claim you.’ Morpheus purred before returning to suckle at your neck, pulling another mew from you. ‘Come so deep it you that everyone will know you are mine.’ Nip. ‘I’m not going to stop till you full of my cum….’’His voice had a low rasp as he rocked his hips against you, his cock nudging clumsily at your opening, making you jolt against him.
‘Morpheus…’ you whimpered against him, pushing against his chest.
"Shhhh, my mate’’ Morpheus pulled back to look at her. His eyes were pure windows of swirling silver. ‘’Relax as much as you can for me.’’ The head of his cock dragged sinfully down your core before lining up against your opening.
Swiftly his hips slammed into you, sending white-hot fire through your body. The feeling was too much; it overwhelmed every one of his senses as he stared down at you as he sank fully into you. The tightness of your walls fluttered around him as they struggled to adjust to his thickness.
An electric jolt travelled through you as you struggled to accommodate his hardness stretching you. The pain was searing, but there was something else, something tightening within you, branding you. Your eyes slammed shut; as he settled between your legs, body fully covering yours. Every nerve ending was alive, sending your body jolts of pleasure and pain.
"...fuck." he hissed as you ground your hips against his. The friction against your swollen clit pulled a small pleasured squeak through the pain, relishing the feel of his hot cock against your walls.
It was too much. He was too much. You wanted to run away but pull him closer at the same time. The stretch hurt almost as much as the pain vibrating through your arm to your heart.
‘Morpheus, it hurts’, you whimpered as he shifted to look at you with his mercury eyes.
‘It’s okay, let me take care of you.’’ He gritted out through clenched teeth as he pulled back an inch before pushing back into you, the god grunting as your tight pussy clenched around him.
The feeling was nothing like you had ever encountered; it was slow and steady, dragging you to the most peculiar feelings of pleasure you had ever experienced. You felt a coil tightening in the pit of your stomach as Morpheus slowly moved in and out of your core.
Morpheus bit a moan as your tight walls pulled him back in at every movement. The feeling was intense—more than he had ever felt before. Your walls quivered and shuddered beneath him as he set a slow, unforgiving pace. With each thrust, his balls trembled at the feeling and spurred him on toward his orgasm, but despite the need for release, the urge to care for you was too much. He pushed forward, ignoring his base instinct to start the claiming ceremony now. But he clenched his teeth, sliding in and out of your tightness with a renewed vow.
‘Look at us’’,, he gritted out, forcing you to follow his eyes that fell on his cock plunging in and out of you, streaked with your wetness ‘’you're going to make the perfect queen and mother; I cannot wait till your round with my children. You are going to let me, aren’t you? Be my good little queen.’’ He roared as his hips snapped harder against you, knocking your response out of your throat.
You couldn’t do anything. The feelings that swirled within you were too much. You felt it building; it was slow, too slow; but was coming; you could feel it as he piston his hips against you, his thin body grinding against the most delicate spots. You knew what would happen, yet you couldn’t prepare yourself for how violently it took hold.
The orgasm slammed into you as your screams filtered through the heart of the dreaming. Morpheus grunted as you clamped tightly around him, holding him firmly. A primitive roar pulled itself from his lips as his balls tightened and flooded your pulsing pussy, making your neediness wantonly milk him for every drop.
You were helpless against him; he was everywhere—the hand holding your mark possessively as the energy pulsed through you as he gazed down at you.
A scream ripped through your throat as your walls spasmed against Morpheus’s cock. As the connection tightened around them. His cock swelled inside you, spurt after spurt, coating your pussy as your mark sizzled against you.
A weak cry crawled up your throat and pushed past your lips as another wave rolled through you. Aftershocks rolled through your body, each one more intense than the last. Your whole body was utterly boneless, unwilling to move as Morpheus rolled you to your side, cock buried deep within you. His fingers ghosted over the mess of your joining. A deep purr of contentment rumbled from him as he pulled you to him.
So *hides behind hands* what you think?
If you do want to be tagged please comment below.
Question of the chapter- How do you think the claiming ceremony is going to go?
@daydreamin1220  @jesllianaquilesrolon @ultimatreality @musemaniac42 @duhitzdae  @songbirdcannabe  @wt-fxckk @quillycrow @lemontails-blog @zafirina12 @alastorhazbin @witchybitch @thegreatestsandwich @buckys-pillow @sunscreenfeverdream @lu123sworld @asianfrustration13 @leighs-posts @elraeeee @intothesoul @sparklinglilac @lustreader69 @thraetor @fate-huntress @itshamleth @beautifulsoulsublime @bookohocolicsstuff @aurorarevenclaw1927 @winxschester @gingermous @scarlettmoon98 @nushy @nanadesudesu @sinisterandfun @the-whispering-mountain.  @ellie-xoxox @xixxala @theraggedygirl11 @poemfreak306 @sugarstone1999 @depressooexxpressoo @lovesickollie @andy-rocks @reallystressedhoneybee @theoddballinyourcloset @zaflrina12 @dangerousdreamkitty @chadekelevra @wandas-soulmate @yor72 @sugarstone1999 @heartyhope @thecrazytealady @louslous @minetticatinwonderland @thecrazytealady@deafeningnightmarecrown @kiki13522 @fantasylover-92 @weirddominatrixpop @majestyjade @electric-cabaret @littlewhitefairy7777 @acdassenza @immaturedinosaur @juniebugg @theamuz @itsbqueenthings @thedepthsoffandomminds @nightly-polaris @pinkcyclewitch @kuchokitty @asgardiandeadpoetsociety @humongousgalaxycoffee @arim0895  @kuchokitty @inannamoon @true-queen-of-mischief @tyelikesbees @one-loud-mind @hoefortonks @notabotiswear @cynic-spirit @mamamidnight60 @paulina15  @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @thedepthsoffandomminds @minetticatinwonderland @blossomedfloweroflove @bluebear142077 @ladychibi @sinisterandfun @itsbqueenthings @hagofyourdreams @sugarstone1999 @44capybara @tortilla-chips-and-allioli @loverofallgoodboys @dilf-of-the-endless @aiko-uzumaki @kipoturtle   bisexualunicronrunninglose   angelheartifillia1   @azrielloveselain @the-ruler-of-death​  @the-disastrous-one  
657 notes · View notes
Note
They look so ridiculous Im gonna throw up..
The golden boy.
The black, tall, creature with the 00s midrift.
The vampire with his billowing coat.
The karate kid.
The pocket sized tin man.
Till. Just Till.
(all photos from ig lifad_switzerland much more where that came from)
Let's recap...
The golden boy
Tumblr media
The black, tall, creature with the 00s midrift
Tumblr media
The vampire with his billowing coat
Tumblr media
The karate kid
Tumblr media
The pocket sized tin man
Tumblr media
Till. Just Till......wait, what do you mean *just* 😊
Tumblr media
so much more Till for all to enjoy 🥰
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
79 notes · View notes
Note
You got anymore fics or hc of Alfred being a good brother to his 8ft tall beanpole?
'tis garbage I wrote about 20 years ago and is poorly recycled but here! enjoy if you can lmao. TW for poorly written ptsd, references to beheading and axe murder and snuggles.
1920, Quebec City.
"I'm fine." His baby brother said, even as he looked like he desperately needed to lay down.
"Matt, that cough does not sound good,"
"It's fine," He said, stifling another fit with a harsh swallow. Alfred grimaced and jogged to keep up as Matt strode ahead on the rain-battered sidewalk and took the umbrella with him, like speeding up would disprove the implication he wasn't at perfect 100%. How could it sound like he'd been gassed recently?
"You sound miserable,"
"It's fine," Matthew said again, shrugging and knuckling his chest as he struggled to keep his breathing even. "It's just the weather. Tell me about the new Ford coming out,"
"Oh it's a beauty, they're even going to come out with other colours than black," Alfred said, longing to reach out and squeeze Matt's shoulder and steer him inside. "But it will mostly only affect internal market goods.
"Interesting. What are the implications with free trade?"
"Don't try to distract me. I know you don't give a shit about economic law unless you're being forced,"
"If it interests you, it interests me,"
"You can't force yourself to be quiet through this,"
Matt rolled his eyes. "I'm not dying,"
"You kind of sound like you are,"
"Then I'll die!" Matt shrugged and gave one of his rare, frustrated Gallic shrugs. "C'est la vie! And honestly, it'd be nice to sleep without waking up coughing. Wake up and go to work tomorrow with more than an hour of sleep behind me,"
Alfred frowned, a surge of helplessness as he watched Matt press on through the rain as if determined to outpace whatever was wrong. Alfred lengthened his stride to keep up and get back under the umbrella, snatching it from Matt’s hand to make him slow down.
“Come on,” He said, steering them both down the path towards the subway stop.
Halfway down the park hill, he couldn't stifle anymore and ended up clinging to a tree branch, doubled over and coughing so hard veins corded at his forehead and throat and when he breathed, he shuddered through another bout so hard Alfred thought he was going to throw up all over the park path. He sucked in air and the wheeze that accompanied it was so horrific Alfred grabbed his shoulders and steered him to a bench as Matthew tried to get his breathe. Air coming in and out rapidly and almost uselessly like Matt was breathing through shredded black smiths billows. Alfred pulled him upright.
Two neatly dressed couples threw them dirty looks like Matt was some infectious consumptive polluting a public park. Alfred glowered right back. He might have flirted with the one who’s dainty green dress that was fashionably short to show off shapely legs but now he was just frustrated.
"Go fuck off to the circus if you want to gawk at something!" He yelled and the men sped along, dragging the women with them. Matt made another face gesturing for Alfred to stop but couldn't get words out as coughing wracked him all over again.
It was another five minutes of Matt coughing and coughing and coughing before he stopped and collapsed on Alfred's shoulder, heaving.
"Jesus Christ, Matt," Alfred said. “You sound like you’re dying.
"I’m not—" Matt heaved air, it caught in his throat and he hacked out another pounding cough that left him spasming and shivering against Alfred. "It comes and goes,"
"Are you sure it's not consumption?"
"Yeah, Dad made them x-ray me three times during demobilization, I'm just like this now,"
"What? Chronically asthmatic?"
Matt shook his head. "I’m not chronically anything. It’s just a bad day every now and and again."
"Is that what doctors say?"
Matt nodded and leaned more heavily onto him, panting again.
"You're burning up," Alfred could feel it against his coat. “Mattie…”
Another nod. “Like I said, it comes and goes.”
He sighed, getting them to their feet. “Christ, Matt.”
“Oh, don’t look so sad.” Matt rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, the supply of your favourite whiskey isn’t about to dry up.”
“Is that what you think? Fuck you.” Alfred scowled. “You’re such a–” Realization dawned on him and he turned to his brother, grabbing his shoulder again. “You little shit. You’re trying to piss me off so I leave this alone, aren’t you?”
Matt blinked, taken aback. “Fuck me, you finally figured that one out?”
“You little asshole,” He laughed. “That is so manipulative.”
“Hardly. You’re so self righteous usually all I have to do is mention Dad and you’ll leave me alone for a month. What is this? Character development?” He laughed, and the coughing started again.
This time, Matt didn’t argue when Alfred insisted they go home. The grey stone heart of his brother’s first city, into the stone houses behind the stone walls the English and the Americans had besieged more than once. Behind slate walls, warm wood greeted them as they passed through the red door with the same iron hinges, squashed between what had once been the apothecary and the bakery. Matt had once been stingy with the firewood but now he had electricity and the coal fired boiler in the basement that heated the house beyond the parlour with its polished brass fire grate and brick hearth.
"Sit," Matth said as he leaned against the wall. He threw aside his damp coat and propped himself against the worn wood. Scrubbing his damp hair off his forehead, he sighed. "I guess I should make coffee and sandwiches or something."
“Will you bite my head off if I offer to make something?” Alfred asked, cautiously toeing off his shoes.
Matt gave a wry sort of look, almost amused. “No.”
“Hallelujah.” Alfred replied, throwing his hands above his head.
“Don’t push it.” Matt said but his face was light.
Alfred chuckled and headed to the kitchen. He rummaged through the cabinets, with all the fine little details of grapevines heavy with fruit and swirling knotwork that reminded him of Aunt Brighid’s embroidery. He thumbed one and wished she was there. She wouldn’t put up with this. He put on water to boil, dug a slightly dessicated chicken carcass out of the fridge, tore it apart to make sandwiches, put the bones on to make soup and returned to the living room with a mug and a plate for each of them.
Matt was sprawled on sofa, his face pink. Alfred didn’t want to wake him up, they both spent so much time ignoring the other’s nightmares these days. He still looked like Matt when he was asleep, sweet and still, like the man the cherubic baby Matt should have grown into rather than the wraith that had to shake off their father or the trenches. But he was feverish and Alfred made himself wake him.
“Here,” He said, handing Matt tea and the sandwich.
“Thanks.” Matt said quietly. He drank the tea eagerly but set the plate down next to him.
“Eat that.” Alfred said, taking a bite out of his own and throwing himself onto the leather chair. “You always do this when you’re sick. Don’t want to eat, don’t want to bother anyone, don’t want to admit you feel like ass. Just like Dad. It’s fucking annoying.”
“No one said you have to be here.” Matt glared, but he had picked up the sandwich and taken a decent bite. “Happy?”
“Never happy when you’re miserable.”
Matt snorted. “Oh, that’s bullshit.”
“Stop.” Alfred sat forward, hands on each of the chair’s arms. “Stop, okay? God. I know you’re–”
“Know I’m what?” Matt took another bite of the stupid sandwich and there was a flash of something flinty and dark behind his eyes Alfred didn’t like.
“Like how you always are after a war,”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means you get good at killing and keeping everyone alive and–”
“And what?” Matt said.
“You get shit at everything anything else.” Alfred desperately wanted a cigarette but it felt a bit cruel. “Bring back Gilbert’s head like some sort of fucked up barn cat, sure, you’re great at that. But lay down and act like a human being? God forbid.”
“Oh don’t you–” Matt sighed through his nose and ate more, and too Alfred’s bewilderment, smiled. “You know how often I tell Dad something like that?”
Alfred stared, but leaned back, holding his coffee. “You back talk the old man?”
“Bringing Gilbert’s head back like a fucked up barn cat gave me some leeway.” Matt said, the sly smile on his face fading into something more serious. “But yeah. By the end, by the hundred days, we talked. About what I did. About what he didn’t stop. And I told him to shove it up his ass sometimes. He’s a hypocrite and so am I.”
“Sometimes.” Alfred responded. “You’re still a pretty good brother though.”
“Thanks.” Matt said. “I try.”
“I know.” Alfred said. “And I’m sorry I don’t sometimes.”
Matt shrugged. “Not your job. You don’t have to waste your time if you don’t want too. I’ll live, the overpriced booze will keep flowing. I shut up and do my job, everyone benefits. It’s fine.”
“We’re brothers.” Alfred said. “We’re supposed too… I don’t know.”
“You’re a rising great power, I’m the favourite knife of the British Empire. We have our roles. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want too.”
“Matt–”
He’d drooped against the arm of the sofa, breathing ragged, unable or unwilling to reply.
“You with me?”
“Yeah.” He responded, hoarse. “Sorry.”
“Is this from the gas too?”
“Yeah,” He didn’t off anymore of an explaination and Alfred shook his head.
“Dumbass,” He stood, and crouched to reach out. He gently placed the back of his hand against his brother’s forehead. “All you have to do is ask for help and, fuck, I think you’re warmer.”
“Just tired.” He murmured, but he didn’t open his eyes.
“Mattie…” How many times in a day could he let denial slide before it was stupid? Matt was trying to rally himself, push Alfred off and reach for the tea, muttering about how he was fine when there was a loud crack. The windows rattled and suddenly he had his arms full of his brother, shaking like the last maple leaves on the trees, eyes screwed shut and mouthing something in French Alfred couldn’t make out.
“Hey,” Alfred laughed nervously. “Hey, you cold?”
“They’re coming.” Matt said, and the fever flush had disapeared. He looked bloodless. “They’re coming.”
“Hey.” Alfred suddenly understood. “Hey it’s okay. I’m right here. Matthew, I am right here. Nothing’s wrong. It was a car backfiring, not gunfire. No one’s coming.”
Matt leaned in more, burying his face in Alfred. “You don’t let anything happen to me.”
“Never have, never will.” Alfred rested one cheek on Matt’s feverish head. He held on tight, feeling the tremors that sprang through Matt until they stilled. But Matt’s breathing was still fast and shallow. He hadn’t been this close in a while, and the path of Matt’s spine showed through his layers, and he’d had that pinched up look half his life.
“Come on.” He said, gently. “Bed.”
“No.” He burrowed against Alfred more tightly, like he was four, barely spoke English and it was a cold morning he didn’t feel like greeting just yet. He’d always had a streak of stubbornness.
Eventually, Alfred got him up, got him to change and horizontal. He was a little delirious, shivering between the sheets and coughing until he was curled in a ball and muttering about how he needed his axe. But he didn’t get up to get it. He breathed through a split lip and rolled around trying to get comfortable. Alfred fed him pills and glass after glass of water, and somewhere around the seventh, Matt seemed to pass out into real sleep. Alfred sat on the bed and pressed his hands to Matt’s cheeks and was relieved to find it a little cooler.
Matt rolled over towards him, hugging his side, demanding warmth and making a contented sound when Alfred let him with a snort. “You always were a snuggly baby.”
111 notes · View notes
danses-with-dogmeat · 7 months
Text
M is for... The Mysterious Stranger
Ohhhhh, this one had SO MUCH potential for SO MANY things, and I just... I hope that my excitement surrounding this character and his mysteriousness and the abundance of potential there shines through in this piece <3
Golly, I hope you all love it! Cuz honestly I was SO excited to share this one with y'all :)
And here is the 2k event masterlist, for your browsing pleasure!
--
Pair: Mysterious Stranger & g/n! Sole (but who used to go by Nora)
Dialogue: “I never should’ve left you alone.”
Word: Memory
Rating: SFW
Category: Angst
Word Count: 2k
Maybe this was wrong of me… After all, the Stranger’s always been helpful, more than anything. Is it fair for me to trick him like this?
Sole gulped, anxiety fluttering in their belly, even as Nick gave them a solid nod from his hiding place. 
I’ll have to borrow his confidence, they decided, And his curiosity. 
Just then, the hired gun across the way set loose a rain of bullets in their direction, just as planned, and that inexplicable feeling rose up in them, that call to the void for aid in the form of the mysterious, cloaked man. 
Who, just as inexplicably, appeared from nowhere, right where Sole and Nick had planned, had expected. Before his own bullet, fired with an expert precision Sole had only seen once before in their life, could land upon the man they’d hired to put them in false danger, Nick pounced. 
The Mysterious Stranger tried to duck away, his coat billowing in the chaos, but Nick’s hold was too tight. He had him. 
“Quick, Sole! Help me get a hold on him.” Nick growled through the effort of wrestling with the tall man. 
Sole could only move slowly, unconsciously half-hoping that he would escape, that he could remain a mystery.
After this, how can I expect help from him again? How many times he’s saved my ass, and this is how we repay him… 
More than anything, it felt like a betrayal. 
Could Nick’s curiosity, could their own being satisfied, really make this worth it?  
The Mysterious Stranger’s face remained covered, all through the scuffle, his hat brim low, and the collar of his trench coat high. Trying to differentiate between the synth detective and this strange man was difficult enough on its own, with the way they rolled upon the dusty road beneath them. 
“Sole!” They heard Nick’s shout from within the dust cloud. “You wanna, ah, give me a hand here?” 
Finally, that had them springing to action, their own hands reaching out to pin the shoulders in front of them. 
Thank goodness they were the right ones. 
The man was panting as Nick managed to pin the rest of his body to the ground, synthetic hands holding firm to his arms, while Nick sat and straddled his dress slack-donned legs. 
“Alright, buster, you’ve been caught.” 
The stranger let out a grunt of his own, as he made one last-ditch effort to escape his assailants, but all that managed to do was knock the hat from his head. 
Then everything froze. 
Sole’s hands went limp where they rested on his shoulders, and the stranger’s eyes, those eyes stayed wide as they locked to theirs. But he stayed still. He didn’t try to flee, but nor did he speak a word. 
Quick breaths continued to escape him as Sole’s expression fogged over, first with shock, then confusion, and lastly, fury. 
Shaking their head in utter disbelief, Sole released his shoulders completely, and got to their feet. 
“Sole? What is it?” Nick continued holding the man down, but he hadn’t struggled. Not since Sole saw who he was. “Or rather, who is it?”
Golden eyes shone as they looked down to the stranger, then back to his partner. 
To think… Sole’s head continued shaking, the wheels in their mind spinning so quickly they were damn-near ready to break off of their hinges. All that I believed to be true. All this time… 
“You remember…” Sole whispered, a cold fierceness accompanying their words. “I told you I had a husband once, but that he was dead? Killed by the Institute? Guess I had that bit wrong…” 
Their gaze glossed over the man on the floor, in favor of looking to Nick directly. 
“Nick, meet Nate.” 
“What?” Nick blinked at them, then down to the man he’d captured. “Now, how do you figure that… Didn’t you say there was ahh, well, a body?” 
“Yeah, well,” Sole turned and began picking up their things, tossing a bag of caps to the hired gun before waving the relieved bystander on his way. “The Institute’s been known to have a few tricks up its sleeve. Wouldn’t shock me to find out that they’re planting fake corpses around.” 
At that, Nick released him. A disgusted look rested on the synth’s lined face as he stood up himself and dusted off his trench coat. 
“You got anything to say to that?” He prompted the ‘stranger,' a fierceness akin to their own hardening his voice.
“I can explain, Nora.” 
The voice sent chills up Sole's spine, making them feel sick, but also… home at the very same time. 
“Haven’t you been listening? They don’t go by that name anymore.” Nick practically snarled in their defense. 
“I’m sorry, sorry, I just…” He stuttered, but slowly, Nate made a move to stand up. 
And surprisingly, Nick let him; though his brows were hard over his shining eyes as he continued to regard Sole's... not-so-late spouse.
Now that he was at his usual height, Sole felt like banging their head against a wall. 
How the hell did I not guess this? His height, his accuracy, even the type of gun he uses, all dead giveaways. How could I have been so blind?
At the look on their face, Nick must’ve guessed what they were thinking. 
“He’s supposed to be dead, doll.” A cool hand placed itself on their shoulder as they looked to the ground. “No way you coulda known he wasn’t.” 
They nodded at that, their expression solemn. 
“Why did you do it, then, Nate? Or should I even call you that?” 
“I haven’t gone by Nate in a long time. Since… since before the bombs fell, but… Sole, I don’t know quite how to tell you this…” 
“Nothing you say will be more shocking than what I’ve already discovered today, so might as well just spit it out.” 
Visibly, he gulped, and Nate’s gloved fingers fiddled with the pockets of his trench coat. 
That’s an old habit. Sole’s mind reminded them without permission. All the wedding photos, and his hands are fidgeting with the shallow pockets of his suit jacket. 
I pretended to be angry, but really…I just found it endearing. 
They didn’t feel that way now. 
“I thought I was him, thought I was your Nate…” 
My Nate… 
Their chest gave a painful ache that went, frustratingly, straight to their tear ducts. 
“But I was wrong. All those memories… fabricated. Taken from journal entries, from photos and memories that Father believed would’ve been housed in his late father’s mind. But it was a sham. A trick he’d had in mind, I think… Maybe he was telling the truth, maybe he really did want a father in his life, wanted family... but, when I found out I was a synth, and when I found out about the kid he’d made. Our kid– or, yours.”
Nate shook his head, the pale lines on his face becoming more pronounced with every elongated instant of this painful conversation. 
Sole actually found themself feeling a twinge of pity alongside their continuing shock. 
“I don’t know. It’s all so… messed up, everything that he’s done. Trying to trick you, making me, some mockery of the old Nate, and then… after I found out the truth, when he realized I’d gone through his terminal, well… let’s just say it wasn’t easy getting out of there in one piece.” 
Nick blinked, his mouth half-open as he took in the story. 
“Unfortunately, all that seems pretty on-brand for the people who made me...” The detective added solemnly.
Nate nodded his agreement, his eyes downcast. 
“The Railroad helped a lot, but I had to escape them too, once I realized they wanted to erase my memories. I... couldn’t let them, couldn’t turn my back on your husband’s story, not when it was the only man I could imagine being. Even if I was… I don’t know, false?” 
Sole turned to Nick, just as the old synth sighed. 
“Boy, do I know the feeling… Not so different, you and I. No wonder I was so drawn to finding out the truth about ya.” 
“Right…” Nate rubbed at the back of his neck, another old habit Sole had been fond of. Hell, they’d actually counted how many times he’d done that on their first date. They seemed to remember the number being in the double digits. Why he’d been so nervous having dinner with them, they never knew, but still… another endearing characteristic of the man they’d loved. 
“You’ve been awfully quiet, Sole…” His voice roused them from the memories. 
“Yeah… I just, well… Why didn’t you approach me sooner? I mean, this ‘Mysterious Stranger’ business has been going on for months now. Why did you never think to come out and explain yourself?” 
“I guess I was scared.” He admitted, but they could see he’d thought about this answer before. Maybe he’d even counted on them finding out his identity one of these days. 
“I knew how much you’d been through, and… as much as I wanted to see you safe, as much as I felt this need to help you, I was afraid that you’d turn me away. I know deep down that I never should've left you alone, the way that I did, but if you refused me..."
He sighed heavily, and Sole noted the genuine pain written upon his face.
They always hated seeing him this way, his brows scrunched, eyes glistening, lips drawn downwards. It was like his hurt bled through his expression, and right back into them.
"Then… I don’t know what I’d do. Knowing you’re out here, but not being able to protect you? The old Nate would haunt my dreams until I officially lost my mind.” 
He let out a nervous chuckle at the end, but Sole still just had confusion written in their furrowed brows. 
“So, what? Then you just planned on spying on me for the rest of my days, but never actually making contact? What kind of life would that be?” 
“I don’t know," He shrugged, "one that I deserve, I guess. I never had any delusions that you could care about me the way you did your real husband, and to be honest, I’m not sure how much of that Father would’ve gotten right in the first place, I mean… Did you even like the guy? Nate, I mean… I know that marriage back then wasn’t always for... love, and I’m under no–” 
“Did I like him?” Sole scoffed at that. 
Isn’t it obvious?
“Nate, I… I loved him.” 
Nate’s eyes, that vibrance Sole knew so well that they frequently saw it in their dreams, grew wide at their confession. 
“I loved him from the start." They continued, "Him and Shaun, loved them with everything in me… But they were both lost to me, one way or another. I had to try and shut out those feelings or… I didn’t know quite how to go on. I lost so much all at once, even before being frozen, when the world went up in flames. But I thought I could make it, if I had my family by my side, I’d be okay. But then…”
“Then the Institute happened.” Nate’s voice was dark with malice as he spat the name of the faction that had made him, and then betrayed him. 
That had betrayed them both. 
“I’m… I know it can’t mean much to you, but, all the same… I’m so sorry for everything that happened. For everything they did to you. You deserved so much better.” 
Sole’s glistening eyes snapped to him, and there was a sternness there that nearly made Nate recoil. 
“Can’t mean much… Nate, it means the world to me.” 
Tentatively, Sole stepped forward, and they felt Nick’s gaze lingering on them as they reached out a hand and brushed it over one of Nate’s broad shoulders. 
“You’ve been through hell, just the same as me. Shaun… Father, he did this to us, and much as I’d love to forgive him, much as I wish he was the boy I wanted to know, or the man I always dreamed he’d grow up to be, he was lost to me– to us, the moment the Institute stole him away. With him… I fear there’s no second chances.” 
Their voice cracked at the painfully true words, and Nate’s own expression reflected that hurt, his dark eyebrows creased, his bottom lip giving a melancholic twitch. 
“But with us… Maybe that doesn’t have to be the case.” 
47 notes · View notes
fogwitchoftheevermore · 4 months
Text
Lizzie feels like she’s been falling in the void for longer than usual. She doesn’t make a habit of this often, so maybe her view on how long this is supposed to go is skewed, but she’s pretty sure she should be dead by now. Almost certain, in fact. She started suffocating a while ago, and now that’s stopped in favor of a steady nothing where her lungs should be. Maybe she is dead?
It’s around when Lizzie starts thinking this that she notices the woman falling next to her.
She doesn’t scream, though it’s only because you make no noise in the void and there’s no air in her lungs to scream with. Similarly, there’s no way for her to ask “Who are you?”, though not for lack of trying. When she opens her mouth, nothing more than a croak comes out, and the void itself is cold on her tongue.
“Hi,” the woman eventually says, giving Lizzie a long look. She’s about Lizzie’s height and build, from what Lizzie can tell at the awkward angle that falling next to each other affords. It has blond hair and bright green eyes, and their navy blue captain's coat billows around them and almost blends into the void around the pair. Lizzie knows immediately that she’s never seen them before.
“Sorry, I know this must be strange for you,” she continues. “I was told you were still relatively new to this whole thing, and now even death is getting shaken up. This is your second time around, right?”
Lizzie nods. The woman’s tone is gentle, matching a soft look in her eyes. If the look had come from anyone else, Lizzie might’ve thought it was pity, but from them, it’s something like understanding.
“Right, ok. Well, I know this isn’t usually how these things go, but I’m here to help you move on.”
Lizzie wants to ask the woman why it’s helping her, rather than the usual person, tall and dark and rarely this talkative, but all she does is nod. The woman smiles.
“Alright then. Now, protocol for dying in the void is a little weird, here. It’s never happened before, so congrats on pioneering a new death!”
Lizzie tries to snicker at that, and the woman pales a bit.
“Oh, god, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I said that, that’s not-”
Lizzie waves her hands slightly, trying to tell them it’s ok, and they take a breath. From her spot next to Lizzie, the woman slowly reaches out a hand.
“We’re almost out of here now, Lizzie. All you have to do is take my hand.”
Lizzie no longer cares for questions; why they know her name, why it's here, who she is. All she cares for now is an offer of contact, and she takes the woman’s hand. Despite it all, their skin is warm.
continue reading on AO3 here!
25 notes · View notes
bellafragolina · 1 year
Note
Wanderer!Reader
Hisui is a vast place, and it can’t only be occupied by the two clans and the village, yes? There aren’t many travellers, the only ones of notice being the Gingko Guild.
You, however, just like to wander. You travel by yourself, the only companions being Pokémon you’ve befriended along the way. People are exhausting, so you prefer it that way.
You don’t own any pokéballs because the knowledge of them hasn’t been passed around yet.
So one day you’re just hiking up the mountains when you come across a tall, yet slouching, figure ahead of you shouting. Upon closer look, you see that it’s a male wearing very torn and ragged clothes that look foreign to you, specifically the cap and coat.
- yui.anon
I’m rereading this and I’m starting to think you were just chatting about it instead of requesting a drabble. If that’s so then sorry! Have a drabble as an apology!!
🍓🍓🍓
The man notices you the moment you notice him. The cap he wears shades his eyes, but their still bright, if tired. Sharp silver pierces your skin, so you stop, a hand atop the Arcanine at your side. Your hiking companion growls at the new person, not soothed by your gentle pets.
“Good morning!”
The greeting bellows through the quiet mountains. You jerk back, ready to flee or fight, whatever the situation calls for. Arcanine barks again, smoke billowing from his mouth at the threat the man poses.
To his credit, the man backs away too, eyes wide beneath that brim. His hands are up, showing you his scarred palms as a sign of surrender, of having no arms or weapons. You relax a little, but not Arcanine. It steps forward to protect you, still spewing smoke crackling with embers.
“My apologies!” The man says, voice quieter now. He glances away, then pulls his brim down to hide his eyes. You relax further. “I didn’t mean to frighten you! I don’t often meet travelers out here.”
You cock your head. The man straightens, and does a strange pose. Both arms fire out, one pointing at you while the other points down.
“None the matter!” He says, his eyes bright again. “I will conduct you to your destination, dear traveler!”
“I’m a wanderer.” You correct gently, stroking Arcanine again. The lack of attack has it slowly easing off of its haunches. “So I don’t have a destination.” You rake your gaze down his attire, unashamed of your stare. The man squirms in place, but you’re able to see his tattered coat and clan uniform, as well as. . . “What’s that on your belt?”
The man pauses, glancing at his belt. There’s a wooden object sitting there, one he pulls off with ease. You creep a bit closer as he holds it out. The wood is two different shades, and there’s a clasp on it in the center seam.
“A Poké Ball.” The man tells you.
“A Poké Ball.” You repeat. You creep closer still. Arcanine makes gruff noises, voicing its obvious displeasure, but follows. “And what is it for?”
“To catch Pokémon.” The man says. Your silence has him squirming again. “Er, you throw one at a Pokémon, and it. . . catches them. And then you have it for your team. To battle.”
“Why would you need one?” You ask. “Do your Pokémon not follow you like mine?”
The man opens his mouth, then closes it again. His eyes are on your shoulder. Based on the sharp tingling you can feel, your Magnemite is peeking out of your bag at the new person.
“Er, well. . .” The man seems unsure of what to say. You smile at him. “I suppose they do. . .”
“Strange what the future holds.” You muse to yourself, turning to head down the cliff face. Arcanine and Magnemite are at your heels, or shoulders, in Magnemite’s case. “Goodbye.”
“Wait!” The shout makes you pause. To your surprise, the man follows you. Arcanine’s growling has no effect on him, for soon he’s at your side. “I will accompany you down the mountain. Safety checks are needed to ensure your safe passage!”
You cock a brow. “I will be fine. I’m a wanderer.”
“I will accompany you!” The man says, finality in his voice. You watch him start in the direction you were headed in a moment again. “Mind the rails. All aboard!”
Of course, you think to yourself, he lives here all alone. You’ve discovered the mountain madman.
Well, at least the trip will be interesting.
🍓🍓🍓
We love a slow build up. Ingo, alone in the mountains, immediately crushing on the wanderer he finds. The wanderer, thinking he’s insane and humoring him to not get bitten.
True love <3
~Renee
171 notes · View notes
violetlunette · 5 months
Text
A little tease from my current big project which is a TWST/Demon Slayer AU. Enjoy!
--
“Silver…” the voice was wretched with emotion as the figure moved towards them, eyes glowing like green flame against the shadows. “Get away from him.” Silver looked up, face twisted in mental and physical pain.
“Malleus…”
The Slayer stood tall, above six feet, his eyes glowing beneath hair as dark as the night around them. His ivory frame was lit by the light of his enchanted sword as his black coat billowed despite the rain.
Malleus Draconia.
Lilia’s first and prized student and a Phantom Slayer.
Usually, Silver would have been over the moon to see the man, whom he saw as an older brother. But right now—with his father’s condition—he was the last person Silver wanted to see.
Malleus took a stance, sending terror through Silver. The silver teen tightened his grip on Lilia, who thrashed in response. He wasn’t attacking Silver or even trying to get away, yet there was something he was fighting against in his mind.
Malleus stared hard, his brows pinching together as his jaw tightened in a subtle way that no one else would have noticed.
“Stand back, Silver.” The man ordered him again, even though it seemed to cause him pain.
“No!” Silver made to shield his father, but Malleus moved before Silver could even blink. When Silver’s eyes opened again, Malleus held a snarling Lilia, a blade at his throat. Silver’s eyes bulged out, throwing his arm up.
“Wait, stop!”
“We have to kill him!” Malleus yelled though the words were nearly drowned by the thunder.
“He’s a Phantom! You know what that means! We have to stop him now before he starts killing everyone.” Even so, his hand shook and hesitated. Silver shook his head rapidly, tears and raindrops flying as he did so.
“That won’t happen!” Silver insisted. “Father would never kill anyone!” Malleus’ brows were creased deeply, his jaw quivering. When he spoke, his words came through gritted teeth.
“He tried to kill you,” he said with a low tone and a haggard breath. This seemed to strengthen Malleus’ resolve as he shoved Lilia to the ground, a foot on his back so he wouldn’t escape. The Slayer's voice cracked, hair hiding his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” It was unsure who he was talking to.
Silver cried out in horror.
“NO!!”
36 notes · View notes