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flowerandblood · 10 months

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Song from the Sea (3)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Greyjoy! • fem! oc!reader]

[warnings: physical violence, angst, swearing, sexual tension]

[description: Aemond and Aegon arrive in the Iron Islands, to confirm the arrangements made years ago and the marriage of Lord Greyjoy's daughter to Aemond. (Anon Request) During a break on a long journey, at one of the taverns Aegon drags him to, Aemond meets a woman, who will change his life forever. (Anon Request) Smut, angst, sexual tension, domination.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

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He couldn't believe, what he saw before him. His future wife, the woman, who had amused herself at his expense. She knew who he was from the beginning. His stomach tightened at the thought, that every word she said, was a lie. Nothing he had experienced with her in those few minutes, was true.

She was only testing him, like any woman, with her own agenda. He thought, that she wanted to see, if he was a good lover, and if he was easily manipulated. He turned his head away at the thought of being so easily fooled by her, furious with himself and with her.

He tried not to look at her during the feast. As soon, as she opened her mouth to him, he told her not to talk to him. He didn't want to hear a word from her lying throat, the humiliation burning in his lower abdomen, the feeling, that he would never trust this woman again in his life. He thought, she was his divine punishment, another curse, that heaven had sent upon him.

He didn't feel like eating or staying too long around these people and his imbecile brother. He got up from the table, choked out a matter-of-fact thanks for the meal, and headed for his chamber, without giving her a single glance.

He couldn't hide his surprise, though, as she followed him into the room and closed the door behind her, leaning against it. It seemed to him, that her face expressed something like pride, which unnerved him even more. It terrified him, that he wanted to hit a woman.

"Get out." He hissed, but she responded to his words with a smile. He thought, that she was still mocking him.

“No.” She answered softly, sensually, warmly, so that he felt a shiver run through his body.

Angry at himself and at her, he grabbed her by the neck and pinned her against the wall. The things she said, the things, that came out of her lying, poisoned mouth, made him want to strangle her, watch the life drain slowly from her.

Suddenly something happened to her. Her gaze changed from indifferent to helpless, terrified, tears welled up at the corners of her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Her lips began to tremble, her eyebrows arched pleadingly. He knew, that she hadn't cried over his physical brutality.

He thought, that she looked like a helpless child and released her at once, letting her fall to the floor. He took a few steps away from her, and she cowered, burying her head between her knees, covering her head with her hands, as if protecting herself from someone's blows.

"I should have thrown myself into the sea."

Her words hit him like a dagger straight to his chest. He stared at her blankly, with his mouth slightly parted, feeling his heart pounding hard. For some reason, all the rage drained out of him.

He thought, that she was as distraught as he was. That what happened between them really didn't matter. There, in the inn, they were two other people, enjoying the last moments of their freedom.

He sat on the bed, burying his face in his hands, feeling suddenly weak, tired from the journey, terrified, of what had happened and what was yet to come. Even though they were in the same room, he had the impression, that they lived their agony separately, pretending, that they didn't exist for each other.

He suddenly heard the rustle of her dress and looked up. He saw with surprise, that the girl simply lay on the floor in front of his door, her blank gaze fixed on something in front of her.

"What are you doing?" He asked, deciding, it was one of the most bizarre things, that he'd ever seen. A highborn lady, lying on the dirty floor in the chamber of a strange man, who wasn't even her husband.

"I'm lying." She said indifferently, and he sighed heavily, burying his face in his hands again, deciding, that there was no point in talking to her.

He stood up suddenly, unbuttoning his leather jacket, throwing it to the floor, then did the same with his shoes. He blew out all the candles in his chamber and just lay down under his duvet, deciding, that he needed to rest and simply wouldn't pay any attention to her.

He thought, that he didn't have the strength to deal with her sudden nervous breakdown, as he was going through one. He closed his eye, trying to pretend, that he didn't hear her softly sniffling and ragged breathing.

After several minutes, it was completely silent. He tried to sleep, but he couldn't. He found himself listening to her every move. He wondered, if this was another of her tricks. Wouldn't she just kill him in his sleep to avoid marriage. He shuddered, when he suddenly heard her voice, soft, slightly babbled, as if she were drunk.

"You promised me, father." She mumbled, and he heard her start to sob softly. He spun over his shoulder and saw, that her body was shaking, her eyes squeezed tight. He realized, that she had just dreamed something.

He watched her for a moment, listening to her cries, watching her body tremble slightly, her breathing ragged and restless. He wondered, what he was even doing.

Why does he let the woman, who was going to be his wife, whether he wanted it or not, lie on the floor like a dog. Why couldn't he find a single word of comfort for her, when she was clearly suffering just as much, as he was.

He got out of his bed with a soft creak, approaching her slowly, watching her face, illuminated by the faint moonlight, streaming through the window. He stood over her, looking at her face, contorted in pain and despair.

For some reason, he wanted to wake her up, lift her dress, spread her legs, and just slide his cock inside her. Comfort her and himself, enfold her in his arms, let go, feel the warmth of her body again, her scent, hear her sweet moans, that still echoed in his head.

Instead, he picked her up roughly and tossed her over his shoulder, walking with her back to his bed. She started thrashing around in his arms, throwing him off balance again. He threw her on the bed, pressing her hands to the sheets, to stop her from beating him.

"Stop it." He hissed, looking at her warningly. He saw, that it was only then, that she recognized him, and she swallowed softly, lowering her gaze.

He laid down next to her, with his back to her, not saying a single word. He was furious with himself for still feeling aroused, but decided, that he wouldn't show any weakness this time. After an hour of torment, he managed to fall asleep.

He woke up in the morning to the feeling of someone's small arms, hugging him from behind. He shuddered, startled, not knowing for a moment, where he was.

"Do not go." He heard her soft whisper, tentative, gentle, even somewhat warm. He felt his whole body tense, his jaw clench at the thought, that it was her.

He wanted it and didn't want it at the same time, the closeness of her body making him confused. He lay back without looking at her, pretending not to feel her face pressed against his thin shirt, her breasts pressed against his back under the material of her dress.

He decided not to say anything to her. He didn't want to speak to her, show weakness, show, that he felt any hint of sympathy for her. He thought, that she was trying to appease him again, to get, what she wanted, to throw off his guard. He flinched, his eye widening, his breath caught in his throat, as he heard the next words she spoke.

"Forgive me."

They both lay there, his muscles taut as a string. One of her hands rested on his heart, he was sure, that she could feel it pounding hard, and he swore mentally. He debated, whether to say something or pretend, that he hadn't heard it. He thought, that an apology wasn't enough. But she kept talking.

“I couldn't stop myself. I wanted to meet you. When I saw you, I felt a note of hope. I naively thought, that we could do it. If I told you, who I am, you would hide from me everything, that you showed me that night. Just like me." She whispered softly, hugging him tighter. "I promise, that it was the first and last time. I will never lie to you again."

He swallowed hard at her words. He wanted to believe her, but he couldn't. He didn't trust her. He thought, that she knew exactly, what he wanted to hear, what he wanted as a men. He was sure from what had happened between them, that she had slept with other men before and could wrap them around her finger.

"Yes. That was the first and last time, that I let you fool me. I won't repeat that mistake again." He said as he got up, reaching from the bed for his shoes, putting them on one leg at a time.

“You have strained my hospitality and patience enough. Leave." He spoke calmly and indifferently. She didn't answer him.

After a moment, he heard the soft rustle of her dress and saw her stand up, heading barefoot towards his door, her shoes in her hands. He didn't look at her, when he heard her voice.

"My father wants you to visit Devilwind's with me. We'll spend a few days on this galley. Be prepared for discomfort." She said calmly as she opened and closed the door behind her.

He thought with satisfaction as he buttoned up his leather jacket, that she was not a woman given to dramatize and beg a man's forgiveness. Perhaps it would give him temporary satisfaction, but in the long run, he would despise her.

The prospect of spending a few days on a dirty, old boat, among the stinking seamen, while Aegon drank and played with whores, didn't seem like the happiest to him, but he knew, that he had no choice.

In the afternoon, as agreed, the two of them, accompanied by several guards from her father's fortress, set off towards the port, which was on the other side of the hill. The weather was very cloudy, gray and bland, like everything, that he saw around him.

His future wife, Lady Greyjoy, was dressed like him in a tight-fitting leather outfit consisting of a coat, jacket and trousers. Her hair was tied up in a braid, some of her strands waved majestically around her face.

They rode on horseback side by side without a word, unmoved, as if nothing had happened between them. He was glad, that she didn't force him into pointless discussions about nothing, like most of the women in King's Landing, who wanted his attention.

He noted, that she rode like a man, her posture correct and upright, the dagger at her hip, the same one, she had dared put to his lower abdomen the night before, when he had nearly strangled her.

When they reached the harbour, he saw Devilwind from a distance, and though he wouldn't have said it out loud, the size of the ship, its carvings and details, its black sails and meter-high masts, made him shiver.

He thought, there was no galley in all of King's Landing, that matched its size and splendour. They dismounted, his future wife dismissed their guards, ordering them to return to the keep. She climbed the plank first, stopping halfway, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“There is no god in the sea but the Drowned God, and there is no other king, than the captain. You are a prince, but the master of this ship is Captain Seray, and his command is superior to yours, mine, or my father's. He will treat you with the respect you deserve, but if you humiliate him in front of the crew, I advise you to sleep with your eye open." She said calmly, walking up again, without waiting for him. He pursed his lips at her words, trying not to show his impatience.

He followed her on board, his hands clasped behind his back, his long, black coat unbuttoned, billowing in the wind. The entire crew stood up, staring at him in silence. He felt the pressure, his heart pounding hard in his chest, but he didn't show it - his face was stone.

After a while, a man he recognized immediately, came down from the wheelhouse. His long, white beard was covered with beads and earrings, his big, black hat was already faded and worn, his robes long and made of various gray materials.

He spread his hands to Lady Greyjoy, who gave him a warm, gentle smile. Captain Seray walked over to her, cupped her cheeks in his worn, large hands, and kissed her forehead, as if she were his own daughter. After a moment he turned to him, his expression attentive and benevolent. Aemond swallowed hard, recognizing him as the man, who had brought her to the inn that night.

"My prince." He spoke softly and bent down slightly, bowing down to him. "It's an honor to have you on my ship."

The entire crew watched intently at his reaction. He looked at Lady Greyjoy, who was looking at him over her shoulder with concern mixed with pleading. He pursed his lips, as he stared at the tall man in front of him. He decided, that he represented the crown, and he could not afford to be personal, when he came on behalf of his father.

"Thank you for this opportunity, captain. I'm excited to see the world's largest ship in all its glory, sailing at sea." He said calmly, indifferently, his gaze piercing and dangerous.

The captain stared at him for a moment, then laughed rudely, slapping his big hands against his thighs.

"We're sailing out, you mad dogs! Raise the anchor! Spread the sails!” He shouted in a booming, hoarse voice, as he strode briskly towards the wheelhouse, the people around him suddenly running without a word, throwing themselves at the ropes, doing a dozen things at once. His future wife beckoned him to follow her.

"I'll show you your cabin, my prince." She said softly, as she went belowdecks, moving around the ship, as if she knew every inch of it. He wondered, how long she had been at sea and what the men she traveled with thought of her.

Aemond had to admit, that he wasn't quite expecting this. They walked through a narrow corridor, but although there was not much space and the whole galley rocked in the waves, making them have to lean against the walls as they walked, the whole thing was tastefully designed and the ship itself was rich.

Lady Greyjoy opened the door, inviting him in with her hand. He entered a room with two round windows, one small bed, a writing table, and a wardrobe.

"It's the second richest room after the captain's." She said calmly, as she followed him inside.

"Who did it belong to before?" He asked indifferently, accustomed to the discomfort of traveling on Vhagar, looking around dispassionately.

"To me." She said softly, as she turned and walked outside, leaving him alone. He stared over his shoulder for a moment, then turned to look out the window, lost in thought. He left his coat on the bed and went upstairs.

He saw, that they were already on the high seas, the port and hills of the Iron Islands barely visible in the distance. He was amazed at the speed at which they sailed, the mighty galley rushing forward, crashing against the great waves, blowing his hair. He thought, that he had felt a similar feeling, when he had flown on Vhagar.

He saw Lady Greyjoy in the distance, standing by the rail, staring into the distance, her hair flowing and plastered to her face. He thought, that was the freedom, that she was talking about, when she said, that she would give up everything for him. He approached her slowly, trying to keep his balance, as the whole boat shook and heaved, as it surged forward.

He stood behind her, clasping his hands behind him, looking out at the endless sea. He never thought about the view, always marveling at the sky above him. He wondered, if this ship was like his dragon to her.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, and they stared at each other in silence for a moment. She looked down, turning again, her face in profile to him. In the daylight, he thought, her face was even brighter, her golden eyes now looking almost brown, warm and large, her eyebrows arched in some unspeakable worry. He thought, that she was no longer pretending to him.

“This is my last cruise before I marry you. The last expedition into the depths of the sea." She whispered, and he had to concentrate to hear, what she was saying, over the loud crashing of the waves against the bottom of the ship.

He looked at her uneasily, his lips pressed together, his muscles tensed. For some reason, he felt a tightness in his chest, a kind of sympathy. If anyone had told him, that he would never ride Vhagar again, he would have killed himself.

She looked at him, hopelessness, pain and sadness in her eyes. She looked at him, as if she wanted him to comfort her, and he didn't know what to say.

"Tell me it's worth it." She whispered, her voice breaking at the end of the sentence, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Tell me that someday we'll find, that it made sense. That this was our destiny."

He looked at her, his heart clenching. He swallowed hard, his face trying to be indifferent.

"I can not promise you that."

He saw something inside her snap at his words. She turned her head away from him, looking at the endless sea, the sounds of the waves and the wind drowning out her silent sobs. He wanted to touch her, but he knew, that he couldn't, not with so many witnesses.

He approached her slowly from behind, his body inches from hers. He thought, that there was something, that he could give to both her and himself. He leaned over her ear and whispered only one sentence.

"Come visit me at night."

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Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses

Others: @letmeloveyouuuu @fantasias-creativebubble

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spilt2manysecrets · 9 months

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Snow White's new rebranding

Badass Brown Beauty and the Seven Minorities

Once again, I have to bring back my argument on woke culture and feminism going waaayyy too far.

I am all for a strong female lead

I am all for more racial and ethnic diversity in the film and tv industry.

HOWEVER

only when they're done in original works that were always meant to be portrayed that way.

For example, casting a Chinese woman to play Mulan. I'm most definitely all for that.

However, I begin to feel uncomfortable when we change whole essentially all the main plot points of a classic story that almost the entire world knows about.

Like... i dont know...

turning SNOW WHITE into a Latina?

Like- the entire reason she's called Snow White is because her skin was known to be "White as snow"

But don't get me wrong here- I'm not saying this as an advocacy for white supremacy or some shit like that.

I would be equally as unnerved if they casted a British white woman to play Pocahontas. Or if they casted an Italian lady to play princess Tiana.

The entire reason I'm so annoyed at this is because this story no longer deserves to be called a live-action remake of the original "Snow White"

I would have been perfectly happy had they made this into an original movie of it's own, separate from the childhood story we all grew up with. For example, Snow White and The Huntsman. If they really wanted to stick with the Snow White name for popularity and to revive the Disney Princess franchise, they could at least rename it to honor the original story, show respect, and separate it from the original story.

And don't even get me started on this whole "girls are all girlbosses, never need to be saved, and true love isn't important" thing.

As I said earlier, I have no problems with badass female leads or true love not being the forefront of the plot.

But seriously? At this point, we're headed for the far extremes of this imbalance.

We were mad before that women were always made into helpless, stupid, damsels in distress

But now we're hurtling for the other extreme where all movies being churned out display women essentially switching roles with the men and turning everything into this whole "i dont need a man" movie genre.

Can't we find a fucking balance?

Must it always be either stupid women, strong men or strong women, stupid men?

Can't we both be EQUAL?

Is that not the entire goal of the Feminist movement, equality between the sexes?

Right now, everyone is scared to write, film, show, talk about, or even whisper anything that shows women needing help or making a woman's goal finding love.

That pisses me off, so fucking bad.

There are so many shows and movies that strike that balance of badass women AND men working side by side and with some maybe even finding love along the way without having to sacrifice their badassery. Like the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Or like BSD.

On a more serious note, I've noticed that this severe imbalance has spread beyond the big screen and has bled into the real world.

I swear, if this goes too far, it's not just Korea and Japan that will have to stave off the crisis of a rapidly aging population,

It will be the whole fucking world.

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exilethegame · 2 years

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61 for Marky Mark my beloved ❤️

61.) I waited so long for this. - Freedom.

You’re frozen in place.

For months you’ve heard their voice in your head. For weeks you were taunted by them in your dreams. For the past few days, you’ve been haunted by a vision of them in your waking hours that no one else can see.

None of that compares to this. They’re here, and they’re real, and the difference is staggering. Their presence alone is something stifling, and as you look at them you are forced to face the fact that this being in front of you is something entirely ancient and entirely dangerous. The gleam in their eyes seems more malicious now that they can touch you, actually touch you, and it has your heart hammering in your chest as they approach you slowly like a predator ready to pounce. The wooden floors of your room creak with each step they take, the long fabric of their robes dragging across the ground.

You’re not one to feel weak. But right now… right now, you feel like a rabbit cowering in front of a wolf ready to eat you whole. And the more you think about it, the less sure you are of how much of that is a simile.

They stand in front of you, and there is something unnerving about the fact you can feel their body warmth-- feel them-- as one of their hands grabs your chin, claws digging into your skin. You can feel their breath on you, feel their gaze as it looks you up and down with this overwhelming need to consume you until there is nothing left.

“I waited so long for this,” they murmur, lifting your head up higher as they lean over you. Their hair falls over your shoulders and it’s soft, smelling of sage. You are surrounded by them, incapable of getting away even if you wanted to. Helpless-- you are helpless. And what makes it worse? You know they can see it. See that you don’t even want to try and get away while you still can. You enjoy this, and they know it. They know everything.

You are theirs, after all.

They tilt their head, thumb caressing your bottom lip as the slyest of grins forms on their face when your breath hitches. “Are you scared?” They ask. You both know the answer, but you say it anyway.

“Yes.”

Their smile widens, and you swear you see their fangs gleam. “Good.”

They coo the word out with so much delight and fondness that it’s absolutely sickening... and then they let go of you, pushing you away from them roughly. Your back collides with the wall with a loud “thump”, and it takes you a moment to regain your balance before your eyes are on them once more. Lazily, they saunter toward the window, rolling their shoulders back before stretching their arms high up above them, back arching as they let out a less than innocent sound.

“You have no idea how good this feels,” they sigh. “Have no idea how suffocating it is inside that little head of yours.”

You’re not entirely sure what to do, so you do nothing. For a moment they just look out the window, but when your silence continues they peek at you from over their shoulder. Their bronze eyes lack any of their usual playfulness as they look you over appraisingly before they turn to fully face you again, hands behind them as they lean against the window frame.

It takes everything in you to not walk right back to them. To not give yourself to them as an offering-- as a sacrifice.

“You were so feisty before, Commander,” they murmur. They tilt their head back as if disappointed, and that action alone has you panicking. “What happened?”

What happened? What happened is that you never felt how dangerous they were until now. Now... now, every fiber of your being is screaming to get away from whatever wicked beast stands before you wearing the corpse of a human as a costume to conceal its true form.

And it’s true form?

You shudder as you try to imagine it-- some faceless entity that no mortal-- or immortal, for that matter-- is meant to comprehend. And that entity… it has its eyes on you. It wants you.

Freedom smiles at you as you fill with dread, desperate to look away but physically unable to do so. You… you are their next toy, meant to entertain them until they inevitably break you right in two.

You wish you could say the idea didn’t appeal to you at all. But right now, in this moment... you think you would do just about anything to keep them interested in you. To keep them looking at you like they are now. Even if it’s temporary, even if it’s fake, you want it.

No. It’s more than that. You need it.

Freedom smiles, and you stop fighting.

They take your offering eagerly.

#drabble #freedom #mystery ro #long post

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s-sugumin · 2 years

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“Dangerous Grounds”

// i’m a whore for anything mafia or yakuza related so this is just gonna exist bc of it. there will be one for Bokuto, Daichi, and Osamu as well. no nsfw or suggestive content yet bc i kinda wanna build this up for myself- so this is really shit.

// cw/tw: choking(?), cursing/swears, faint mentions of injuries, reader being tied up/handcuffed, blindfolds

// Fujoshis & Fem-Aligned DNI, or you will be blocked.

// Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou

// Reader: Agent Male!reader, he/him

》 Kuroo Tetsurou

The sound of footsteps made your body tensed from your position on the cold cement floor. Only slowly hearing it get closer to the room you were in made your heart beat faster, then a door was heard opening. The click of the door knob signaled someone has entered.

“You look so delightful on the floor, Agent.” Kuroo cooed. “Just like... a little ol’mouse. Helpless. Pathetic. Paralyzed under a cat’s gaze.” A small laugh erupted from his chest before he stalked closer to you, before just kneeling down to meet you closer. Only feeling his gaze made you uncomfortable, being unable to see him was unnerving. It made you start to shift in the handcuffs that were tightly secured around your wrist, the rough rope around your ankles rubbing more into your sore skin.

“Ah ahhh- Keep moving like that you’d reopen those fatal wounds from yesterday.” Seeing you struggle just a little longer before giving up out of tiredness made a smile creep on his face. “Good boy.”

“...what the fuck do you want now..” You spat. “Ohhh~ What a sharp tongue all of sudden- I just wanted to talk to my new plaything. Can I not do that?” He playfully said with an offended tone, the reply only made your teeth grit. “Plaything-? I’m not an object, you fucking sicko. You selfless little-”

Kuroo had interrupted you with a hand over your throat threateningly, feeling nothing but a cold smooth texture of his gloves accompanied with a deathly grip. It all made you gag. Wheezing lightly as your lungs had less room to breath in more oxygen than just a moment before. “You better watch what you say. This isn’t your turf. You step in my territory. My grounds. Its lucky that a cop, or any authority like you is alive right now.” The grip of his hand tightened mid-talking before he shortly let go. Seeing you gasp for air. Then coughing roughly. The sight beating of your chest as you tried to gain composure from the action made Kuroo feel something but he had quickly brushed it away.

Busy on focusing on getting oxygen back through your body he had slipped off the blindfold you wore. His amber eyes meeting yours.

His mind began to wander. The sight of you being tied up and on the floor, body scuffed and roughed down like a diamond. Excited him. But the fear in your eyes, the way you looked at him with a shaken gaze pumped adrenaline in him. To you, his eyes held something you couldn’t read. You couldn’t think of anything that could match what you were seeing because all you felt was nothing but horror. You finally realized where you were and you were with.

Kuroo’s small smile grew a little seeing you avert your gaze, “I see you finally understand by the looks of it. What a good boy you are, I can’t wait~”

“W-wait... Wait for what-?” The stutter made you cuss mentally to yourself, though you can’t help but feel heat raise up your neck and face by the name.

“You’ll know soon enough, Y/N.”

#s-sugumin #s-sugu.thirsts #hq x male reader #kuroo tetsurou x male reader #kuroo x male reader #hq oneshots #hq drabble #this lowkey just kinda shows what im into #fucking help me—#AGSHSH

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jangofctts · 3 years

Text

Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are.

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that?

Not much, as it so happens.

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding—

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail.

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought.

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in.

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics.

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…

So you ran.

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.

Maker—how did everything become so tangled?

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out.

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift.

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground.

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and—

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times.

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving.

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz.

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now.

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.

“No more bounties.”

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.

“No more hunts alone—“

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.”

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire.

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond.

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails.

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble.

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night.

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over.

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits.

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you.

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow.

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.”

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous.

“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh.

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?”

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers.

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling.

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal.

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you.

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now.

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"

He continues without missing a beat.

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck. “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity.

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly.

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.

Maker you hate this fucking planet—

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up.

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar—

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.

You were right.

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand.

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants.

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought.

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath.

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward.

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance.

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.

Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips.

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.”

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up.

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you.

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips.

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.”

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug.

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.

Another time for that game maybe.

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you.

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.”

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works.

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.”

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind.

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things.

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim.

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss.

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue.

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?”

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent.

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat.

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches.

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been.

Tag List: @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aeryns-library @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @cptnbvcks @thesoftdumbass @krissology @starlite41 @legally-a-bastard @basslinedweller @cloud-of-roses @elenamiria @goldafterglow @maybege @equalstrashflavoredtrash @wandxrlust @hdlynnslibrary @calamity-queen @sgtbookybarnes @pinkninja190 @lackofhonor @darthstyles @spacegayofficial @absurdthirst @blue-writes-a03 @max--phillips

#din is a certified bottom #ANYWAY welcome to pound town #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader x paz vizla #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #star wars #sw #fanfiction #sw fanfiction #my writing #are you in or out?

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lesbiansforboromir · 3 years

Text

Let me tell you all about a very personally satisfying HC I have that, whilst perhaps explaining some things within the books, is really just for my own enjoyment.

So, the idea originates in the concept that everyone in the Dol Amrothian line are very spooky. The close elven lineage and living near an old abandoned elven haven had particularly mysterious effects on the whole family. Sure there are Dunadain in Gondor and they can develop certain spooky traits, but the Lords of Dol Amroth start out spooky and usually stay that way. It goes up and down depending on the individual, but generally they are all uncanny at the very least.

Denethor can see into the hearts of men, yeah ok cool I guess. Imrahil goes down to the Dol Amroth harbour at dusk and whispers to the swans until midnight, he answers questions you were sure you did not say out loud, he can make you weep with genuine grief over a sadness he hasn’t even mentioned. Speaking with Finduilas sometimes makes you feel like time passes in an instant, or incredibly slowly, or not at all... except no... really... how much time has passed? Wasn’t it just morning? How is the sun setting already? Or, oh my gosh, I’m going to be late! Or... not..? it’s barely been a few moments, yet I feel like I just lived a lifetime...

Ivriniel insists this is all nonsense, doggedly, she refuses to acknowledge it, no matter how many political rivals raise her considerable ire and come down with a mysterious and debilitating illness the next day. Grandmother Duilindes is just straight up a witch. ‘It’s all for the honour of Eru’ she says placatingly, as she enters her rooms in the Palace that she forbids anyone else from entering.

Denethor had heard these rumours before meeting Finduilas and, sure, he sometimes feels like he is being hunted, only to turn and find Adrahil’s eyes on him. But Dunadain are just a little strange like that! Surely it’s been blown out of proportion. He believes this up until he comes to Dol Amroth as Finduilas’ suitor.

Denethor: Shall we take a walk after dinner? Everyone looks up from their plates in alarm Adrahil: Are you joking? Denethor: ??? Imrahil: It's the seventh day! The gardens aren't to be disturbed! Denethor, whispering to Finduilas: What does that mean?? Finduilas, chuckling: oh, Denethor!

He sees Imrahil whispering to the swans at one point and is about to call out to him before Finduilas quickly gestures him silent.

Denethor, whispered: What is he doing? Finduilas: Shh, if the swans hear us we'll surely be attacked. Denethor: But then shouldn't Imrah- Finduilas: SHH.

One evening Ivriniel sweeps in with a stormy countenance, muttering over Lord Garahel’s stupidity. The next morning Denethor hears Imrahil mention that Lord Garahel has been taken ill with some fainting sickness. The look he gives Ivriniel is enough for her to know his mind.

Ivriniel: Your imagination will run wild Denethor, I had thought you more reasonable. You think I, what? Cursed him? Don’t be ridiculous. Denethor, turning to Finduilas: Do you think... she knows she's doing it? Finduilas: Oh no, in fact she's determined to remain ignorant to it. Denethor: Can you... do that? Finduilas: I havent tried :)

At some point Finduilas had told Denethor that ‘Imrahil is the odd one of the family’ and by the end of the visit all Denethor can think is ‘by what metric??’

Denethor had to admit to himself privately that he was not at all put off by Finduilas’ nature, but he did have cause to worry what their children would be like. Finduilas came across Denethor, early after Boromir’s birth, rocking him to sleep and murmuring softly; 'I may have my failings as a father, I am sure I shall, but I swear they will be honestly meant, I love you so dearly my son... please do not curse me when you are older and I do not allow you everything you ask. I promise I only ever have your wellness in mind.' And she thought it was very sweet and proper, but she didn’t tell him he was wrong! And for very good reason!

Boromir was an unnerving child. He learned to speak just a little too quickly, and when he did he would often say uncanny things, too knowing things, indecipherable things that became daunting the longer you thought about them. He had such a powerful grasp of complex feeling that he would often solve arguments between adults, explain emotions back at his parents or offer reasons for another child’s behaviour that were so accurate it became uncomfortable.

3yo Boromir: (explains the reason Denethor’s secretary was distracted that day unprompted) Finduilas: (laughs) yes that's right! Denethor: It's.... TOO right. Finduilas: Oh well children are intuitive aren't they? Denethor, picking Boromir up: ... I feel under qualified to teach you things. Boromir: (baby-giggles but in a like way too knowing way)

And then sometimes Denethor would be sitting reading on a bench on a balcony in the early evening with Boromir contentedly playing with a fiddle-toy beside him, and suddenly his son’s voice would break the silence with; 'When I wasn't here I was colder, so I think I like it here, I'll stay. The air isn't as delicious but there's more to see.'

And then he’d go back to playing as though nothing was wrong whilst Denethor had an existential crisis.

Denethor: W.. where were you, before? Boromir: Well I didn't know, because I couldn't know, but now I can know things, just not that. I haven't decided if I like it.

He asks Finduilas about it as soon as he can find her and she just laughs, ‘don't worry he'll forget he knows that in a few years’ she says, as though that helps at all.

But in general this is as far as Boromir ventures into the ‘spooky Dol Amroth’ territory. Sometimes he mentions things he CHOSE NOT to do that suggests he is capable of more, but other than randomly forcing Denethor to consider his position in the universe and reading him for shit, the first five years of being a parent is fine for Denethor.

At one point, when Boromir was about two, someone asked Finduilas if they were planning for another baby soon. Finduilas laughed ruefully, as though everyone would know that was a foolish question. ‘Oh no, much too soon for that’ she said. Denethor knew he had to follow up on what the hell that meant later. But when asked, all Finduilas said was ‘Oh you know! If siblings are born too close then they align their powers. Haven’t you heard my father talk about my uncles?’ She says it with the same tone as reading something out of a parenting manual. Denethor doesn’t want to hear about Finduilas’ uncles, but accepts this is important and stops thinking about it.

And it’s a good thing they did wait because, whilst Boromir was unnerving, Faramir is straight up terrifying.

What Denethor realised was that Boromir had been showing restraint. Faramir however was very comfortable with his powers and saw no reason not to use them. Denethor would find himself lost in baby Faramir’s eyes, feeling unable to move simply because of the weight of his stare. Finduilas and Boromir would have to save him from Faramir’s grasp, an act that would make Faramir look very put out.

If people irritated Denethor when he was holding his youngest son, then just a glance from this child would make them drop whatever they were holding, Faramir grinning victoriously all the while. If Faramir did not want to take a bath then Finduilas would have to be present in case the baby decided to make Denethor relive his entire childhood.

Sometimes Denethor would come outside to see his toddler just surrounded by the street cats of Minas Tirith, conducting some kind of incomprehensible tribunal that all the cats appeared to abide by. At one point Boromir was holding Faramir when Faramir grasped his brother’s face and pulled so that their eyes locked. Boromir passively held Faramir’s intense gaze for a while in this charged and tense moment, before calmly looking away as Faramir pouted. Denethor once again begged Finduilas to explain, but all she had to give was a fond sigh and a ‘Aw, Faramir just wants to get to know him, but our Boromir is too canny, Ivriniel and I used to do that.’ Denethor is used to helpless bemusement and concern by now.

Now the SECOND part to this HC- YES I’M STILL GOING, THIS IS ALL IMPORTANT- the second part is that Dol Amrothians ALSO get a kind of ‘choice’. (This is likely not at all canon friendly tbh but uwu I can have a leetle canon noncompliance if it doesn’t effect the vast expansive canon... as a treat) It is far more unconscious and happens in childhood, but there is a point where a child will ‘decide’ to continue being spooky or to be more mundane. This never overrides ALL the spookiness, hence Ivriniel’s intermittent cursing and Finduilas’ occasional time dilation, but Imrahil still out spooks the lot of them. Amongst the family this is known as ‘settling’.

Boromir settles when he is eight. One day he comes to breakfast and Denethor looks into his son’s face and feels like he is suddenly more in the world, more in the moment. Boromir seems as himself as ever, but he makes friends easier afterwards. Whereas he had always been liked, now he is popular and has close relationships with children, rather than always seeming too distant. This also coincides with one of Gandalf’s rare visits. He had been trying to connect with Boromir, trying to engage him on very specific topics. Boromir had not been amused.

Denethor would never say that Boromir hating Gandalf’s vibes was the reason he settled for mundanity. Boromir had many good reasons, he is sure. But the fact that he chose that moment to settle, so that Denethor was allowed to watch Gandalf also realise that Boromir was no longer ‘apt to his hand’, well he might have gleaned some little pleasure from it.

The only aspect Boromir retains is his general resistance to such spookiness. Hence his frustration in both Rivendell and Lothlorien, the time distortion of those places not effecting him and the imposed rest not touching him, meaning he feels every passing day keenly. It also explains his resistance towards the Balrog’s doomful presence, as well as his heightened distress at Galadriel’s ability to see into his mind, where he had always been able to defend himself before.

Faramir on the other hand is seven when he settles, thoroughly content with his spooky powers and wanting even more command over them. It is with this settling that he becomes able to sometimes cause people pain for lying to him. Denethor... struggles as a single father for many reasons.

#erran vs tolkien #denethor #finduilas #imrahil #boromir #faramir #tolkien #lotr #urrr this isn't meta um...#it'll go into #soap operas in mannish sindarin #anyway #because it's fun #text post #long post

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aurabird · 3 years

Text

Haunted Dreams

Sausage just wants to sleep...but trauma weighs heavy on the mind.

Tw: Nightmares, blood/violence, brief disassociation

Also on Ao3

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He walked through Mythland, a casual stroll through the streets of his empire to see it in all its restored glory now that he’d removed the corruption that had overun it. His citizens greeted him as he passed and he made a point to at least try and speak with as many of them as he could.

Then the sky grew dark, thunder echoing as lightning split the heavens and suddenly, the citizens around him were gone, as if they’d never been there to begin with.

Sausage knew what the storm meant and he ran; fear in his heart and panic in his mind. He needed to get away, he needed to hide. He was fooling himself, there was no hiding from the harbinger of the storm, no matter how much he wished there was.

He ducked into a building as he was inflicted with a blindness spell, cowering in a corner like a frightened animal. Maybe...maybe if he pretended they weren’t here like Joel did then they’d go away. Positive thinking right? That’s what Gem always told him.

“Hello, Sausage.” Xornoth said with a wicked grin as he came into view, “You and I have much to discuss.”

“No! G-Go away! I don’t work for you anymore!”

The demon laughed, “Oh Sausage, did you really think I’d leave you alone? You will never escape me!”

The next thing Sausage knew was been teleported, now on a netherbrick floor where familiar crimson tendrils were quick to bind him.

The blindness spell wore off and he felt his blood run cold. He knew where he was, he’d been here before when he was still under the influence of corruption. Even now he could almost hear the agonized cries and pleas of those he watched Xornoth torture...that he himself even tortured. Sausage could almost see Fwhip, Gem, and Kathrine bound and helpless, their blood still staining the ground.

“Its a new perspective isn’t it? Being on the receiving end of something you once enjoyed?” Xornoth questioned, twirling a dark, bloodied dagger in his hand as he walked “I cannot let your insolence go unpunished, Sausage.”

Suddenly, the demon was in front of him, its gaze meeting his own. “I wonder how easy you’ll be to break.”

Sausage jolted upright with a cry, pain radiating in his right arm. He quickly looked at it in panic, expecting to see pulsating crimson veins. Instead, all he saw were the web-like scars where corruption had once been seared in his flesh. His gaze followed them from where they started at his wrist, and ended right over his heart.

He grimaced at the permanent reminders of what he’d done and averted his gaze to the room he was in. It wasn’t a dungeon where he would be tortured, it was his bedroom...in his keep...in Mythland.

There was no storm outside, moonlight shining brightly through the window and casting a gentle glow on the floor and walls.

A nightmare...that’s all it’d been. A remnant of the trauma he’d gone through. Still, there was no going back to sleep, not after that. Maybe...maybe he could go on a midnight walk to clear his head?

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, going over to his wardrobe and grabbing a simple undershirt, pants, and a cloak. It was a casual attire, much different than what he would normally wear, but it’d work.

Once he was on the cobbled streets he began his walk. Mythland was stunning at night, lanterns lit the paths and fireflies flickered in the air. The sound of night wildlife was therapeutic as it was joined by his quiet footsteps.

The bleating of blood sheep made him smile, with the corruption tentacles gone the symbols of his empire’s culture had come out from hiding, no longer afraid.

All was fine until Sausage could have sworn he saw a shadow move in the darkness. When he turned to look, it was gone.

Just a nocturnal animal he told himself before continuing down the path towards one of the residential areas.

He’d helped design some of the houses here himself and the sight of them made him smile. Light shone dimly through closed windows, alerting him that the residents were safe.

Then, in one of the alleys, he caught sight of a shadow, but it disappeared seconds after he made eye contact with it. A stray dog or cat he thought, that was all, there was no one out on the streets at this hour other than him.

As he continued he noticed that the sounds of the night had gone quiet, his footsteps echoed by another set behind him. He turned, but saw no one, not even the particles of an invisibility potion.

He was tired, that was all. He was tired and just imagining things. He was alone out here...he should probably head back home to rest.

Countless times more on his way back did he swear he was hearing footsteps, close enough to be in earshot, yet far enough away to be unnerving. He also could have sworn the shadow he kept seeing was following him. He knew it was just paranoia, once he was back in bed he’d be fine.

Soon, his home came into view and he went inside, climbing the stairs back to his bedroom.

He discarded the cloak, hanging it on the railing to put away in the morning and made his way over to his bed, not even bothering to get undressed again.

As he passed the mirror by his wardrobe though he froze, the reflection in it drawing his attention out of the corner of his eye. The second he turned to look, he recoiled with a yelp.

In the glass was a man that looked like him, a man dressed in black and grey with piercing red eyes and black veins marring their skin that had a faint crimson light flickering underneath. A sinister grin crossed their face as their gaze met his own.

“Look at you.” his reflection began in a distorted version of his voice, “Pathetic and weak once more. You were so powerful Sausage, you were feared. Don’t you miss it? The strength flowing through your veins, the magic at your fingertips. You could have had so much more too, if you’d stayed.”

It clicked then who the reflection was, it was someone he never wanted to see again, someone that terrified him. “I’m not you. I’m not a puppet for someone to order around.”

His reflection vanished and for a moment, Sausage thought he’d beaten his subconscious. He’d been wrong as he felt a sword go through him, the blade dripping with ink black blood as it protruded from his chest.

“You’re right,” came the voice of his doppelganger once more, “Because I am what you should have been.”

The sword was yanked back out, and Sausage fell to the ground, hacking and sputtering as the life drained from his body.

“All I have to do, is kill you and take your place.”

The black blade of a corrupted netherite axe tore through the flesh of his neck.

Once more he awoke with a cry, his hands instantly flying up to his throat instinctively in panic. Once he realized that his head was still attached did he dare open his eyes.

Sunlight came through the window and lit up the room, birds sung outside and the wind rustled the leaves of trees. In the distance, he could hear the faint sounds of his people going about their lives.

Tears formed in his eyes and he began to cry, ugly sobs coming from his throat at what he’d witnessed in his nightmare.

Then it dawned on him...what if he was still asleep? What if he’d just passed into another part of the illusion his traumatized mind was inflicting upon him?!

What if...what if he wasn’t really in Mythland? What if he’d failed in the spirit realm and as punishment he was left to suffer a nightmare for eternity?!

Who was he? The King of Mythland? The servant of evil? The condemned spirit left to be forgotten by those he cared about?

The mental turmoil was maddening and Sausage clutched the sides of his head, “Stop...make it stop...” he pleaded quietly.

A knock on the door snapped him from his spiraling thoughts, bringing him back to what he hoped was reality.

“Sausage are you home? I know you said you wanted to rest but I’m worried about you.”

Gem’s voice was music to his ears and Sausage quickly regained his composure as best he could before heading down the stairs to open the door for her.

“Hey, Gem.” he said with what he hopped was a happy tone, he didn’t want to worry her any more.

The wizard’s smile faded, “Sausage you look horrible, I thought you said you were going to get some sleep and recover!”

“What are you talking about Gem? I feel perfectly fine!” he countered casually, “I’ve been resting like I said I would after all!.”

Gem wasn’t convinced, “Sausage, have you looked at yourself in the mirror?”

The question had been an innocent one, but the nightmare from the night before quickly flashed before him. “N-No, because I’m...I’m afraid of what I’ll see.” he admitted as he wrapped his arms around himself.

"What do you think you’ll see?”

Sausage grit his teeth, his body beginning to shake, “Him, Gem...the corrupted puppet of Xornoth...”

"He isn’t you, Sausage.”

“No...he’s not...” because he’s who I was supposed to be...

Gem broke the momentary silence that followed, “You’ve gone through a lot, Sausage and while I still don’t know if I can fully trust you yet, if you need to talk about anything then I’ll be right over alright?”

Sausage nodded and wrapped his arms around her just to make sure she was real and not another trick played by his mind, “Thank you.”

He had spent the next several days working, doing everything he could to keep himself from falling asleep, afraid of what would await him. He’d dozed off a few times and had found himself in several scenarios.

Sometimes it’d been in the arena, the other rulers falling to his blade over-and-over again, bathing him in their blood while he smiled in sadistic pleasure.

Sometimes he’d be running from a shadow that would always catch him, its claws digging into his mind to puppet him around once more

Sometimes he’d see the wicked grin of his twisted doppelganger as they drove a blade through him, their words poisoning his thoughts and filling him with doubt and fear.

Sometimes he’d be laying helpless as Xornoth tortured him. Trying countless painful methods to ensure that this time the corruption taking over his body would be permanent.

And when night fell he’d just lay in bed awake, guilt and trauma weighing heavy on his mind. The things he’d done were horrible and now that he was free, he would be hunted relentlessly by the one that had controlled him and the hybrid that still followed them.

Sausage was scared. He needed sleep...he needed help...

That had been the one word shakily scribbled onto the paper he’d tied around a raven’s leg before sending it to the Crystal Cliffs.

A knock on the door the following morning forced him to get out of bed and go to open it. Sausage’s movements were sluggish but he managed to succeed in his goal. Gem stood in the doorway, her expression morphing into a grimace once she saw the sorry sight he probably was. “Oh Sausage...what have you been doing to yourself...”

He collapsed into her, unable to hold back tears any longer, “I can’t sleep Gem! Every time I close my eyes the nightmares come, even if its just for a minute. Please Gem, sleeping potions...or even some kind of sleeping spell...just something, anything to help me fall asleep peacefully!”

Gem couldn’t think of any way to reply, only held the broken person in her arms.

“How about we get you inside? See what we can do?”

A distressed but agreeing sound came from Sausage and Gem helped maneuver him upstairs and back into his bed. The Mythland king looked terrible, his clothes disheveled and his face pale enough that the dark circles forming beneath his eyes were extremely noticeable.

“Tell me everything, Sausage. Tell me about the nightmares and anything that is bothering you.”

So he did. Sausage spilled every detail about his nightmares and paranoia, about every little thing he feared and pondered. Gem listened intently as he spoke, never once interrupting, just letting him get his thoughts out.

By the time he finished Sausage felt as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, it was...nice.

The last of his energy had been sapped from his venting and the clutches of sleep tried to bring him into their hold.

Gem stroked his head, her sympathetic eyes meeting his own tired ones. “Go to sleep, Sausage.” he coaxed, “I’ll be here to wake you if I sense something is wrong.“

Sausage only gave a sigh, his eyelids slipping shut and lulling him into darkness.

But, for the first time in an unknown amount of days, the nightmares didn’t come. Sausage was at peace, finally able to rest.

#empires smp #empiresblr #empiressmp #My writing #mythical sausage #geminitay

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goldenmazzello · 3 years

Text

Never should have let you go.

Warning: Full of angst, swearing?, and more angst.

Word count: 2.5k

As the door opened, the loudest of noises Joe could hear was silence. The sound of silence wasn't the lack of noise but the lack of your pressence. It was an unnerving silence, a constant companion of his thoughts. His thoughts were destroying him. He tried not to think but the silence was a killer.

His head was spinning on the memories the two of you had. The day you met, the day you kissed for the first time, the day you moved together and of course, the day you left. All the things he took for granted now became moments gone, forever wasted. He had to accept the damaged was done and it was obvious that you could never go back to the way it used to be. At least not now.

Even though that you were gone for weeks, coming home to an empty room was just as hard as the first day. The days feet like years now that he was alone. He felt that another day without you was like a blade cutting right through him. Joe hasn't been the same since you've been gone. Everytime he came back home from work he hoped everything was just a bad dream and that he would wake up and see your face again. He remembered those times in which you waited for him with his favorite supper. Or when you picked him up at the airport. Those little details meant the world to him.

You were always there with a big bright smile, you were like a shining light that made him forget all of his problems. You were there to guide him on his darkest days. You were always there and he took it for granted. And now you were gone.

At night, after a long day at work, Joe lay in bed thinking about you and would burst into tears. The bed was made up on your side, as if you were about to enter the room.

The thing he missed the most was waking up next to you and looking into your eyes, those beautiful eyes he loved and he would give everything he had in the world to see them again. After all these wasted nights he couldn't pretend he was doing fine because that feeling was getting stronger everyday. He just couldn't take it anymore. He wondered if you thought about him when you couldn't fall asleep just like he did. You were always on his mind.

He has played your words back in his head a thousand times. I'm leaving. And there wasn't anything else that he could do. He felt helpless. He had to face the fact that he couldn't walk away from this, but it was hard when every little thing in the world reminded him of you.

Life was far different when you both decided it was time to live together. And things seemed to get better and better. You got a job promotion and as soon as he directed his first movie, Joe had an amazing opportinity that was life changing: another promising movie. But of course for every plus there is a minus, Joe was going to be away from you for a long time since he had to work in London. It was a challenge you had to face.

And that wasn't an easy time. You didn't tell him because you didn't want to worry him while he was working, but you couldn't stop crying. You would come back from work and cry because you missed him so much, but you knew it was going to happen, you knew it from the very beginning. And you were willing to tolerate it, he was the love of your life.

You tried to visit Joe once a month and he tried flying home during vacation. But in one of the most special days, Joe wasn't there. You spent your birthday alone and even though you told him it was okay, it really wasn't. You really wished he was there, but he was away. It was his job and you understood.

When Joe came back after being in London for six months, it felt like time didn't pass. He was back and all yours. You felt on cloud nine. After a few months, Bohemian Rhapsody was released and you were Joe's date for the premiere. And then, press tour began and everything started to feel like a mess. Joe had to fly around the world and wasn't going to spend much time at home.

Award season arrived and he had to fly from New York to Los Angeles, from Los Angeles to London and again, you were alone at home. You wished you could go with him but it was impossible, you weren't famous like him and after all, it was his job, again.

And there wasn’t anything wrong about it, since day one you knew his life was like this and you accepted. The problem was that Joe was absolutely focused on his job and started to care less about you. The small notes with "I love you" or even his messages during breakfast or at night became scarce, almost non-existent. He didn't have time to FaceTime like he did before. He didn't even ask you to pick him up at the airport anymore. Everything was different now.

You could sense your relationship was falling apart but you didn’t want to give up on it. Just because you were in hot water it didn't necessarily mean you needed to throw in the towel, at least not now.

You decided to talk to Joe about this. This was making you feel totally miserable and you really wanted to fix it. After all, communication is the key in every relationship.

At first, he said he was sorry about it and he felt absolutely terrible for hurting you. He promised he was going to change and he said he was going to spend more time with you like before. You were in this together. And you felt relieved, as if you took a great weight off your shoulders. You really loved Joe and you would do everything in the world for him.

As weeks passed by, you felt you were trying to fix your relationship all by yourself. Lack of daily communication with him was something you were getting used to. Movie nights, dinner dates or even intimate moments were all distant memories. There were much less moments of cuddling, sweet kisses, hand holding, and walking arm-in-arm, they all had been replaced by distance. You thought it was maybe a temporary reaction to stress, but it's been going on for some time now. It was getting worse. Even the words "sweetheart,” “honey,” and “love" were gone. And your self-esteem was already affected. You felt heartbroken and hurt every day.

It was time.

It was time to leave.

You had an escape plan in your head for months. Your subconscious was sending you strong messages that it was time to get out. You tried not to think about it but every day you considered putting your plan into action. And the day finally came.

You got up in the morning and started packing your belongings. As you were taking your things out of your wardrobe, you felt a shiver down your spine. It felt odd, but you couldn't take it anymore. It was absolutely painful.

Three hours passed and Joe entered home. He let the door fall to with a thud that made you jump. You gulped and closed your eyes as you heard his steps were becoming closer. When Joe finally set foot in your shared room, his eyes were as big as plates. His face expression changed.

"W-What are you doing?" He was shoocked.

You grabbed your things quickly and got out of the room and he followed you. "I'm leaving, I can't put up with your fucking job anymore." You said as you tried to walk downstairs with your heavy suitcase. You had decided to leave since it was Joe's house and there was no way you would stay.

"Please, I'm begging you." Joe grabbed your hands while crying. Your words cut deeper than a knife.

"Joe, I'm being serious, don't make it even harder." You told him with a broken voice while trying to walk.

"You don't have to leave, th-th-this is your house too." He put himself in your way.

"This is your house, you paid for it with your work. Now please, move." You tried to move him but you couldn't since he was taller and bigger than you. "I'm gonna fall and get hurt, move!" At this point, you were already annoyed.

"No, I'm gonna protect you. You aren't gonna get hurt." He said while resting his hands on your waist.

You rolled your eyes. "Guess what? I'm already hurt and it's because of you! I tried to get things better but it seems you don't want to. I feel we've been living as roomates!" You left out a frustrated sigh. He moved his gaze to the floor.

"I promise I'll do my best this time. Let's go on a road trip." He suggested, trying to smile.

"There is not going to be any road trip or whatever. I'm leaving and there is nothing you can do about it. I feel like we're as close as strangers, you don't care about me anymore!" You screamed those words to Joe.

He didn't say anything but cried. He knew it was his fault. "Please, think about it. Don't take spur-of-the-moment decisions."

"It isn't a spur-of-the-moment decision, I've been thinking about it for months."

You don't know why, but he finally moved and helped you with your suitcase. "Where are you going?" He asked, looking into your eyes.

"It's none of your business." You looked for your coat, took out your keys and opened the door. "Here you have." You gave him the keys and got out of the house.

Joe couldn't stop the tears running down his face. "Sorry, sorry sorry sorry." He covered his eyes with his hands.

It's been a week that you were gone and Joe didn't know what to do. You blocked him from social media and he didn’t have a way of communicating with you.

As he turned on his computer, he noticed you left your e-mail opened. He hesitated but then decided to open it.

You had an e-mail from an airline. Everything indicated you were in London now. "What is she doing in London?" He thought. "What about her job?"

As soon as he read that, he called Rami. He had moved to London with Lucy and maybe knew something about your whereabouts.

Rami told Joe that Lucy visited you in London but she wasn't going to give him your adress because she knew Rami would tell Joe about it. Joe promised not to visit you, he knew you didn't want to see him. After a few days of asking about you, Lucy finally spoke. You were living in an apartment -a flat, as British people call it-. Joe asked her how were you and Lucy said you were completely heartbroken.

"Can you please tell me her adress?" Joe asked her while they were on a FaceTime call. Lucy was drinking a tea and almost choke as she heard his words.

"What?" Lucy asked confused. "Joe, she needs to be own her own, she needs time."

"I know, I'm not flying to London. I wanna send her a letter."

"A letter? Well, maybe I can write it and give it to her." She offered.

"Thank you but...it's private. I'd rather send it to her."

"Promise me you're not going to show up at her apartment or she'll never speak to me again and you'll never hear from her."

"I promise."

You were trying to get used to living in London. It wasn't like New York but you knew that eventually you were going to feel like you were home.

As you opened the door, there was a letter on the floor. You bend over and pick it up. Your heart stopped as you read Joseph Mazzello, New York, United States of America.

"How did he kno...Lucy!"

She must have told him, you were almost sure about it.

You sat on the couch and stared the letter for like 5 minutes, thinking if you should open it or not. You sighed and decided to open it and read it.

“Dear (Y/N)

First of all, don’t be mad at Lucy for giving me your adress, I promised her I won’t show up at your apartment.

Since I don’t have any way of talking with you, I thought writing this letter was a good idea. If you are reading this, I wanna let you know that everything was my fault. I took everything for granted and I wish things would be different now. This time away from you felt like forever, I guess it’s the price I gotta pay for being such a stupid boyfriend.

You have no idea how much I miss you. Every night I think and dream about you. I love you so much honey, I really do. I don’t know why I was so stupid and ruined everything, but I’m really sorry, I mean it. I wish that I could find a way to turn back time because my life hasn’t been the same since you’ve been gone. I can’t stop thinking about you and all the memories we have together. Getting through the night is the hardest thing to do, I miss feeling your body next to mine, I miss your touching and kissing, I miss everything about you. I try to get a grip but I just can’t put my life back into place, I feel so unprotected without you. I can’t stand the pain, I can’t make it go away. It hurts so much. I know I can’t erase the things that I’ve done, but from the buttom of my heart, I want you to give me a second chance. I know I’ve made more mistakes than I can even count and deep inside I know I don’t deserve another chance to make it work, but I’ll try my best, I’ll try for you. I promise this time I won’t make up excuses, I don’t wanna lose you.

If you can give me half a chance I’ll show how much I can fix myself for you. One thing I know for sure, is that I never should have let you go.”

MASTERLIST

#borhap boys #borhap cast #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello #joe mazzello angst #joe mazzello fic #joe mazzello blurb #joe mazzello headcanon #joe mazzello x reader #goldenmazzello

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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 3 years

Note

What if Tool got away and then a few years later they got sick/injured and ended up needing to be intubated at hospital? (For surgery I guess I do not understand medicine) I can just imagine them waking up early and a bit off from the drugs thinking that they’re in the machine again, would they openly panic or just go quiet and obedient?

[Tool.... comfort? Look I am making this up as a go.]

CW: implied hospital setting, implied intubation, implied surgery, dis//sociation, flashback

[Other Tool things (NOT FLUFFY)]

They woke to a familiar feeling. Not a good one, oh no not a good one, but familiar nonetheless.

They hadn’t even opened their eyes before they let their consciousness slip away. They phased out, not letting anything reach them. If nothing could reach them, nothing could hurt them. They could just kind of drift, not fighting or suffering. Just waiting until things got better.

There was a sniff and the rustling of clothes. Someone else? The Mechanic? Was he here? Was he watching over them? They – Tool turned their head towards the sound and began to open their eyes. He liked that. Liked it when they tried to come back when he was there. He liked it when Tool got scared, light eyes ringed in helpless terror.

But it wasn’t the Mechanic. It was a girl, dark hair in high ponytail. She looked tired, head resting on her hands.

She looked familiar. They couldn’t place why.

After a moment, she looked up and saw they were awake.

“Hey,” she said softly, moving a little closer to the bed. Bed? Tool let it go. They started to let themself drift again, away from the world that could hurt them and scare them.

“Hey, Casper, hey you’re okay.”

Tool’s brows furrowed. Who – their thought process got interrupted by someone taking their hand and rubbing a thumb across it softly. They glanced down, distracted by her nail polish. Three of the fingers were purple, one was green, and the other was a glittery silver. Julie always did that though, saying that she had enough nail polish to make every finger a different color everyday.

Tool blinked, looked back up to the face. Julie?

They remembered their first day in the apartment, unnerved by all the people. Sharing a space with four other people? They hadn’t ever done that before. There would be a lot going on, wouldn’t there. Lots of people coming and going.

But they knew these people. Liked them. They were all nice, if a bit loud sometimes. They had chosen to sign the lease and move in with them. And there was a room, that was to be all theirs. They were going to pick out paint later.

“Heads up, Casper!” called a voice from behind them. Mike, carrying a mini fridge up the stairs. They moved out of his way, a bit confused.

“Casper?” They asked quietly. Julie popped her head out from the kitchen.

“Like the cartoon.”

They shook their head. They didn’t know what that was. Julie’s face lit up.

“Ohh, we are so watching movies tonight.”

Someone distantly yelled something about popcorn. Julie fake-gagged. “I swear to GOD Kai. You can make that truffle popcorn if you want, but I’m making the microwave stuff the way the farmers intended.”

She disappeared behind a wall again and they smiled. Casper. They kinda liked it.

They looked at her again, started to get scared. They wanted to go back to the apartment, they didn’t know what happened.

Julie shushed them, rubbing their hand. “You’re okay Casper. You’re in the hospital. Had a little surgery, but doc says you’re doing fine. You’ll be home soon. Can you try and get a little more sleep?”

They nodded, closing their eyes and squeezing her hand.

Tagging @unicornscotty @as-a-matter-of-whump @starnight-whump @whump-me-all-night-long @whump-it @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @valkyrie-whump cause Raccoon Comfort is so rare

#tool #recovery whump #tool list #implied intubation tw #implied surgery #hospital setting #dissociation tw #flashback tw #comfort??? from the raccoon??? it may be more possible than you think #tool and the machine

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harcourtholmesii · 3 years

Text

An Officer’s Loyalty (Part 3)

Pairing: Medic X Reader

Words: 1408

Warnings:

- Swearing

- Some Gore and Body Horror

- Surgical/Medical Situations

- Some Slight Nudity (Half Nudity)

Enjoy!

The cool of the underground seeped through your uniform, even past the extra layer that was Medic’s coat. Probably the most high-tech part of the building, the basement level was a labyrinth of concrete, a dull grey with only a singular, painted red line that ran continuously across the walls on either side. It was quiet for the most part, save for the occasional groan of pipes and the flicker of the lights.

You had passed by many doors, but hadn’t been allowed to take in your surroundings properly. You had all but lost track of where to go when you passed the sad excuse for a kitchen. Your ‘escorts’, Heavy and Medic, had kept a quick pace as they led you into the depths of your new home. The belly of the beast, if you will.

Before you had left the billiard room and your interrogation behind, Medic had insisted that he take you to have your surgery completed first.

‘Vouldn’t vant to forget und zhen haff jou’re heart explode on zhe battlefield!’

It had been the first time you had heard him speak in his usual, manic glee since he had first found you and Spy in the mine shaft. It had been unnerving, but you didn’t feel like it was safe to, so quickly, go back on your agreement.

When he had started guiding you out of the room, Heavy had been quick to follow. You had never seen the two apart for long; perhaps because they had a history before their careers at Mann Co. or when they would have had to learn English for the job. Considering how often Medic’s tongue dipped back into his maiden language, you suspected he hadn’t spoken much English before his work at Mann Co.

Heavy hadn’t said much at all since you arrived, but he seemed less agitated by your presence. You still noticed how his eyes would occasionally glance at you if you trailed behind, but he didn’t do much more than slow his pace ever so slightly.

Finally, after too long trying to follow Medic’s quick footsteps, you came to two large doors, with a painted red cross upon them. Medic pushed them open easily and gestured for you to enter. You hesitated, on account that you had been expecting the medical bay.

Not a bloody slaughterhouse.

The medical bay still had some utensils here and there; a bonesaw or three, pliers, syringes, and a surgery table with a different kind of medigun attached to the roof, hanging down like some James Bond torture device. The drawers were in a disarray, buckets of blood, bones and feathers dotted the linoleum floor, and an open bird cage filled with pigeons and the occasional bird shit made you feel sick to your stomach. The remnants of the medical bay, surely, were not where you would be having this surgery?!

Heavy nudged you inside, and Medic moved about the surgery table, going to wash his hands in a bloodied steel sink. Heavy offered you an almost apologetic smile, as he took to sitting by the door and crossing his arms.

‘Bitte, haff a seat.’ The German rolled his head to one side, to gesture to the operating table. You let out a scoff.

‘You’re kidding.’

Medic turned to look at you, almost confused by your unwillingness to sit or lay down upon the surgery table. You looked back over the steel table, eyes landing on leather straps at about where ones ankles, wrists and neck might be. You cocked a brow, gesturing to the straps.

‘And, what surgery might need those? Or did you run out of anaesthesia?’

‘Oh, zhose!’ He almost laughed, the smile returning full force to his face. ‘Das is nozhing! Scout vas just moving around too much during his surgery, so I had zhem installed. Ve don’t haff to use zhem if you don’t vant to.’

‘That doesn’t answer my question about the anaesthesia.’

‘Ve don’t use it.’

What?

‘I said it before, and I’ll fucking say it again; ‘you’re kidding me?!” You stepped back, closer to the door, your legs shaking. Heavy had stood, but he didn’t seem threatening. He just seemed encouraging. You shook your head. ‘Like Hell I am going to let you cut me open like that! I’d rather be killed!’

‘Doktor does not use anaesthesia because it is not common.’

‘Excuse me?’ You turned on Heavy, giving him the most furious glare in your arsenal. Too bad that due to your lack of stature, it was nothing intimidating. You would have liked to see the big man show a hint of something other than indifference or great ferocity.

‘Vas Herr Heavy means, is das I do not often haff access to anaesthesia.’ You turned your furious glare back on the German, and much like Heavy, he didn’t even blink. ‘Razher zhan using it for all surgeries, I haff zhe medigun dull zhe pain instead, und save zhe anaesthesia for vorse injuries.’

‘How are your employers this…’ You dare not finish your sentence. The administrator had cameras everywhere, and you did not doubt that she, or rather Miss Pauling, would find a way to sneak a camera or bug into your opponent’s base.

‘And… you expect me to let you cut me open in this…’ You gestured about. ‘… In this mess?’

‘Vell, I haff never been too picky, und after zhe first surgery, I haff had few complaints. No one has gotten sick because of it.’ He assured. ‘If it vill make jou feel better zhough, I can keep zhe gloves on.’

You held back a retch. Your chest had tightened and you felt your lungs compress, as if trying to expel all oxygen. You felt some form of small relief when there was the snap of red rubber gloves, and Medic gestured once more to the table. You looked between Heavy, the way out and the crazed doctor, contemplating your options.

‘Do I need a surgical gown?’ The Medic laughed, a great guffaw of something almost sinister. You didn’t join him.

‘Nein! Of course not!’

You stepped hesitantly towards the surgical table and took a seat on the cold steel. You were shaking, goose bumps shuddering their way up and down your skin. You removed Medic’s coat and then, having thought about it, removed your own. The medical bay was even colder than the halls, and you brought your arms around you in a sorry attempt to trap as much heat as you could.

As Medic approached, you laid down, gripping onto the edges of the table. You didn’t want to give him an excuse to use the straps. Looking up at him, you could swear you had been thrown through time and space and ended up in a Twilight Zone episode. Some creepy, fucked up, science fiction-horror show, where you were the helpless victim. You hated it.

He reached up, first switching on the red, translucent beam of the medigun that hung above your head. The scarlet, smoke-like tail sunk low and into your chest; you could feel a warmth behind your ribs and a numbness run all across your body. Your fear still gripped as tightly to you as you did the steel table when Medic pulled out the saw.

He didn’t wait for you to shakily undo the buttons of your shirt, or remove the bandages underneath. He placed the bonesaw down and replaced it instead with surgical scissors, cutting the cloth open with a few quick snips. Despite the warmth of the beam, the cool of the room was enough to tense your body for the first blow.

The medigun’s powerful, relaxing beam did little to make the initial incision any kinder. You watched in terror and pain, eyes already filling with tears, as the saw split your skin straight down, from collar to naval. You tried not to scream, but you couldn’t hold back your cries when you witnessed the doctor holding your own heart in his hand.

Your head was spinning and your vision becoming dotted with black smudges. You felt a warm hand on your shoulder and a wet glove against your cheek before your brain overheated from the pain and stress.

You would have considered it embarrassing that you had fainted and your old team would never have let you live it down. You didn’t feel shame though when your world went dark, however.

Instead, it was anger boiling in your blood.

~~X~~

I just wanted to thank a couple of readers of this little series for their words and just wanted to say how thankful I am that they have been enjoying it!

One reader helped to motivate my interest in continuing the story when I was suffering major writer’s block, after they messaged me asking if there was more to come. I had no idea that anyone really read my Tumblr stories anymore, so I wasn’t expecting to continue, so I really appreciate the little boost.

And then the other was one reader who, after they reblogged the post, gave me a good laugh and reminded me how much I love this series, the Medic and this fandom simply by adding some amazing tags to the end! This was a little while ago, but I only just realised, and I loved it!

Thank you though, to anyone who takes the time to read my works. I truly appreciate it, and I am glad you have been enjoying yourselves reading them!

#fanfiction #fanfic #TF2 #Team Fortress 2 #Medic #Heavy #Medic X Reader #Canon X Reader #HarcourtHolmesII

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athrialuxegna · 3 years

Text

Stronger than she thinks Part 2

Triggers warning: mental and physical abuse, violence, swearing

Part 1 | Part 3

Fanfiction | Archiveofourown | Wattpad

It was 6 a.m when I walked out of the cafeteria and nearly choked on my saliva when I saw Eric and Brent. They were laughing at some joke. I couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge in my stomach. If only Eric knew what monster Brent was. Who was I kidding! Eric would not give a shit about this. They stopped in their tracks when they notice me. My face contorted with disgust at the sight of Brent’s horny eyes looking up and down my body. A cold shiver ran down my spine.

“Christine, long time no see.” Brent’s smirk was full of himself.

He had me cornered. Eric was staring at our exchange. It was really bad. If I backed away it would give too much information and the same if I retorted. Ugh, one week of more or less peace wasn’t enough. I became a real ninja since my encounter with Eric. I have succeeded to avoid both men, but my luck was wearing off today.

“My life was brighter without the sight of you. Such a shame you just ruined it.” My sarcastic tone enraged him, his ears turned red and his eyes shot fire. Good. Then he smirked. Oh, crap.

“You know you miss me, Chrissy.” His voice was hushed and seductive.

All color was drained from my face. My nails were digging in my palms, blood slowly spilling from the crescent wounds. This nickname rang a bell. He had called me that when he was all over me. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood in my mouth. Motherfucker!

“I have something better to do than talking to a prick like you.” I hissed back, turning on my heels.

“You’re so hot when you’re angry Chrissy.” He called after me.

A wave of entangled emotions was bubbling inside of me. It won’t be long before I break down. I began to run when I turn the corner. I went straight to the roof. The rain was pouring hard. Thick drops fell on my face and soaked my clothes. I screamed at the top of my lungs to the raging sky. I couldn’t take his attitude, his face nor his fucking nickname. I took out all my pent up anger and desperation onto the wall beside me. My knuckles hit the wall harder and harder until my knees gave out. I imagined his face, as bloody as my hands, as shattered as my soul. I wish I could just disappear or forget what happened. Hot tears were streaming down my cheeks. Okay, maybe I was not drained yet.

“Why did you do this to me?” I asked to the raging sky, defeated.

“Why who did what to you?”

Eric’s deep voice startled me. He was standing right at the door, the only escape from the roof. Wonderful. I sighed deeply. I am so fucked, I thought. I felt like I was ready to jump from a cliff without a safety net awaiting me at the bottom. Everything was crashing down around me. I had nothing to lose now. Still, a part of me refused to admit what happened. My bruised ego wasn’t willing to let go. I closed my eyes a second before answering, my back still facing him.

“It’s none of your concern Eric,” I replied dryly.

The tears had stopped as soon as I heard his voice. I appeared weak enough right now to not turn around crying my eyes off. Eric came in front of me, crouching down to be near my level. His eyes more intense than usual as if he was trying to read my thoughts. I wished I wasn’t in the cafeteria earlier. I wished Eric would just ignore me.

“I know this is related to Brent.” I hold my breath at the name. “Tell me, Christine, what did he do to you?” His cold voice chilled me to the bone.

I shivered but held his gaze nonetheless. I shook my head in complete denial. Eric was the last person I wanted to confess to. Eyebrows furrowed and teeth clenched, I held my ground.

“Nothing.” My voice was surprisingly strong.

Eric huffed then closed the gap between us. His breath fanned my face, our noses nearly touching. My breath quickened at the sudden intrusion into my personal space. Tears brimmed in my eyes and I cursed my body for trembling like a leaf. Eric’s eyebrow quirked up, his piercings glistening at the movement. His icy blue eyes tore into my soul, curiosity burning inside them. However, his face was void of any emotion.

“Now, tell me why are you in such a state? You can’t fool me, Christine.” His low voice reached a deeper octave.

Seconds passed, I couldn’t bring myself to tare my eyes away from him. Even though I hated him to follow me up here. Didn’t he have better things to do? I closed my eyes and whispered finally.

“Brent raped me.”

My surrender cost me a lot. It was the final straw, the confirmation that my life became a living hell. Silence followed my confession. I found the courage to open my eyes. Eric was fuming, his gaze fixated on the ground. A hole would appear any second in the concrete at this point. His clenched jaw and fists told me that he was on the verge of losing his self-control. I didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing. Was he angry at Brent for doing this? Or was he angry because Brent might lose his job as his consultant? So many questions swirled in my mind when his sharp voice cut the dreadful silence.

“When?”

“Monday night,” I replied curtly, not trusting my voice further.

“Son of a bitch.” He muttered under his breath. “We have to report to Max. Brent has to respond to his crime.”

His words held a finality that scared me. Will he report with or without my consent? His entire demeanor screamed that he was ready to bolt for Max’s office any second. I shot him a wary look and shook my head. It can’t be happening so fast. I hadn’t processed the whole thing yet.

I needed some time to prepare myself for the incoming battle. Should I say the truth or should I lie? An investigation won’t do anything without my word. Brent set up the whole thing, there was no proof. Unless… I went to the infirmary to be examined. No way, no one would ever touch me again or see my lady parts.

“Max won’t know anything. Brent can’t be judged for his crime because of the circumstances.” I retorted with annoyance.

“What circumstances? Rape is rape for fuck’s sake.” Growled Eric.

“You wouldn’t understand because I can’t even figure it out myself,” I admitted bitterly. “Cowardice is my crime.”

“What do you mean?” Something flickered in his eyes.

“While he was…” I trailed off. “I couldn’t move a muscle, my body won’t cooperate. I was helpless, an empty shell. I could just watch and... feel.”

The words ran out of my mouth before my brain could register. I wished I could disappear or that Eric would magically teleport somewhere else. I felt my cheeks burn from embarrassment and shame. I lowered my gaze onto the floor, I couldn’t look at him after saying this.

“It is pretty common during a traumatic experience. Your brain shuts down to protect you, it’s a defensive response.” He explained with a rather know-it-all voice.

A surge of unknown anger bubbled inside of me. His nose side triggered something deep. I huffed and threw my arms around to avoid punching him. His psychological bullshit wouldn’t help me to get rid of my guilt.

“I was a coward nonetheless and I’ll remain as long as I can’t forgive myself. Where’s the Eric I know, the ruthless leader? He would just say to suck it up and get on with my life or I would end up Factionless. Why do you care anyway? Just throw me over the roof already to end my misery!” I yelled.

Eric stood still, unfazed by my sudden outburst. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and waited until I calmed a little bit. His eyes boring holes into my skull.

“Enjoy, this is the only chance you’ve got to shout at me.” He smirked briefly. “No matter what you think of me Chris, this is part of my job to ensure the security of all Dauntless members. The only way to protect you and other women is to send him to justice.”

I growled inwardly. He was right. Brent should be stopped as soon as possible. He could do worse in the meantime. I sighed deeply and bowed my head. I was conflicted. Part of me wasn’t willing to give in. My intimacy had already been violated. I didn’t need a nurse looking down there now. I was selfish, I knew, but it was easier to ignore it than to face it. Tell me about being Dauntless, huh.

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready to report this,” I muttered.

Eric’s lips twitched up at the corners in an almost genuine smile. My heart skipped a beat at the sight, his face always tight and closed was a bit relaxed. Bewitched Eric returned. His changing demeanor was unnerving, I didn’t know what to expect next.

“We should go back inside to take care of your knuckles. Unless you want to catch the flu.”

He turned on his heels and stalked away. He didn’t seem bothered by the rain drenching his clothes and hair. I followed him down in the compound. The cold hallways made me shiver. My soaked clothes clang awkwardly to my body. I certainly looked like a penguin with a stick shoved up his ass or a pathetic excuse of a cowboy, walking after hours of riding a horse. We didn’t say a word until he took a turn I hadn’t expected. He was leading me down the leaders’ quarter. I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Why do you bring me here?” I questioned warily.

“You prefer Marlene’s questioning?” He retorted coolly.

I began to walk again. Marlene was the head of the infirmary, a curious young woman who couldn’t hold her tongue. Eric’s smirk returned to his lips. He was himself again. Good. We entered his apartment. It was huge, tidy, and neat as if no one lived here. There was classical furniture, a black leather couch, a table, a full bookshelf. Three closed doors faced us, which lead to the kitchen, the washroom, and the bedroom, I presumed. Eric went into one of the rooms to get me spare clothes.

“You can use the bathroom to take a shower and change. We’ll take care of your knuckles after.” He pointed to the door closest to me.

I nodded and took the clothes from his hands. He disappeared quickly through the same door. I guessed he had a bathroom connected to his bedroom. Perks of being a leader. The hot water hit me and washed my emotions. Reality dawned on me. Eric knew. He was the only one other than Brent. How will it go between both men? They were working together, how was this supposed to go well?

I hoped that Eric would not do anything impulsive. It would only worsen the situation I was in. I didn’t even know what was the law regarding rape. Did it even exist? I wasn’t sure. Rape was a rare occurrence in Dauntless, exceptional trials that I’ve never seen in my twenty-five years here.

I tried to escape from my thoughts while drying myself. I get changed. Eric gave me one of his shirts, a large hoodie, and jogging. It smelt like him, his scent surrounded me. A mix of mint and leather. A strange sense of security settled in me. A knock on the door resonated.

“Are you finished?” Eric asked through the door.

“Yes, you can come in,” I responded, slightly surprised by his thoughtfulness. He could have barged into the room with no care in the world. We were in his apartment after all.

The door opened and Eric walked in. He changed into a similar outfit to mine. I couldn’t recall the last time I’ve seen him in anything other than his leaders’ attire. His tight shirt outlined his toned chest and his jogging hang low on his hips, I could catch a glimpse of his smooth skin. I adverted my eyes elsewhere, disturbed by my wandering mind. I was raped a week ago and I drooled over him. Something was definitely wrong with me. Did Brent hit me too hard?

I’d lie if I said that he wasn’t handsome, but Eric was Eric. He was untouchable, a leader, and most importantly the bearer of my secret. I needed to suppress the reminiscence of my crush on him. It wasn’t the time nor the best circumstances and, let’s be real, Eric could have any other Dauntless girl. So why bother with me?

Eric opened a drawer and took a first-aid kit without glancing at me. I had washed all the dry blood from my hands. The cuts were visible now. I let him take care of them. His rough hands were gentle and he kept space between us. I appreciated the gesture even though his changing behavior unsettled me. He bandaged my hands then cleaned all the supplies.

“If you want to fight find a real opponent. Next time the wall will win. Your bones are not that tough.” He remarked, his eyes resting on me.

“I wish I could kill him with my bare hands but it would do me no good.” I huffed while rolling my eyes.

“You could call me next time.” His voice light as a feather.

“What? You’ll do worse than the wall, Eric.” I responded, crossing my arms over my chest.

His laugh filled the bathroom. I’ve never heard it before. I was stunned for a second, processing what I was witnessing. I must’ve looked at him like he had grown two heads because he composed himself and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” The ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

“I’ve never heard you laugh before,” I said without thinking.

His serious expression returned as well as his cold blue eyes. The Eric I knew was finally back.

“Now get out of here. I have work to do.” He dismissed.

I was about to leave when I look at him with worried eyes. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Come on, I won’t do anything about your secret without your consent.” He practically growled.

“Thanks, Eric.” I nodded slightly then walked out of the apartment.

Once alone dread fell onto me. I went to the tattoo parlor, my safe haven. Tori was cleaning her stuff when I walked in. She smiled at me and beckoned me to come with her to one of the tattoo stalls. I joined her and sit on the tattoo chair as if I belonged in here.

“Hey, Chris you want something today?” She asked, taking a sit by the chair I sat on.

“Yop Tori. I think I’ve got an idea.”

I explained to her what I wanted. She drew the design, it was better than what I have expected. The buzzing of the machine soothed me. It was a tough pleasure to get tattooed. The needles were in and out of my skin, the dull ache growing in my back. Tori hadn’t talked since the beginning.

“Now, would you tell me why you’re wearing man’s clothes and have your knuckles bandaged?” She asked out of nowhere.

I tensed slightly then relaxed not to mess up the tattoo.

“I ended up getting caught in the storm outside. Someone get me spare clothes. ” I answered carefully.

Tori hummed in response. Silence fell upon us once again. I must have fallen asleep because Tori woke me up by shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see a large smile on her face.

“Good nap, sleeping beauty?” She mocked.

“Sorry, I won’t do it again,” I replied, stretching my sore muscles.

“Don’t do promises you can’t keep, Chris.” She laughed.

Every time Tori tattooed me I fell asleep in no time. I smiled and get up to see my back in the mirror. The beautiful Phoenix, wings spread, was looking back at me. It was stunning, the fine details made it seem real. A masterpiece that took my entire back. Satisfied and happy, I turned to Tori.

“This is wonderful. Thanks, Tori.”

She nodded and was called by another customer. I waved goodbye and took my leave. I didn’t know what to do on my days off. Even more so now that I didn’t have any friends to spend time with. I missed hanging around with Jenna and Kate. I have encounter neither of them since their visit in my apartment. A dull ache crushed my ribcage, I was alone. Brent took everything from me. He took more than my innocence, he destroyed my life. I couldn’t trust anyone, not fully at least. There will still be a doubt, a “what if” that will ruin my relationships. I wandered in the Pit like a lost soul. It was becoming full. I sat on a rock and watched Dauntless members passing by.

A hand fell on my shoulder. I jerked away and turned around to face Four. My eyebrows furrowed as my heart calmed his frantic beats. He looked tired, working in the control room took its toll on him. He seemed more dynamic when he was training the initiates. He arbored a somber expression, his eyes boring into mine.

“Chris we have to talk about something. In private.” He muttered.

I gulped, it wasn’t something good. Four had to know something to appear out of nowhere to talk. He had seen something. Cameras were all over the compound. Brent couldn’t avoid all of them. I didn’t want anyone to see what happened. If they were a trial, it would be watched by so many people. My body shivered and I get up to follow Four in an empty hallway. We stood a few feet apart, staring at each other, choosing our words carefully.

“Chris, I saw what happened Monday night. Eric and I were talking about the next initiation when the screens showed you and Brent.”

Eric knew before I confessed. I felt betrayed that he didn’t tell me. I swallowed thickly and shook my head. The situation was getting out of my hands. I needed to get out of here. The pitiful gaze Four cast on me made me sick. I couldn’t take his soft eyes. I turned around and ran as if I was chased by a werewolf.

I turned the corner and crashed into a strong body. My eyes settled on Brent. He had his arms wrapped around my waist to keep me from falling. His intense brown orbs plunged into my emerald irises. My body stiffened and I wriggled in his grasp to get free. It only made him tighten his grip.

“Oh Chrissy, I knew you would run after me.” His low voice rang in my ears.

I tried to pry him away from me to no use, he was way too strong. His lips graced my neck, a cold shiver ran down my spine.

“Brent get off me. I don’t want you.” I growled.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Brent let me go and I bolt out of here. Eric was right. Brent had to be brought to justice or he will continue. I went into my apartment and closed myself for the rest of the day. I didn’t eat this evening. I was feeling sick at the idea of explaining what happened to Max and the other leaders. My night had been restless, haunted by horrible nightmares.

#divergentfanfiction #Eric Coulter #EricXOC #fanfiction #ericdivergent #slightlyAU #NoWar

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fanfalc-616 · 3 years

Text

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Seventeen

(Previous Chapter Here)

@ablackswansweet once again helped me with Kyle, he’s basically her OC at this point-

So...

How much do you all hate me? (:

Upon realizing that he had slipped up and thought the way they had wanted him to, Zane redoubled his efforts at resisting.

He cannot fall victim to their lies. He must stay strong. His team is coming for him, it- it has been over six months, yes, but surely they will be here soon. They have not- they would not give up on him, it- they will come for him soon. He only has to hold on a little longer, yes, just a little longer, and then they’ll take him home, back home, back where he is loved and cared for.

Just a little longer.

He can last a little longer.

YOU OKAY?

Zane feels himself shaking, unable to honestly answer the question. He had not told Cryptor of the way he had internally referred to himself as an ‘it’, and he doesn’t plan to. Saying it aloud… acknowledging what he had done seems to make it more real. He would confirm that he is giving into their desires, he would no longer be able to ignore what is staring him in the face.

YES

It’s a lie, plain and simple. Zane is not okay, and he will one day have to come to terms with this fact.

But today is not that day.

Today, he will allow himself the luxury of ignorance.

Today, he holds onto a non-existent shred of dignity.

Today, he lets himself believe in the lie that everything is okay.

That lie is all he has left.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Cryptor can see through Zane easily. Maybe it’s because he was based on his design, but he’s always known the white ninja better than he’d care to admit.

Zane is not okay, no matter what he says. At this point, it seems like he’s trying to convince himself more than Cryptor.

And that’s a bad sign. A very, very bad sign.

It seems that he’s resisting more, at least- it’s taking longer before they bring him back to the locker, so he must be putting up a fight.

But Cryptor finds himself worrying that it’s more of an extinction burst, a large amount of effort and defiance that happens just before he falls into learned helplessness.

He can’t lose Zane, he- he can’t. At this point, Zane is all he has left.

If he breaks, Cryptor won’t be far behind.

Every day is longer than the one before. It takes every ounce of effort and strength he has to prevent himself from giving in.

But he manages to keep a grip, to hold onto his sanity. He’s going to be fine, he’ll hold out as long as he needs to.

Because this won’t be how it ends. This won’t be how he goes out. He refuses to let himself be brought down, not here, not like this.

If he loses, it’ll be in battle, they will have to take him apart piece by oil-soaked piece.

He still has his dignity, damn it, and that’s one thing that they will never take from him. He might lose it at times, but he won’t give up entirely.

Cryptor isn’t a ninja. He never had been, and doesn’t want to be.

But he will never quit.

That is one thing that him and Zane have in common.

At least… something they had in common.

Now? Now, Cryptor’s not so sure. Zane isn’t quite right anymore. Zane isn’t… he doesn’t seem very Zane, as strange as it sounds.

He’s started to lose himself, started to succumb to the whims of their captors.

Cryptor can only hope that he’ll be able to hang on.

Because as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Cryptor is scared. Terrified, actually.

Terrified of their captors.

Terrified of losing Zane.

Terrified of being alone again.

He can’t… he can’t handle being alone again.

Closing his eyes, he realizes that the days he has left are numbered. It’s only so long until Zane breaks.

And when he does, he’ll take Cryptor with him.

Because he can’t handle being alone again. And if the only way to avoid that is becoming their pawn…

Then so be it.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Sentry looks over at Kyle, who seems deep in thought as he stares at the blueprint for the way the neural net connects to different gears.

“You don’t need to memorize it or anything, you’re mostly just going to be working on some simple mechanisms for now.”

“No I know I don’t need to memorize it, but I was thinking about, maybe, a different design? You know, when you connect the gear mechanisms to the CPU, you should run them through the sensors first. That way it would let a nindroid feel more subtle things, and improve their sensory abilities.”

Blinking a few times, Sentry looks back at the blueprints, comparing the new design idea to the existing one.

“That’s… actually a good idea.” He looks back over at Kyle, impressed with the line of thought. “Granted, feeling things more intensely might cause pain if not regulated properly, but it would be easy enough for them to learn.” While the second part is more to himself than Kyle, the blond seems amused by it, chuckling to himself.

He then mumbles something under his breath that Sentry can’t quite make out, but he elects to ignore it- if Kyle wants him to hear, he’ll speak up. If not, it’s none of his business.

Taking another moment to think on how the different wires might connect, Sentry pulls up a blank blueprint on the screen.

“Could you show me your idea here? A visual model would be helpful.” It’s interesting how quickly Kyle had come up with the idea- it’s almost like he had prior knowledge about how nindroid systems work.

"Yeah sure, give me a minute. I'm just moving this here and…"

Kyle’s nose scrunches up in concentration and he carefully alters the digital blueprint, rearranging the location of the wires and how they connect.

Frowning, Sentry watches the way the wires cross. “Is there enough space to connect things? That looks like it might be painful if put that way.”

Kyle blinks, glancing back over at Sentry.

"Oh! My bad. Made a mistake, don't worry. We wouldn't want to hurt them, now would we?" For a moment, Sentry could swear that there’s a flicker of a smile, a smile that makes him uneasy. But that expression wouldn’t seem to fit what he knows of Kyle, so he shakes his head, brushing it off.

Still, something about the way the words are phrased and spoken puts him on edge. He feels like there’s something he’s missing, but he can’t quite put his finger on what it is.

“No, we wouldn’t.” He agrees, ignoring the feeling. He’s only tense because he’s stressing about Cryptor, that’s all it is. He needs to stop reading into it so much; he has a job and he can’t get distracted so easily.

Kyle fixes the arrangement of the wires before turning back to Sentry with a blinding smile, nothing like the unnerving one that he had though he’d seen.

"Okay, all done! What's next, sir?"

Shaking his head, Sentry gives his own gentle smile. “Just Sentry is fine. And now I think I’ll run this by Dad and see what he thinks about it. Feel free to look around at the other systems while I do.”

"Don't need to tell me twice."

While the response is kind of odd, Sentry ignores the unfounded worry and copies the blueprints to his internal files, heading off to go find Cyrus.

There’s nothing to be worried about. It’s fine.

There- there’s nothing to be worried about. It’s all in his head.

Sentry once again pushes the thoughts from his mind as he steps into the elevator.

Kyle is just an intern. There’s no reason that Sentry should be worried about him.

Still. Maybe a quick background check wouldn’t hurt…

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

The damn brat is trying to start up another conversation with him, but Cryptor really doesn’t care about anything he has to say.

"Hey General, you'll never guess what Sentry showed me." Kyle chirps.

Okay. He’s got his attention. “Wh- what who showed you?” A moment too late, Cryptor realizes that he should’ve kept the fear out of his voice.

The blond raises an eyebrow in interest. "The nindroid general, all in white. You must know it, right?"

Cryptor shifts in his bonds as he looks away. “We- we’ve met.” He admits.

"Met, huh. Like Original and its ‘friends’ met?" The amusement in his voice makes Cryptor bristle in annoyance.

“What?! No!” The way his power source heats up refutes his claims, but Cryptor is hoping that Kyle doesn’t notice that.

So maybe he likes Sentry as more than a friend. It doesn’t matter. The other doesn’t like him like that, anyway.

If he really did, he would’ve come to rescue him by now.

"Ow. You're no fun," he says, mockery and mischief in his voice.

Sighing, the nindroid gives in. “... what did he show y- wait.” Sudden fear sets into him. “H- how do you know him?! What did you do?!”

"Calm down, it's not like you personally know the guy, it's not important for you to know how I know it..." It's clear the blond is trying to make him admit something. His choice of words seems very deliberate.

“I- you- that's not…” Cryptor groans, giving in. “Okay, fine, I know him. Now what did you do?”

"Know it how?" He insists, not satisfied with Cryptor's answers.

There’s no getting out of this, is there? Looking down, he speaks up. “He- he saved my life. I owe him.” He admits, choosing not to mention the time they had spent together after the white nindroid had let him stay at Borg Tower.

A low, dangerous chuckle escapes the brat. "I wonder how it'd feel if it knew how useless that was, with you wasting that life here-" His smile grows even wider with each word.

“It’s not like I came here intentionally!” The nindroid snaps, glaring sharply. Does this brat seriously think he can shift the blame onto Cryptor? He’s not stupid.

"And yet the result is the same," he sighs in annoyance. Then, his eyes light up. A terribly unsettling shine, like the sparks of a match before a forest fire. "Oh, I wonder how Martha would like another test subject soon!"

Cryptor feels himself tense up.“Don’t.” He growls out.

The blond doesn't even seem fazed by his threats. "What if we released you in its place? We don't really need three subjects," he admits.

Cryptor feels unease take over him. He- he wouldn’t want Sentry to be stuck here- never in a million years- and he knows that any promise of freedom is a lie, but he… he doesn’t want to be stuck here anymore. He doesn’t want to be hurt anymore.

“I…” He trails off for a moment before managing to continue. “…that… you can’t…”

"Is the heartless and snarky General growing a liking to someone other than itself? Now that's interesting." He sounds amused again. It's really all just a sick game to him.

“Don’t. You can’t just…” Cryptor grits his teeth. “I- I have emotions. You should know this by now. But just because I feel things doesn’t mean I’m attached like that.”

"Then you shouldn't mind if Sentry went missing for a few days." The boy eyes him from the side. "I mean, you don't like it like that, anyways."

He gives his best passive-aggressive smile- or he tries to, before silently cursing at his lack of a faceplate.“You can have friends without romance. Also, fuck you.”

A sharp snicker escapes Kyle. "Always a pleasure talking to you, asshole." He breathes out, then stretches a little. "Anyways… I'm gonna go meet it- uh, him."

Sudden panic washes over him as he stares at the blond. “Don’t- you- you can’t bring him here! Don’t you dare touch him!” He snarls out.

Kyle’s signature psychopathic expression appears on his face. "Oh but I can, I will and I'll dare if it elicits this type of fun reactions out of you." He laughs before heading for the exit. "Bye, don't miss me too much!" He says mockingly, dramatically blowing him a kiss.

“Hey!” Cryptor shouts after him, mind racing as he struggles to figure out what in the name of the FSM he could possibly do in this situation. “Hey, you- come back here! You can’t-“

The voice becomes less and less audible. He can barely make out what the brat yells at him from the hallway. "I'm not listening! I can't hear you anymore! I'm under a tunnel or whatever-"

“No, I- you can’t- that’s not…” Cryptor hesitates as he realizes what he has to do. The only thing he can do that even stands a chance of working.

“I- Master, please! Hurt me! Leave him alone!”

A pause.

Then sounds of running footsteps echoing in the empty spaces get closer. Kyle's head appears at the entrance, a shiny smile on his face. "You called?"

Cryptor struggles to hold onto his pride, to his dignity- but he can’t. He can’t let Sentry get hurt.

“I… M- Master, please, don’t hurt him. Hurt- hurt me instead.” The words are breathed out softly; Cryptor being unable to hold onto his cocky facade. If he had tear ducts, his eyes would likely be watering.

A soft smile replaces the boy's previous expression. He seems… satisfied. That's a first. "Well, I can't say no to you when you beg like that." His finger lightly tapping on his cheek shows he's thinking as he slowly speaks. "And the looming threat of it getting hurt is enough pain on its own for you today, I suppose…"

“I… look, whatever you want.” Cryptor gives in, hating himself for it. “Just… don’t hurt him.”

"Behave and I'll think about it." Kyle's tone is hard, but not mean like before. It looks like he calmed down a little.

“I- I can’t… I…” He’s trembling, he’s shaking so much, but he looks down, admitting defeat. But still, his voice is nothing more than a whisper as he does. “I’ll… I’ll behave.” He breathes out weakly, hating the way he’s forced to let the brat win.

"Good. It'll be safe for as long as you don't cause trouble, alright?" The blond bends down to Cryptor's level, hostility seemingly gone for now. "I kinda like it. Don't make me hurt it."

Cryptor can’t bring himself to look him in the eyes. “I… I won’t cause trouble.” He whispers. “Just… just don’t hurt him.”

Kyle’s laughter is gentle, but it still stings.

They’ve figured out how to get to him, figured out his weakness.

Cryptor feels himself trembling, on the brink of beginning to cry.

He knows that they’ll use this against him. He knows that they’ll use this to break him.

But for Sentry…

He’s willing to break.

#the rights of a nindroid #trauma #torture #psychological torture #ninjago zangst #zangst

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trashogram · 4 years

Text

Ryuk/Reader 4.5: Not my best

A/N: This is leading up to the next part, but it’s definitely filler. Feel free to skip?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You trembled, but not from the rain still slicked over your skin.

You’d come home drenched, hopping inside the foyer and up two flights of stairs to your apartment with keys already held out in shaking hands. The trek from work to home had been arduous and you were cold and tired, heartbeat just now coming down from walking alone at night.

But when the door closed behind you and you leaned down to peel off your soaked shoes, you froze. In the corner of your eye, you could see slivers of yellow and red in the far corner of your living room. You weren’t safe after all.

Behind your ribs, your heart seemed to stop altogether as the presence looked at you from above.

“Sorry.” A gravelly voice came from the darkness, not sounding sorry at all. His words came like a ripple, or better yet a riptide; oscillating with his deep, throaty laughter. “- Thought I’d just let myself in.”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

---

“Hey.”

Your shoulders instinctively rose up to your ears, feeling goosebumps beginning to take over your skin.

Playing it off as a stretching exercise, you leaned back and put your weight on the heels of your basic black flats. The bakery floor may have looked shiny, but you were certain that you didn’t have to worry about falling with how sticky it actually was.

You exhaled with relief, pressure alleviated from the blisters reforming on your toes for a moment of mercy.

“Don’t ignore me.”

Your coworker was in the backroom, stacking boxes in an otherwise unkempt pantry of pastry ingredients. Above you, the built-in speaker that played music from your supervisor’s computer in the back office filled up the silence of a currently empty store. The songs from a Top 40 station went in and out of your consciousness, most of them bad and bland.

But they provided some cover. “Quit it. You know I can’t talk to you here.”

Ryuk snorted, having planted himself on the floor behind the register. He peered up from the counter, claws tapping playfully on its surface while his yellow eyes locked on you.

“Yeah, not when there ‘re people around.” He muttered. “But ain’t nobody around right now.”

Despite half-hiding from view, you could see the shinigami’s blue lips stretch upward as he grinned up at you. You sighed.

It was Tuesday, and predictably there hadn’t been that many customers coming round for cake and tarts. Your workplace offered coffee too, but there were multiple shops along the cobbled streets offering the same thing and a few particulars with better publicity and further outreach.

“Well,” You spoke softly. “What do you want?”

“Tell me where we’re going this weekend.”

There was a rattling sound that came from the stockroom, and it muffled the laughter bubbling from your lips. “Oh my god, you’re still on that?”

The gray-blue grin shifted, and you could imagine Ryuk hiding a pout just out of your sight.

You waited as movement caught your eye, and you straightened up to stand on your feet as a woman paused in front of the storefront window. Tufts of her dark hair poked out from beneath the thick woolen scarf around her neck and the heavy designer overcoat wrapped around her shoulders, like straw sticking up from a scarecrow. Her eyes scanned the display cases from outside, ignorant of the smile you plastered on while being watched.

Ryuk was still sitting on the ground, looking at you, but his presence went unchecked. Any stranger on the street would never be able to see the literal god in their little shop, not unless they came in contact with the death note that you always remembered to leave at home.

“You made it sound so interesting.” Ryuk followed, despite you being unable to answer. “But then you never actually told me what we’re doing.”

The woman walked away after another moment, reaching into her oversized purse and grabbing her lit up phone. It made you sigh again, this time in relief.

Shinigami or no, you were always mollified when someone decided against coming into the shop. It could get boring, sure, but you preferred to be paid to just stand there than to potentially come in contact with busybodies and demanding folk, descriptions that fit that lady to a T.

“I mean, technically we aren’t doing anything.” You turned your nose up at Ryuk teasingly. “I’m the one who got invited, so I’m really the only one that has to be in the know.”

Ryuk pulled himself up off the floor and hunched over you, easily overshadowing your much smaller figure. “That’s not fair.”

You smiled at him, only partially confident until he made your insides squirm.

“But you want me to go with you.” He teased back, bopping your nose with one black talon. “You want me with you wherever you go.”

Instantly, you stuck your tongue out at the demonic entity, snatching up his finger as he continued to tap, tap, tap on your nose just as he’d done with the countertop. “Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.” He mimicked.

Your hand wrapped around his finger without you thinking, and you didn’t let go as you shook your head vehemently, sliding down to rest your fingers on his knuckles. The two of you were practically holding hands, though his dwarfed yours by a wide margin.

“Nuh-uh. Obviously, you’re coming with me because you have to.” You retorted. “I don’t really get to decide.”

Your eyebrow raised at Ryuk’s light snickering. It was a lot softer than his usual hacking laughter. “Bullshit.”

You opened your mouth to retaliate, but stopped short, in part due to confusion. On the other side of the room, a loud thump was heard before your coworker John came out of the storeroom, dragging his feet behind him.

“What’s up?” He nodded to your hand after a cursory glance.

Ryuk’s hand tightened around yours until you had to bite back a sound of surprise, at that and the rumbling that came from him upon being interrupted. It was unusual as, though Ryuk never invested much interest in any of the people you worked with, he was at least genial where John was concerned.

With a tug, you retracted your hand and smiled warmly.

“Just, uh, waving at somebody.” You said. “Waving back, anyway. People are way too friendly, sometimes.”

You moved out of the way to let John get behind you, and watched as he discarded wrappers and tape with a laugh laced in hysteria. “I’d rather they were too friendly than if they were assholes.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Your eyes narrowed. “I think you’re not considering the full spectrum of ‘too friendly’ like I am.”

“Well, okay, I mean that’s different.” John grimaced. “Tourists and old ladies with no teeth aren’t that bad compared to that.”

“What? No, the old ladies with no teeth are exactly the ones I’m talking about.” You smirked, eyes rolling up to the ceiling where Ryuk stood, this time hanging upside down. “They’re the real fiends, with their… loose gums… How dare they.”

It made you warm as both John and Ryuk chuckled at your silliness.

---

Out the door and into the crowded streets you went, immediately jamming earbuds into your ears and staring down at your phone. “Finally.”

You merely looked at the screen, not really doing anything but swiping through multiple apps as Ryuk floated beside you.

“What now?” He asked, head tilting from one side to the other, cracking his neck though you couldn’t hear a thing.

You hummed, starting to walk down the street. “Home. My feet are killing me.”

“Aww,” He had risen higher to avoid the crowd, but you could still hear him as if he were speaking right into your ear. “That’s all?”

“Well, I don’t get paid until Friday, so anything extra automatically costs too much.” You reasoned. “Even if I did have the money though, it would still be better to use over the weekend.”

“Wait! Yeah!” Ryuk exclaimed. “You still haven’t told me what we’re doing!”

You smirked, standing a little taller as you crossed the street onto another block. Honestly, you weren’t that ecstatic about having plans. If you thought too much about what was essentially going out of your comfort zone come Friday, you would definitely second-guess going at all.

That would only lead to another malaise of self-loathing, which would most definitely lead you to becoming helpless and spiralling into another soul-crushing depression.

“Are you listening to me? Helloooo?” Ryuk’s voice surfaced in your mind, registering a little later than it should’ve. “Hey, don’t ignore me. We’re not at your work, you can’t pretend I don’t exist anymore!”

The fog around your brain was clearing, but not completely.

“I never ignore you because I want to.” You said monotonously.

Ahead of you was the entrance to the rail station, and you hoped that you’d be able to catch a train without too long of a wait. You weren’t the most patient person on the planet, not after a work day. And in your experience, you often found yourself in the midst of something questionable or creepy while waiting for too long at any stop.

A cursory look around you showed that you’d made it to the tunnel entrance following a lunch rush. There were fewer people this uphill, cramming into the station to head home, with the sun still shining for another hour or two.

“I keep forgetting that the sun sets at like 4 P.M. now” You mused aloud. “I swear I’ll never get used to it, no matter how old I get.”

The lack of a response made you halt, pivoting around to see Ryuk a few feet behind you. Obviously, he’d noticed the lack of people around them and had been freed to meet the ground again, but your head tilted in confusion as he stood back and stared at you.

“... What?” Your brow furrowed. The persistent quiet apart from a few cars passing by and the flicker of street lights coming on unnerved you. “What’s wrong?”

“Come on.” Awkwardly you simpered, offering a gloved hand to your companion. He looked at your hand, but otherwise didn’t move. Inexplicably you thought back to a few hours prior, when the death god had insisted on trapping your hand in his and not letting it go, not even when John came back to the front.

“What? Are you mad at me or something?” You asked. Your foot began tapping on asphalt, and your blisters screamed. “Because I haven’t told you what we’re doing?”

“Huh?”

You blinked as Ryuk shifted in place, sounding distant. His eyes flitted from your hand back to your face, bright and dazed. “What? Oh. Uh, yeah.”

“If I wanted to, I could write your name down for keeping secrets from me.” He cleared his throat. “Better spit it out.”

Weariness following the weight lifted off your shoulders at the obvious bravado in his tone (because you had no idea what Ryuk was like when he was actually mad), you cracked a smile.

“It’s not the big deal you’re making it out to be. When I tell you, you’ll think it’s stupid.” Your racing heart began to slow, respite increasing as Ryuk took to following you again.

#ryuk x reader #ryuk/reader #self-indulgence #death note #im not up to tagging anybody bc I'm not a fan of this one #im sorry #ryuk

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theatresweetheart · 4 years

Text

Crash Landing

Warnings: Non-descriptive crash landing, swearing, non-graphic broken wrist, fear, anxious thoughts.

Pairing: Platonic Moxiety

Wort Count: 3231 words

Characters: Virgil, Patton, Logan and Roman (mentioned but not present)

A/n: I have had this in my drafts forever. I’ve finally given myself the time to finish it up! Which was nice, since I haven’t written anything g/t related in a while! This was certainly refreshing and fun!

——————————

“Contact with Home Base has been disrupted.”

This was not good.

This was really, really not good. He had made a list of everything that could go wrong and this exact situation just happened to top the list by far.

This was not how this was supposed to go.

The training that he had received should have prepared him better if he were to lose contact with his ship, but the flashing red lights and constant blinking with the grating sound that seemed to fill the cabin of the ship was making it harder to focus on anything other than the anxiety that was filling his stomach.

He was trying everything he knew. Resetting the system, trying to shut it off, attempting to override the automatic shutdown.

“Ace, override emergency operation Lock Down and return to manual piloting.”

The fact that this mission had been nothing more than an exploration of some of the least charted worlds of the galaxy, he had insisted that he be given a chance to prove himself worthy.

While there were a few other pilots who may have been a bit more acquitted to dealing with this situation, he had been allowed the chance.

Even as Virgil frantically tried to figure this mess out, the constant blinking of red lights in front of him still didn’t cease.

When the ship had gone into lock down, it was something that was supposedly made to keep the pilot within the ship safe if they were unconscious. Unfortunately, he was wide awake and unable to stop what was happening in front of him. The fact that he was useless to stop the hurtling spaceship from smashing into the ground was horrifying.

“Unable to override operation Lock Down.”

“Goddammit,” he swore under his breath, reaching up, he pulled at one of the lever above his head, before flicking the switch beside it and causing one of the only other lights to flicker on to a dying blue hue. The sounds of the locks shutting further gave him a little comfort.

There was nothing he could do if the ship couldn’t even turn it off.

“Ace, attempt to override emergency operation Lock down again and return to manual pilot.”

The beeping almost got louder for a moment and he winced in response to the squealing noises. The more high pitched it got, the more ear grating it became.

“Still unable to override operation Lock Down.”

“Attempt to reconnect contact with Home Base.”

The moment he had lost the connection with Home Base was the exact moment he had realized just how screwed he was. Without it, how would they know where his ship ended up? Would it even be possible to contact them again after he landed?

“Unable to reconnect contact with Home Base.”

Fantastic, that was exactly what he needed to hear right now. The anxiety was threatening to overwhelm him at this point, but if he allowed it to get the better of him, he would have no chance whatsoever.

As Virgil’s eyes focused on the planet in front of him that just seemed to be growing larger and larger by the second, he knew he needed more info on it. If he touched down and knew nothing, it would only get him in trouble faster. Attempting to fit in would be a bit more difficult without any knowledge.

Taking in a deep breath, he slid his hand across the touch pad, only watching as more warnings popped up in front of him. “Give me information on the planet Terra.”

The fact that he had been so sure of himself, only for his ship to shut down right in front of him while being completely helpless to stop it, proved that he probably shouldn’t have been so adamant about doing this.

At least not by himself.

Proving himself meant nothing if he was dead.

“Terra, inhabited by Terran. It resides in the Milky Way. It only consists of one moon and is the third closest planet to the sun, thus the year on Terra is—”

“Important stuff, Ace,” he called up, the panic growing heavier in his chest, making it harder to breathe, “more information on the Terran.”

“Terrans, more commonly known as ‘human beings,’ are a violent race of bipedal mammals that have a long and detailed history of starting wars between themselves over provisions such as oil, water and large expansions of land. There appears to have been a time of peace hundreds of years ago, before Terrans realized the importance of certain provisions. Humans are known for their violent and greedy nature and are often avoided by others.”

He could only sit and watch as the planet of green and blue got bigger and bigger. Hurtling towards the ground at unimaginable speeds was absolutely horrifying.

Then there was the fact that A.C.E. was saying how Terrans were more prone to jump into negative action if they found something they didn’t understand.

“It is rumoured that the humans—“Americans” as Terrans call them—of the United States of America believe there is a secret military base called Area 51. A place where countless other planets have lost explorers to. There are some notable planets in your galaxy that have lost explorers to this base.”

“Great, just what I needed,” Virgil hissed, tugging the seat belt tighter and reaching forwards to hold onto the wheel in front of him even if he wouldn’t be able to change course. The idea that there were people down on this planet that captured other beings set a hard rock in his chest. “Is there any way at all to slow the descent?”

“Negative.”

Well, guess he would just have to brace for impact as best as he could.

“Ace, attempt to reroute all power back to the main bridge and return control to manual pilot.” It was all a loss at this point, but he needed to try at least once more.

The ship went silent for a minute, the flashing stopped and for one brief moment of relief, Virgil thought that he would get control back. Then the sirens picked up again and the yoke remained stagnant. He could tug, he could turn with everything he had in him, and the thing still wouldn’t move an inch.

“Unable to reroute power supply to main bridge,” Ace’s computerized voice spoke from somewhere above him.

While crash landing was inevitable at this point, there was nothing really settling about that. There was so much that could go wrong when one hit the ground too hard. Whiplash, sprains, broken bones and, in the worst case scenario, death.

Sinking a bit further into his seat, the young man grasped the armrests. His knuckles were white from the force. The ground was approaching far too fast and he didn’t have it in him to watch.

So, he squeezed his eyes shut as tight as possible and waited for the worst of it.

—

The first thing he registered when he began to regain consciousness was the stinging in his left arm. Sharp, jabbing pain that seemed to allude to something greater than just a hurt wrist.

But there was pain almost everywhere. Every time he tried to move, there was something hot and burning. His muscles ached and could feel thin cuts along his good arm. The crash landing must have taken more of a toll on him than he had originally planned for. At least his ‘worst case scenario’ hadn’t played out. He was still alive for everything that counted for.

The next thing he registered, even when he still laid half unconscious, was that whatever he was on was much softer than solid ground or even the leather covering of the seat in his ship. Whatever he was on was a lot warmer as well. While the ship had its heating system, this felt like it was more body heat than anything else.

Whatever was happening couldn’t exactly be good.

When he tried to move his injured arm—ignoring the awful, horrible pain that shot up through the rest of his arm—that’s what jolted him awake instantly. He couldn’t move it. Not just because of the pain, he could grit his teeth through the pain, but because of something that prohibited its movement in the first place.

He sat up, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight slightly pressing against the back of his neck and his right shoulder.

Wide, startled brown eyes moved directly to his left arm and he saw the pristine white bandage wrapped around it, before tied back into a sling that was tucked around his neck. The sling itself was surprisingly well made and did its job with keeping his arm from moving, but that led Virgil to another question.

Who did it?

Which led to yet another question; where, in the name of God, was he?

His attention shifted, after realizing that he couldn’t just spend his time staring at his broken, but miraculously wrapped wrist. Not if he wanted answers. Though, when he did take the time to look around the room, he was only left with more questions.

And a crippling stab of anxiety in his stomach.

He was in a bedroom. It looked like any other normal bedroom, just on a scale a hell of a lot bigger. There was a bed, a dresser, closet, bedside table, a window, lamps, wall decors, anything that you would expect in a bedroom. Except everything was probably twenty times his own height and the panic began to set in hard.

The feeling of tightness in his chest was the first sign of the oncoming attack, then there was the heavy breathing that followed closely afterwards.

Tearing his eyes away from the looming sight in front of him, Virgil noticed a small cup of water to his right but if he wasn’t mistaken, the water was contained inside a bottle cap. Something that he had tossed mindlessly into the trash before. Seeing it nearly the size of his hand was unnerving and frankly terrifying.

While a part of him wanted to reach over and quench his thirst, another part of him—the more reasonable part of him—knew that the drink could very easily be poisoned. This entire thing could all be some sort of Godawful trick and the Terran that was currently keeping him captive would eventually do away with him. He was a hostage and there was no way to change that, not if the scale of the room said anything about the scale of the human being.

It took a moment, but something caught his attention, set off to the side as if it were an afterthought. It was his ship. Sitting right there out in the open, so close but so far away from him. It was like a sick tease.

However, the more he looked at it, he saw the damage that had been done when it had plowed into the earth’s surface. Glass was shattered, it was dented in more places than one and wires stuck out along it’s edges. Seeing it in such poor shape hurt him, even if the thing wasn’t sentient.

Everyone had an attachment to the ship they were assigned to pilot and he had been in his for what seemed like weeks. Getting to learn its controls and figure his way out around the large place.

Ace, even as an A.I, had been some of the only company he had gotten during his mission. However, because of the advanced technology he had been able to make contact with either Logan or Roman at least once every two days. Never for very long, but hearing the voices of his two closest friends was always reassuring.

Maybe if he could get back to his ship, Ace would be able to help him now. They were on solid ground, so perhaps he’d be able to rework some of the wires without the panic of crashing unexpectedly.

Almost as if fate thought that this was some cruel joke, he could hear movement coming from the other side of the closed door.

The shadows of someone moving on the other side caught his attention and his stomach sank. Panic quickly managed to wrap its clammy hands around his throat and squeezed, easily directing his focus from breathing, to ‘oh my god, what do I do now.’

He was hurt, which took away his chances of fighting. He was tiny, which took away his chances of actually finding a way to escape. He was nearly in the midst of a panic attack, which took away his rational thinking and replaced it with the common fight or flight response.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as the door handle jiggled, only to open a lot slower than he thought it would have. Struggling to right himself, Virgil managed to halfheartedly move slightly backwards. Whatever he was currently laying on was much too soft to actually try and make some sort of getaway.

The door eventually did crack open and Virgil shrunk further back into the soft comforters of the bed, as if that would hide him from plain sight.

Dread pooled into his stomach as soon as his eyes made contact with the Terran’s. However, where Virgil was expecting to see blood red eyes (or something else relatively terrifying) he saw dark hazels—that would have rivaled Roman’s—hidden behind thick black glasses. And where he was expecting to see fangs and canines that were designed to tear and maim, he saw blunt teeth bared in an expression of relief and excitement.

A.C.E hadn’t given him any information on human body language, but he could only pray that a smile meant the same thing it did on his own home planet.

“Oh good!” The human said suddenly, stepping further into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. “You’re awake. I‌ was a little worried there for a bit! You weren’t moving and it was a little hard to tell if you were breathing.”

Virgil had half a mind to demand release, but the other more sensible part of him realized that he was certainly in no place to be demanding anything. The human had been kind enough to leave water for him, but that didn’t mean he had the right to push that kindness just in case he pushed too far.

Anxiety tried to push forward, trying to make Virgil relent and stay compliant. And while that might save his hide, it wasn’t what he had been trained to do. At least, nothing had really trained him for interacting with giants, but at least humans—or this human in particular—seemed willing enough to make causal conversation.

So, he swallowed back his nerves and cleared his throat to the best of his ability, trying to still the trembling in his good hand. He dug that one into the thick covers to stop it. “What–” he took a breath, hating the way his voice shook, “what are you going to do to me?”

It was a morbid curiosity as well, Virgil reasoned. He wasn’t sure if it would be better to know his fate or to allow the human to do what he wanted and have it over with.

The human’s expression seemed to crumple. Virgil felt his stomach drop at the disheartened look that crossed his features.

“I’m not going to do anything to you,” the human said, his voice was softer this time. “I‌ really just wanted to make sure you were okay. The way your ship looks and the way your arm looked…”

Virgil’s eyes darted down to his wrist, seeing the careful bandaging and the sling. He felt slightly ill at the idea of how close the human had to get to him to do such impressive work, but it was still shocking. “You.. you did this?”

“The sling and the cast,” the human said, that soft smile returning once more. It looked proud and warm. “I‌ don’t know how well I‌ really did with it since you’re so small, but I‌ hoped it helps enough to let your arm heal correctly.”

You and me both.

Virgil took another breath, letting it out steadily and forcing the nerves back for now. He could let it take over when he was alone. Falling prone in the midst of a dangerous creature was not a good option.

“My name’s Patton,” the human said suddenly, causing Virgil’s eyes to shoot back up and meet his own. “I‌ just thought it’d make this a little easier, you know? A‌ bit more personal too.” The human—Patton—paused, and Virgil felt nervousness fluttering in his stomach again. “Do you have a name?”

Of course he had a name. Obviously he had a name. However, before he had the mind to speak it, he held his tongue. Was telling a human his name really the best way to go about this encounter? What if names had power on this planet, and the minute Virgil gave his away he was immediately in more danger.

Though, Virgil also had to take stock of everything that had happened—well, everything that hadn’t happened already.

Patton had done nothing but stand by the bedroom door, talking softly at him. That wasn’t exactly the recipe for a monster. However, there was also something else niggling at him saying that this could all be some elaborate scheme to get Virgil to trust him and than that’s when it happens.

Though, another part of him said, he seems pretty genuine. If he really did mean you harm, he didn’t have to fix your wrist. Or let you live, for that matter.

Virgil licked his lips, trying to wet them only to come up with a dry mouth. Right, he was thirsty. His eyes flickered over to the bottle cap of water to his side that miraculously hadn’t spilled in his panicked movements to create distance between himself and the human.

He then side-eyed Patton again. “Is the water poisoned?”

Patton let out a soft, surprised noise at that. As if that wasn’t the question he had been expecting in the least. If Virgil had any suspicion that it was poisoned, going off of that reaction it very obviously wasn’t. “No!” The human quickly said, wanting to get that truth out there vehemently. “Of course not. I‌ promise, I‌ really don’t want to do anything to you!”

Virgil gave a satisfied enough nod at that, tugging the cap of water toward himself—ignoring how weird it was that it was a bottle cap of all things—and tilted it just enough to let himself bend down and take a few greedy drinks of it. It was cool and fresh and amazing. The task of drinking was a bit difficult one handed, but certainly not impossible.

When he had drained about half of it, and felt a little better than before, he used his sleeve to wipe at the water on his mouth. After another moment of hesitation, watching Patton’s wide sparkling gaze, he sighed.

“…my name’s Virgil,” he said, turning his head away immediately, as if that would stop the heat from flooding up the back of his neck and into his cheeks.

And because of that reaction, he missed the way Patton’s eyes lit up further.

Virgil guessed that maybe he’d landed with an…alright human.

For now.

Besides, there was no harm in Patton knowing his name. At least, no harm yet.

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sablelab · 4 years

Text

Covert Operations - Chapter 140

SYNOPSIS: Jamie and Claire go sailing in the Whitsunday Islands and when they arrive at the outer reef, he drops anchor and they go snorkelling in an underwater wonderland of delight.

Chapter 139 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

My THANKS and APPRECIATION to all those who are reading, liking, reblogging or taking the time to leave a comment. I am extremely thankful for your support of this story and for many of you I am very grateful for the longevity of your patronage.

CHAPTER 140 (S)

Jamie anchored the yacht at Hardy Reef not far from where they had set off from Airlie Beach this morning. The Reef was renowned as home to the iconic “Heart Reef” however, they couldn’t snorkel or swim there due to its protected nature. Jamie knew he would have to take his Sassenach up in a sea plane to see that romantic spectacle from the air, and she could also see the reef in its entirety of where they’d anchored. Situated in shallower waters with protection from the surrounding sea conditions this reef had its own ecosystem. He knew that Claire would be able to see magnificent coral in the water as well as a number of ledges and caves covered with fans and soft corals for her to explore. There would be spectacular marine life as well as the Giant Maori Wrasse with the hump head not found in open areas when they went snorkelling, not to mention a myriad of beautifully coloured fish.

As he dropped the anchor, Claire walked over to the side of the boat and leant over the railings. Her eyes were captivated with what she saw in the water. To her delight she noticed a school of tropical fish in the pristine blue water and she couldn’t take her eyes off the way they darted here, there and everywhere.

“Jamie,” she called out. “Come here, you need to see this.”

In next to no time James Fraser was standing beside her thoroughly enjoying the joy radiating from his Sassenach as she peered into the water at the fish swimming about.

“Amazing isn’t it?”

Claire turned around when she heard him speak with a huge smile on his face. Then noticing what he had in his hands she glanced up at him and them back at the snorkel masks and fins dangling from his fingers.

“Breathtaking. I can see right to the sea floor.”

“Well then Sassenach … Care to be adventurous and jump in?” Jamie asked dropping the snorkel gear to the deck then wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I am,” she replied happily stripping off her kaftan to revel a tiny two-piece swimsuit that had Jamie’s eyes wandering over her sexy curves in appreciation.

“Are ye trying tae kill me Sassenach? Ye look stunning in that we slip of a bikini.”

“Not any more than you are Fraser in your swimmers,” she replied cheekily admiring Jamie’s fine form in his red swimming trunks.

She saw the piercing look he’d given her when he saw what she was wearing and couldn’t help but grin knowing that it took very little to arouse James Fraser since they had been on their downtime here in paradise. His eyes were intense as they scanned her figure as if he was mentally undressing her right where she stood. Claire could feel his gaze as if his hands were caressing her body and she felt her pulse race as colour flooded her cheeks. This James Fraser was dangerous and if he wanted to take her then and there on the deck of the yacht … well she knew she wouldn’t resist him.

His Sassenach was an ethereal goddess standing there in that wisp of material that accentuated her gorgeous curves and figure and left very little to the imagination. Jamie felt a little primal; his heart rate accelerated and his body stirred in recognition of his mate. However, trying to keep his emotions in check, he reluctantly turned and sat down to put on his fins as Claire watched amused at his antics.

James Fraser seemed to be all fingers and thumbs and, if she was not mistaken, he had uttered a few terse Gaelic swear words in the process. It always amused her to see him off kilter as it was so out of character to his Section One persona. It proved he was human after all and not the robotic killing machine Madeline and Operations required of him. She loved seeing this side of him knowing that he was vulnerable around her. Claire watched amusedly as he struggled to place the fins on both feet and when he stood up and tried to walk over towards her, she couldn’t help herself and began to laugh.

“You look like a duck Jamie with those huge fins on your feet.” She placed a hand to her mouth to try and suffocate another laugh from bursting from her throat.

“Well may ye laugh Sassenach, but ye are going to look like one too once ye have these on. Come, sit down and I’ll put on yer fins Cinderella,” he teased with a huge grin on his face.

Sashaying over to him and sitting down, Claire placed her foot forward as Jamie knelt on the deck before her cupping one foot in his hands. Ever, so slowly he glanced up at her with hooded eyes as his fingers leisurely stroked up and down her calf muscle before massaging the sole of her foot. Then without warning he leisurely lifted it up to his mouth and his teeth took a wee nip at her big toe which had Claire in a spin of feelings. Her heart was racing in her chest. The fact that he always seemed to find a different way of unnerving her was what keep her on her toes to how she responded to his actions. Claire hadn’t realised how seductive taking a bite out of one’s toes could be until Jamie had just done it. His alluring exploits had a way of making her body react in visceral ways to his teasing. Leaning forward she placed a hand on his head tugging at his curls and twisting them in her fingers as she let out a mewing sigh. Although tempted to kick out at him and topple him over, she didn’t for she was helpless against this man’s seduction techniques every single time.

Her voice was breathy in response, “Jamie we’ll never get in the water if …”

“If what … Sassenach?” he replied with a slight raise of his eyebrow in his oh so sexy voice as if to say he was not quite sure just what it was she was insinuating.

“If you keep doing that.”

Jamie laughed at her slight discomfort but he knew that he needed to jump in the water to cool off or his Claire would be the recipient of more than just some toe biting if they stayed on the yacht. His thoughts were running rampant as to what type of temptation he could use this time to tease his love. Nipping at her toes could certainly be a catalyst to foreplay but instead he cooled his libido. Smiling suggestively at Claire, he quickly placed both of the full pocket fins on her feet and reluctantly stood up.

“The view will be a lot better in the water to see the fish mo ghràidh, but be careful … they might nip at your toes,” he added in jest.

“Not in these fins they won’t Fraser … I think I will be safe.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aware of his change of tack, Claire laughed again when she got up because it felt as if she too was walking like a duck just as Jamie had before. Her giggles were infectious and he too joined in her chortles. Still laughing, he took her hand in his as they both waddled to where they could jump into the water from the back of the yacht. With the snorkel masks in his hand they stood side by side on the platform, however, Claire was a little hesitant when she looked at the distance from the yacht to the water.

“You jump in first Jamie.”

“Are ye sure ye dinna want me tae hold yer hand Sassenach? We can do this together.”

“No, I want to watch you.”

Giving her a nod, he slid calmly, flippers-first into the water with the full-face masks in his hand and Claire laughed as droplets of water splashed all over her from his jump into the sea. She looked over the edge of the yacht, watching him emerge with a wide grin on his face.

“Come on in Sassenach, the water’s great!”

His enthusiasm was just what Claire needed to calm her nerves. She stared at the crystal, clear water glittering in the sunlight like diamonds on the surface. The very thought of plunging herself into the turquoise, blue water was seducing her senses to jump in too, and the fact that Jamie was waiting for her made her shiver with excitement.

As if reading her mind, he called out again, “Ye can do it mo nighean donn.”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” she muttered taking another look at the depth that she had to jump.

However, Claire chewed her lower lip, biting back a grin. She was excited to see the pretty tropical fish she’d been watching up close and personal over the railing and taking a deep breath, she took the plunge and jumped into the water.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Her nervousness soon dissipated as quickly as her awareness of just where she was, and what she was doing became apparent. Bopping her head above the water, Claire laughed with pure elation. She was in the middle of the ocean and all she could hear was the water gently splashing against their boat. Treading water, she looked down and could see an array of tiny fish swimming past her. She felt a fish tickle her leg as it weaved between her legs and this made her laugh even more. It was all so amazing. The water felt wonderful, it was refreshing and cool and washed over her figure like one of Jamie’s gentle caresses. She felt weightless for the water buoyed her body, then stretching out her arms she kicked out her legs breaking through the water with ease. The fins helped considerably; they were comfortable, light and the blades gave her great agility in the water when she kicked her feet. It felt so exhilarating to be swimming as if she was gliding effortlessness through the water like a mermaid. It was joyous and carefree just like her life had been with this wonderful man over the past week and the few days they’d been here in the Whitsundays.

Spotting him watching her, Claire swam over to him and with eyes bright and shining with mirth she treaded water once more.

“Enjoying that are ye Sassenach?”

“It’s wonderful Jamie. I feel so alive.”

James Fraser chuckled for he felt the same way. He was thrilled that his love had recovered from her trauma and that they were relishing these carefree days spent together. He handed Claire her full-face snorkel mask that allowed her to breathe both through her nose and mouth so that her breathing under water was as easy as it was on land. Jamie watched as she brushed away any wet hair out of the way and placed the mask over her face.

“Here let me help ye adjust the strap Sassenach.”

Positioning the mask on her face he made sure that it was tight-fitting on her cheeks and jaw by adjusting the elastic fabric headbands. However, at the same time he didn’t miss a chance to caress her face as his fingers once again felt wonderful against her skin. Once her mask was in place, he encouraged her to test it out under the water.

“Go on, take a wee look below.”

Dipping her head in the water she was pleasantly surprised when the mask didn’t fog up. It was air tight and no water could get in under the seal. The full-face mask was so comfortable on her that she didn’t realise she was even wearing one. Claire gave Jamie a thumbs up that all was okay, then he put on his own mask with his GoPro camera attached so he could capture the moments of their underwater snorkelling adventure and watched as Claire immersed her face under the water once more.

Her eyes widened at the breathtaking sight before her, for she had a crystal-clear vision and 180-degree panoramic views whilst underwater of an undersea wonderland.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A new world magically materialised before her eyes through her snorkelling mask. As she swam along the edge of a coral-covered rock shelf, she spied so many beautiful fish in every imaginable colour of the rainbow and patterns swimming beneath her. There were vivid blue, red, orange, purple and green coloured fish scurrying in and out between the coral, seaweed and anemones whilst hiding from predators camouflaged against the coral background. Many of the fish seemed particularly attracted to twin coral sculptures in shades of violet and green. She saw the pretty little Clown Fish with its bright orange scales and a glowing white band darting through the dancing tentacles of sea anemones in which these little fish made their homes in safety. There were pink, red, yellow, brown, multi-coloured and black-and-white striped fish swimming happily in the water chasing each other and playing tag amongst the coral.

Reaching out her hand, her fingers almost brushed the school of fish before they scurried away. The Reef was teeming with life and it was this snorkeler‘s paradise. Claire saw fish of all sizes as well as one with thick bulging lips and a huge hump on its forehead. Her eyes darted every which way watching the frenzy of colourful fish until she saw a fish nibbling on coral. She swam closer and watched the little, bright coloured fish with a face that looked like a parrot busily going about its day cleaning the reef by nibbling on some dead coral and spitting it out.

Between the schools of kaleidoscopic fish darting through the staghorn metropolis of coral and the gentle sea fauna playing tug-o-war with her attention, Claire was captivated by the spectacle before her eyes. Floating above the water she saw a clustering bed of different shaped and sized coral some in vivid colours, some fading while some sadly were bleached. Cream, pink, blue and green coral that looked like cauliflower, bulbs of brain coral, orangey-brown coral growing like fingers or tree branches, large dome shaped coral with wide, slit-like mouths that looked just like mushrooms and small, stony coral in a rounded hump shape were to be seen. Sadly, she he saw a deadly Crown of Thorns starfish attached to a piece of coral, as well as sea urchins, sponges, sea stars, neon-lipped clams, crustaceans and other shy organisms hiding between the rocks, while only venturing out when she had swum by. The Great Barrier Reef was home to a third of the world’s soft corals, and Claire spent an inordinate amount of time mesmerised by what she could see in the breathtaking coral garden.

As she snorkelled about, the one fish that really caught her eye was a thin bodied, striped, bright yellow, fish with an elongated nose. The fluoro yellow Butterflyfish dived for cover as she hovered over it, navigating its body through smaller passages to feed on the coral polyps and algae, but then decided that she was no threat and emerged fearlessly followed by a classroom-sized school of friends. She noticed that they often swam in pairs and wondered if like other animals they mated for life. It was fascinating to watch all the species of brightly coloured tropical fish and Claire was amazed at how funny and mesmerizing they were.

Surfacing for a while she cast a glance over at Jamie who had also surfaced and taken off his mask. She noticed that he had the biggest grin on his face.

“So, how was it Sassenach?” he asked, his eyes softening with love for this woman.

Delighted and in awe at the tropical life blossoming in the ocean, she couldn’t contain her enthusiasm for what she had seen. Claire turned around and pushed her mask onto her head. Her eyes were bright, cheeks a little flushed from excitement as she said, “It was incredible Jamie.”

“Aye ‘twas … and I have the pictures tae prove it Sassenach.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Having placed their masks back on the yacht, the two lovers enjoyed some free time as they both frolicked and swam in the distinctive, crystal clear, aqua blue waters of the reef. They laughed and splashed each other and Claire watched as Jamie dived under the water disappearing out of sight only to resurface near where she was treading water. He gathered her slick wet body against his, and wrapping his arms around her waist, held her close to him giving her a kiss on the lips. Claire’s arms went up around his neck allowing Jamie to support both of their weights as the two of them floated together in relaxed abandon like two little otters holding hands side by side. It was so liberating just floating and drifting on top of the ocean to the gentle movement of the water, that Claire felt an outer body experience.

Being here with Jamie had been the best thing they had ever done but she knew that their time was finite. They would eventually have to return to Section One to complete their mission and with that return would come the boundaries that would test them once again. They had both recovered remarkedly well and the two of them were physically fit and rested. His wound had healed and together they had conquered their demons. They were back to their optimum ability and if their sexual performance counted for anything, they certainly had an abundance of stamina. However, they only had a few days left before they would have to leave this paradise … and that made her sad but determined to enjoy every last moment of their downtime.

It was the thought of that, that made Claire suddenly begin to sink under the water, however, Jamie had seen her begin to flounder and had reached out to her.

“It’s okay mo nighean donn, I’ve got ye.”

Jamie’s voice and the feel of his strong arms around her prevented her from going further down. When she opened her eyes, Claire felt her breath catch in her throat. James Fraser’s eyes were watching her and the warmth and tenderness of his gaze made her heart do little flip flops in her chest.

Grabbing onto his arms, her lips bowed in a smile. “I know,” she softly replied never taking her eyes from his face.

His eyes tenderly canvassed her face before shaking his head causing water to splash out all over her face. Claire couldn’t help but laugh as his riotous curls fell over his cheeks and into his eyes. The temptation to brush away that hair and run her fingers through the rest of his curls in the process was irresistible for her. She had never seen this gorgeous man look so happy and relaxed. She loved seeing him like this and she loved everything about him when he was in this mood.

Jamie laughed too. “Are ye ready for yer next adventure Sassenach, ‘cause we need tae get ye back on the yacht and sail to our next destination.”

Wrapping her arms around him Claire pulled Jamie into a crushing embrace. “Aye, Aye captain … Je Suis Prest … I am ready.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The view here at the reef was stunning but none more so than his beautiful Claire. They’d enjoyed swimming and snorkelling off the yacht but now his love sat nestled between his legs as Jamie dried her wet hair with a towel after their swim in the aqua waters. Closing her eyes Claire smelt the salt of the ocean on his skin and the heady pheromones of this virile man, and despite his tempting body, she felt a tingling warmth radiate from him. It was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. Claire tilted her head forward as Jamie held her head in his hands gently rubbing her hair and lovingly drying her tresses after their swim. Positioned between his thighs she was so contented with the gentle massage of his fingers against her scalp and temples that she could have stayed there forever just having her man do what he was doing. When he took the towel away, she leaned back against his stomach as he leaned forward closer to her face. Smiling at her, he ran his fingers through her hair letting the damp strands fall through his fingers like liquid chocolate.

Brushing her hair away from her face Jamie held Claire’s jaw in his palm while nonchalantly stroking her cheek with his thumb. Leaning even closer he looked into her eyes and held her gaze as if she was the most precious thing in the world. Claire smiled and her lover reciprocated with a smile that lit up his face.

Oh god how she loved this man. His gentleness tore at her heart strings. Her eyes caressed every inch of his beautiful face taking him in from his warm, blue coloured eyes that crinkled around the edges when he smiled, to the furrows that wrinkled his forehead, to the beard stubble peppering his defined jawline. It was hard to believe how much he’d changed since being here for Jamie was a different man under the veneer that he showed at Section One. She now knew the real James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser and this man was her everything. He was the one who had her heart and for that she was thankful. Jamie was hers and she was his. She loved him with every fibre of her being.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Continuing with his gentle caresses to her face, Jamie never severed his eyes from her own as the sun naturally dried Claire’s tresses in no time. Her beautiful brown hair had always fascinated him and in the sunlight the colours of auburn and light brown had captivated his eyes.

“Mo nighean donn,” he whispered as he gathered a handful of her hair and let it slide through his fingers once more.

The way that Jamie said this Gaelic endearment was so sensual. It sounded like a caress to her ears, softly spoken with awe and reverence. She leaned into his hand and rested her head on his thigh as her love continued to touch her hair. He caressed her head and neck with his fingers before leaning down to gather tiny wisps of hair between his fingertips on the back of her neck. Claire felt every single touch ignite those happy feelings that swirled in her stomach.

Placing a kiss against the top of her head, he whispered it again, “My brown-haired lass.”

Claire was overcome with emotion. “Rather a dull colour, brown, I've always thought,” she replied not quite believing the compliment he was giving her. Kissing her neck, he inhaled the scent of his woman “No.”

“Really?”

“No, not dull at all. It's like the ...” He stumbled for the right words to say. “It's like the ... the water in a burn, the way it ruffles down the rocks.”

His fingers splayed her head and Claire closed her eyes as delicious sensations coursed through her body. Jamie was weaving another one of his spells over her and she felt all gooey inside when he spoke in his beautiful Scottish drawl. It did things to her equilibrium. The more he spoke the more she was captivated by the words he was saying.

“Dark in the wavy spots with ... wee bits of auburn when the sun touches it.”

Claire leaned back and Jamie pressed his lips tenderly to hers then withdrew them. She sighed when next his tongue licked at her lips in invitation to part, which they did on a soft gasp. Gentle, leisurely kisses continued. Reaching out her hand Claire touched his hand and closing her eyes kissed his palm bringing it to her face. Placing his other hand under her chin Jamie’s thumb caressed her there, then ran his fingertips down her ear to her jaw. Never severing their gaze, he leaned down and kissed her eyelids. She pulled back, taking him in properly for the first time. Enamoured with this man’s tenderness Claire looked at him with her emotions blazing in her eyes. James Fraser was a magnificent specimen of manhood and his caring gentleness warmed her heart to bursting.

Once Jamie had stared these kisses he couldn’t stop until he had anointed every inch of her beautiful face. His lips kissed her forehead before showering sweet kisses all over her face. He kissed her cheeks, her nose, her brow and ear before repeating his ministrations once more. Claire could not take her eyes from him as Jamie continued his enticement by running his hand back along her forehead which he’d just kissed. With his hand still holding her chin, he bent down and kissed her on the lips while her fingertips pressed against his chest where she could feel his heart beating erratically.

Claire was lost in her feelings for her man’s slow seduction and she leaned back into Jamie’s arms and rested her head on his thigh. Then capturing his other hand, she nestled into him with contentment written all over her face. She never wanted this day to end.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued Friday 21st August when Jamie and Claire continue on to their next destination.

*Just a little picture of Heart Reef which is located in Hardy Reef.

#jamieandclairecrossover #Jamieandclairefanfic #the lallybroch library #outlander fanfic #crossover outlander/lfn spies modernau #outlander lfn spies #covert operations

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