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sleep-i-ness · 4 years

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My Saviour (Tony Stark x reader)

Blurb: Y/N is going to die. That she’s sure of. Now is the wait, ten feet under a collapsed building, waiting for it to finally give way.

Prompts: “I am being extremely clever up here and there’s no one to stand around looking impressed. What’s the point in having you all?”

CW: Mentions of death and dying, injury

A/N: This is my entry for @thefanficfaerie‘s writing challenge, I am so sorry it’s late! Back to school and all that

The ceiling’s about to go. You need to get out of there NOW. Everything changes the mission Y/N thinks she’s going to die. Sure, there had been a few close calls every now and then but never like this. Trapped under a collapsed 7-storey building, with dust still settling around her and ominous creaks echoing around the small space. And, how could she forget, with the team’s biggest ego for company.

The day started early, if she could even say ‘started’ when Stark had kept her up in the labs with him, well past her usual bedtime. Cap had tried to insist, yet again, that she joined him on his ‘invigorating’ morning jog, despite the fact that she had nowhere near the stamina of a super soldier and that she was running on eleven cups of black coffee (adding milk had ended up taking too much time when the exhaustion was kicking in again) and spite. Her spite, she decided, was what was going to get her out of this mess.

At the bright and early time of 10am, Stark had stumbled out of his bedroom, having actually gone to bed instead of being pressured into joining a training session. Well, he didn’t really need to train; the suit was his manpower. Unlike the rest of them, he didn’t need to keep in shape, other than to pick up women at whatever posh event he went to. Which was unfortunately never kept a secret from her, as for some reason, whilst her floor (why did she need a whole bloody floor?) was being decorated/renovated, she was in a room directly adjacent to Stark’s. One thing he’d apparently forgotten to invest in was soundproofing.

Soon after Stark had deigned to join them at their Team Breakfast, which, according to Rogers, was an Important Bonding Session, Fury had decided to give them a call. And with Fury it was never a catch-up call, which would be nice, once in a while, now that she thought about it. Or maybe not, she dreaded seeing the man for mission briefings, she wasn’t sure if he had the capability of acting like a normal human. Oh God. Imagine Fury having brunch. She wasn’t sure if her hysterical thought stream was due to the dust fumes, lack of oxygen, undiagnosed claustrophobia kicking in, or perhaps a torturous combination of all three.

Anyway, this impromptu call was due to a SHIELD mission that had gone sideways and so the Avengers were being called in to clean up the mess. Well, considering their track record, she had been betting that more mess would be made than sorted out. It was meant to be a smallish HYDRA base with few soldiers, but more than the agents already sent in were able to handle. All she could say was that wherever Fury got his information from was seriously wrong and he needed to reconsider his sources.

Stark had groaned when the mission had come up, already complaining that they weren’t the clean-up team. He had waved at the mission file onscreen, gestured again for dramatic effect and then settled into making snide remarks for the rest of the briefing. As usual. She had an inkling that Stark just really liked the sound of his own voice or was compensating for something with sarcastic comments.

At least Steve got to use his catchphrase, yet again. ‘Avengers Assemble!’ Which was quickly wearing old and she had tried to suggest something else. Like “Let’s Get Dressed!” or “Mission Muster!”, but neither had quite the ring and, to be honest, she’d just run the original through a synonym generator. God, if any of their fans heard her complaints, she was sure she’d be butchered alive in a riveting ‘debate’ on Twitter. Apparently, they liked the cheesiness.

The first spot of bother they’d gotten into, or, well, Y/N had gotten into, was when she’d found out that her suit hadn’t finished downloading the upgrades so she would have to use her original. Her original consisted of a latex and Kevlar suit that she’d hand-stitched together. That had been back when she’d first realised that she could actually make a difference in the shitty area of town she lived in. Spares weren’t a thing for the Avengers and Stark had made sure to mock its ‘home-made chic’ feel. Well, not everyone headed a multimillion-dollar corporation when they decided to become a ‘hero’.

She still wouldn’t describe herself as a hero. She was just a girl who, instead of getting a prison sentence for aggravated assault and destruction of property, had been picked up by SHIELD. They’d seen something in her that she’d never once seen looking back at her in the mirror. After months of training and little missions, she’d been chucked headfirst into the dark stuff, fucked up a psych eval and ended up being pulled from field duty. Barton had trained with her while they were both out of active duty and vouched for her once he’d been cleared, jeopardising his job as an agent and an Avenger, for her, which she couldn’t thank him more for. Fury, not knowing what to do for once, had shoved her into a team that was only just starting to bond with each other. They hadn’t needed a barely-adult, not psych-cleared agent pushed into their hands. But they’d taken her in without complaint all the same.

The second spot of bother was the hundred or so men who had been firing at them from all angles, not the expected twenty or thirty. Stark had flown in and gunned ten or so down in his bulletproof suit, but even that hadn’t been enough to make the fight easy. Barton was perched up a tree, true to his nickname as usual, and was taking out man after man, but one replaced the other as soon as they fell.

And because all things come in threes, there had been a third spot of bother. It had been when the control room collapsed due to an exploding arrow that Barton had refused to admit to, and the central structure’s integrity had been compromised. She had gone in on the intelligence gathering mission and the stupid program had completed 84% of the download. So, she had assured her teammates that she’d wait for it to finish and then get the fuck out of there. But she hadn’t had time. And so that brought her up to now, in a tiny space, feeling more and more squashed by the minute. Rubble clattered down above her every so often and the space would gradually shift as the weight on top of it increased. She just hoped SHIELD found her before she was completely crushed. If they were even looking for them.

“Y/N?” Stark’s voice was hoarse from the dust, even his suit must’ve been unable to filter it all out. She frowned; she was sure that it had its own oxygen supply. Perhaps it had been damaged when he’d zoomed in as the building collapsed around them, professing that he would save her. Fat lot of good he’d been. As the floor had caved in beneath her feet and the ceiling collapsed simultaneously, he hadn’t even reached her before she’d fallen in the sinkhole that had opened up. She’d always said that constructing a tall building on top of earth riddled with secret passages was just asking for trouble.

“Yes?” Irritation bled through as she tried to keep her tone civil and sweet, but the circumstances were definitely not ideal for her mood. And she’d had barely any sleep. Which was arguably thanks to him, and no, she still hadn’t forgiven him for it.

“Okay, good, just checking you were alive.”

She rolled her eyes at that answer. What if she’d been unconscious? She’d still be alive. No need to pester her just for that. “Well, how are you going to get us out of here?”

Stark was silent. For once in his life, he finally had nothing to say. She would applaud herself on such an accomplishment, but she was busy trying not to lose her temper. He was meant to be the genius, the one with a plan for everything, and she knew that was a lot of pressure to put on him. But she’d really like to believe that she wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for him.

“I’m…” He hesitated, light flickering feebly through the rocks between them. “Having some difficulties with the suit. JARVIS, why don’t you tell her?”

The monotonous voice came through clearly, albeit a bit tinny over the speakers. Although she’d read plenty about the AI when creating her own suit and then promptly dismissed the idea that she would ever be able to do the same, it was still weird how omniscient he seemed. It made her skin crawl, the idea that she had no privacy, even in her own bedroom. “Suit’s capabilities are down by 62%. Weapons status – missiles offline, repulsors limited power. Damage has been sustained severely on the chest piece as well as the helmet and left shin pieces.”

Her mouth dropped; she hadn’t expected it to be this bad. Sure, a damaged chest piece she could’ve guessed, because that would have affected the suit’s oxygen supply, but the power source must have also been damaged. “Can you clear some more space, or get us into the same area? Maybe if we can access the equipment that was in the control room…”

“On it. JARVIS, scan the rubble for equipment and structurally sound areas.”

From where she was sat, nothing seemed to be happening. Even the lights from his suit had dimmed considerably, causing her to squint to try and make out various shapes in the fallen rock. The almost silent creaking around her were amplified in the darkness and she shivered, a cold trickle of dread running down her spine. She’d always hated just waiting for something to happen, knowing that it was going to but not when or how.

The raspy static of comms was incessant in her ear as she strained to hear of any movement or updates on their situation from Stark’s position. Nothing. God, she hoped he hadn’t been physically injured. She forgot that he was just a man beneath all that metal. Nothing superhuman or enhanced or specially trained from too sheng of an age.

“Y/N.” Stark’s voice was urgent and low, a light hiss through the dust filled air. “There’s someone else down here. JARVIS is detecting enough of a heat signature for them to still be alive.”

A gentle groan made her freeze, hair prickling on the back of her neck. She turned her head ever so slightly to the left, peering into the pitch-black darkness. Blinking furiously, she soon realised that there was no difference between when her eyes were shut and open.

“Hello?” A familiar voice called out and she sighed, face relaxing from its grimace.

“Barton?”

“Y/N? I thought you got out?” He coughed, wheezing dust and she winced at the harsh sound, chest clenching painfully in sympathy.

She chuckled bitterly, “Yeah, nope, Tony also got stuck down here.”

A loud thump startled her, rubble tumbling down as a metal support beam snapped under the strain of the weight. Inhaling and exhaling slowly to calm her mounting nerves, she curled her arms over her head, hoping that she’d survive this. Time seemed to slow as the seconds, minutes, possibly even hours ticked by. Nothing more to do than ponder the situation and any and every scenario that could come of it.

Crash. She jolted as the ground beneath her trembled, sucking in a quick breath. This was it. This was the end. Closing her eyes, she sent out a prayer to whatever god was out there, anyone who could help her. Hoping it would be swift and painless.

Cool metal brushed against her face, and her eyes flashed open. The icy white glow lit up the dust-filled air in front of her and she choked back a sob of relief, pressing a hand over her mouth. Tony shushed her softly as he heaved a large slab of stone out of the way, sending tiny particles of rock down onto her. They bounced off her face and she whimpered, biting down hard enough on her bottom lip to draw blood.

The shredded metal of his arms slid under her, catching at her clothes as he pulled her into his chest. Cradling her in his arms, he plodded into a spacious cavern, each step followed by creaking joints. The stone was cold against her back as he propped her against the central mound, her head lolling back.

He popped his visor open, eyes lit by a blue glow as he stared at her intently, a flicker of worry dancing behind his eyes. “Are you okay?”

She was sure that he’d already asked her that but couldn’t find it in herself to bite a remark at him. In fact, she couldn’t even remember why she’d been so pissed off at him before, her annoyance swept away by the pure elation of still being alive.

“I’m fine.” At his sceptical look, she sighed. Nothing was broken or injured too badly, although she hadn’t really had time to think hard enough about it. That was all that was necessary. “Don’t worry about me, Tin Man, focus on getting us out of here. You need to help Barton out first.”

Before too long, Tony had returned, placing Clint down beside her. She knelt over him, guided by the light from Tony’s suit and held back a gasp. Brushing hair off of his pale and sweaty face, her nimble fingers ran over the bruised and battered flesh of his leg and she grimaced. He hissed at the sharp stabbing pain, the ghostly touch still too much pressure.

“Is that what heaven’s like? What did I do right to get a girl as pretty as you looking after me?” Clint’s words were slurred as he tried to crack a grin and ease her worries. She chuckled, as Tony clomped round to see what was happening.

“Don’t be getting too comfortable, Barton. Anyone can get a squashed leg.” Tony’s words were snide, and she clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“Stop it.”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Tony protested. She could hear the pout in his voice.

“Go work on getting us out of here.” For the first time since the beginning of the mission, she felt hope. She knew it was a dangerous emotion. It had been ingrained deep into her mind that hope was dangerous, that it should be stifled. But she wanted to believe that Tony would find them a way out, that they wouldn’t die with only each other for company in a deep, dark cavern, waiting for the ceiling to collapse on them.

The sharp scraping of metal against metal as he moved away was painful and she winced. His suit was in a bad state, but she hoped it would last the whole ordeal.

Clint’s rambling startled her from her thoughts. “You really look like an angel, Y/N. Maybe this is God’s gift for this injury.”

“Yeah, well, next time you want my attention, you don’t have to go this far,” she laughed, wiping the grime that had settled into his skin. “My standards aren’t so high that I need a guy to have injuries severe enough to possibly warrant amputation.”

Clint groaned painfully, before trying to play it off. “You mean, I didn’t have to do all this. Well, darn it.” She laughed again, giving him a sympathetic grin as he winced yet again. His leg was a blotchy mess of colours and she swallowed harshly.

She jumped as Tony’s voice echoed around the cavern. “I am being extremely clever up here and there’s no one to stand around looking impressed. What’s the point in having you all?” She grinned up at where he stood. Under his blindingly-fast fingers was what had turned out to be the main console, and she assumed he was rerouting message signals and finding a secure escape route. “Well, I’ve found us a way out. But I’ll only take you if you promise not to flirt so sickeningly.”

“Stark, are you jealous?” Clint’s incredulous voice came from beside her, tinged with agony.

Tony scoffed, his face disappearing into darkness as the blue light from the screens shut off. “No. As if.”

“Well,” she piped up, noting with delight how Tony’s head snapped towards her. “Tony, let me just warn you that you don’t need to get your leg squashed if you want my attention. I don’t need another injury on my conscience.”

“Aw, no, there goes my plan on how to win you over. Come on, I’ll carry Robin Hood and you follow me.”

The route was a dingy corridor that was lit by flickering electric bulbs that looked as if they hadn’t been replaced since the 40s. “Soft light incandescent bulbs.” Tony had noted as she passed under the first ones.

By the time she had reached the manhole cover that signalled the exit of the seemingly-endless tunnel, she weren’t sure if her legs would be able to support her much further. The startlingly bright light streaming into the tunnel made her smile, a great beaming grin as she felt the sun on her face after what had felt like days.

“Come on, sweetheart. Up you come. I’ve already signalled the team, and they’re on their way. We just need to sit tight for a bit.” Tony hauled her up, next to where Clint lay, leg even more gruesome in the light. She stumbled on the uneven ground, falling forward as her foot caught on a loose stone.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, hugging her into him. She grinned up at Tony and leant against his chest plate, relaxing into the arm that he slung around her.

“My saviour,” she giggled, suddenly anxious at their close proximity. She didn’t know why. She’d never felt so antsy in his presence before, but something about the way he was looking at her made her heart beat faster and her breath stop.

“So,” Tony let out a nervous breath. “I know I didn’t get injured for you, but how about we still go on a date at some point?”

She smiled softly. “I’d love that.”

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helloprettybb · 4 years

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i don’t want to set the world on fire

The other Steve Rogers fic did surprisingly well. I have so many more ideas, so look out for those. Also, Peter Parker may come soon, but who knows. While writing this, I realized that I could probably write a part two, so would you all like that? Also, just warning you, I lowkey insult rock, but it’s only for the sake of the plot. Rock is great. I’m also writing a prequel for ‘i’ll be back’ which will be posted after this hopefully.

I have a plan to make this a series all inspired by old music. This first part is inspired by this song:

Warnings: almost rape

word count: 3.9k

“I didn’t mean to,” were the first words you uttered to the Avengers. Laying next to you was a man whose body was burnt to a crisp. Yet you, small and innocent-looking, were perfectly fine. Of course, they had some questions.

Your father was never in your life and your mother died from childbirth, so for most of your life, you were raised by your great aunt. Life was great, even normal, until she died when you were thirteen. Since you were a minor, you were placed in an orphanage while the house was up for rent. When you turned 18, you were allowed to move into her house. Although rather lonely, you were safe and inherited a decent amount of money. Still, you had a part-time job to stay financially stable.

You were walking up to your car when you noticed a piece of paper on your windshield. You knew what that meant so you quickly turned the other way but were too late. A man appeared out of nowhere and grabbed you. As much as you struggled, it was useless as he was much stronger than you. Before you could pull out your pepper spray, the man knocks you unconscious.

The first thing you see when you come to is a man hovering over you. He must have noticed you woke up because he cooed, “Don’t worry, I won’t take long,” You start to scream for help, but survey your surroundings and realize that you’re probably in the middle of nowhere.

You panic as the man starts to unzip your pants. You can feel a heat burning inside of you. It feels like a volcano was erupting from within, extremely hot, but not uncomfortable. All of a sudden, a blast of fire erupts from your hands and shoots through the roof. You’re so taken aback that you don’t even notice the man burning to death until his screams of agony cut through your train of thought. You pull back instantly but it’s too late. The man is dying before your eyes and you are stuck frozen. Your brain starts up again and you look for something to put the fire out. You find a blanket and eventually put out the fire, but he is already dead.

All you could do is cry at the fact that you just killed a man. You’re so caught up in your tears that you don’t even realize that all your clothes are burned off. Shivering, you try to think of what to do. Noticing a dark bag in the corner, you hesitantly touch it and hope that it doesn’t burn to a crisp. Luckily, nothing happens so you rummage through it to find anything. You pull out a long shirt and clean boxers. Before you could think of an exit plan, you are startled by a blast through the door.

You cower in fear as Iron Man flies and lands right in front of you. The rest of his team follow suit. They look at you, the burnt man and then back at you. Iron Man’s hand is glowing and pointed right at your face.

He towers over you, causing you to scoot back. He starts to say something when Captain America put up a hand and says, “She’s just a kid, Tony.” He squats down so that he’s eye level with you and asks, “Can you tell us what happened?”

You could barely talk since you were so nervous. Seeming to sense your fear, he removed his mask. You’ve seen him on television, but only as Captain America. But crouched in front of you, he didn’t seem like a superhero, but just an ordinary man. You rack your brain and finally remember his name: Steve Rogers.

“H-he was trying to attack me. I don’t know how it happened, but one moment he was on top of me and the next he was on fire. I tried to put it out, but he was already dead.” you stutter, still shocked beyond belief. You start to hyperventilate as your actions finally sink in. “I didn’t mean to, honest. I didn’t even know I could do that. You have to believe me!” you cry unprompted. Steve moves to touch you soothingly before you quickly scoot away.

“Please don’t touch me! I don’t want to kill you too.” you exclaim, scared of your own body. Steve’s eyes are filled with what looks like sympathy and he glances at Tony.

He speaks up, “She’s right, Cap.” You suddenly notice the scanner on his suit. “Her temperature is off the charts. How are you alive, kid?”

Before you could attempt to answer his question, Steve speaks up, “We have to take her to the lab. Banner will know what to do.” With no further questions, you are escorted toward their ship, careful not to touch anyone.

On the ship, you hear their muttered whispers and assume it’s about what they should do with you. After all, you’re just a stowaway. The ride feels like an eternity until the jet finally lands. The other Avenger separate, leaving you alone with Steve and Tony. They guide you inside the giant complex and you try not to gawk at the high ceilings and large staircases, but you’ve never been in a building this huge.

You are directed downstairs to a high-tech lab. Tony types on a keyboard and does a retinal scan before the door opens. A smallish, fidgety man is in there and greets Tony. When he notices you, he asks politely, “Who’s this?”

Realizing he never caught your name, Tony turns to you and asks in an almost comical way, “Who are you?” You say your name and Tony continues, “Anyway, she uh, has some special abilities.” Bruce quirks an eyebrow at his wording and does a biological scan. His eyes widen when he sees your vitals.

“You have a temperature of 160 degrees Celsius.” he explains. You watch as he interacts with the projected screen.

“She also burned a hole in the ceiling.” Steve states, purposely excluding the part about you killing someone.

“This may sound like a stupid question, but can I touch people without hurting them?” you ask hesitantly. You don’t want to live the rest of your life in constant fear.

Bruce pushes the screen down and responds, “Well, I’ll have to do some tests before I know for sure. But seeing as you’re clothes are still intact, I assume that you are safe.” Bruce walks over to his lab table and starts typing something on his computer. You feel Steve’s gaze as you fidget uncomfortably.

“We’ll do the tests tomorrow. Let her get some rest,” Steve’s voice booms above you. Bruce just nods as you, Tony, and Steve leave the lab. As the three of you walk up the stairs, Tony’s phone goes off.

He looks down and tells Steve, “It’s Pepper. Can you show Y/n to the residential area.” Steve nods and you two part ways with Tony. You’re silent as Steve guides you around the building and towards the elevator.

He presses the third button and you two stand in silence as the doors close. A familiar tune plays on the speakers. You smile after recognizing it. Steve catches your small grin and asks, “You know this song?”

“Uh, yeah. ‘Stop Pretending’ was one of my great aunt’s favorites. Personally, I prefer ‘I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire’” you comment lightly. Steve opens his mouth to say something when the doors open. He steps out and you follow him down the hall.

He stops in front of a door at the far end and says, “You can stay here for the time being. My room’s the first door on the left if you need anything,” Steve doesn’t know why he added that last part, but something about your wide, innocent eyes intrigued him and your affinity for old music sure didn’t hurt.

You open the door and start to walk in before turning around and tell, “Thank you, Steve.” He gives you a glowing smile before you close the door. You didn’t realize how tired you were until your head hit the pillow and you instantly fell asleep.

You’re woken up by a muted, yet pestering, alarm. “Miss Y/n, Dr. Banner requests your presence.” a disembodied voice says. You look at the clock and see that it’s nearly ten o’clock. You step into the elevator and expecting to hear smooth jazz music, are extremely caught off guard by the jarring rock music. Never a big fan of rock, you cringe slightly as the speakers blast the loud electric guitars and intense drums. Luckily you are spared when the elevator doors open to the living room. You see the Avengers, now in normal clothes, lounging on the couches.

They all get up and walk towards you. A man with only one arm goes to introduce himself, “I’m Bucky. Who are you?”

“I’m y/n.” you reply sheepishly, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the new faces. You vaguely remember them from tv but an introduction helps. They go around and say their names. You remembered Natasha and Clint as Black Widow and Hawkeye but you didn’t know the man named Sam Wilson. You shake everyone’s hand and you mentally sigh in relief that you didn’t burn anyone.

They start a conversation with you and before you could respond a voice calls, “Y/n, aren’t you starting with Banner today?” You look over Natasha’s shoulder to see Steve. He’s wearing a fairly tight grey shirt and sweats that if you were in any other situation, would distract you greatly.

“Yeah, I was heading down there now.” you reply with a curt nod.

“I’ll walk you down.” he states, walking towards you. The others part so that Steve could get through. You follow him towards the stairs that lead to the lab.

“Sorry about them. They can be a little intense at first, but I promise they don’t bite.” Steve jokes and cracks a beautiful smile.

“No, it’s alright.” you reply with a smile to assure him, “They seem nice. I’m just not the best with people.” You realize how sad that sounded and it seems that he did too. It looks like he’s about to say something when the lab door opens.

“Y/n, come in.” Bruce insists. You and Steve walk in the lab and Bruce closes the door behind you. He leads you over to his work area and starts, “Before I test your abilities, I want to understand how your abilities work. I’ll do a couple blood tests, take some skin samples, and do a DNA test.” He pulls out a needle and you instantly stiffen.

Steve notices and you half-joke, “I’m not the biggest fan of needles.” You expect Steve to leave when Bruce starts preparing the needle, but he stays. The more you think of the needle, the less you can control your shaky hands. You close your eyes to try and block out the image of the needles piercing your skin.

You feel a panic attack coming when you feel a hand slipping into yours. You open your eyes and look down at Steve’s outstretched hand. Before you could say anything, you feel the needle prick. Almost out of instinct, you grab onto Steve’s large hand. His calm, blue eyes ease your tension and divert your attention from the blood. Steve starts lightly caressing your knuckles and you feel yourself warm up.

It’s a different type of warm than in the warehouse. It feels like a warm hearth spreading through your body. Your mind wanders

“Okay, I’ll have the results in a couple days.” Banner states, interrupting your thoughts. You look down and see a band-aid on your arm.

“It’s done already?” you ask, surprised that you actually did it without passing out.

“Yeah, you did it, doll.” Steve replies with his hand still wrapped around yours. Doll. You wonder if you were just imagining that, but you have to admit, that nickname made you feel a certain way.

You glance over at Banner who is dripping the blood into a tube. You start shaking again and start to feel the urge to throw up. Steve’s solid hand lightly squeezes yours and he asks Banner, “Does she need to do any more tests?”

“No, not today at least. It’ll take me a couple days to perform tests since I have Tony’s side project to work on. You’re free to go.” he replies.

Steve lets go of your hand and it immediately feels colder. You hop off the stool and follow Steve out of the lab. As you walk, your stomach grumbles and Steve asks, “When was the last time you’ve eaten?”

You think back to the past 24 hours and realize you haven’t eaten since that man abducted you. “Not since yesterday,” you reply.

Steve furrows his brow at that and states, “I’ll make you something.” Before you could protest, Steve walks into the kitchen and looks through the cabinets. “What would you like?” he asks politely.

“Um, anything. I’m not picky.” you respond, pulling out a stool from under the counter. Swinging your legs, you watch Steve as he begins to make you a sandwich. Something about Captain America making you a sandwich is so odd that you laugh to yourself.

You didn’t realize you actually laughed out loud until Steve looks up at you. “Sorry, I just think it’s funny that Captain America is cooking for me.” you explain. Steve responds with a small smile and light chuckle and continues cooking. When he’s done, he pulls out a plate and hands you your food.

You smile widely, surprised that he’s so nice and caring, “Thank you, I’m starving.” He hands you the plate and you sit on a stool by the counter. Steve stands on the other side, waiting for you to take your first bite. You moan with delight and mumble with food still in your mouth, “It’s delicious.” Steve smiles as you continue eating.

A comfortable silence forms around the two of you. When you finish, you wipe your mouth with a napkin and get up to put your plate in the dishwasher. “Hey, uh, thank you for not mentioning the guy dying.” you note awkwardly as you throw the napkin in the trash.

“Don’t mention it.” He replies, turning to face you and shooting a short smile. He sees you look down, presumably too ashamed to look him in the eye, “Hey,” he starts, drawing your attention, “If you ever need to talk, I’m here.” He adds an assuring smile that makes you melt a little.

“Thanks, Steve.” you convey before heading upstairs. You take the stairs to avoid the rock music and although it’s a tiring three flights, at least it’s quiet.

It’s not that you don’t like the Avengers, but being alone for nearly a decade gave you some certain habits. One distinct habit was eating alone, which you didn’t realize how odd it was until Natasha asked, “Hey, Y/n. Do you want to eat with us?”

You wanted to say yes, but your years of self-isolation made you reply, “Oh, uh, I’m just going to eat in my room. Thank you, though.” Steve gives you a brief wave before looking back at his crossword puzzle like a true old man.

Natasha watches you walk out and hums a short, “Hm.”

“What is it?” Bucky asks, eyes flitting over to Natasha who has a confused look on her face.

“I wonder why Y/n insists on eating alone.” she takes a bite of her food and thinks again, “Are we not inviting enough?”

Tony laughs and replies, “You’re about as inviting as the green guy.” Luckily Bruce is down at the lab or else he would have stared daggers at him.

Nat rolls her eyes and says, “Well, I showed her my knife collection and she seemed pretty entertained.” Tony, Bucky, and Natasha present multiple theories.

“Maybe she just likes her personal space.” Tony shrugs, proposing the most logical explanation.

“Yeah, I guess. But I don’t know, there has to be another-” Natasha starts before Wanda interrupts her.

“It’s because of her great aunt.” Everyone at the table turns to Wanda.

“How do you know that?” Bucky asks skeptically. Wanda rolls her eyes and simply points at her head. “Oh, yeah.”

Wanda continues, “After she died, Y/n was left alone and stayed that way for years.” She takes one last bite and adds, “I think she isn’t used to all this company.” Everyone seems to accept this answer and they take their last bites before picking up their plates.

Wanda remembers one last thing and states, “Oh, yeah, and because Steve held her hand.” Bucky wolf whistles and Natasha’s eyebrows shoot up.

Steve had been listening to the conversation, but after hearing his name, he speaks for the first time since dinner started. “Bruce was drawing her blood and she looked really nervous.” Steve explains with an eye roll. He walks away before they could bully him anymore.

Throughout the week, Banner performed a skin biopsy, MRI, and DNA test. While none of them were as bad as the blood test, you wished Steve had been with you for them. You knew he was busy, being Captain America and all. Occasionally, you’d see him around the Compound but you haven’t had a full conversation with him since that one time.

On your fifth day, you find yourself wandering the Compound yet again. It seems that no matter how many times you wander, you still find a new room to discover. You open a door on the first floor and see a vast ballroom. It isn’t the ballroom that catches your attention, but what lies in the corner.

A beautiful grand piano is tucked away next time a guitar, drums, and microphone. Strolling over, you remove the keyboard cover and press a key. The piano sings, sounding prettier than your great aunt’s old upright piano. Smiling to yourself, you sit on the bench and begin to play. You become so lost in the music that you don’t even hear the footsteps walking closer.

You come to the end of a song and a voice behind you asks, “You play?” You turn, even though you already knew who it was. Steve’s blue eyes are so intense that you falter a bit before responding.

“Yeah, or at least I used to. My great aunt taught me before she passed away.” you sigh and turn back to the piano. Steve sits beside you on the bench and you start a slow, pretty tune. “I haven’t played since.” you admit sadly.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, not knowing what to say at the moment.

You smile a little sadly and remark, “You would have loved her. She’d always have her record player on and it’d fill the house with The Ink Spots or Al Bowlly.”

As you reminisce, Steve studies you. With everything going on, he hasn’t had the chance to truly see you. You’re beautiful, but Steve already knew that. He noticed all the little imperfections that seemed to make you even more flawless. He can tell that you’re scared and he admires your calm disposition with all of this.

He focuses on your hands, elegant and graceful across the keys. You apologize a couple times for your mistakes, but Steve doesn’t hear them. Even if he did, he wouldn’t care. Everything about you seems effortless and beautiful. When he first met you, he thought you were just a kid, but now he couldn’t be more wrong. You didn’t look old, but you had a mature beauty and something about your essence tells Steve that you’ve seen things.

Your hands slow and Steve sees a sly smile spread across your face. When you start again, Steve recognizes the introduction. He matches your smile and asks, “I’m Beginning to See the Light?”

“Yes, it’s one of the first non-classical songs I learned.” you respond. Steve nods and you return your focus to the music. You get so lost in it that you don’t even realize that you’re singing quietly.

Your trance-like state is interrupted when Steve says lowly, “You have a beautiful singing voice.” You blush a little since no one except your great aunt has heard you sing.

“Thank you,” you respond, a little embarrassed. He already heard you sing so mind as well continue. A little louder, you sing, “Then you came and caused a spark. That’s a four-alarm fire now.” When the song ends, a sudden thought strike you.

“Why does the elevator only play jazz when you’re on it?” you ask curiously, trying to change the conversation.

He chuckles lightly and responds, “The elevator is programmed to play certain music for each of us. For guests, it plays Tony’s rock playlist.” You roll your eyes and close the fallboard.

“It was awful. How could anyone enjoying something that loud, especially in the morning?” you joke and Steve laughs.

“You’ll find out sooner or later that there’s a lot of things about Stark that can’t be explained.” Steve jests and you laugh.

“I’ve been avoiding the elevator ever since.” you admit and Steve chuckles.

F.R.I.D.A.Y breaks the conversation and announces, “Y/n, you’re test results are in. Dr. Banner requests your presence.” Trying to hide your disappointment, you get up and Steve follows suit. The two of you walk out of the ballroom.

At the top of the lab stairs, you tell Steve, “Well, I guess I better get going.”

“Yeah, see you later.” Steve says, giving a quick wave. You give him a final goodbye before heading down to the lab.

“You said that was the first time it happened?” Bruce asks and you nod in response. For the past half hour, Bruce explained the many discoveries he made. Turns out, not only could you produce fire, but your body can withstand such high temperatures that you could walk through fire.

He continues, “Well, it seems there was a stimulus that triggered your body to increase its temperature so high that you were able to produce fire.” You nod as he continues, “I think with proper training, you could learn to control and use your abilities.”

You raise your eyebrows in shock. Obviously, these new abilities would change your life, but you never thought you could actually achieve something with them. You ask, “Well, um, how do we go about this training?”

Bruce thinks a bit and responds, “I’ll ask the team and we’ll put something together.” Bruce turns to work on something else and you take that as your cue to leave.

You remember a distinct detail from when you used your abilities and ask, “Can you design a suit that doesn’t result in me being naked every time I set on fire?”

Bruce blushes a bit out of embarrassment and replies, “I’ll tell Tony.” You walk out of the lab and up the stairs. Too tired, you grit your teeth and decide to use the elevator.

Bracing yourself for heavy rock, you plug your ears. But when the elevator doors close and you don’t hear anything, you remove your fingers from your ears. You smile to yourself as the song ‘I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire’ starts playing.

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel #marvel imagine #avengers #avengers imagines

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thetorturerwrites · 4 years

Text

Puer Deus: Strings

This amazing artwork was gifted to me by @faestae-writes. Please do not re-use or re-post it without permission from them and/or myself. Don’t be a dickbag.

***

Captured / Hurricane / Sustenance / Liar / Scars / Proof

Summary: When he wants more

A/N: OK YOU GUYS -- Look, if you're here this far in, you know this is some dark shit. So, please heed this warning: This is a DARK, heavy kink chapter. SO, some things... 1. The content herein has been dramatized for effect, but this is real shit that happens in the real world. Please feel free to ask me any questions. 2. If you feel the need to explore anything here further, do your research and be risk aware. 3. Strap in. This is some shit. 4. 50 points to your house if you spot the FYA reference. :)

Word Count: 9.3k (I AM NOT SORRY)

Day Seven

It was a flicker of a moment, a subtle jolt of injected power, when the night cycle ended and day officially began.

What day is it?

Today was the first time you wouldn’t stumble to consciousness or fight through a fog. You were still embroiled in questions, though. Ren told you that you’d been here four days, but how many days ago was that?

You decided it was simply too surreal for you to actually be here, to be in your body, in Ren’s room, on board his ship. Each time you thought up a level, you felt smaller and more insignificant. Maybe you really had died. Maybe you’d bled out on his floor, and this was your afterlife.

No, not that lucky…

Your eyes were dry and red from so much crying. Your body was beyond battered, a landscape of harm and wound, mania and furor. You wore the hue of bruise like a new catsuit, covered by Ren’s painful passion from throat to toes.

The idea that some part of you would hurt, sting, throb, or ache every day you were with Ren had been hard to swallow; but a week into this persecution, you knew it to be fact.

How long until he breaks bones?

Sitting in the center of his great, wide bed, you ran your fingers over the still-bloody sheets and contemplated the last however many hours. Ren made it clear that he still meant to keep you, and the idea was solidifying more and more in your brain. You pondered whether or not you would be allowed to leave this fucking room as his personal pet.

Having spent a lifetime under open skies, being caged inside four walls for days, weeks, maybe months sent your anxiety into overdrive. The notion that you would only ever see light cycles and never again sunlight strangled you, chased away all your air. At some point, you knew you would try to flee again just for a damn change of scenery.

After he’d left, you complied with Ren’s instructions insomuch as you did eat and did not try to escape. Sleep, on the other hand, was put to the back burner because you were still in his chambers. Even if he didn’t spend all of his time here, these were his things, and they could tell you a great deal. With the guard outside this time, you simply could not pass up the opportunity to explore.

The room was eloquent in its simplicity and deliberate in its function. You ran fingers and palms over all of the flat surfaces, seeking out hidden drawers or levers in the walls and along the sides of the bed. Everything was dark gloss, industrial in its execution and easily maintained.

Of note, there was a threshold of polish right at the door, a long stretch just on the inside where the shine was high. However, that luster faded two or three steps inside. Ren did not allow people in his room often, even a cleaning crew.

Defeated, you slunk back to the bed. You’d checked all of the hiding places you would use, but you found nothing. Ren either didn’t have anything to hide or he was exceptionally good at it.

Sometime in the night cycle, you’d awoken alone in an empty bed, struggling with this swirling sense of loneliness. Captors didn’t usually sleep with prisoners, but weren’t you more than a prisoner now? With a scowl, you shook the stupid thought from your head.

You were an object to him, easily discarded and forgotten.

You hadn’t slept much after that. You curled onto your side, facing the vacant side of the bed and overrun with disquiet, anticipation. You were faced with warring options. Relent and become the devil’s plaything or escape and be hunted. The bitter truth was you wanted both, and this was not the sort of universe to grant such possibilities.

Morning came, food was delivered, and you were still alone.

Now, you were trying to forget the familiarity you thought you’d seen in Ren’s eyes yesterday, trying to wash it down the damnable drain. He was no more capable of gentleness than you were of speech. Trying to smother the ache, you turned the shower up as hot as you could handle and drifted into distraction, turning inward in a forlorn bid to comfort yourself.

The darkness that had always been there for you, though, was an empty consolation. Ren had blown apart every part of you and stomped on the ashes; he’d even taken your blessed darkness, the one place you could hide. Because when you closed your eyes to sink into that blissful nothingness, you saw him, his bloody face, his burning eyes.

Kylo Ren had infected every part of you, right down to the subconscious.

When you could pity yourself no more, you turned off the shower, scraped the water from your body as best you could, and purposefully avoided your reflection. The woman in the mirror wanted you to make choices you weren’t sure you could live with.

Exiting the bathroom, you were stopped dead in your tracks by the sight of Ren sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed. He had a smallish black case to his left and was resting with one arm on a bent knee, his long body relaxed and waiting for you.

You were irked by how beautiful and calm and unhurried he looked. Must he always look so put together when you only ever felt on the verge of shattering into dirty, unrecognizable pieces of yourself?

Hi...

“You haven’t eaten today.”

He gestured over his shoulder to the tray that still had food on it. You were flushed from the hot water and stark fucking naked, but you burned redder at the idea that you were going to be punished like a child for not eating. Again.

Canting your head a bit, you gestured towards the shower. You’d wanted to wash away the feel of dry, endlessly recycled air, dirt, and shame before you did anything else. Conquering the day wasn’t on your agenda, but surviving it was.

“Good,” he looked you over speculatively, and your eyebrows shot to your hairline.

He’d shoved food directly into your throat to make sure you were decently-nourished; and now, he didn’t care if you ate? The speed with which this man changed course made your head swim, and you just stared at him, complete irritation plastered all over your face.

Fucking pick one, would you please?

The withering look he leveled at you set your blood to boiling. You’d forgotten that he could hear you now; but by the darkness in his eyes, you knew he’d be sure you didn’t forget again.

“Come here.”

You tensed, arms crossing over your chest as though you could armor yourself against him. For a second, you couldn’t make yourself move. He wanted you to willingly deliver yourself to his torment.

A shiver worked its way up your spine, blossoming into sparks at the back of your brain, but you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or pining. If you refused, he would simply put his angry hands on your body and bend you to his whim. You didn’t know what would happen if you complied without a fight.

Taking in a steadying breath, you closed the distance on tender steps, the soles of your feet still bothered at bearing weight so soon. Stopping when you were within arms reach, you looked past him to study the kit he’d brought, uncertainty wrinkling your forehead.

It was a med kit, a field kit. You’d carried one yourself for years, but your wounds had already been tended. You were littered with surgical tape and Bacta patches.

What could he possibly need a field kit for?

Are you hurt?

Ren’s rough hand slid up along the curve of your body, settling at your waist and sending fissures of desire playing along the swell of your belly. Your knees and thighs pressed together, and you shifted under his appraisal. He’d seen you naked before. Multiple times, in fact. But this felt different, affectionate. He had stripped you completely bare, laid out your mind and soul for him to reanimate at will.

Feeling naked in front of this man was about more than just your flesh.

Digging his fingers in, he maneuvered you to sit on the edge of the bed in front of him. All of the tension you’d washed away in the shower came barreling back. Every muscle was tight, and every synapse was screaming that you needed to get away.

Sat like this, unrestrained before him, you fidgeted, frightened. Your heart drummed so loud you thought he could certainly hear it. When he was silent and calm like this, you were lost to apprehension, images of lightsabers inside your body where they shouldn’t be flooding your mind. You could likely conjure up more ways for him to murder you than he could.

Just as worrisome, you couldn’t look away. He captivated you each time he was in the room. His dark irises gleamed as he held your stare, his full lips curving up on a smirk. He was daring you to look away first.

He won.

You wilted from the intensity of his gaze, turning your inflamed face away and averting your eyes. In your stupor, you didn’t realize that he was talking to you. The only thing you could hear was the metronome of your heart, its pace quickening moment by moment.

Displeased that he had to draw back your attention, Ren’s hand was around your calf, fingers pushing in between the muscles and rubbing demandingly. You glared and hissed, twisting your legs together, knees tight.

What!

Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and swept his thumb along your mouth, smoothing away the bothered sneer. When your lips relaxed, he pushed in and hooked his thumb into your teeth the way you hated, the way you loved.

Your core clenched as he tugged you forward. He brought you nose to nose, so close you could feel his warm breath. He cleaved apart your desire to fight, soothing you into compliance with weaponized stillness.

“Open,” his voice was melodic, low, and rousing.

Your forehead crinkled in confusion. Lifting a hand to settle at his wrist, needing the contact to go on, you shook your head ever so slightly because his thumb was already in your mouth. It already was open.

You felt his fingers tapping on your knee, then, and you burned red from ears to toes. Whining, you tugged against his grip in a bid to keep him from seeing the way your thighs rubbed together at the very idea.

“I will not be repeating myself today, puppet.”

Blanching, you stiffened, building up any courage you could muster. Finally, as though your maidenhead was actually still intact and valuable, you hesitantly parted your knees.

Other than his eyes trailing downward to watch your legs barely obey, Ren didn’t move or speak. When his fingers dug harshly into your cheeks, cutting the weak skin inside against your teeth, you lurched and struggled. This only tightened his hold, and you thought he might break your jaw. Clutching his forearm, you fought to settle back onto the bed and opened your knees wider and then wider still.

He didn’t release his rough grip on your face until your thighs were splayed far enough apart that your pussy opened for him, too, and your face ignited with humiliation. You rubbed at your abused jaw and cheek, wondering how long it would take the finger-sized discolorations to develop.

Are you hurt, though?

You surprised even yourself with the repeat question, circling back oddly and still not certain why you should be bothered. He turned his beautiful, dusky eyes to you, and your breath caught. Was he pleased with your concern? Did it satisfy him to think he’d brainwashed you into caring?

He trapped you there, pinned by his mesmerizing eyes, while his fingers slid up your calf, thigh, hip. You were nearly lulled into thinking his light touch would extend to your aching cunt, but he gripped your outer labia into such a tight pinch that you felt punched in the stomach.

You yelped and surged forward, folding in as much as you could, hips from screwing side to side trying to lessen the pressure. He squeezed and tugged upon the tender flesh until it puffed up, swelling under his ministrations.

A satisfied sound bubbled up from his throat, and you slowly brought your focus back to him.

Kylo..please...

In a hot second, he switched and snatched up your left labia, digging his fingers in so deep you could feel the nails. You shouted out, the wheeze of it tapering off as your breath heaved. Mirroring his grip, you dug your fingers into his arm but didn't try to push him away.

Screwing your eyes shut, you shuddered and tried to roll through the pain.

The whole middle of your body throbbed in time to your heartbeat, and you groaned when the endorphins finally kicked in to flood you with acceptance, the sound of it indecent even to you. The sting and pulse abated slightly, and your head fell back, lips parting on a relieved sigh.

“There we go,” he murmured, voice smooth like honey. “Open your eyes.”

You very nearly refused and vaulted from your perch, but it was inevitable. You wanted to obey nearly as much as you wanted to fight, and it was this internal war he wanted to witness every time. Willing your breathing to steady, you relaxed your fingers at his sleeve and opened glassy eyes.

The look of him, the utter craving displayed on his godlike features, was arresting, intoxicating. His eyes shone a shade of twilight you’d never get used to, and his lips trembled, barely keeping his hunger contained. The way he was looking up at you was erotic and evoked a terrible longing.

Kylo!

Your face twisted into a pained frown as he switched back and forth between the two bloated lips. He clucked in condescension when warm juice tracked down onto his fingers, and you buried your face in your hands. When he finally stopped crushing you in his vice grip, the gratitude rushed out unchecked.

THANK you…

Absent his touch, you pressed a hand at your abdomen and forced yourself to breathe deeply. You were wholly disgusted with your response to such vulgar treatment. Would you blossom under every madness he put upon you?

Your eyes lit upon his hands and the case he was holding, and you forgot to feel repulsed.

Dread filled your chest, squeezing your lungs back into panic. You had no fucking idea what he was about to do, and you were too terrified to look away. You didn’t think you could curtail his plan, but maybe you could persuade him that you would be good.

If you’ll just let me, I’ll go do it right now...

Ignoring you completely, he produced and threaded a slender surgical needle. Your torso hunched of its own volition, trying in vain to put more distance between you and that curved metal. You mewled and whined, begging him to look and not do whatever this was, but he brushed your hands away, reaching out to tug and pinch at your labia again, inching nearer to his goal.

Fuck, Kylo..I’ll eat dammit! Please stop...

He looked at you, smug and cruel, and you finally understood that he was swelling your labia on purpose and with clear intent, and it had absolutely nothing to do with whether or not you'd eaten.

You shook your head wildly, leaning forward and pushing at his arm in a different spot every time he would wave you off. Desperate, pleading tears sprang to your eyes, and you clung to him.

No no please no not that please no…

Finished with your begging, Ren anchored you in place with the Force, preventing you from even twitching from the waist down. He hummed at the sight of you, flushed and heaving, thighs spread wide.

You were in the middle of the next pitiful appeal when you felt the needle pierce your most-sensitive skin.

You were too shocked to move, to shout, to implore him to spare you this torture. The thin suture line dragged through the perforation, and your eyes slammed so tightly shut you thought they might bleed.

It wasn’t until the second stab of his suture needle that you fully understood what was happening. You’d thought he simply meant to pierce the bulging, inflamed lips in order to decorate them; but when he tugged the line taut, pulling the swollen folds together, you sputtered and choked on your own spit. You pawed at his shoulder imploringly, foolishly hoping he would surrender this plan if you appeased him with your touch.

Kylo..please don’t do this...please don’t do this...

He crooned and cupped your face, the supple tone of his voice belying the very atrocity he was committing upon you. He straightened up to nudge your jaw with his nose, dragging the tip through your tears. Your fingers curled so tight into his sleeve that you popped stitches in the black fabric, but he offered you no more solace than this.

He wasn’t indifferent to your suffering; he reveled in it, enjoying seeing it up close.

“You need strings, puppet.”

You whimpered helplessly, thinking you’d likely launch yourself into a dying star if he told you to with that almost-adoring voice.

He released your face, and you dissolved into wretched sobs. There was no escaping his iron will, his demented punishment. Pressing the heels of your shaking hands into your eyes, you openly wept, not bothering to try to be strong for this, for him. Expecting you to endure this easily was too much.

Ren had treated you like property from the moment he saw you. He’d proven to you that you were little more than an object to be toyed with, and his words from that day in the shower resounded in your ears. But in this, he was taking away your humanity entirely. Any pretense that you might have been afforded some pleasure for your endurance bled away.

Stitch by stitch, Ren sewed your labia together, rendering you an androgynous receptacle, suitable for nothing more than receiving pain.

When he was finished, your clit was hidden snug behind a fleshy hem, but your vagina was open, accessible. That was the part he needed, you thought morbidly.

The Force pressure dissipated, your legs instinctively pressed together, and you curled into yourself. Digging ruddy fingertips into the mattress, you tried to flee, to crawl across the bed and away from him.

You’re a monster...

He captured you around the hips and hauled you onto your feet. He didn't care that you were awash in pain; it didn't factor into his plans and was, thus, negligible. He gathered you into his arms, and you wished, for the hundredth time, that he had just let you die.

The sutures were neat and tidy, but every movement tugged at them, reminding you of your place in Kylo Ren’s world. You erupted into a new bout of tears and pushed at his chest, angry and gutted.

“Walk,” he pressed his lips to your temple, murmuring the order into your hair, “or crawl.”

On an offended snort, you jerked your head away from his kiss. Battling yourself into some semblance of calm, you sniffled and nodded. He absolutely would make you crawl down the halls of this ship wearing nothing but those fucking sutures, and you’d rather not be so debased as that.

Suffering for Ren was one thing; suffering for an audience was too much.

He had stepped away to shake out clothes for you to wear when the epinephrine crested and dropped you over a black cliff. Thunder roared in your ears, and your eyes rolled into white. Chased by a wounded gasp, your legs lost all ability to hold you and buckled, but Ren was at your side in an instant, snatching you up before you hit the floor.

Righting you, he held your weight until your breathing regulated and you pushed back onto your feet. Not wanting to meet his eyes, you nodded against his shoulder, a silent report that you were here with him. He helped you dress in the gauzy black shirt and pants and tipped your face up.

You had no idea what he was looking for, and you were too tired to fake whatever it was.

Wrapping his great hand around your upper arm, he steered you from the room and down a dark corridor. He wouldn’t go through all the trouble to maim you if he was going to kill you, and you wondered what fresh hell you were being delivered to now. Your steps were slow, hesitant, but he didn’t rush you.

Probably enjoying watching you hobbled in a fantastic new way...

He stopped on a chuckle, turned you to face him, and looked down at you with sardonic amusement. You met his stare, fresh out of any damn to give over whether or not he heard you. You knew you were in no way threatening to this brute, but you leveled him with a searing gaze anyways.

“Supreme Leader Snoke is pleased with my progress.” Ren offered, pulling you flush against his body. “He thinks I have no further need for you…” He reached out to brush his thumb across your glowering mouth. “...but I find that I want more.”

Overwhelmed and nervous at the admission, your mouth dropped open and you stared, dumbfounded. While your mind tumbled over what else you could possibly offer him, he brushed past, leaving you to follow.

More? What else was there? Hadn’t you already given him everything? He’d broken through your safety wall. He’d all but bathed in your blood. He’d sewn your fucking cunt shut so you couldn’t even use it like a human being.

What the fuck else could you possibly want from me…

You were so angry that you stupidly followed him into a blindingly white room. You slammed to a stop and blinked, forcing the room into focus. In the center, there was a surgical table, a tray of neatly-arranged instruments, and a man, dressed in gray scrubs and donning a clear splash guard at his face. On the opposite side sat Ren’s black helmet, dented and busted apart.

Hand at your elbow, Ren led you further in and stroked your face with his wide palm, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the table. He nudged the shell of your ear with his nose, and you quivered to feel so near to him, almost like a lover. You clutched at his shirt, molding your body to his and trying to hide from the coming onslaught.

You shook your head, already disbelieving, not wanting to hear what he was going to say next.

“I want to hear you scream,” his voice was hushed, as though this was a romantic secret.

All the blood drained from your face, and your mouth went bone dry. You looked from Ren, who was gazing down at you in a way that seared your insides, to the man waiting to enact his orders. He stood there silently, waiting for his Commander’s direction, and you wondered if he’d been threatened into this room, too.

Ren turned you into the very middle of this insanity and hunched down to bury his face into the crook of your neck, crowding you back into the table. Dancing on your toes, you laid petrified and quaking fingertips at his neck, needing to impress upon him how crazy this was.

Kylo...you can hear me...I’ve already given you everything..please don’t do whatever this is...

Paying no attention to your pleas, Ren slid his hands into the roomy waistband of your pants and nudged them down your body, kicking the paltry fabric away before you could get them. He lifted you onto the table and situated you at its very end, legs dangling in an eerily familiar way.

He stepped into the space between your legs, scooting your hips out to meet his. You felt blistered every time you came into contact with his body, fingers, nose. He tipped your head back to lick at the scars crossing your larynx and rocked his body against yours. He was thick against you, his body hardening at the pitiable display you were putting on, and you whimpered in shameless response.

“Be good, puppet,” he hummed against your ear, enjoying the way your body reacted to his vicious dominance.

He stepped back, tugging out the table's stirrups, and you didn’t know who to be more afraid of. The doctor positioned his tray nearer to your head, stepping in so close you could smell the antiseptic soap.

You pushed at Ren’s hands when he guided your heels into the braces.

Kylo..please...You can’t… I can’t…

It was fluid now, automatic. Your mouth opened when his fingers drew near, and he yanked you forward by that wicked hook. He slid his thumb slowly against your tongue and looked directly up into your eyes. Your knees knocked together, and you cried out in pain, having forgotten in your terror that your pussy was sewn up tight.

“You will.”

He did something to you when he said those things, and you stopped squirming. You would never win this war. You would only tire yourself out with the fighting. Beyond that, some delirious part of you wanted to prove him right, to show him that yes, you could do this.

Clenching your hands into tight fists, you closed your eyes to quell anxious tears. He finished arranging your legs into the stirrups and scooted your ass down to the end of the table.

Shame flooded you, barely contained by the bruised membrane that was your skin, because anyone who walked into the room would be treated to a view of your mistreated cunt.

Over you, the two men discussed what was about to happen as though you weren’t even there, and you felt more infinitesimal than ever before. The doctor agreed that this was, indeed, a minorly invasive surgery, but it was what came next that launched you forward, panic-induced frenzy telling you to get the fuck out now regardless of whether you died in the process.

“There’s no need for a sedative. She will be fine. Topical if you need it, but nothing stronger.”

You were a rabid animal up against an unstoppable force, but you howled and thrashed anyways. You clawed at his arms and tried to kick him in the stomach and groin. You screamed and sobbed because even Santcha, who had done nothing but beat, stab, and take from you, had never been so cruel.

Each day you were here, Kylo Ren was disassembling you and rearranging your parts. He was building himself a better puppet, piece by bloody fucking piece.

You cannot do this! You cannot do this...Kylo..you fucking cannot...

The doctor hunched over, holding his groin and floundering. Ren smirked, punching you into place with his trunk of an arm at your stomach. Looking down at you, he stroked the inside of your knee with lazy circles, no doubt in a patronizing attempt to settle your fraying nerves.

“Calm down, puppet. You’re hurting the good doctor here.”

In your hysteria, you were pushing your feelings, your pain, out into the world around you. If you still hadn’t believed Ren about your Force-sensitivity, you’d just manifested all the proof he would ever need.

Exhausted from your outburst and ashamed for assaulting someone who hadn’t harmed you, you swallowed down air and fixed your stare upon the ceiling. You counted heartbeats until the muscle didn’t feel like it was about to explode from your chest.

Angrily, you pushed Ren’s hand away. You needn’t be pitied by the very man who was causing all of this.

With a chuckle, he pulled a rolling stool over to sit like it was just another fucking day of endless meetings. Lifting your head up to glare at him, your chest seized, breath hitching, because you could see his shoulders, neck, and face between your spread thighs.

Kylo please...

Maybe it's what he thought you were begging for because the Force slid over you like a weighted blanket, pinning you to the table, and you were never so grateful for being relieved of your autonomy.

The doctor turned your head into place and secured a metal brace on your throat, prohibiting any movement. He applied a foul-smelling ointment to your skin, and you shattered, horrified to your very marrow.

You no longer had eyes, only faucets spewing forth an endless stream of angry, mournful tears. You tried closing them to staunch the flow because the doctor said you were moving too much, but you couldn't stop your body now. You weren't in control of it anymore.

The stress response to this terror was unforgiving, and you thought it might never end. He was going to have to cut you open from ear to ear because stopping the chatter of your teeth and the rattling of your shoulders and chest was simply not within your power.

Your fingers uncurled, reaching for Ren even though you knew he would never offer you this comfort.

Instead, warmth pooled around your breasts, licking up your sternum, and you drew in a tremulous breath. The Force that held you in place lavished attention upon your torso, cupping, massaging, and squeezing your breasts together. Warm and wet nipped at the hard peaks, and your calves flexed in response.

“Quiet now.”

Ren's voice was even, demanding. He had indulged your fear long enough, and it was now time to obey. You concentrated on the invisible hand tugging your breasts into an aching throb and reminded yourself to wiggle your toes and fingers. Your lips quivered on every exhale, but you were trying so hard to keep yourself together.

You knew how to process pain, but this affliction could hardly be classified as pain.

As the doctor set to his task, you felt pressure at your neck but not the sting of the scalpel. Ren seemed to want that sensation only for himself, and you conjured the image of him painted with your blood, preferring the memory of beautiful torture to this reality of sanitized mistreatment.

The doctor, asking Ren something you didn't catch, stuck his fucking fingers into your throat, and your panic kicked back up. You jerked against the stirrups, and your lips curled into a snarl, readying to shout curses at this man, consequences be damned.

Shushing you, Ren dipped his face between your thighs, and you nearly vaulted off the table when you felt his lips connect with the supple, bruised skin. His kiss was soft, his lips smooth, and you bristled with ire that he would deny you the sight of him between your legs.

Alongside the doctor, you cursed him and tightened your hands into angry fists.

He chuckled against you, clearly entertained by your fit. The sensation at your breasts increased, the rippling heat licking, sucking, and biting at your nipples. The throb bubbled over and spread down your sides, slithering across your stomach. It was rousing and teasing and distracting, exactly as it was meant to be.

Ren’s mouth traveled from one thigh to the other, and your whole face pinched with the effort to be as silent as possible. It was clear that any noise you made, any vibration in your throat, would do more damage and prolong this bastardized treatment.

He didn’t want you to damage his property with your foolishness, you realized.

He murmured an agreement to the thought and kissed up the insides of both legs, sucked on his bruises, and nipped at the highest point of your thighs. Your insides pooled, and he dipped his thumb into the wetness building for him, tugging ever so gently upon the weeping slit.

The doctor reached across your body to the tray that held the destroyed helmet, but you were too wrapped up in Ren’s wicked scheme to notice him plundering the debris for a specific part. The tension in your legs and hips had lessened under his mouth, and your vulnerable thighs had dropped further apart.

Abruptly, the pressure of the Force increased upon your entire body, and you were unnerved all over again because what was coming next surely was worse than what you’d already endured if he needed to hold you down more.

You sniffled through your fear but poured every ounce of brute determination into remaining calm, to keep yourself still and under some measure of composure. You weren’t sure if he was speaking aloud or in your head, but you heard Ren praising you for how well you were doing, how beautiful and strong you were to endure this for him.

As though you had any choice in the matter.

When his lips connected with your cunt, you thought you would certainly swallow whatever the doctor was lodging into your neck. You could feel the pressure more insistently now as he crammed or screwed or stitched whatever the fuck it was he was doing.

Ren kissed and sucked upon your stretched labia; the sounds lewd and consuming. He plucked each stitch with his tongue, and you thought you were going to lose your mind. You could feel every tight tug followed by the warm flat of his tongue gliding up the length of the vicious seam.

You marveled at how easily this man could conjure new tortures, how simple it was for him to corrupt something so mundane and turn it into exquisite torment.

Master of the Knights of Ren, indeed...

You cursed him again for taking away any hint of pleasure you might eke out from this whole experience. It was barbarous and merciless to lay his mouth upon you like this and prevent you from actually feeling it, enjoying it. It was the pinnacle of painful foreplay, and you hated him for it.

You hated the doctor for being a party to this whole fucking thing. You hated everyone on this ship for bowing to the tantrums of a Child God, and you promised yourself you’d murder Supreme Fucking Leader Snoke himself for creating such a beast.

Ren bit into your thigh harshly at that last thought, directly into the center of the deep bruise, and your toes curled tight. That mark certainly went down to the bone and would likely scar, little indentations from his teeth puckering more each time he revictimized the area.

Kylo...

Sweat broke across your brow, and a feverish tremble began as your body tried to deal with the absurd number of sensations warring inside.

The doctor pushed his tray away and told you both that he would need to test the calibration before he could close the window. You blinked up at his masked face in confusion. Test the calibration of what? How were you meant to do that, exactly?

Ren stood and you jerked at the brush of his body. You could feel him rustling, but it was driving you mad that you couldn’t see what he was doing. He hooked his thumbs into the very tops of your thighs and tugged the opening of your vagina just slightly wider. The stitches strained, and you whimpered, unable to contain it any longer.

Your eyes flew wide open because the sound was strange, louder, reverberating.

The swollen head of Ren’s cock nudged at your entrance, and you knew your heart was going to explode from your chest. He’d been working you, tinkering with those fucking puppet strings, to flood your pussy and make it ready for him; and like a damn fool, you’d given him exactly what you wanted.

You burned with humiliation and ragged desire as he pushed in, breaking the seal and stretching your cunt into something pliable for his sizable dick. It was endless, the sting and scorch of each inch, and you wanted to beg that he please just let you reach for him. It was all becoming too much, and you were disjointed, disconnected from everything.

Ren pushed and leaned into you until he was fully seated, pulsing at the very center of your body. You could feel every throb, every carnal twitch. Ren was fucking you from both ends, his dick stuffed far into your pussy and his depraved will stuffed down deep into your neck. The very idea of it sent you into a spiral.

“Fuck, that’s tight,” he groaned, voice gravelly. “Relax, puppet. Open for me.”

Kylo, not like this...

You were truly his object, denied any relief from his harassment or any pleasure at his hand. Digging his fingers into your hips, he began a slow, thorough stroke, pulling nearly all the way out only to plunge back down to the hilt.

“Out loud, girl.”

Your head ticked, a screaming internal alarm preventing you from shaking it outright, because you couldn’t do it; you could not obey this order. You couldn’t even remember the sound of your own voice, and you didn’t want to mourn something you couldn’t recall. You also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Fuck you...

Ren’s hips thrust harder into you, though, and you yelped. The high-pitched fabricated sound shocked you, and you trailed it with a hiccup, breath catching on the implications of this new reality.

“Lower,” Ren nodded to the doctor, who adjusted the implant in your throat.

You seethed. He was tailoring the sound of your voice to his fucking preference, and you thought you surely would rip the damned thing out of your neck if you had your hands free.

Dissatisfied with your reaction to his steady pace, Ren rutted into you stubbornly, fucking you with more force. Your ire fizzled, the anger dribbling out of your cunt on a steady trickle of hot slick. He stretched you, and you moaned at the fullness of it. You desperately wanted to arch and rock your hips against him, but you were completely paralyzed, not even given room to wiggle.

“Kylo. Fuck. Please.”

He all but purred at the modulated sound of your voice, the one he’d given you, and rewarded you with a long series of strokes so deep you saw stars.

“Lower,” he ordered, and the doctor moved to his bidding.

“Now, puppet, what’s that mantra of yours?”

Ren’s cunning was staggering. He was demanding the only thing that had allowed you to survive him. Your throat burned, tingling around the foreign implant, and you swallowed, trying to moisten the metal. Sniffling, you cleared your throat, focusing on the task you’d been given and not the ruthless invasion of your pussy.

Taking as deep of a breath as you could, you concentrated on making the sound as even as possible.

“In...suffering...there...is...beauty.”

“That’s right,” he praised you and then nodded to the surgeon. “That’s it.”

Having gotten what he wanted, Ren bent over you and nipped at your stomach before tucking himself back into his pants. In moments, the doctor had your throat stitched up, a Bacta patch applied, and was giving instructions to Ren about no solid food for 24 hours, watch for infection, and apply Bacta as needed.

He also advised that you should be silent for the next 24 hours due to inflammation but that he understood if something happened to prevent that.

You narrowed your eyes at the ceiling when he said it because of fucking course something was going to prevent that. Curling your hands into fists again, you renewed your vow to slaughter every soul on this ship.

With the doctor gone, the Force hold you’d been kept under released, and you shot upwards to confront Ren. This wasn’t fear or flight; this was anger and malice.

You slammed both fists into his chest and shoved. Pressing your lips into a hard line, you jammed your knee in between your body and his, intent upon sprinting past him and away from here, from him.

Jerking your legs back apart, he stepped in and wrapped his massive hand around your throat, burning you with his gaze and squeezing you back into muted compliance. Satisfied you would be still, he wrapped you tight into his chest, fingers still stroking your throat.

Shock and absolute fury coiled into the pit of your stomach, and you just sat, boiling in your hatred that he could so easily disfigure you and, then, so easily divest you of your rage.

The severity of what he’d done registered, and panicked spikes drove into your heart. You quaked anew, tears spilling, and you dug your fingers into the shirt at the small of his back.

What did you do…

“Out loud,” he pressed, voice endearing as he brushed your tears away.

Licking your lips, you stared at him for a long moment, eyes glossy. Ren waited patiently as you gathered the fortitude to obey. Even he seemed to understand this was a lot to take in.

“What did you do?” You whispered it, the haunted voice faltering, betraying the depth of your despair.

He hummed hungry delight against your jaw. Using the leverage he always seemed to have at your neck, Ren turned your head for you to take in the broken bits of his helmet on the tray. In the vortex of fear and lust and terror, you’d completely forgotten it had been there at all.

“This voice,” he breathed the words out, stroking the bandage, “is mine.”

You gaped at him, eyes swiveling from the tray to his face and back. It broke over you like lightning. He had taken the modulator from his helmet and had it implanted in your throat.

Ren dropped his head into your neck again and sucked a mark into the skin. You were too frozen to respond, your back rigid but your arms and legs hanging limp and useless.

“This body,” he said into your neck, “is mine.”

Slithering his hands between your bodies, he pushed your thighs apart wide and ran his fingers up the plump seam. You shuddered, feeling the pulse of your sequestered clit battering against the wall that should not be there.

“This pussy,” he bit at your jaw, “is mine.”

He had succeeded in reducing you to a nameless doll, a puppet tailored exactly to his liking for his entertainment and use. You were dazed, thunderstruck, and empty. He had put you through absolute hell today, and you weren’t capable of filtering your thoughts, now words, anymore.

You were past the point where you could even care if he punished you for insolence.

“Why did you stay with me?”

The question startled you more than the alien sound of your new voice. You managed to look at him and concentrated on his alluring freckles. You searched his starry eyes for something to latch onto, something that would tie you here.

You had no childish thoughts of love or support. But right now, having borne the brunt of so much of his persecution, you needed something.

One question, though, led to more, and they began to spill from your lips on this new capability.

“Why didn’t you kill me? I was ready, and I would have gladly given you that. Why did you need to do this to me? You were already in my head, listening.”

Your ire and emotion were rising, the mechanical undertone in your voice lifting in pitch. You blinked, really truly trying to understand the whims of a mad man.

“What difference is there between me screaming in my head and screaming out loud? Why couldn’t you just leave me the way I was? I was surviving your punishment just fine without this unnatural, bastard tongue!”

You fisted both hands into his shirt and pounded against the chest beneath. Your lips wobbled, and you tipped your head back, furious at the tears that wouldn’t fucking stop.

You had learned to survive without a voice. The silence you offered the universe became your salvation, your solace. People expected nothing of you when they knew you couldn't speak, and you’d used it to strengthen yourself, to fortify your will to endure and withstand all manner of ego and abuse.

Frantic, you settled on the most important question, the one that you needed answered.

“Why did you do this to me?”

Ren captured your face in both hands and smothered your tirade with a kiss. His beautiful pink lips slanted over yours, and you melted against his mouth. He sucked at your lower lip, licked the roof of your mouth, and slid his tongue against yours until you were breathless and squirming.

He curled your limbs around his shoulders and waist and carried you around the side of the table. Setting you down, he plucked the scalpel from the tray, his hands disappearing between your legs. You whimpered and scooted backwards, but he hooked a hand beneath your knee and pulled you back into place.

“I did this,” he cut one of the sutures, “to focus your attention away from the procedure."

“Is that not…” he nipped at your pulse, “...merciful?”

He made quick work of the remaining sutures, slicing through them and pulling the remnants away. You whined, head lolling, as your freed labia parted, blood beginning to redistribute to the abused skin and shooting pins and needles into your cunt. He followed the sharp stings with his thumb, rubbing between the swollen folds until you gasped and tipped your pelvis into his touch.

Tugging you against his body, Ren ground his erection between your tender lips. You moaned low, the sound warbled, wanton, and needy, and he captured it with a deep kiss, swallowing on a growl.

He tore at his own clothes, freed his swollen cock, and pushed inside of you, not bothering to be gentle. Your eyebrows drew together tight at the invasion, the time between the first fucking and this one having been enough for your body to re-acclimate to his absence.

Sinking your teeth into your lip, you lifted your hips to his assault because the utter completion you felt was too good to resist.

“And I did..fuck…,” he faltered, bottoming out into your tight heat; “...I did this,” he dipped his face down and licked the bandage, the only truly new scar he’d ever given you; “...so that you would remember,” his breath was broken now, his voice ragged with lust; “...that every sound you make belongs to me.”

You held tightly to his back, hugging his sides with your legs, and trying your damnedest to stay here in this moment. The second adrenaline crash of the day threatened to consume you, but you fought against it because the man who’d teased you for a week had his dick so far inside you that you thought you could taste it.

You were desperate for this bliss, whining in raw need, and you shuddered when he rocked your body against his in the manner and tempo he liked, large fingers splayed across your ass and moving you to his pleasure. Your tortured cunt clenched and all but sucked his dick in deep.

You cried out, feeling the lines between you as a person and you as Ren’s personal fucktoy bleed together. Your whole body contracted, squeezing him hard and coming absolutely alive under his thumb. You clung to his back like he was your own personal savior.

Stretching long fingers around your neck, Ren lifted your face and forced you to look, always wanting to watch you agonize for him. The now-familiar warm sensation blossomed at your clit, and your eyes fluttered shut on a loud moan. He shook you until your eyes opened again, demanding your stare.

“You’re no victim," he sneered.

He punched himself so far into your cunt that you felt the nudge at your cervix and erupted into an echoing shriek. The Force engulfed your clit, every single one of the thousands of nerves swarmed by the hot vibration and spreading a delicious jolt up through your abdomen.

“You’re a depraved, filthy thing,” he dug his nails into your jaw, “and your body was made for me.”

You couldn’t look away, couldn’t shake your head or disagree. Accepting that hard truth on your behalf, your pussy flooded him with a new surge of molten slip, and he growled possessively. He licked at your mouth and squeezed your neck tighter. The pressure arched you into his chest and set your cunt to clutching feverishly.

“See? Not happy unless you’re being hurt.”

Pressing into the veins below your jaw, he stunted the flow of blood to your brain, sending you into floating oblivion. You convulsed against him, the jerk of your body trying to fight off unconsciousness drawing a hungry moan from your captor. The suction at your clit intensified, and you begged, lips working on impotent words, breath choppy, and fingers clamoring and raking against his biceps.

You were nothing but a vibrating mess, well-fucked and wholly obliterated by his embrace as he choked and ravaged your body. The stab of his dick was relentless, and you were very nearly gone, your eyes glazing over, eyelids heavy.

“Cum for me, puppet. Show me how much you like it."

He dipped his mouth to your ear, voice commanding, dripping with derision and desire. Shifting his fingers, he allowed blood to rush back into your dizzy head, and you gasped hard. Married with the hot pressure at your clit and the pistoning of his cock, you seized in deference to his order.

Your entire body shrunk into a tight ball against him, knees drawing up high, ankles hugging at his back. Your fingers and toes curled, your legs and arms shook, and your abdomen and ass clenched hard and tight.

The orgasm blew through you like a comet, and everything loosened on a series of soul-shattering quakes.

You shouted and wailed, the altered, digital howl sounding almost like it truly belonged to you. Your cunt spasmed, alternating between trying to push Ren’s invading cock out and trying to draw it further and further in.

You were drowning in euphoria, endorphins, and emotions, and you had no protection, no wall with which to keep everything at bay. Every single thing Ren had done, was doing, roiled through you and radiated off of your body dangerously, and he was caught in the blast zone.

“Fuck..fuck..FUCK!”

His hands dug caverns into the meat of your ass, fingernails leaving crescent trenches. He bit into the side of your neck, buried himself as far into you as he could, and emptied his cock into the flood you were offering him.

Three more thrusts pushed his seed in deep, and he moaned, low and liquid, into your skin while bucking through his orgasm. You were barely clinging to consciousness, weak and overwhelmed by the events of the afternoon, the day, the week.

For the third time today, Ren held you, stroking your back until your mind came back to your body. When you lifted your head, he leaned back, taking in your mottled cheeks, swollen mouth, and glassy eyes.

“Open.”

He lifted his hand to your mouth and purred when it opened for him naturally. He hooked his thumb into your teeth, just the way you liked, and you shifted against him, leaking all manner of bodily fluids onto the table.

You hadn't hesitated at all, too sated to bristle that it was beneath you or too eager for whatever demeaning paradise he was willing to offer.

He held your jaw right there, thumb playing with the inside of your teeth. He was looking at you as though he was ready to bathe in your blood again, and you weren’t sure that you wouldn’t let him. His eyes were dark and nefarious and hypnotic.

What he did next was so unexpectedly obscene that you choked. He tilted your head back and spat into your mouth, watching his saliva pool on your tongue.

Your body’s reaction was immediate, suffused with want and something you might later identify as pride. Your fingers tightened into his shirt, and your chest arched up into him. You let loose a low sound that even you didn’t even recognize, and your hips rocked beseechingly against him.

“You belong to me,” he said, watching the bubbles slide down your throat. “This is the last time I'll explain myself to you."

He allowed you to close your mouth, and you stared at him, awed and searching. Before you could second guess yourself, you curled his trembling fingers around your throat, swallowing beneath the grip.

If this was the closest you would ever get to an intimate gesture, you needed it now more than you needed oxygen.

Satisfied for the moment, Ren squeezed your neck and rubbed his nose against yours.

Too soon, the moment ended, and Ren grasped your hips and lifted you off of his dick with a low groan. You watched openly as he tucked himself away and righted his clothing. You flushed, pleased at the idea that he was going to spend the rest of today with your cunt lingering on his dick.

You blinked at the thought, troubled at the ease with which you joined him in such vulgarity.

Your reverie was interrupted by a slender man in all black walking into the room uninvited and unannounced. Ren’s head shot up on a snarl, and he reached out to wind that unfortunate soul into the Force and lift him off of his feet.

You tiredly glanced over at Ren’s newest victim, surprised by his bright red hair. Knowing better than to interfere, you simply looked from Ren to this intruder, wondering how long it would be before one of them spoke.

“The...Supreme...Leader...demands...your………………...presence!”

Ren released his hold, and the uniformed man hit the ground with a crash, scrambling back out into the hallway. Bending down, he scooped up your black pants and handed them to you.

Ren's gaze hardened considerably, and you were amazed at how dark became void in his eyes. Reaching back to the tray, he grabbed the scalpel, broke off the blade, and lifted it to your mouth.

“If he tries to hurt you or move you,” his voice was dangerously low, and your eyes flitted around his arm to the door, “get away. Find the Knights of Ren.”

The questions played across your face, and your brow knit. Were you in danger? Why were you in danger? You leaned forward, meaning to ask, but he shook his head, instructing you back to silence. You sat up straighter, concerned and more alert.

“That voice is for me, only.”

Understanding, you parted your lips and accepted the weapon, moving it with your tongue and tucking it into the roof of your mouth. Ren's battle face changed for just a second, his beautiful lips turning up into a smirk, knowing full well this wasn’t the first time you’d had to hide a blade.

You accepted that he would push you until you broke for him, over and over, but it satisfied you to no end that he wasn’t prepared to allow anyone else to harm you. That pleasure was afforded to him alone in the Galaxy.

“Hux!” He barked it out, and the man, who was still rubbing his tender throat, turned into the room to look.

“You will personally deliver her back to my chambers.”

Ren didn’t waste time asking if the man understood his instructions. He would be obeyed, or someone would die. In seconds, he had collected the remnants of his helmet and was gone from the room.

You sagged, feeling like the universe was somehow less bright without the scorch of his presence. Stuffing your aching, wobbly legs into the black linen, you cautiously descended from the surgical table and righted the material over your hips.

Turning, you faced your new escort, whose name was apparently Hux, and gestured for him to lead on.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #puer deus

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kieraswriting · 4 years

Text

Human/Fairy Relations 2

1 2 3 4

Continued from a story based on a prompt by @arc852

Thomas had been with the fairies for three days.

Officially, he was Anxiety’s responsibility. Which meant that if he was ever seen away from him all the other fairies would herd him back. It wasn’t… an unpleasant way to live, but he did miss home.

Flying, though, flying was awesome!

He had been allowed, and given a written permission in case he was stopped, to go to Logan and Patton’s house. Logan had said Patton’s name, and soon after Patton had let Logan’s name slip. Anxiety’s, though, was still safely a secret.

But now he was flying. Logan and Patton lived up high, which Thomas did not mind at all. Their house was built on top of a sunflower, which made it one of the larger houses in the village. This village was one of many, but the fairies that lived here also had other homes, in the human world, accessed by secret passages. Because of this, the village, which was smallish anyway, was always at least half empty. The prince of the village stayed, and so did Logan, but for different reasons. The Prince had to stay, to keep order and to be available to help the fairies. But Logan had to stay to keep Patton here. And, Thomas guessed, Anxiety would now have to stay. To make sure Thomas never got out.

But that was a depressing thought, and he was not going to go be depressed when he saw Patton. Thomas forced a smile on his face as he flew higher.

He came up onto the flower. Even though he was tiny, especially in comparison to the massive flower, Patton was currently tinier. Thomas knee that Logan was the one that did this, but he still had no idea of why. Patton didn’t particularly enjoy it. If Anxiety was able, would he shrink Thomas further as well?

But Patton broke him out of his depressing thoughts again, calling out his name and flying straight at him. He was always affectionate, even while tiny, and gave Thomas the best hug he could manage.

“It’s good to see you, Pat!”

“I’m glad to see you too, Kiddo! What brings you all the way up here?”

Thomas appreciated that Patton called him kiddo. It was better than Sanders. Or human.

“I just came to visit. Is Logan home?”

Patton cocked his head to the side, as if he couldn’t believe that Thomas would want to see Logan. Which, to be fair, he kind of didn’t. Logan wasn’t unkind, but he knew a lot of things, and acted on that knowledge. The problem was that, without the same knowledge, it seemed to Thomas that Logan did lots of things for no reason. Like shrinking Patton. He couldn’t seem to let go of a grudge for that one.

“Yeah, he’s here.”

Thomas went inside, Patton hovering around his head.

“Logan.” Thomas said firmly, noting the slight flinch.

A second later, smoothly, as if he was just now noticing Thomas, Logan looked over the top of his book.

“Sanders.”

“I’ve come for a visit, and I want you to put Patton back to my size.”

Patton flitted back into Thomas’s field of vision, looking rather worried. Thomas knew that if he had told Patton of his intentions he would not have wanted him to do it.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Surely, if you’re asking for a favor, you have something to offer in return.”

Nope. Thomas had not thought this through far enough. He had noticed that Logan flinched whenever he used his name, and had hoped that whatever it was would also make Logan more receptive to requests. He had also hoped on a bit of an intimidation factor, which it seemed he did not have enough of.

Logan continued when Thomas hesitated so long. “You could give me your name.”

Patton was minutely shaking his head.

Suddenly Logan blinked. His demeanor changed, becoming as warm as he could be, which still wasn’t very warm, especially when standing next to Patton. “You said you wanted Patton to be the same size as you, correct?”

“Um… yes?”

“Then I’ll offer you a more attractive deal. I’ll do it if you give Patton your name.”

Thomas’s eyes flicked to Patton, who was now shaking his head vigorously.

“...no… wait, why not?”

“Patton.” Logan said. He always did this, just say Patton, and then he was somehow always affected by whatever.

Patton spun around to face Logan, and Thomas couldn’t see his face anymore.

“I’ll give you a final deal,” Logan offered. “Give Patton your name, and I’ll make him your size, or don’t, and I’ll make you his size.”

Patton spun back to face Thomas, but too late to stop him from saying, “Deal. And no.”

Logan stood up, and started talking in the fairy language, where the only word Thomas could catch was Sanders. Then he was shrinking. It was quick, barely thirty seconds, and he was the same size as Patton.

Patton grabbed him by the arm and zipped out an open window.

“You shouldn’t do that!” Patton scolded.

“I just… wanted to help you.”

Patton hugged him tightly. “I know. And it’s really sweet of you, kiddo, but Logan is really, really smart. You can’t make deals with him.”

“Why not? And why can’t I tell you my name?”

“I can’t—I can’t tell you.”

“Why not? I want to know what’s going on! I’ve been kidnapped by fairies and I don’t even know why!”

Thomas lowered his voice when he saw the look on Patton’s face. “I’m sorry. But I do want to know what’s going on.”

“Well, I don’t know everything either, but the reason that they captured us is kind of like revenge. Because humans capture fairies. And now fairies want at least some humans to feel the way they feel, I guess.”

“But then why the name thing? Why is it such a big deal?”

“Because a fairy can control a human with their name. There’s more to it than that, but the more they know about you the more they can control you. And I think somehow that humans must be able to do the same to fairies, but I don’t know how.”

“So that’s why Logan flinches when I call him by his name.”

Patton nodded. “I really… I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Can we go do something fun?”

“Sure, Pat. Just, one more thing?”

Patton waited.

“Are you, really, alright? I know Logan bosses you around a lot, and, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Patton hugged Thomas again. “I’m fine, Kiddo. Thank you.”

••^*^••

“I’ve bought you some time, but it won’t be long before they start to get… more concerned. You need to get his name.”

“I know,” Virgil raked his hand through his hair. “I know, but he won’t tell me anything. How’d you get Patton to do it?”

“I pretended to be a human. But at this point in time, knowing you as well as he does, he won’t believe a simple glamour.”

“What if he tells Patton? We can get the name from Patton, and that’s better than what we have.”

“If we do that, it would only be because the village began to get violent. It would likely hurt Patton to be used in that way, and Sanders would assuredly guard his name closer than ever after the fact. We’d never be given his name.”

Virgil growled and paced. “I never thought that this would be so hard. You made it look so easy!”

“Rest assured, it was not simple for me either. It still isn’t.”

“What about someone else? Do you think anyone else could get him to give them his name?”

“Not in a nonviolent manner, no. He’s been here nearly a week, and the only attachments he’s made have been to yourself and to Patton. Not to mention, he’s considerably more… I suppose discontent might be a suitable word, toward his own position. Patton settled into his place relatively easily, whereas Sanders keeps trying, thankfully unsuccessfully, to invoke names.”

Virgil frowned. His hands fisted in his hair as he tried to think of anything else he could try.

“He’s been heard trying to invoke my name,” Logan said quietly.

“What?” Virgil paled. “By who?”

“I’m not certain. But I’m sure that by tomorrow morning we’ll have some angry people on out hands, and I don’t think that keeping him small will appease them this time.”

“What should we do?”

••^*^••

When Thomas woke up, Anxiety had already left the room. He sat up and stretched, his wings fluttering. By now, moving them was almost unconscious. He was still tiny.

He flew to the door. Anxiety usually left it a bit open if he woke up first, since Thomas couldn’t open it by himself. But not today.

Thomas pounded on the door, but it made even less noise than usual. That was odd. He tried to look through the crack in the doorframe, but it was stuffed with pieces of flower petals. That was even more odd. Anxiety must really want him to be stuck in the bedroom for some reason.

“Anxiety!” Thomas yelled.

From behind him there was a groan. He spun around. Patton was sitting up slowly. He was tiny, and so was Thomas, but Thomas was still surprised that he hadn’t noticed. But that wasn’t the biggest thing he hadn’t noticed. Patton’s wings were gone.

Patton gave a confused, tired frown. He must have tried to fly up. He reached his hands back, but before he could feel the truth Thomas was charging into him, hugging him tightly.

“Oof! Kiddo. What’s going on?”

Thomas shook his head. He didn’t know.

From outside, as the sun rose, so did the sound of voices. Angry voices. Thomas could hear Anxiety’s voice raising among them, but there were so many all at once he couldn’t tell what they were saying.

“I—my wings…” Patton said softly. “He’s never taken my wings.”

Thomas squeezed tighter. He didn’t know what else to do. Then he saw a paper on the bed. He let go of Patton to flip it over.

I want your name, and I’m tired of waiting.

Thomas gritted his teeth.

“It’s not fair!” He exploded. “How can they just—just hurt you like this?!”

Patton was staring blankly at the paper, and a tear ran down his face. “I don’t know…”

Thomas flew to the door and started banging on it, even though there was no way he was being heard.

“Logan changed so much this last week,” Patton cried, and Thomas turned to see him with his face in his hands. “I don’t understand!”

Thomas flew back to Patton. “It’ll be alright. I’ll find some way to fix things.”

Patton looked up, something dangerous glinting in his eyes behind the pain. “Logic’s real name is Logan, and Anxiety’s real name is Virgil. I’m giving you their names.”

Thomas hugged Patton tightly again. “My name is Thomas.”

Patton hugged him back just as tightly. “And my name is Patton. I trust you, Thomas, let’s get out of here.”

Thomas let go of Patton. “I have an idea.”

He flew back a little bit away from Patton. Then he yelled, as loudly as he could and with as much belief as he could muster. “Virgil! Logan! Put me back to my right size!”

And then he was growing. He managed to pick up Patton and shield him in his hands before he burst out of the house. He started walking for the pool in the middle of the village, calling Virgil and Logan as he went, and ignoring the clamor of the other fairies. He went through the pool more easily this time, and was only slightly dizzy when emerging from the other side.

He slid Patton onto his head, assuming that he’d be able to hold onto his hair and not fall off, since he didn’t have a pocket.

He waited barely a minute before Virgil and Logan came out, and he immediately grabbed at them. He caught Virgil, but Logan ducked out of reach.

“What are you doing?” Logan yelled, still flitting around so that he wasn’t an easy catch.

“I’m going back home. And I’m taking Patton with me. I want you to turn him back to his normal size as well.”

Thomas brought Virgil up to his eye level. “Take my wings back, I won’t need them anymore.”

Virgil squirmed in his hand. “I don’t… I don’t know that I can without your name.”

Thomas frowned. This again? Virgil cried out, and he quickly loosened his grip.

“Let him go,” Logan said, his voice not commanding like usual, but almost pleading. “I’ll take your wings off and I’ll return Patton to his usual size.”

“To his human size,” Thomas clarified, suddenly realizing that with knowing their names, and holding Virgil in his hand, he actually had bargaining chips now.

“Yes.” Logan said.

From on top of his head, the minuscule weight slowly grew as Logan started speaking in the fairy tongue. As he grew large enough, Patton climbed down to stand next to Thomas. Patton was looking down at the ground, avoiding looking at Logan or Virgil.

“Can I touch you?” Logan asked.

“Only if it’s to take the wings off,” Thomas answered.

Logan flew behind him and touched the tips of his wings. Thomas could feel them returning to his back in much the same way as they had come.

Virgil squirmed again. Thomas tightened his grip just slightly, unwilling to lose his bargaining chip. But then he saw the flash of pain that went across Virgil’s face, and all the rest of his anger turned to guilt.

“I want you both to promise that you won’t stop us or do anything to us while we’re going home,” Thomas said.

“Yes. I promise.” Logan said, his eyes trained on Virgil.

“Promise,” Virgil said, and the pain in his voice was greater than it had been on his face.

Thomas opened his hand, feeling the guilt shift from welling up in his gut to stabbing him when he saw the crumpled state of Virgil’s wings.

Logan flew down and picked Virgil up, flying to a safe distance away.

Thomas turned to place the pool at his back. Once they were out of the ring of flowers he could figure where he was and find his way home. Patton turned back once.

“Bye,” he said, his voice small.

••^*^••

It took a day to get back to Thomas’s house, but they did get back, and Patton, who said that he didn’t have anyone to go back to, became Thomas’s roommate.

#patton sanders #character!thomas #logan sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides g/t #g/t #Human/fairy relations

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gradiancharles · 4 years

Text

We Meet Again

Who: Charlie & Gavreel @gradiangavreel

What: Charlie and Gavreel meet again after year and years.

Where: Pies & Whiskey

When: September 2020 (three months ago)

Gav

Gavreel was a little nervous to walk into the pie shop. It had a cute sign outside, ‘Pies & Whiskey’ but an even cuter owner inside. He'd been back in Gradian for three months already and he couldn't help but look up his old school crush. It was a smallish town, afterall, they were bound to run into each other at some point. He might as well get it over with. He bit his lip and took a deep breath before physically shaking off his nerves reaching for the door with a nod. "He's just a man," he muttered to himself as he stepped inside. He took a look around and was genuinely impressed. It was a nice set up, everything well put together and displayed. The pies even looked great and he wasn't a big fan if he was being honest.

Charlie

Charlie was still getting used to running the shop, it was fairly new to him. Baking was his thing, alcohol was his thing but finance was definitley not his thing. Good thing that in a town like this, shops never got too busy. He was pressing in some dough for some pie crust in a pan when he heard the bell of the door ringing meaning he had a customer. "Be right out!' he called out from the back of the shop where they baked their goods, finishing the crust and taking off his gloves so he could help the customer. He hadn't even really seen who had come in as he blindly came up to the register, he just noticed it was a man and from a distance, he wasn't half bad looking. "Hey there, welcome to Pie's and Whiskey, what can I get started for you, handsome." His eyes traveled to the man's face and oh shit, yeah he was definitely handsome, and he looked familiar for some reason but Charlie couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Gav

Gavreel was struck still in place by the deep voice calling out to him. This had, indeed, bee a terrible idea. He'd barely been able to speak to Charles as a teen, there was no way he'd be able to speak to him now that he had grown into such a gorgeous man. When he came out to fully greet him they locked eyes and Gavreel tried desperately to get his shit together. He cleared his throat and smoothed his shirt of nonexistent wrinkles, not having any idea what to make of the handsome comment. "Hello. Charles. It's been some time. Gavreel," he stated awkwardly. "Is me. I'm not sure if you remember. But... yes, I suppose I've come for... pie."

Charlie

It took Charlie a moment to register the name and put it with the face. It had been years since he'd seen the guy and damn if he hadn't grown up so fine. A big smile plastered onto his face as old school memories started trickling in. "Holy shit, man. Gavin... Woah, you're a whole fucking bloke now. Of course, I remember you." He huffed with a laugh. It was honestly so good to see him. He was always so kind to him in school, Charlie even found himself crush on the older guy back then but that was high school and now they were grown-ups, of course, that didn't mean Charlie couldn't look. Especially with those incredibly blue eyes. "Pie, of course. " He shook his head with a chuckle. "How have you been, man? What kinda pie are you in the mood for?"

Gav

Gavreel couldn't help the slight blush on his face, first from Charles recognizing him and second from the compliment. He shifted on his feet and nodded awkwardly with a small smile. "Yes, um, I've been well. And.. you?" He looked down at the pies and then around the shop a bit more. "I'm not sure which pie though."

Charlie

Charlie nodded, watching the man look around his shop. “I’m doing pretty great. I finally got to open this place. Dreams do come true, Gav.” He smiled at the older man. “Well, whatever you decide, it’s on me. Although I do recommend the Apple pie, it’s my specialty.” He winked at him, Charlie just being naturally flirty.

Gav

Gavreel certainly didn't know what to do with the wink. He stared at the man, heart beating wildly because he was a complete idiot. "I... um.. yes. Apple. That sounds good." He looked down at his feet and then back over to the man. "Congratulations as well. On the business. It's very impressive."

Charlie

“Awesome.” He grinned. The man was still as awkward as he remembered him and honestly it was very charming to him. Hearing the praise for his business made his chest flutter, at least someone appreciated it and Charlie was extremely proud of it, so to be congratulated and complimented on it made Charlie really happy. “Well thanks, man. I really appreciate the compliment.” He says sincerely. “Let me go warm up that piece of pie for you.... I’ll be right back.”

Charlie walked away from the counter slicing up his piece and placing it his reheating oven. After, he added a scoop of vanilla ice cream wanting to make it special for his friend before returning back. “Alright, one slice of apple pie, a la mode.” He grinned proudly to himself.

Gav

Gavreel nodded and once again looked around the store, mainly trying to avoid actively staring at the handsome man like a complete freak. "Yes, of course." He wasn't entirely sure himself if that was in response to the thanks or the promise of pie. He took a deep steading breath once Charles was not longer facing him. He just had to keep it together for a little longer. When he returned Gavreel took the plate with an appreciative nod. "Thank you. It looks delicious. Um, how long have you been baking?" He asked both out of curiosity and a need to keep talking to him.

Charlie

Charlie nods and purses his lips in thought. “Uff, it’s been quite a minute. I mean I used to bake with my surrogate mom and my dads all the time when I was little and it’s just something I’ve always loved.” He answered as he grabbed a rag to wipe down the counter, trying to feel busy. “I went to culinary school in France and learned a few more techniques but yeah, here I am now with my new shop.... Did you want a drink to pair? I have a really good burbon that taste fantastic with the Apple pie.” He said excitedly, not waiting for his answer before pouring him the drink and placing it in front of him. “You need to try it.”

Gav

Gavreel settled himself down on one of the bar stools and picked up his fork to start digging into the beautiful looking pie. Now, while it was true he wasn't that big of a sweets fan, he could still appreciate a good dessert every now and again. He took a bite and tilted his head. It was actually very good: warm, flavorful, complex. He licked his lips of the thick filling. "The culinary school is evident," he complimented. He didn't have time to really respond to the question of the drink and simply accepted it as it was given. "Oh, yes. Thank you. I'll admit I'm not typically a big drinker so I'll have to stick with just this one unless you want to carry me out of here."

Charlie

Charlie wiped his hand on his bar towel and leaned against it as he watched Gavreel try his best pie, loving to watch the satisfaction on a customers face. “Awe, don’t tell me you’re a lightweight, buddy. Don’t worry, I’ve been working out so I could definitely carry you out if needed.” He chuckled. “So, tell me. What have you been doing all this time?”

Gav

Gav let out a small laugh. "Uh, yes, unfortunately I am telling you I'm a lightweight." The thought of Charlie picking him up bridal style popped into his head and almost had him choking on his pie. "It shows," he said awkwardly while openly staring at the younger man's muscled arms. He blushed heavily after a moment and took another bite to occupy his mouth for a moment. "School as well," he answered after a bit. "Down in London. I um.. I'm a counselor now. At the school. And also a life coach," he added. "At.. the community centre."

Charlie

Charlie grins at the compliment and follows the mans gaze to his arms. He couldn’t lie that he was definitely liking the attention, especially from Gav. “Thanks, I try a bit.” He chuckled and sighed softly. “Well, you just tell me if you need a ride home, I got you. Plus I’m closing up in like a half an hour.” He nods and bites his lip. “Oh nice, you’re helping out the kids. That’s awesome.” He smiled

Gav

Gavreel blushed and took a drink of Charlie's bourbon and grimaced at the burn, despite the pleasant taste. His eyes widened. "Oh! I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I didn't mean to come in so late. I can finish up here and go."

Charlie

Charlie shook his head and dismissed the man with his hand. “What no, don’t worry about it. I have mostly everything done. Maybe I’ll even have a slice myself before I head out.” He said as he started wrapping up the left over pies. “So I usually take home any leftovers, just cause I can’t sell day old pie, and since you’re and my last customer of the day, you’re the lucky one. Doesn’t hurt that you’re also very handsome, I mean you always have been” he winks. “So your pick of leftover cherry, pecan, or apple.”

Gav

Gavreel relaxed a bit after the reassurance that he was not being a bother to Charles. He looked between the man and the pies questioningly. "How do you stay in such amazing shape eating all this pie every day?" He blanched and shook his head. "No, I'm sorry that was incredibly rude of me. I just meant... well you are also very handsome and this is a lot of pie to take home." He paused. "That seemed equally rude. I will take the cherry."

Charlie

Charlie laughed, charmed by the man. "Oh, man. I'm not as in shape as you think I am. No six-pack under here." He chuckled as he pulled at his shirt. He chewed at his cheek with a grin and started wrapping up the cherry pie for him. "I also don't eat all this pie myself, usually hand some off to my neighbors or guests if I have them over. The pie definitely gets around." He nods and hands him the wrapped up pie.

Gav

Gavreel stuttered a bit. "O-oh. No I didn't mean.." He gestured towards the man's abdomen. "I'm not assuming what you have under there." He paused and looked down at the pie, blush growing on his face. "Thank you."November 30, 2020

Charlie

Charlie shook his head with a grin. “Gav. It’s okay. We’re both adults here, right? It’s okay to assume.” He winked. “Actually I’m quite flattered that you’re imagining me with abs.” He chuckles. He leans against the counter in front of Gavreel, hovering over the wrapped up pie. “Is there anything else I could do for you tonight? You know before I close up?”

Gav

Gavreel cleared his throat and nodded. "Yes... well... the apple pie was very good," he said changing the subject entirely out of embarrassment. "I believe you've won me over as a customer. Do you... work every day?"

Charlie

Charlie noticed how quick Gavreel was to drop the conversation, guess he had read the signs wrong and he wasn’t all that interested in Charlie. At least he liked the pie. “Sometimes... I do like to give myself a day off, so I’ll close the shop every other Monday. It’s my slowest day and my best customers know where to find me if they need an emergency order.”

Gav

Gavreel stood and hugged the wrapped pie to his chest. He attempted to project nonchalance rather than nerves. "You'll be here tomorrow then?" He asked. "I may feel the need to try some more of you delicious creations. And perhaps we could... catch up?"

Charlie

Charlie leaned back to stand straight up. “Yeah, I’ll be here tomorrow.” He nodded with a small smile. “You’re welcome anytime, man.” He says as he starts keeping busy again. “Yeah, I’d be down. Maybe somewhere else though? Where I’m not working all day and actually smell nice.” He laughs

Gav

Gavreel nodded. "Oh, yes, of course. Although, I think you smell fine." He paused for a moment, mortified that he'd felt the need to say that. "Perhaps a... restaurant?" He suggested to change the subject.

Charlie

Charlie laughed at Gavreels charm. “I suppose to you I might smell sweet. But it’s all sugar, flour and bourbon to me.” He shook his head with a chuckle as he ran a hand through his hair. He thought for a moment before agreeing. “I wouldn’t mind dinner. You buying?” He asked, not actually being serious about Gavreel paying for dinner.

Gav

Gavreel felt his nerves return as it was sounding very much like a date, although he knew it wasn't. "Yes, of course. The invitation was mine, after all."

Charlie

Charlie nods. “I was joking. You don’t have to pay for dinner, man.” Charlie put down his rag, looking at the time. It was time he locked the doors so he could prepare to close. He came around from behind the counter, finally nothing separating the two. “Just gonna go lock the doors so I don’t get any stragglers coming in. You’re more than welcome to stay and finish your drink.” He serves him a smile and goes to the doors. “Also, dinner, you pick the place, my treat.” He looked back as he jimmied the key.

Gav

"Dinner," he repeated, getting a feel for the idea. "Yes. I will pick somewhere." He paused and then followed Charlie to the door. "I should get home actually. But I enjoyed seeing you again. And I look forward to dinner."Message #we-meet-again

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kieraelieson · 5 years

Text

Human/Fairy Relations 2

The second part of my Sanders Sides Fanfic based on a prompt from @arc852

Link to Part One

Promt: - Thomas heads out into the woods one day, planning to just go on a bit of a nature walk. People have told him to stop and turn back when he comes across the line of flowers, but he doesn’t listen. He crosses them, only to suddenly succumb to a purple mist. When he wakes up, a tiny man with wings is flying above him, giving off a purple aura. And Thomas realizes he can’t move.