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natsaffection · 17 days ago

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Innocence. pt 1 | N.R

Older!Sargent!Natasha x Younger!Soldier! Reader

Warnings: None for now.

Word count: 5,1k

A/N: First of three parts is here! This one covers the very beginning, what we mostly go through during the first few days after leaving the comfort. The pacing might feel a bit slow while reading, but in person, it’s like you’ve already been there for weeks… and your body definitely isn’t thanking you.

The aircraft swayed just slightly with turbulence, but you barely noticed. You were sitting straight-backed in a seat along the right wall, harnessed in, hands resting atop your gear bag like you were afraid to let go of it. Your fingers itched with nerves, not the kind that made you panic, but the kind that made you wait. Watch. Think too much. You weren’t afraid. Not really. You were just…aware. Of everything.

The soldier across from you had his eyes closed, music bleeding faintly from one side of his headset, something with guitar, low and steady. Two others sat a few rows down, murmuring to each other over a bag of sunflower seeds, occasionally laughing too loud before catching themselves. One guy was bouncing his leg fast, his helmet tipped forward like a makeshift blindfold.

Everyone had a way to sit with their nerves. You just stayed still.

You watched the red glow of the overhead light paint everything in harsh shadow, hard edges on uniforms, tight lines across tense mouths. You could smell oil and canvas, gunmetal and worn leather. The air was dry, and warm. Somewhere far ahead, you knew the pilot was calling out distance markers. They were close.

And out there, already on the ground, already waiting..was her. Staff Sergeant Natasha Romanoff. Your new commanding officer. And the one woman you weren’t sure you knew how to impress…but desperately wanted to try.

Four Weeks Earlier

You stood stiffly at the desk, file in hand. The officer on the other side, some square-jawed sergeant you barely knew, was looking at you like he’d just broken bad news and didn’t want to say it twice.

“I’m sorry.” he said, “Aplha-One didn’t select you. High marks, yes. But they’ve got their own standards.”

You stared at the floor. Your mouth was dry. It wasn’t fair to cry, this was part of the game, you knew that..but still. You’d killed yourself for this unit. Two years of discipline, sweat, tests, sacrifices. Aloha-One was the goal.

“However…” he continued, sliding a second file toward you. “You scored extremely high in tactical reasoning and zero-error protocol under stress. Another team saw your data.”

You looked up slowly. “They want you in Echo 9. SSGT Romanoff’s division.”

Your fingers twitched on the edge of your folder. “Echo 9?”

“They don’t recruit often. But when they do, it’s for a reason. You caught someone’s attention.”

You hesitated. You’d heard the stories, Romanoff’s unit was covert, fast-moving, low profile. Their ops were real, and rarely spoken about.

Alpha-one had been the dream. But Echo 9? That was…something else. You blinked back the sting in your eyes and nodded. “I’ll take it.”

Back to Present

You rolled your shoulders gently. You kept looking at the door, the one that would open and spill you into dust, hot wind, and the start of whatever came next. You’d land near an isolated base camp in a desert region, you knew that much. Some recon op tied to sensitive cargo and possible extraction. High alert. Your first true deployment outside the wire.

Your chance to see her.

You’d only met twice, once during evaluation, and once during the fastest, coldest briefing you’d ever been through. Romanoff had scanned you like she already knew everything, your past, your stats, your tells. Like you’d already said enough by standing in front of her.

Two Weeks Ago

You were sitting cross-legged in the middle of your paper mess, balancing your tablet on one knee and typing with your thumb. A to-do list bloomed across the screen:

• Cancel lease

• Storage unit rental

• Forward mail to Mom

• Emergency contact

• Get tactical gloves (broken stitching)

• Sell old field jacket

Your fingers paused. You looked around the space, still half-lived in. Walls still had photos. Fridge still had magnets. The place didn’t feel like it was missing you yet. But you were already halfway gone.

A few hours later, your best friend Harlow came over to help you pack. You stuffed gear into crates and duffels, argued over which mugs to leave behind, and finally just collapsed onto the couch, still sweaty from lifting boxes.

“I can’t believe they picked you..” Harlow teased, nudging you.

You threw a pillow. “Screw off.”

“No, really. Romanoff? Echo 9? That’s wild. You’re gonna have stories.”

You smiled faintly. “If I come back with stories, it means I didn’t mess it up.”

Harlow looked at you. “You won’t mess it up. You’re meant for this.”

Back to Present

You let out a slow breath, fogging the air just slightly. Someone nearby tightened a strap; someone else cracked their knuckles.

Almost there. And somehow, in the middle of all this..the adrenaline, the altitude, the silence between heartbeats, you felt something else rise in your chest.

Pride.

With a sharp hiss, the hydraulic doors cracked open, and in the same instant, it hit you- The heat. It slammed into your face like a physical wall, dry, thick, pulsing with sun-baked intensity. Your breath caught for a moment, involuntarily. Not from shock, but from the weight of it. It wasn’t just hot, it was the kind of heat that crawled down the back of your neck, sat in your boots, and stole the moisture from your lungs.

You blinked, eyes adjusting to the brutal midday glare. The light was white. So bright the sand looked like it was glowing. A wasteland of tan and beige, mountains ghosting in the distance, like mirages wavering in the heat lines. Your boots clunked against the ramp as you followed the line of soldiers off the aircraft, dust already collecting around your ankles.

“Welcome to hell.” someone muttered behind you. You didn’t reply. You just kept walking, adrenaline mixing with sweat.

The group gathered in formation just beyond the landing zone, sweat already beginning to pool beneath gear not meant for this kind of sun. The tarmac shimmered. A breeze kicked up, hot and sharp with the scent of sand, diesel, and sweat. A tall man in a scorched tan uniform approached, clipboard in hand, sleeves rolled up, sunglasses hiding his eyes.

“Listen up!” he barked. The chatter died instantly. “Today’s the twelfth. It’s 122 degrees out. That’s forty-nine Celsius for you metric-lovers. Hydrate, don’t pass out. You’re not heroes if you collapse on Day One.”

Someone coughed behind you. A few nods. The air was too hot for anything more. The man paused, then added with a dry smirk, “Romanoff’s waiting at Command. You’ll meet her shortly.”

And just like that, the atmosphere shifted, not from the sun this time, but from the name. Romanoff.

You felt a twinge in your chest. Sharp, curious, alert. “She really as hot as they say?” someone to your left whispered under his breath. His voice was low, but not low enough.

“Oh, she’s more than hot..” another guy replied, cracking a grin. “They say she can kill a man and give him a boner at the same time.”

Several soldiers chuckled, their laughter quick, dirty, laced with the kind of bravado that only came when they thought they were out of earshot. Your jaw tensed. You didn’t know Natasha well, yet..but something about the casual, sexual tone made your stomach twist. This wasn’t the kind of place you joked like that. Not about your people.

Then, a silence. It didn’t come slowly. It snapped into place like a rope pulled tight. You turned just slightly. There she was.

Natasha was walking toward you, slow and composed, each step measured, boots kicking up puffs of dust in her wake. Her uniform fit like it was cut for her alone, sleeves rolled up, tags tucked in, not a wrinkle on her. She carried no visible weapon, but no one needed proof.

She was the weapon.

Every soldier in the group straightened, even those who didn’t realize they were doing it. And her eyes, flat, cold, and controlled, landed directly on the man who’d made the joke.

“Name?” she asked, voice like ice under fire.

The guy swallowed. “Uh…Private Miles, ma’am.”

She walked up to him. Close. Too close. Their boots were almost touching. You couldn’t see her eyes anymore, but you saw his. They widened a fraction. His shoulders stiffened. The grin was gone.

“Private Miles..” Natasha said softly, voice barely above a whisper, “if I ever hear you speak about another soldier that way again, especially one in my command, I will personally make sure your transfer home includes a medical dishonorable discharge, and a broken jaw to explain it.”

The air around you didn’t move. Even the breeze seemed to stop. Miles stood like a statue. No response. No breath.

“And if you’re wondering whether I’m ‘as hot as they say,’” she added, stepping just slightly closer, her tone a thread away from venom, “I suggest you test your theory in a combat scenario. I’d love to see how long you last.”

Then she stepped back. “Eyes front.”

The entire group snapped to attention. You felt your pulse in your throat. You hadn’t moved, hadn’t blinked. It was like watching lightning strike just beside you. Romanoff turned to face everyone now, still calm, still unreadable.

“I’m Staff Sergeant Romanoff.” she said, tone level, eyes scanning the line. “You’re now part of Echo 9. That means your record matters less than your performance. You are responsible for each other. If you want to act like civilians, I suggest you turn back now.”

No one moved.

“Training begins tomorrow at 0500 (5:00am). Briefing starts at 0430 (4:30 am) sharp. You’ll receive bunks and assignments from base command in the next ten minutes. Hydrate. Unpack. Do not be late.” She paused. “Dismissed.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked back toward the base structure, heat swirling behind her in shimmering waves.

No one spoke for a long time. You swallowed, throat dry as bone. You couldn’t tell if your heartbeat was from the sun, or from her.

The base wasn’t much to look at, a sprawl of beige and metal, containers turned into housing, makeshift fences, worn banners catching the wind like tired flags. The ground was cracked and sun-bleached, the heat radiating off the concrete like an invisible second sun.

You followed the thin trail of other soldiers toward the housing row. A clipboard had been shoved into your hands moments after Romanoff’s departure, listing your bunk number and clearance ID. A container near the outer edge. Far enough from command to feel temporary. Close enough to hear the weight in every bootstep.

When you reached it, you paused. The container was basic, standard military housing. Matte green. Bolted shut with a manual handle. But it was yours. At least for now. You lifted the latch and stepped inside. Cooler air hit your face immediately, not cold, but not scalding either. A cheap mercy.

Inside, there were two narrow bunks, one metal locker each, a shared footlocker in the center, and a cracked mirror bolted above a dented sink. Sparse, lived-in, but clean. And someone was already unpacking on the left side.

She was bent over her duffel, sorting through rolls of gauze, small vials, medical wraps, her dark hair pulled into a messy low bun. She looked up when you entered and grinned.

“You must be Y/l/n.”

You blinked. “Yeah. That’s me.”

The girl stood, wiping a smudge off her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m Rae. Rae Bishop. You snore, you die.”

You laughed, tension bleeding out of your shoulders almost instantly. “Fair enough.”

You shook hands, firm, quick. That unspoken military rhythm already forming. You tossed your bag onto the right bunk and began peeling off your outer vest, already feeling a small pool of sweat at the base of your spine.

Rae slid a canteen across the small desk toward you. “You look cooked. Drink.”

You did. It was warm, but water was water. “You infantry?” Rae asked, hopping up to sit on her bunk, boots still on.

“Combat operations.” you replied, settling on your own bunk and unlacing one boot. “Support and recon for Exho 9. You?”

“Medic.” Rae said, tapping the red cross patch on her shoulder. “Second rotation. Got here three weeks ago.”

You raised a brow. “So you’ve already survived Romanoff?”

Rae grinned. “Barely. She’s not as scary when she’s not slicing you open with her eyes. But yeah..she’s the real deal.”

You nodded. You knew that already. The image of Natasha walking through the dust, silencing that joke with only a look and a sentence, it was burned into you.

“What made you volunteer?” Rae asked.

You hesitated for a second. “Wasn’t my first choice. But this unit…feels like it might be the right one after all.”

Rae smiled knowingly. “Same.”

A knock at the metal door broke the moment. Three short raps. You exchanged a quick glance.

Rae swung the door open. Three guys stood outside, dusty, still geared-up, grinning. You recognized two of them from the aircraft. The third held a dented pack of cards in one hand and a pack of instant ramen in the other.

“Y/l/n..” the tallest one said, “we’re playing cards in the rec tent. You in?”

Rae raised an eyebrow and muttered, “Wow, no invite for me?”

“You don’t lose gracefully.” one of them shot back.

You hesitated. The memory of that crude joke on the tarmac flashed in your head. Your mouth tightened slightly, and you crossed your arms, thoughtful.

“I don’t usually hang out with people who make sex jokes about our CO.”

The smiles wavered, just for a second. One of the guys, younger than the rest, rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. That was Miles. He’s…well. He’s eating dinner alone tonight.”

The third guy nodded. “Look, no pressure. But you seemed chill. No one’s looking to mess around or anything. We’re just…unwinding.”

There was a beat of silence. The hot wind pushed dust across the open door. Inside, the cool air hummed. Then you sighed. “Alright. But if you deal me crap cards, I’m walking.”

Laughter broke out immediately, easy and welcome. Rae grinned and flopped back onto her bed. “Tell ‘em I taught you everything.”

The rec tent was barely lit, strings of mismatched bulbs hung along the corners, buzzing softly. Folding chairs surrounded a center table, already cluttered with cards, crumpled wrappers, and one old speaker playing lo-fi beats someone swore helped with morale.

You took a seat, your body still adjusting to the tempo of the place, the slight vibration of generators, the scent of old coffee, the shift in your nerves from edge to ease. You played three rounds. Lost one. Won two. Someone made fun of your poker face, or lack thereof, and you shot back with a sarcastic quip that made Rae snort water through her nose.

They didn’t talk about Romanoff again. They didn’t talk about war, or blood, or fear. Just music. Home. The taste of actual food. The way sand got everywhere. Laughter felt strange at first — awkward and too loud in the open air, but then it settled in like warmth.

Before you knew it, the sky outside the rec tent had turned from gold to steel blue. Then to black.

0500 Hours

The alarm pierced the air like a bullet. You flinched upright in your bunk, adrenaline kicking before your brain caught up. Your heart was hammering. For a second, you had no idea where you were.

The room was still dark, bathed in faint blue light from the small LED clock bolted to the wall. Your eyes tracked across the plain metal ceiling. The thin sheets twisted around your legs. The sound of Rae breathing across the room. Dust floating through a stream of early light filtering between the blinds.

Then, heat. That dry, ever-present warmth, already crawling in through the container’s thin insulation. The heavy scent of sand and sweat. The sound of footsteps, boots outside the wall. A voice barking out a name. A door slamming.

Camp.

Deployment.

It came back all at once. You exhaled and scrubbed a hand over your face. The ache in your spine was from the unforgiving bunk. The itch on your skin? Dust. Always dust.

You dressed quickly, muscle memory already forming after a single day. Tactical undershirt. Lightweight fatigues. Boots laced to regulation tightness. Canteen clipped, ID tags tucked, comm unit ready.

Rae stirred behind you. “Tell Romanoff I’m alive..” she muttered, voice rough with sleep.

You smirked. “No promises.”

You stepped out into the early dawn air. The sky was a hazy pink, sun just starting to rise over the distant ridges. Heat was already forming, like a warning curled around the horizon.

The training yard was a square of cracked earth and sandbags. Half the unit was already assembled, some stretching, others checking weapons or reviewing briefing notes on slim tablets. Conversations were low, sparse, and cautious.

You spotted Martinez, Johnson, a few others. Miles stood off to the side, arms crossed, avoiding everyone’s eyes. A knot of anticipation hung in the air.

Then.. “She’s here.”

Every head turned. Natasha walked across the yard with zero wasted movement. Black tactical vest over sun-bleached fatigues, combat boots spitting dust behind her. Hair tied back. Calm, controlled. Not out of breath. Not rushed. She stopped dead center.

“Morning.” she said. One word. It hit harder than any shout. Everyone straightened.

“You’ll be split between physical combat, strategy, survival theory, and behavior conditioning. Yes, it’s hot. Yes, it’s early. No, I don’t care. This unit doesn’t carry excuses.”

She turned toward a group of soldiers. “First pair-up. Hand-to-hand.” She scanned them once, then landed on her target.

“Miles.”

He stepped forward stiffly. She waited.

“…Ma’am?”

“I said combat sparring. Step up.”

He did. Hesitant. You felt the buzz ripple through the unit. Everyone knew exactly what this was about. Then Natasha looked at you.

“Y/l/n. You’re with him.”

Your stomach flipped, but not in fear. Your fingers twitched at your sides. Excitement, fire, something warm rising in your chest. You stepped forward, facing Miles.

He frowned. “We’re doing this for real?”

Natasha tilted her head, expression unreadable. “Unless you’d prefer to sit this out.”

He flinched, barely, but got into a ready stance. Defensive. Hesitant. His center of gravity too high. You didn’t wait. You stepped in, low and fast. A feint to the right, testing him. He flinched. His hands came up late.

Then he swept under, pivoted his foot..And stopped. He didn’t finish the strike.

But Natasha did. In a blink, she stepped in from the side, grabbed Miles by the collar with one hand, and drove her knee hard between his legs. The sound he made wasn’t even a word. He crumpled, knees buckling, face contorting in shocked pain as he hit the dirt.

A beat of silence. Natasha turned, looking directly at the rest of the men. Voice like ice melting on steel. “Women are underestimated in combat more often than I can count. Happens in the field. Happens in training. But do it in my unit, and you’ll learn the difference between cocky and unconscious.”

She didn’t smile. Not exactly. Just a slow, razor-edged smirk as she turned to you. “Well done. Switch partners.”

Training settled into a brutal rhythm. Mornings began with sparring and PT, climbing walls, crawling through obstacle courses, sprinting under the punishing heat. By midday, it was tactical theory. Sand-tables, holographic maps, mission simulations. Natasha drilled you on terrain advantage, split-second decisions, blind recon.

“Enemies don’t come at you clean.” she said once, pointer hovering over a digital battlefield. “They come when your boots are stuck in mud and your comms are down. Think beyond perfect conditions.”

Afternoons were dedicated to behavior conditioning. How to read a room. Spot a liar. Break a pattern. It wasn’t just about physical training, it was mental warfare.

One session was held in a metal container rigged with sound loops and flashing lights. Designed to simulate chaos. You had to complete logic tests under pressure.

You nearly failed the first time, until Natasha stood behind you and said, calmly, “Breathe slower. Find the rhythm. You control your mind, or the mission controls you.”

By the third day, you were keeping pace. Faster. Sharper. And more confident. The soldiers around you began to notice. Some nodded as they passed. Rae snuck you protein bars and coffee tablets. Even Martinez, cocky and sarcastic, offered to swap gear tips.

Miles? Still avoiding eye contact. You didn’t mind. Not when every sunrise started with that burst of nerves, and every night ended with sore muscles, heavy lungs, and the knowledge that you belonged here more than you ever did anywhere else.

DAY 6

The room was built to look like an alleyway. Cracked walls. Sandbags. Smoke machines filling the air with grit and haze. Speakers embedded in the ceiling blared distant gunfire and shouting, sirens wailing in timed bursts. The simulation chamber was used for high-stress ops training, strategy under pressure, team maneuvering, and live tactical decisions. Everything tracked. Every shot. Every step. Every second.

You crouched low, rifle to your shoulder, sweat soaking your collar. Your breath was fast, lungs burning. You moved with your unit through the mock-up street, Rae trailing you with med gear, Martinez and Johnson flanking either side.

Target: secure a civilian in the “hot zone” evacuate to the south extraction point. Simple, on paper. But nothing ever was.

You breached the second corner, cleared the breach, and..You froze.

Two silhouettes appeared behind a scrim of smoke. Civilian or hostile? You hesitated. Your fingers tensed on the trigger. Your brain tried to assess. The figures move-

And then everything went to hell. A simulated blast went off. Too close. Too loud. Martinez dropped, “wounded.” Rae got separated. A red strobe light flashed across the chamber, symbolic of a “critical failure” in evac timing.

It was over. Simulation terminated. The smoke cleared slowly, the lights steadying. Soldiers blinked in the false dawn of debrief lighting as the system powered down. You ripped your goggles off, chest heaving. Your hands were shaking. Not from fear.

From frustration. Natasha walked in, tablet in hand. Her expression unreadable. She let the silence linger. Then she looked up, eyes slicing through the group like scalpels.

“Everyone out.” she said flatly, not looking at anyone but you. “Except Y/l/n.”

The others filed out silently. Rae gave you a small glance. Not pity. Just understanding. When the door closed, Natasha walked closer. Not looming. Just…present. You stood straighter, trying to lock your jaw. Waiting.

“I want you to explain what happened.” Natasha said.

You hesitated. “I hesitated at the corner. I.. I didn’t want to misfire. The shapes weren’t clear-”

“They weren’t clear?” Natasha repeated, voice cold. “You’ve run that drill four times. You know the shape of that alley. You know what cover looks like from thirty meters. And you froze.”

You swallowed. “Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

“Why?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. “I.. didn’t trust myself.” you admitted. Quiet.

Natasha nodded once. A slow, deliberate motion. Then she stepped forward until you were almost eye to eye.

“If this had been real..” she said softly, “Martinez would have bled out before Rae could get to him. You would’ve lost your right leg to that blast. And your hesitation would’ve put your entire team in body bags.”

Every word was a scalpel. No yelling. No rage. Just cold truth. You didn’t speak.

“You don’t get to be unsure out there.” Natasha said. “Not when people are counting on you. Not when seconds mean survival. If you doubt yourself again, do it on your own time. Not mine.”

She turned away. Walked two steps. Then stopped. “But…”

You blinked.

“…you still identified the pattern before the system ended the sim. You saw the angle of the shooter. You started moving to block Rae’s exit. That means your instincts are right. You just didn’t trust them.”

Another long pause. “I want you in my class this afternoon. Behavioral split-second response training. Two hours.”

You nodded. “Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

“And Y/l/n?”

“…Yes?”

“If you ever freeze like that again, I’ll personally send you back home with a thank-you card and a slap for wasting my time.”

Your mouth twitched. The sharpest edge of a grin. “Understood.”

DAY 11

The room buzzed with quiet suffering. The overhead lights flickered in that sickly yellow way that only military bulbs seemed to manage. Dust drifted lazily through the stale air. Everyone was slouched somewhere, against the walls, over the table, heads resting in hands, boots half unlaced beneath chairs. Not a single soul was upright by choice.

You sat near the end of the long table, chin propped in one hand, trying to pretend you weren’t blinking longer than you should.

Your thighs still burned from morning PT. Your knuckles were bruised from combat drills. Your brain was a fog of unfinished sleep and half-digested ration bars. Even your boots felt heavy. Like they’d been dipped in cement.

Rae, sitting next to you, looked dead-eyed at her half-full notebook. Johnson was using his own notepad as a pillow. Martinez had a cold pack wedged under his shirt, muttering something about “inhumane training laws” under his breath.

You were wrecked. And no one dared to say it out loud.

The door opened. And just like that, the room snapped into shape. Natasha walked in with a slow, unreadable expression. She didn’t bark a command. Didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.

Her presence alone was a straight line drawn through chaos. Her expression unreadable, calm, but not soft. Alert. A storm in waiting. She walked past all of you without a word and hoisted herself up to sit on the table directly in front of the class , boots planted wide, elbows on knees.

The silence grew dense. Then, slowly, she looked at you. One by one. Not judging. Measuring. You sat straighter. Your heart, despite exhaustion, thudded once. Hard.

She reached for the remote and pressed a button. The screen behind her flickered to life. A drone shot filled the screen, a wide, aerial view of an arid landscape. Cracked land. A village reduced to fragments of stone and splinters. Roofs caved in. A single road, broken with impact craters, carved through what used to be homes.

Everything changed in the room. The fog of exhaustion evaporated. Spines straightened. Eyes locked forward. No one moved. Not even to breathe.

“This..” Natasha said, her voice low, “is the village of Qasira. Forty-seven clicks east of this base. Population, formerly nine hundred. Current? Unknown.”

She let that sit for a second before continuing. “Three days ago, an insurgent convoy passed through the area. They were hit mid-transit. Likely an airstrike from a local faction. Civilians were caught in the crossfire. Local med teams are moving in now. You’re going with them.”

The screen shifted to a satellite map. Pinpoints. Movement indicators. Roads. “This isn’t a combat op. It’s a secure-and-monitor. Your job is to escort, establish perimeter, and provide overwatch while the medics assist the injured and collect survivors.”

Her voice was firm, but there was something in her eyes , a warning, subtle but sharp. “You will be met with three types of people.” she continued. “Those who are glad to see you. Those who resent you. And those who hate you outright. All of them will be scared. Some will be armed. Some won’t.”

Rae swallowed softly next to you.

“You do not fire unless fired upon.” Natasha said. “You do not engage unless absolutely necessary. If someone spits at you, you walk. If someone screams at you, you listen. You are not here to escalate. You are here to protect the people doing their jobs.”

Another click. A street-level image filled the screen, caved-in houses, burnt-out windows, children standing in the rubble, watching the drone.

Your throat tightened.

“This is what real missions look like.” Natasha said, quieter now. “It’s not always bullets and body armor. Sometimes it’s holding a perimeter while someone bleeds out two feet away from you. Sometimes it’s walking past a woman crying over what used to be her kitchen.”

She looked at all of you. And this time, there was no cold edge. Just steel. Steady and unwavering.

“You need to be better than your instincts. You need to be professional, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

A pause. “We leave at 0700 (7am).”

With that, she stood, clicked off the screen, and stepped down. Then, she turned back.

“Gear up. No mistakes.”

The silence lingered after she left. It wasn’t fear. It was something sharper. Something real. You exhaled, slow, as if the weight of the next phase had finally landed on your chest.

Part 2

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captainmalewriter · 6 months ago

Text

Made to Order

Franco pulled up to the apartment building of his latest client. He parked his car along the street and sent his client a quick text letting him know he had arrived. Franco then pulled out a pair of earphones from the glove compartment, connected them to his phone’s jack port, and put them on. He then booted up a survey app. It greeted him with a light blue screen and a ‘Hello!’ in a British accent.

“Let’s see what kind of guy this dude paid good money to bang…” Franco muttered to himself as he pulled up the list of responses from the survey he sent to his clients. He scrolled to the latest data entry and skimmed it over. A grin formed on his face as he read it.

“Alright then! No time like the present, let’s get to work.”

He downloaded the data entry into his phone’s local storage and composed it into an audio file. Once it was ready, Franco pressed ‘play’ and leaned back in his seat as the makeshift music began to fill his ears. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind of any and all thoughts, allowing the music to submerge his mind and body with powerful subliminal messaging.

Gender: Male. Age: 24. Height: 6’4” ft. Weight: 170 lbs.

Franco groaned as a cold chill ran up his spine. As he grew taller and heavier, the muscles in his legs rapidly flexed and relaxed.

“Ohhh… Fuckk man…”

Franco couldn’t help but massage his aching body as he began to physically transform. He became hyper-aware of how his body felt and moved, which made touching his sensitive skin with his warm hands all the more pleasurable as it gradually changed. Franco moved the car seat back, as he needed the extra space to accommodate his sudden growth spurt. He gained several inches of height and about 30 pounds until he matched the size his client had requested.

Hair Color: Brown. Eye Color: Green. Facial Hair? Mustache only. Body Hair? Yes.

The next few details of Franco’s client’s request rang in his ear and reverberated throughout his body. He gripped the sides of his seat as he felt his body working overtime to pump out heavy quantities of hormones. He winced in pain as his dark brown eyes changed colors. They became lighter and lighter in hue until they were a brilliant shade of green that glimmered in the sunlight.

Franco’s hair was next to transform. The straight, black hair on his head grew lighter and curlier until he had wavy, brown hair. The skin on Franco’s upper lip tingled and itched as the hair follicles began rapidly growing in. Franco let out a heavy moan as his mustache hairs kept growing and growing until he had a thick mustache that hung over his lips. Once he had the right mustache, his underarm hair began growing, too. Franco only had a light dusting of pit hair, but thanks to his strange audio files, he could grow well past his natural limits. His armpit hair grew longer and thicker until he had a jungle of brown pit hair in his underarms. His pit hair had become so long that it even peeked out when Franco had his arms down!

Ethnicity: Mexican. Language: Spanish, or English w/ Accent.

Franco let out a sigh of relief as he heard the next three lines of the audio file. Thankfully, the next transformation would be more mental than physical, which gave Franco a chance to take a quick breather.

He relaxed against the headrest as the audio file echoed inside his mind. The more Franco heard his client’s preferences, the more his psyche changed to match his request. Suddenly, Franco was no longer a middle aged man from Midwest U.S.A. but a young Mexican man who had only recently immigrated into the country. His mind became filled with all sorts of new knowledge surrounding his Mexican heritage and culture, such as the Spanish language.

“Mmm… Que rico…” Franco purred sensually as his throat muscles broadened and his vocal cords thickened, granting him the heavy accent his client had requested. The audio file also gave him a deeper voice too. Although that detail was more for Franco’s personal enjoyment than anything else.

But despite his newfound knowledge, there was only one thing the newly transformed Franco desired: to fuck as many men as physically possible. There was nothing he loved more than seeing a man pressed down against a pillow as he railed them to the next Tuesday. Just the thought of a man’s bubble butt swallowing his dick was enough to make him start leaking.

Size: 7.5 inches. Breed: Dom top. Body odor: YES.

While Franco was busy relishing his new voice and fantasizing about his next bottom, the next line of the audio file played, triggering the final piece of the transformation. Franco threw his head back as the next wave of bodily sensations caught him off guard. He let out loud, guttural groans as his manhood grew obscenely erect until it filled in his underwear. Franco massaged his sensitive, throbbing member as it grew longer and fatter than what he originally had. Before he knew it, Franco’s new endowment ripped the fabric of his briefs. His dick sprang to life like it was just begging to be released and played with as soon as possible!

Franco wrapped his hand around his new dick and gave himself a few strokes just to test out his new tool. As he did so, a rank smell began to fill his car. It was sweaty, smelly, and addicting. That scent was none other than his natural body odor but kicked up to 100%. With the windows rolled down, Franco was becoming hot-boxed off his own tantalizing smell. Not that it really bothered him, as he was too busy admiring the glorious sight of his new, hung cock standing at full mast with a healthy bush of thick pubes to complete the look.

A tap on the window interrupted Franco’s moment of self-admiration. He glanced over and saw his client watching him with hungry eyes and a hand stuffed down his pants. Franco smirked, then rolled down his window.

“Hola papacito. ¿Te gusto?” Franco flexed his arms and winked at his client. The man nodded vigorously like a dog begging for a juicy steak. Then, he took a heavy whiff of Franco’s potent body odor and sighed, satisfied.

“I can’t wait any longer! C’mon, let’s get you inside!!”

Franco grinned. He loved the whiny sound of a man begging to get fucked. He tossed his phone and earphones to the side and followed his client up to his apartment, where he proceeded to show him the dom Mexican top he requested to fuck him hard and raw. Another man made to order, another man satisfied.

#male transformation #male tf #male shapeshift #mental change #race change #tf by tech #pit tf

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deliciousangelfestival · 7 months ago

Text

He's A Killer

Summary: She’s known among her family and friends for being single, and everyone worries about her. Determined to prove them wrong, she finally makes her first move, only to discover that the person she likes is dangerous.

The second part : He's The Sweetest

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The emergency room of St. Grace Medical Center buzzes with activity. Doctors and nurses move swiftly, handling patients with precision. Voices blur together in the chaos, and the sharp scent of antiseptic fills the air.

You're inside the medical storage room, scanning shelves for the supplies the doctor requested: syringes, tubes, and medication vials. Besides, you is Clara, your co-worker and friend, busy sorting through trays.

"I told you I had that family dinner, right?" you say, picking up a pack of syringes.

"Yeah, how was it?" Clara asks, not looking up from the tray she's organizing.

“Dreadful. Dreadful. Dreadful,” you reply, shaking your head in exasperation.

Clara glances at you, a smirk forming. "Wow, three times? That bad, huh?"

The memory flashes through your mind: Sunday, family dinner. You sit across from your aunts, who seem more interested in your love life than the meal.

"Your mom’s worried about you, you know," one of your aunts says between bites. "She didn't tell you because she's afraid of hurting your feelings," another aunt adds. "You’re already over 30; the clock is ticking." "My friend’s son works at the oil company. I could get his contact if you want. He’s a good catch."

Back in the storage room, Clara's voice breaks through your thoughts. "Well, you probably won’t like this, but your aunt’s kinda right. I mean, bestie, I’m only saying this because I care about you."

You hum, trying to keep your focus on entering patient data into the system. Clara means well, but the topic is starting to get old.

“Honey, you’re a great friend and an amazing co-worker. Everyone here relies on you because you’re so reliable. You know why?” Clara’s voice softens as she leans in. “Because you’re single. You don’t have someone waiting for you, or someone to hang out with on Saturdays and Sundays.”

You freeze for a moment, glancing up at her with raised eyebrows.

“Please, go out and talk to someone," she continues. "You've been single for way too long. You deserve some love, girl. It’s not like you need to get married right away.”

Clara shudders, as if the thought gives her chills. “No, not at all! Just, you know, make friends first?” She winks playfully before gathering a tray of supplies and heading out to assist the doctor.

Alone in the storage room, you sigh, leaning against the counter for a moment. Clara means well, but every time someone offers to introduce you to someone, it irks you. You know you’ve been single for a long time—your whole life, really—but it’s not that you don’t want a relationship.

It’s complicated.

You've seen too many relationships fall apart. Your parents, your aunts, your cousins—all their stories weigh on you. The cheating, the abuse, the constant reminders from your cousins: “Don’t get married.” It’s no wonder you’re hesitant.

But what stings the most is finding out your father, who you always thought was a devoted husband, had cheated on your mom. That betrayal shaped your fears. You don’t want to end up like her—trapped in a painful, one-sided marriage.

Part of you is scared of commitment, scared of getting hurt. But another part of you craves it—a real connection. The irony of it all is that the same aunts pushing you to settle down are stuck in abusive marriages themselves. It’s almost comedic, in a sad, twisted way.

You shake your head, pushing the thoughts aside as you gather the last of the supplies.

🐼🐼🐼🐼🐼

Working at ER felt like living in a whirlwind. You rarely went home, often staying for almost 24 hours at a time. The chaos of patients coming in with life-threatening injuries, doctors shouting orders, and the constant rush to save lives left you drained but fulfilled. When you finally had a day off, there was only one thing you looked forward to—visiting the zoo to see your favorite animal: the panda. 🐼

You’ve always had a soft spot for pandas. Something about their calm, slow movements and gentle nature soothed you. The baby panda, in particular, had become your little escape. Watching it tumble around, clumsily explore, or nibble on bamboo always brought you a sense of peace. You had its appearances memorized on your schedule since it wasn’t allowed out every day.

Today was one of those rare days off, and you made your way to the zoo, excited to see the baby panda. But when you arrived, the mood shifted. A zoo employee stood in front of the panda enclosure, addressing the crowd of disappointed families.

“Sorry folks, the panda viewing has been rescheduled. We have made an announcement on our social media last week—we worked on it all night, without sleep.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. Without sleep? Try handling an ER at peak hours. Annoyed but resigned, you sighed and checked the next available viewing time. As the crowd started dispersing, one person caught your attention.

A tall man stood at the panda window, his broad shoulders slumped in disappointment. He sighed deeply before turning around. That’s when your eyes met. It wasn’t intentional, but the sudden connection caught you off guard. Quickly, you bowed your head and hurried away, feeling your cheeks warm from the brief moment.

The next day, you returned to the zoo, and this time, the baby panda was out. You joined the crowd, eager to see your favorite animal. The baby panda was as adorable as ever, tumbling clumsily around its habitat. You found yourself smiling, the sight of it immediately calming your busy mind. But as you glanced around, you saw him again—the tall man from yesterday. He was also watching the panda, just as captivated as the rest of the crowd.

The panda display ended too soon, and just as you were about to leave, the sky opened up and rain started pouring. The panda enclosure was far from the main entrance, and there was no shelter nearby. Luckily, you always carried an umbrella. As you received a message from the hospital calling you in for an emergency, you saw other visitors quickly opening their umbrellas and leaving one by one.

Soon, it was just you and the tall man left in the rain.

You noticed him glancing at his watch, pacing back and forth like he was debating whether to make a run for it. His indecision made you smile. He clearly wasn’t prepared for the weather. Without thinking much of it, you walked up to him, holding out your umbrella.

“Ehm,” you said, voice slightly raised over the sound of the rain. “Want to walk to the gate together?”

His eyes flicked to the umbrella in your hand before he gave you a small smile. “Thank you,” he said, stepping under it with you.

The walk was quiet, the sound of the rain drumming on the umbrella louder than any conversation you might have had. It should have felt awkward—after all, you were strangers—but the rain filled the silence. He stayed close to your side, even leaning a little toward you to make sure you weren’t getting wet. You noticed his left side was already damp, but he didn’t seem to care. Is he a gentleman? you wondered as you both continued walking.

When you finally reached the entrance, you closed your umbrella. The man pointed toward the parking lot. “My car’s pretty far,” he said, glancing toward the rain-soaked lot.

“I’ve got to go too,” you replied, showing him your phone. “I booked a car from the app. It should be here soon.”

He nodded, still standing close. You hesitated for a moment, then held out the umbrella to him. “Here. Take this. It’s better than running through the rain.”

He blinked in surprise, looking down at the umbrella. “How do I return this to you?”

You smiled, shrugging lightly. “It’s alright. I have more. But… if you really want to return it, you can find me at the hospital E.R. St. Grace Medical Center.”

His lips curled into a small smile, a flash of warmth in his eyes. “Alright then, the hospital. I’ll remember that.”

Before he could say anything more, your car pulled up. You gave him one last smile, ducking into the back seat, and as you drove off, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d see him again.

🐼🐼🐼🐼

The night shift at St. Grace Medical Center had just begun, but unlike most nights, the ER was unusually quiet. A handful of patients sat in the waiting area, the usual chaos replaced by a lull. The soft beeping of monitors filled the air, interrupted occasionally by the rustle of paperwork or a distant cough.

Clara, your ever-observant co-worker, stood beside you, arms crossed, her brow raised in curiosity. "You look different tonight. What’s going on?" She tilted her head, smirking slightly.

You paused, your lips twitching into a small smile. "Well… I met this guy when I went to see my favorite panda."

Clara’s smirk grew wide. “Ah, the fluffy black and white mammals. So, what makes this guy more special than your favorite animal?”

You were about to answer when a loud commotion broke out near the entrance. A drunk patient stumbled through the doors, yelling incoherently, bumping into chairs, and causing a scene.

“Perfect timing,” you muttered under your breath.

Clara groaned. "Here we go."

You both rushed over to try and calm him down. He was clearly in no state to be reasoned with, slurring his words and swaying dangerously as he tried to grab hold of another patient’s wheelchair.

“Sir, you need to sit down,” you said, holding up your hands in a calming gesture.

The man blinked at you, confused, then suddenly lunged forward, trying to grab your arm. Panic surged through you, but before he could make contact, a firm hand caught the drunk man's wrist.

"That's enough," a deep voice said from behind you.

You turned around, startled to see him—the man from the zoo. The one who borrowed your umbrella. He stood tall, his grip firm but not aggressive as he guided the drunk man back into a chair. The drunk patient, surprised by the sudden interference, mumbled something incoherent but didn’t resist.

Relief washed over you, and you let out a shaky breath. “Thanks. That could’ve gotten ugly.”

He gave you a soft smile. “It’s quiet here,” he said casually.

You quickly shook your head, eyes widening. “Don’t say that! You’ll jinx it.”

He chuckled at your reaction, then glanced down at your name tag. “Y/N, huh? Nice to meet you. I’m James Barnes, but most people call me Bucky.”

You blinked, feeling the warmth of his smile seep into you. "Nice to meet you too… Bucky."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a familiar item—your umbrella. “Sorry I’m late returning this. Thanks again for letting me borrow it.”

You grinned, feeling a bit of your usual humor return. “Hey, as panda lovers, we have to help each other out, right?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to dig a hole and hide in it. Did I really just say that?

To your surprise, Bucky laughed—a genuine, warm sound. “You’re right. We do.” Then, as if to return the favor for your kindness, he pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “Actually, I have something for you.”

You furrowed your brows, confused, until you unfolded the paper. Your eyes widened in disbelief—it was a VIP ticket for a face-to-face panda experience, something you had only dreamed about.

“What? How did you get this?” you asked, astonished.

Bucky smiled, a little mischievously. “I’ve got some connections.”

Before you could fully process what had just happened, Bucky waved and left the hospital. As soon as he was out of sight, Clara whistled softly behind you.

“Well, well, well,” she teased, her tone dripping with amusement. “Is someone making panda dates now?”

You rolled your eyes, though a blush crept up your cheeks. "It’s not like that, Clara."

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, her eyes twinkling. “I’m sure it’s all innocent.”

The next day, you found yourself back at the zoo, clutching your VIP ticket nervously. And there he was again—Bucky, standing near the entrance, waiting for you.

“Hey,” he greeted you with that same easy smile.

“Hey,” you replied, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest. The two of you walked together into the building, and soon, the moment you'd been waiting for arrived: you were face to face with the baby panda.

Both of you were silent as the tiny creature waddled toward you. The panda was as adorable as you had imagined, its soft fur and curious little eyes making your heart melt. Bucky stood next to you, just as captivated. When the panda let out a small squeak, you both exchanged a glance, wide-eyed, before grinning like kids.

As you held the baby panda for a brief moment, you felt all the exhaustion from your long shifts melt away. It was like a small pocket of happiness you hadn’t realized you needed. You could hear Bucky chuckling softly beside you, clearly sharing the same sentiment.

“Why pandas?” he asked softly after a while, turning to look at you.

You shrugged, smiling. “They’re just… calming. Whenever I’m tired from the hospital or life, looking at them helps. It’s like all the stress just melts away.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully, his gaze still on the baby panda. “I get it. My job is… well, it’s tiring. Dangerous too. But seeing animals like this, being cuddled, living peacefully—it helps. Makes me feel like there’s still good out there.”

You glanced at him curiously, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. “Sounds like a tough job,” you said carefully.

Bucky smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah… it can be.”

It's his turn to hold and cuddle the baby panda, and the sight is nothing short of heartwarming. The little creature, with its round face and soft, fuzzy coat, snuggles into his arms as he cradles it gently. Bucky’s eyes light up with a mix of joy and awe, his broad smile breaking through his usually composed demeanor. He chuckles softly, a sound that resonates with warmth, as the panda nuzzles against his chest, completely at ease.

There’s a brief pause, the kind that feels heavy with something unsaid, as he shifts his gaze from the panda to you. The moment stretches out, filled with unspoken tension.

Then, suddenly, he turns toward you, a hint of awkwardness creeping into his expression. “You know… if you’re not busy sometime, maybe we could grab a coffee? Or dinner, maybe?” His cheeks flush slightly, as if he’s unsure how his invitation will be received, but the sincerity in his eyes reveals his hopefulness.

Your heart skipped a beat. His voice was casual, but there was a hint of nervousness behind it, which made it all the more endearing.

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “I’d like that.”

His face lit up, the awkward tension lifting. “Great,” he said, looking almost relieved. “I’ll, uh, message you then?”

“Yeah,” you replied, feeling the beginnings of a connection you hadn’t expected. “I’d like that a lot.”

🐼🐼🐼🐼

Your relationship with Bucky started innocently enough, bonding over your shared love for pandas and animals. What began as casual conversations about your common interests slowly grew deeper. The two of you spent more time together, texting throughout the day, meeting for coffee, or watching movies late into the night. It wasn’t long before you started spending nights at each other’s places. The closeness felt natural, and his easygoing demeanor made you feel safe.

Clara, of course, couldn’t resist teasing you about it. One evening during a shift, she shot you a knowing look. “You know,” she began with a smirk, “you should introduce him to your family. I bet his shadow alone could shut them up.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "One step at a time, Clara. I don't want him to run away after meeting my family."

Over time, your relationship with Bucky deepened, and intimacy followed. You spent nights at his apartment, and he did the same at yours. The affection between you two was comfortable and warm. Bucky worked as a contractor, which sometimes took him out of town for a while. That’s why, one day, he handed you the key to his apartment with a smile.

“Keep it,” he said. “Just in case you need to check on Alpine.”

Alpine was his cat, a fluffy white ball of fur who quickly won your heart. You adored her, and it was easy to see why Bucky did too.

One day, on your day off, you decided to spend the afternoon at Bucky’s place. It was quiet and cozy, perfect for unwinding after a long week. His salary as a contractor must be high enough that he can afford this house.

Alpine was curled up on your lap as you sat on the couch, absentmindedly stroking her soft fur. The gentle purrs coming from her were soothing.

Suddenly, Alpine’s ears perked up, and before you knew it, she jumped from your lap and padded over to the bookshelf. You watched curiously as she stretched her paws toward one of the shelves.

“What are you up to, little one?” you murmured, getting up to see what had caught her attention. As you reached out to move a book, you heard a soft click. Before you could react, the bookshelf started to shift, revealing a hidden door.

Your heart raced as you hesitated for a moment, but when Alpine darted through the opening, you knew you couldn’t just leave her. Steeling your nerves, you stepped inside.

The room you entered was nothing like the cozy, homey apartment you knew. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the scene before you. Guns lined the walls, various types of explosives were neatly arranged on shelves, and papers filled with detailed information were pinned to a whiteboard. It looked like something straight out of a spy movie—except it wasn’t a movie. It was real.

“When I finally make a move, turns out the man I like is a killer,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you picked up Alpine and quickly backed out of the room. You closed the secret door, your mind racing.

What do I do now?

You paced back and forth in the living room, your heart pounding in your chest. Your thoughts spiraled as you tried to process what you had just seen. Finally, in a panic, you grabbed your phone and dialed Clara.

After a couple of rings, her voice came through, light and cheery. “Yo, girls, what’s up?”

You swallowed hard, still clutching Alpine close to you. “Clara…”

“Yeah?” Her tone shifted slightly, sensing something was off.

You whispered into the phone, your voice shaky as you held Alpine close to your chest, “I think my boyfriend is a hitman."

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@missvelvetsstuff

Extras:

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ms-demeanor · 4 months ago

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Maybe I should wait for the PDF, but I’ve been thinking about password managers lately and might forget to check for that. My problem is that if there’s one thing I want to never ever put on the cloud to potentially get compromised, it’s my password information. But if there’s one thing I don’t want to lose access to, it’s also my password information. This seems to rule out both local options like KeePassXC and remote ones like Bitwarden.

I've started to become somewhat annoyed by the "there is no cloud, there is only someone else's computer" thing (this is a general thing, not specifically directed at you but you reminded me of it).

The risks of putting things on the cloud are that the internet or the provider will go down and you'll lose access to your data OR that the data will be compromised because the information is essentially public because it's on someone else's device.

Losing access because the provider crashes and burns or because there is a global internet outage is a distinct possibility, however with most password managers it is very very easy to download a copy of your data, which you can then store as an encrypted file on your desktop.

With companies like Bitwarden and Proton, which have open source encrypted cloud storage, your risk of compromise from being on someone else's computer is essentially zero. It IS important to make sure that you're finding a provider who is actually encrypting your shit and is not holding onto your password, which is why Bitwarden and Proton are the providers I keep recommending (privacyguides.org has recommendations here; bitwarden, protonpass, and keepassxc are all on the list, all of these are extremely safe options).

And that's where I have the problem with the "other people's computer" thing. I would have zero problems with storing a properly encrypted file in the comments of a facebook page. If a document had good encryption I would post it on livejournal and not worry about people getting into it. If you are working with good encryption, there is zero risk of compromise when keeping your shit on someone else's computer.

So I actually think the solution for either side of this conundrum is the same: If you're worried about losing access to your password manager because a service shuts down or the internet blows up, download a copy of your data to your desktop and store it in an encrypted folder on your computer. If you're worried about losing access to your password manager if your physical hardware is damaged in a disaster, export a copy of your data, save it as an encrypted file, and upload your encrypted file to gmail for all it matters - they will straight up not be able to get into it.

But that's also all kind of beside the point because a major feather in Bitwarden's cap is that you can self-host. It doesn't need to go on someone else's cloud, you can put it on your own server and never worry that someone else is going to tinker with your password manager.

Either way, you are sort of worrying beyond your means because if you're not using a password manager right now you are almost certainly at greater risk of credential stuffing attacks than anything else and need to put out that fire.

Anyway if you're at Harvey Mudd have you tried Dr. Grubbs across from where Rhino used to be? Everything on the menu is great but there is this jalapeño garlic sauce they've got to go with their mains that is so good that I want like two gallons of it.

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pr0ng3ls · 6 days ago

Text

ITS MAY YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS

FISH

That's right! I've got bois for this Mermay!! I don't have their faces just yet, but they'll be getting their own sheets very soon with each getting a post. When I have them posted, I'll link them here!

Sun

Moon

Eclipse

Basic info on this AU:

- Semi hibernate? Their burrow is large enough for the three of them to curl up with one another and call it good for few months. Sun on repeat is the first to wake. He likes chewing on the ice for frozen fish

- NONE OF THESE FUCKERS ARE REMOTELY RELATED

- Moon is really the only one with the Crescent motif due to scarring

- these three are not very good with human interactions due to past instances with the older generations

- Our MC is a bit more sensitive things that should hurt or inconvenience them is going to make them upset

- Gonna do my best to keep it ambiguous, tho any smut writing I do will be AFAB cause I'm a baby and still getting comfortable with writing AMAB smut be gentle with me ;u;

MC Information:

- Bought the lake house to continue personal hobby of photography

- works remote from home on data entry

- Will remain mostly ambiguous through story, but is AFAB

- Goes by They/Them

- Vague backstory, allows reader to more seamlessly insert themselves in (Was raised in the area so its not completely alien to them)

Property Information:

- House is a 3 br 2 bth

- rather small. Smaller rooms and bathroom downstairs, master bedroom + bathroom. Separate closet space for storage

- the lake is mostly on a nature preserve, a small private section to MC's lake house + dock

- private area happens to be where the mers took up residence

- The lake isn't small, but it's not massive either, could easily swim from 1 side to the other under an hour

- Lake is mostly clear, the floor made up of natural water grasses and other green growth + logs

- Fishing is allowed, but restricted year round for specific species

- Sun, Moon, and Eclipse are not recorded due to their skittish nature

- House is very much a fixer-upper. Gonna give MC something to do

#fnaf moon #fnaf sun #fnaf eclipse #digital art #fnaf dca #fnaf au #dca au #mermay #dca mermay #Starlit Ripples #pronglezfic #pronglezartz #heehee hoohoo #mer sun #mer moon #mer eclipse

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proxycrit · 4 months ago

Note

I love your au!!! I love how the hylian duo look like gremlins, I LOVE the expressions and sass constantly and the changes to the lore, the worldbuilding and also the emotions (OUCH). I love their relationship with purah and each other and the new champions. I love the depth you gave Yona and her relationship with Sidon and Mipha. I love how link feels comfortable talking to sidon in addition to sign, I don't know if he does that with anyone else but Zelda unless its absolutely necessary (eg: just launched out a cannon and is paragliding down, so hands are busy) (side note: i love how much of an adrenalin junky/gremlin he is!!)

I do got a few questions! Will the pair get the sheikah slate again (so say link has the slate and zelda the pad), and can both slates do the warping and item storage (food, ingredients, armor, weapons, etc) (if so: no WONDER link was so upset! His collection!)

Does link have access to the ultrahand abilities (ik you said not The ultrahand, but what about fuse or ascend or rewind etc?) Where is the mastersword??

Does Link still have the champions' abilities, or did he lose those when their spirits moved on at the end of botw?

I know these are a lot of questions but I can't stop thinking about it!! The last few updates sent me back rereading the whole au and now its just vibrating in my head and giving me no piece

This is long and rambly, just know I am very much enjoying this au! Its silly and fun and touching and cute. Thank you for working on it!!

Oo some notes (also ty for circling my au haha im glad other people fixate like i do)

(Prewarning— i did not finish totk despite putting triple hours in it, so a lot of this story is being written while playing, though i know the big broad strokes thanks to cultural osmosis and video essays. A lot of Familiar Familiar builds from my playthrough with BOTW over TOTK, so the sheikah influence is significantly stronger and I will always choose botw characterization over totk characterization as a result.)

That aside

1. Sheikah slate’s dead. Rest in pieces, link’s rare collectable korok poop. Purah’s extracting as much data as she can to put on the purah pad but you can see the dread in her eyes whenever she has to tell link resurrection is not possible.

2. No idea about the zonai arm powers yet— im thinking about ascend, but the longer i go through this story the less likely ill hand it to him just due to immersion breakage. He and zelda will be getting sheikah gadgets from purah though! Maybe ill have a scene of him wandering through the sky island shrines, but without zelda warning rauru he and sonia wouldnt have prepared anything for the hero of the future. (But i DO love ascension and fuse. Lowkey dislike the building mechanics from a concept art pov because the green glue makes me want to cry, but it’s FINE i GUESS)

2b. Master sword’s chilling in korok forest. Link put it back in this au because of Reasons (part of his and zelda’s characterization in this au is to discard their past roles and embrace the present, not as knight and princess but as hero and researcher. They both have to face the reality those roles aren’t dead, but it’s a work in progress. I may also never address it. This “one off hehe lemme draw some guys” idea quickly spiraled into a web comic series so apologies for the vagueness, because i too am watching them adventure with dread and awe and i don’t know where they’ll go with it. They literally write themselves.

3. Rip champions, their ghosts are Gone (but their influence remains. You go mipha, keep haunting the narrative girl, i love you)

I know that some of these story notes don’t quite match up to what totk states is stone cold canon, but that’s the joy of fan work! Anyways sorry for folks who i have NOT answered asks of— i have a lot of them and I’m much better at the drawing and writing part then the socialization aspect (please feel free to peak in to my zoo enclosure ever so often though. I need the enrichment)

#ask #ah enough people asked these questions that i feel i should have a disclaimer #i may have 190 hours in totk #i still have no idea whats happening #brain emptier then a can of air

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pretzel-box · 8 months ago

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OMG THE LITTLE DRABBLE YOU WRITE FOR SEBASTIAN WHERE READER ACCIDENTALLY GAVE HIM A LOVE NOTE INSTEAD OF THE FILES HE WANTED WAS SO GOOD!! can you please try to recreate it as a fanfic ? Love your writing btw :3 (also can it please be fem!reader?)

Tags: Established Relationship [Marriage], Fluff, Comfort, Motivational Notes

Words: 1k

Sebastian spends most of his precious time reading files, listening to annoying human visitors and scavenging. The last name was something he enjoyed since it was so simple and relaxing.

On this particular scavenging run, things were different. He hadn’t come across anything remarkable for a while, letting him feel a wave of frustration run over him, but then, tucked away in an old storage room, he found a file cabinet half-buried under debris. It was unlocked, and inside were files, all marked as unimportant or abandoned.

He hesitated for a second, figuring it was nothing more than outdated reports or useless data. But something compelled him to grab a few of the folders and stash them in his pack. Who knows? Maybe he could find some clues about the facility’s history, or something he could use against Urbanshade.

After the long trek back to his shop, Sebastian settled in, tossing his gear aside and grabbing a drink before collapsing at his cluttered desk. He didn’t bother with the files at first, instead leaning back, glancing at the framed photo on his desk.

It was of you, standing by his side, beaming that radiant smile of yours. He traced a finger gently over the frame with a small, rare smile tugging at his lips. The two of you had been through hell together, but despite everything, here you were—still by his side, still the one constant in his life.

Sighing, he leaned forward, flipping open the first folder from the stack he’d brought back. But instead of the usual boring documents he expected, he found something else—a small, folded note.

"Seb, I know you're probably frustrated right now, but I just want you to know how much I love you. You’re stronger than you think, and you’ll get through whatever this is. Remember that, okay?"

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard. He stared at the note for a moment, his fingers brushing over the paper as a warmth spread through his chest. He recognized the handwriting instantly—it was yours. But what was it doing here?

He reached for the next file, flipping it open with more curiosity this time. Inside, he found another note:

"When you feel like the world is crashing down on you, remember that you’re the one who holds us together. You’ve always been my hero, and you always will be."

A chuckle escaped his lips as he read the words, shaking his head in disbelief. What were these doing here? He sifted through more of the files, each one containing more of the same—small, handwritten notes from you, each one filled with love, encouragement, and sweet little reminders of how much you believed in him.

"I know you’re tired, but don’t forget to take care of yourself. Drink some water, take a break. I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready to come home."

“You mean everything to me, Sebastian. Don’t ever forget that. Even on the days you feel lost, I’m right here beside you."

His heart swelled with every note he found, the exhaustion from the day’s work slowly melting away. He could practically hear your voice in his head, soft and comforting, as if you were sitting right next to him.

He laughed softly, shaking his head in disbelief. Of course you’d do something like this. You always knew how to surprise him, even in the smallest ways. He could imagine you sneaking these notes into various places around the Blacksite, knowing full well that one day he’d find them. You were always thinking ahead, always finding ways to make him smile, even when he didn’t think he had the energy for it.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. He couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, a little less burdened.

Grinning, he stood up and moved to the back of his shop, grabbing two mugs and setting them on some boxes that served as tables. He heard the soft patter of your feet as you came down the ladder that led to the small loft in his shop where you usually rested, and soon enough, there you were, walking into the room, rubbing your eyes from a nap you’d taken.

“Hey,” you said, smiling as you stretched your arms over your head, an action that he always loved to see you did it. “What’s with the grin?”

Sebastian just shook his head, watching you with a fondness he rarely showed anyone else. “I found your little scavenger hunt,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

You blinked, confused for a moment before realization dawned on your face. “Oh, you found them?” you asked, a playful glint in your eye. “Took you long enough.”

He walked over, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, his forehead resting gently against yours. “You know,” he said softly, his voice full of affection, “you’re a pain in the ass sometimes.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. His body was cold as always, making you feel cooled down but his actions had a comforting warmth to it as if a weighted blanket was laid upon you. “Yeah, but you love me for it.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I really do.”

The two of you stood there for a while, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the world feeling a little less heavy in that moment. Eventually, you pulled away, glancing over at the files scattered on the table.

“So,” you teased, “how many did you find?”

“Enough to remind me I married a complete sap,” he replied with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, leaning up to kiss him, your lips meeting him and you could feel him lean closer. “Well, someone’s gotta keep you from brooding all the time.”

Sebastian chuckled, his arms tightening around you. “Guess I’m stuck with you then, huh?”

You smiled, resting your head on his chest. “Yeah,” you said softly. “You’re stuck with me.”

And for once, Sebastian didn’t mind being stuck at all.

#sebastian solace #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #roblox pressure #sebastian solace fanfic #pressure #pressure x reader

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zackprincebooks · 1 day ago

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Sir That's my Emotional Support Baseline

After a study between the Salamanders and Ultramarines shows that a baseline companion is helpful for Space Marine mental health, Chapter Master Dante begins implementing the practice among the Blood Angels--starting with Chief Librarian Mephiston. (Mephiston x Reader, explicit. 2nd person POV; Reader is AFAB but not addressed with any pronouns. I did have to lock this work on Ao3 due to the recent round of AI scraping; sorry!

Want to read it on AO3? Click here!

(Tagging my fellow Mephiston enjoyers @solspina and @angronsjewelbeetle)

There are few things in the Imperium of Man more beautiful to you than the Librarius of the Arx Angelicum. With shelves carved out of volcanic rock rather than constructed of wood, new shelves can be added as needed to accommodate the growing collection of relics, scrolls, and data crystals. Fragrant incense smoke rose to the cavernous ceiling in pale wisps, mingling with the candle smoke that cast shadows along the walls. Occasionally, one could hear the chanting of Blood Angels in the Holy Sepulchre above.

Every inch of the Librarius is covered in Blood Angel history; even the floor is a massive mosaic of the Emperor of Mankind’s arrival on Baal to tell Sanguinius of His fate. Those working in the Librarius reverently avoid stepping on the tiled faces of Sanguinius and the Emperor as they go about their tasks.

But that is not the only place where the golden vision of the Great Angel oversees your work. A statue of Sanguinius greets you, holding the chapter’s founding copy of the Codex Astartes on a stasis plinth in his outstretched hands. You bow before it upon entering the Librarius, as you do every day.

The candlelight of the Librarius blurs into a sea of orange and gold, and the clicking and chattering tunes in and out of your ears. You sway back and forth as a presence settles over your body. Anchoring yourself on a nearby shelf, you open your mind to accept the message beamed into it.

“Come. I have work for you.”

It disappears and you right yourself, blinking until you can see each individual candle. Another serf approaches to inquire after your wellbeing, but you brush them off with a brief reassurance and venture deeper into the Librarius.

You don’t want to keep him waiting.

The air deep in the Librarius becomes chilled, and the candles cast longer shadows on the wall. Your nose stings with the scent of incense but you resist the urge to itch it. You are the only serf down here, surrounded by lexicani and epistolaries, and it behooves you to be on your best behavior if you wish to keep these privileges.

The shelves around you display alien technology and trophies from wars waged long before your great-great-grandfather was born. You linger, only briefly, on a sword encrusted with as much gold as it is blood.

But a greater treasure lies further within.

He awaits you in a yawning vault full of ancient scrolls and books, their delicate nature requiring delicate storage away from grubby paws of lesser archivists. Mephiston stands with his back to you as he leans over a wide platform with several papers pinned for restoration and research. He doesn’t address you immediately; preferring to finish applying a protective coating to a few pages with a brush clenched between his nimble gloved fingers. The only indication that Mephiston is aware of your presence was an imperceptible twitch of his left shoulder.

He cuts an imposing silhouette, and his white hair sets him apart from his Blood Angel brethren, but the candlelight throws shadows across his proud nose and strong jaw that makes your hands clammy and your knees weak.

When Mephiston finally turns around to address you, your composure is perfect: hands at your sides, head bowed reverently, eyes averted respectfully. “My Lord. You have work for me?”

A deep, shuddering sigh comes from within Mephiston’s lungs. A peek at his face reveals that one hand has pinched the bridge of his nose and his jaw is set.

“Raise your head. I wished to put aside this conversation for a later date, but Lord Commander Dante has pushed my hand.” You slowly raise your head, though when you accidentally meet his piercing gaze, you immediately redirect it to his shoulder, wrapped in red fabric. Space Marines are always more intimidating when they’re outside their armor, and you realize they really are that big.

“I am at your service, Lord. What would you have me do?”

Another sigh, this one deep enough and powerful enough that it raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Mephiston’s eyes roll upwards to the ceiling as if to seek counsel from the benevolent face of Sanguinius patterned above.

“Our brothers in the Ultramarines and the Salamanders have recently published a joint study discussing the benefits of attaching baseline companions to Space Marines. Are you aware of it?’

“Only in passing, Lord. The Ultramarines make liberal usage of charts and graphs, so I find there are very few words worth reading.”

He snorts in jest. “Very true. But their study suggests that keeping baseline companions increases the health of Space Marines. Various legions have begun adopting the practice on varying levels, and Lord Commander Dante has suggested a “trial run” within some of our ranks.”

Mephiston’s brow creases. “I wished to take more time with my decision, but Lord Dante informed me that if I do not choose, he will choose for me.”

You are barely able to smother a squeal, as Mephiston moves so you are forced to make eye contact with him. There is a light blue glow in his gaze that makes your eyes water, but you refuse to blink. “If you are not the current companion of a Blood Angel, then I ask that you become mine.”

Goodness, with how serious Mephiston was asking, you’d think he was proposing to you! Your mind reels with the mental image of Mephiston solemnly getting down on one knee, under the gaze of his genefather, to ask you for your hand in marriage. To his credit, Mephiston waits patiently as your mind does somersaults, cartwheels, and backflips.

“It would be a great honor to become your companion, my Lord,” you finally wheeze. Is it your imagination, or does something in Mephiston’s shoulders relax by inches? You bend the knee to him, and it feels as though you ought to be the one with a ring and a vow. “Please instruct me in this new, sacred duty.”

Mephiston nods, the crease in his brow smoothing. “Good. Very good, indeed.” Your stomach flutters and your fingers clench on your knee. “I will have your belongings moved from the serf dormitory into my quarters. In the meantime, visit the Sanguis Corpusculum for a physical. I would also recommend you read the study about baseline companions to better acquaint yourself with your new obligations.”

“Yes, Lord.”

Mephiston’s hand rests on your head, briefly holding you in place. His entire hand is enough to encompass your head, if he wanted. “Go in the name of the Great Angel.”

“Yes, Lord. Thank you for your blessing.” ---------------------------

Brother Caphriel is the Apothecary who tends to you, drawing your blood for a routine blood lab. While his hair is almost as white as Mephiston’s, under direct light, you see the streaks of platinum blond in his tight braids.

“I wondered when Lord Dante would begin the practice of companions,” Caphriel practically chirps as he wraps the tourniquet around your upper arm. “Though I was shocked he began with the Chief Librarian himself. The study recommended the practice start with younger Space Marines.”

“Then you have read the study?” The smell of the disinfectant stings more than when Caphriel applies it to your skin.

“Yes, and I personally know the two Salamanders cited in it. Make a fist, please.”

You look away as Caphriel draws your blood into a vial. “Do you believe the study has merit?”

“I do, and I am glad that Lord Dante believes it does, as well. Though my commitment is to the physical wellbeing of my brethren and our serfs, I fully believe that mental health is one of the first steps towards physical health.” Caphriel fills two vials and bandages your arm. “Coming back to the Arx Angelicum to a warm bed, a hot meal, and a friendly face will do a world of good to the weary mind of a Space Marine.”

His eyes close, briefly. “I cannot wait for Lord Dante to make it a chapter-wide practice.”

You are quiet as Caphriel administers the rest of your physical; checking your heartbeat and looking inside your mouth. Mephiston may not see as much combat as an average Space Marine, but surrounded by alien relics and ancient technologies, tempted by the warp, his mind is constantly at war. Wouldn’t it be nice to hold Mephiston in your arms as he let down his guard, knowing that he was finally safe with you?

You can imagine his long, deep, bone-shuddering sigh—this time, one of relief.

Caphriel releases you with a full bill of health and a copy of the companion study “for educational purposes.” You tuck it under your arm, behind another tome, to hide it as you move through the halls. Outside of Brother Caphriel, no one else knows about your transfer to Mephiston’s service—and you’d rather that no one would know, at least for now.

A quiet corner is your escape, and you wedge yourself into it with a soft grunt. Propping the ring-bound study onto your knees, you fold the cover over to read the title page:

Health and Safety of Space Marines:

A Study of Baseline Companions

By Sgt. Valorem Gadriel and Brother Meduras Chairon of the Ultramarines,

And Captain Tal’Gin Gandor and Sgt. Ursan B’Dann of the Salamanders

It is endearing to see that each of the Space Marines dedicate the study to their respective baseline companions in the foreword, thanking them profusely for their time, patience, and perspectives. Brother Chairon specifically thanks his companion, stating that this study was “for them.”

You take your time reading it over the next half hour, occasionally skimming when you reach pages mostly comprised of charts and graphs. But their results are interesting: of the Space Marines they interviewed, roughly forty percent of them considered their baseline serfs to be a personal companion. They expressed a mental and emotional attachment to their serfs, and it was a pleasure to return to them after a long mission.

“It is a relief to feel my companion laying on my chest at night,” confesses a Salamander of the 8th company, “to know that they are safe and the work I do helps keep them safe.”

“One of my small pleasures is eating a meal with my companion when I return to them. We even have a special room where we sit, as the window offers a beautiful vista of the mountains of Macragge,” Sgt Gadriel admits.

The study is peppered with more anecdotes that make your heart squeeze, but the data is what makes you want to swoon. Space Marines with baseline companions were found to be at least 65% more stable than those without, which is on par with Space Marines who answered that they preferred their fellow battle brothers as companions.

Partnered Space Marines were less likely to feel the pull of Chaos in battle (55%), less likely to be reckless in battle (73%), and had a higher return rate than unpartnered Space Marines (60%). Captain Demetrian Titus reported that Brother Chairon and Sgt Gadriel appeared more focused and calmer in battle after speaking with their companions.

85% of previously unpartnered Space Marines who picked up baseline companions over time noticed an improvement in their mental health, and even in their physical health: it drove them to train more, take care of themselves in battle, and see the Apothecary more frequently for checkups.

Space Marines also gleaned enjoyment from taking care of their companions; bringing them food when hungry and medicine when ill. Watching them heal and grow was rewarding to know that they were part of that process, and it only encouraged the Space Marine to grow with their companion.

“My companion celebrated my promotion with me, and my baseline family,” Sgt B’Dann gushed, “or, more accurately, I celebrated my promotion with my baseline family. Including my companion with them is second nature to me. I could not have done it without them.”

There was one data point in the study that made your eyes water and your face burn. 50% of partnered Space Marines said their baseline companion took care of their sexual health as well as their mental and emotional health. Having sex with their baselines was not only pleasurable, but it was also relaxing. Being intimate and vulnerable with someone they trusted allowed them to feel more confident outside of the bedroom, and the rush of reward chemicals let them see intimacy as something worthwhile.

“Sometimes it can be difficult, given our size,” Brother Chairon said, “but it is only another benefit. We learn to be patient with our companions, and sometimes the workup is its own reward.”

You lick your lips, briefly tipping your head back to think about a “workup” between you and Mephiston. Would the blue tinge of his eyes soften as he looked at you in his bed? Would he prefer to watch you open yourself up for him, or would he rather do it himself? Does he kiss you with fervor, his tongue plundering your mouth while his cock plunders your cunt? Or would he kiss you softly, whispering sweet nothings between pecks about how good you feel wrapped around his cock?

With a groan, you bury your face into the baseline study packet. Your mind suddenly cannot banish the image of Mephiston’s cock between his powerful thighs, twitching and leaking precum. Surely he must be large; Brother Chairon’s anecdote suggests that Space Marines are well-endowed enough to require a long foreplay with their baseline lovers in order to take them.

If Mephiston is big enough, you might not be able to take him the first time. Your thighs squeeze together with the phantom feeling of Mephiston sliding his cock between your legs, teasing your pussy lips with his cockhead. Would he have a knot? Something like one in four Space Marines did—

You stand up on wobbly legs, feeling all the blood rush from your pussy to your head. None of this has been decided. Mephiston only asked you to be his companion; he’s made no other overtures. And the numbers in the study indicated that not all Space Marines enjoyed sexual relationships with their baseline companions.

But the thought does not leave your mind through the rest of your duties around the Arx Angelicum. Your friends occasionally stop you with creased brows and pursed lips to ask after your soundness, and you are doing well…

…perhaps a little too well. You cannot meet Lord Mephiston’s eyes in the refectorium when you take your supper. --------------------------

By nightfall, the Arx Angelicum is beginning to slow down. Baal Prime and Baal Secundus hang in the air like two eyes, watching over humanity on its surface.

You feel as though there are eyes on the back of your neck as you stand outside of Mephiston’s quarters, a bead of sweat trickling down your neck. The light on the passkey is green, indicating that the door is unlocked.

Which means Mephiston is inside.

It’s a good thing his quarters are separated, as any Space Marine or serf would be suspicious at how much time you spend outside, waffling. Do you knock? Do you announce your presence? Leaning closer to the door, you can hear movement inside. Is he unawares? The thought of catching Mephiston changing turns your knees into jelly. His broad back and strong shoulders, dotted with ports, flexing as he undresses—

“I am not unawares. You may enter.”

His voice passes over your mind like a caress. You hadn’t even noticed Mephiston had been monitoring your thoughts until your body rattles with the rumble of his voice. You try to smother your previous thoughts, ashamed of what Mephiston will find if he tries to dig deeper.

“I don’t mind.”

As the door to his chambers slides open, you can’t help but wonder if he sounds…amused?

The stained-glass window of Sanguinius triumphing over a Chaos demon shines a red-gold light into the room, and the curtains are parted to give it the full effect. When the light falls on the bed, you struggle not to see the tableau as romantic.

Especially not when Mephiston enters your field of view, wearing nothing more than a loose robe, his hair wet from the baths and smelling of fragrant herbs. You immediately take a knee, partially out of respect and partially to avert your gaze from his muscular body, still dripping with water.

“Please,” and despite pausing to clear his throat, Mephiston isn’t able to get rid of the gravel that rattles your bones, “do not kneel before me in such a private setting.” He reaches a hand down, lifting you as easily as he would a cluster of grapes.

“Yes, my Lord,” you whimper, not wanting Mephiston to remove his hand from around your waist. Throne, he can wrap his hand index finger to thumb around you.

Does Mephiston feel your heartbeat picking up speed? Does he feel your lungs scrabbling for air? Your ribs creaking beneath his thumb?

He holds you for longer than he perhaps should, cocking his head to one side. His thumb strokes against your side, gently pressing into your ribcage.

“Lord…?” You whisper. It seems to snap Mephiston out of his trance, and he finally lets you go; though his hand lingers on your hip before slipping away.

“Your belongings have been moved,” he rasps, “check that everything is in order and put them away to your liking before tending to me.” His tongue darts out to lick his lips and your eyes narrow on the streak of wetness it leaves behind on his thin lips. Turning away, Mephiston settles himself at a desk to look over some scrolls, but the shifting fabric of his robe indicates his shoulders are shivering.

It’s a frightening sight to see. A Space Marine, the Chief Librarian, brought to his knees by his baseline companion? Do you really have that kind of power over him? As the thought marinates in your mind, you hurry over to where your belongings have been stacked neatly and unobtrusively in one corner.

Taking the study packet out, you place it with your belongings. “I received a copy of the baseline companion study from Brother Caphriel, Lord.”

“Oh?” The shuffling of scrolls ceases. “Did you find it enlightening?” Your ears strain, but Mephiston’s voice is annoyingly level.

“Yes, indeed. If I may be self-centered, my Lord, I did not consider my position in the Arx Angelicum to be so necessary.” Your shoulders prickle with the sound of Mephiston’s snort.

“Not self-centered, but self-deprecating. There are only so many Space Marines in the Imperium; we cannot concern ourselves with the daily obligations of a fortress-monastery. The study merely shows that emotional support is another obligation.”

You fail to stifle the gasp in your throat. “It is not an obligation, Lord. We…I am happy to be your companion.”

“Are you?”

You turn back to Mephiston sitting at his desk. The scrolls are pushed to one side and he is turned in his chair to face you. The candles dotting the desk give a dim, golden light to Mephiston’s hair and his sudden resemblance to his genefather is striking.

But his fine lips are permanently pulled downwards, and the shadows under his eyes are not the fault of the candlelight. You feel the gentle caress on your mind again and you simply allow Mephiston to see himself the way you see him.

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat and silently, Mephiston raises one arm, beckoning you to his side. You need no other bidding; scrambling to your feet without even shutting the drawer and hurrying across the room. Mephiston’s hand finds a place around your waist, thumb underneath your ribs, and pulls you into him so his nose nestles into your collarbone.

Your hands find purchase in his hair, untangling the knots left over from his bath. When you kiss the top of his head, you hear a deep rumble emanating somewhere from underneath Mephiston’s sternum. It vibrates your entire body and your toes curl in your shoes.

He’s warm, and whatever salt scrub he used in the bath makes his skin soft. You can’t help but wonder if Mephiston took a bath in preparation for you staying in his bed.

Hot breath cascades over your neck from Mephiston’s chuckling. “Don’t tell Lord Dante that he was correct, or I will never hear the end of it.”

“Would you have chosen a companion even without his prodding?” You inquire. Beneath Mephiston’s purring, you hear him hum in affirmation.

“I merely wished for more time with my choice.”

“Are you happy with your choice?” You try to keep the hopefulness out of your voice, but you still crack on “happy.”

Mephiston slowly lifts his head so his nose brushes against your neck. He holds there for a moment, breathing deeply of your scent. His tongue strokes your jugular vein, groaning softly when your heartbeat jumps. The rumbling in his chest has only increased in volume.

His hands squeeze your hips, pulling you into his lap. Your hands grip the lapels of his robe, pulling on it hard enough to loosen it, revealing the hard muscles and softly-glowing ports underneath.

You feel…something nudging at the underside of your thigh.

Mephiston pulls away from your neck, but he does not pull back from you. His nose continues sliding up your neck and jaw until his cheek brushes yours.

“Yes.”

You brace yourself for Mephiston’s kiss, but it is unneeded. His lips nip on yours, letting his tongue slip between them to make his kisses soft and slick. Your hands slide under his robe, occasionally brushing against his ports until your palms press against his nipples. Mephiston’s moan interrupts his purring, but it vibrates your body all the same.

His fangs poke your lower lip as he pulls away, but no blood is drawn. Mephiston’s hands slide from your hips to your ass, pulling you closer up on his lap so his erection sits firmly between your asscheeks.

“I cannot describe to you the elation I felt when I touched your mind and found it full of thoughts of me,” he whispers. You try to tuck your head to avoid his gaze, but Mephiston grabs your chin with your forefinger and thumb. “When you knelt before me, I had to fight the urge to push you on the ground and ravage you.”

A squeak leaves your throat, and his lips curve upwards, revealing his fangs. It would feel threatening if not for your hands on Mephiston’s chest, feeling his thudding heartbeat. Testing a theory, you grind back on his cock and relish in his shuddering moan. The blue lights in his ports flicker and his eyes flutter closed.

“Why didn’t you?” Your voice is barely a whisper above Mephiston’s purring. His eyes open.

“I am…aware of my size,” and to add emphasis, he grasps your ass tightly and grinds tightly on you, allowing you to feel the length and girth of his clothed cock. Though you cannot see it, you estimate Mephiston’s cock to be nearly the size of your forearm. “I do not want to break you on your first night in my quarters.”

Mephiston scoops you up with ease, holding you against his chest as he carries you over to his bed. You scramble to wrap your arms around his neck, your ear pressed against his chest so his rumbling voice shakes your body. “I, too, have read the study—thoroughly. I paid close attention to how my fellow Space Marines cared for their baseline companions.”

He lays you down so your upper half is on the bed while your lower half is wrapped around his waist. Mephiston’s bulge slides between your thighs, curving upwards towards your bellybutton. The fabric of his robe darkens near the tip of his cock.

“Look at how deep I will be inside you,” he growls.

Held in place by Mephiston’s hands, you watch breathlessly as he thrusts his cock between your thighs. Your hips shudder against his, starting to grind in time with his thrusting. The fabric around his cock slips away until Mephiston’s cock is bare to your wide eyes.

“Dear Throne,” you whisper. Your earlier estimation of his length was correct, though Mephiston is thicker than you expected him to be. Pulsating veins spiral up the shaft, reaching towards the bright red head, glistening with precum.

Your eyes only get wider as they travel down Mephiston’s cock to his knot. While he’s not fully swollen, his knot is almost as red as the head of his cock. It throbs in time to his heartbeat, and Mephiston shifts so his knot presses against your clothed pussy.

“Do you like it?” For all his lust, Mephiston almost sounds shy. He cannot meet your eyes when you look up at him, instead directing his gaze to where your hands grasp at the bedsheets.

“Every inch of you is exquisite,” you whimper. Releasing the sheets from your iron grip, you reach up for Mephiston and he leans down to you, hand cupping the back of your head to pull his face towards his.

Your lips crush together in a symphony of muffled moaning. Mephiston’s cock slips out from between your thighs and presses against your stomach, wetting your uniform with precum. Where it seeps through your attire, it feels hot against your skin. Mephiston continues grinding on your stomach, huffing into your mouth. His eyelashes brush your cheeks, leaving tingling in their wake.

Mephiston pulls away. “I need to see you naked,” he pants, his fangs extended from his kiss-swollen lips. “Give me your hands.” Obediently, you place your hands over your head and Mephiston holds you by your wrists before closing his eyes and focusing until a pale blue light emanates from beneath his closed eyelids.

Something slides under your uniform, pressing against your chest and rubbing your belly. It’s firm and warm, and large. Your breath hitches as it skitters over your ribcage, seeking the ties of your robes. Mephiston’s face doesn’t give any indication of what he’s doing, though when the invisible hand pulls the tie of your robes, he lets out a soft moan.

It’s almost a shame that his eyes are closed when your robes fall open. The invisible hand parts them so your naked body is sprawled on Mephiston’s bed, held into place by his hands on your wrists and his thighs bracketing your hips. He squeezes his thighs against your hips when you try to grind on him again.

“Lord,” you whine, but Mephiston does not respond—at least, not verbally. The fingers of the invisible hand pinches one of your nipples hard, making you squeal.

“Hush,” he grumbles. The glow under his eyelids briefly shines brighter and a second invisible hand presses on your body, cupping your hip. While the first hand moves to your other nipple, the second hand slides down to the apex of your thighs where you’re dripping from his attention.

One invisible finger splits your pussy lips, rubbing your quivering slit. “You’re so wet,” Mephiston whispers in a shuddering voice, almost incredulously. “Is this all for me?”

“Only for you,” you whisper rapturously, and Mephiston moans softly. His cock is a brand where it rests on your thigh, drooling precum that mixes with your juices on the bed in a glistening puddle. An invisible index and ring finger spread your pussy lips before a middle finger slides inside.

These invisible hands are the size of Mephiston’s physical hands; you can even feel his heartbeat through the middle finger pumping in and out of your pussy. It beats in time with his cock, with his knot; and it skips a beat when your pussy lips flutter and gush.

The palm of the hand tilts upwards and you cry out as it rubs your swollen clit. Instead of losing his concentration, Mephiston almost puts too much force into his psychic hands and you whine when his finger roughly jabs your soft walls. But he reigns it in, and the pad of his finger soothingly rubs the spot where he jabbed.

“I can’t last…much…” you whimper, your clit throbbing. Looking down at your pussy, it’s a little jarring to watch your pussy quiver and spread for an invisible finger fucking you to orgasm.

Instead of speaking, a warm caress settles in your mind. “Good. I will not wait for you much longer.” Even when speaking in your mind, Mephiston’s voice is rough with lust and he sounds out of breath. “Cum for me.”

The invisible hand slams into your cunt so the middle finger is plunged deep inside, the palm groping your clit. Pulsing, tensing, arching, your mouth opens in a silent scream and white spots dance across your vision. The sound of your wet gushing is overridden by Mephiston’s moaning in your own mind. To his credit, he does not dispel his invisible hands immediately after you cum, and continues fingering you through your orgasm.

“Good pet,” he whispers, finally opening his eyes to gaze upon your wet and disheveled form. The invisible hands disappear from your body as Mephiston’s physical hands let go of your wrists and travel your heaving body to wrap around your hips and hoist you into his lap. “Now, it is my turn.”

Your mind blinks into consciousness as the bulbous head of Mephiston’s cock nudges your pussy. He grinds on you again, letting your juices wet his shaft and knot and sending little shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body.

“Would you give me your knot, Lord?” You whimper, digging your fingers into the meat of his shoulders. Mephiston’s mouth hangs open, fangs exposed.

Taking the advantage, you press onwards. “Would you knot me? Fill me with your seed and plug me up? I don’t want a drop to leak out.” Rolling your hips, you let the head catch on your slit and push down—

—Until it pops inside.

You and Mephiston moan in tandem; with his eyes open, you are treated to the sight of Mephiston’s eyes briefly overwhelmed with the blue glow of his psyker powers. The head of his cock carves a path for the rest of his shaft until you feel it prodding the head of your womb. Your stomach feels heavy where his cock stretches you open, and looking down, the sight of your belly bulging is almost…obscene.

And then Mephiston moves.

The bulge slowly withdraws before pushing back up, the indent of his cockhead appearing just under the skin of your belly. His knot doesn’t fit in you yet, but Mephiston makes good use of grinding it against your pussy lips and short-circuiting your brain. Your body spasms in his lap, fingers dragging down his shoulders until they grip his biceps.

“All this talk about wanting my knot,” Mephiston huffs, shoving his knot against your clit and savoring your scream of ecstasy, “and yet it won’t fit in your tight little pussy?”

With one hand, he wraps it around your waist so his thumb presses against the bulge his cock makes in your stomach. “My cock won’t even fit in you, and you want my knot?” Despite the grin on Mephiston’s face, he gulps for air and each time he lowers you onto his knot, you feel his stomach shuddering.

His other hand grabs your face, forcing you to look at him. “I asked you a question, pet. You want my knot?”

“Yes!” Tears leak from the corners of your eyes. “Please, I need your knot, Lord!”

The bulge in your belly distends further as your body relents to the superior strength of a Space Marine, and you gush all over Mephiston’s knot as it finally shoves inside you. With his entire cock fitted inside of you, your womb is likewise forced open by Mephiston’s cockhead and it sits there snugly, like he belongs inside of you.

He lets go of your face, stroking your cheek as he does. “I didn’t think you could,” Mephiston huffs, nuzzling your neck. “I haven’t fit in a baseline before.”

“Does it feel good?” Your stomach clenches around his cock and you both shiver.

“I never want to take you off my cock.” As though to demonstrate, Mephiston lays back on his bed, bending his knees to support you on his thighs. With your head resting on his chest, you hear Mephiston purring again. If not for his cock and knot lodged in your pussy, you might be tempted to fall asleep here.

“Do not fall asleep on me,” Mephiston warns in a breathless chuckle, his breath stirring your hair. He grinds into you, letting his full balls rub on your asscheeks. “You begged to be seeded, and I need to be drained.”

You push yourself up on your elbows, anchoring yourself on Mephiston’s chest. “Then let us fulfill each other, Lord.”

The glow in his eyes flashes again and Mephiston grasps your ass to spread the cheeks. “Oh, you are the only one going to be filled, pet.” You have but a second to brace yourself before he thrusts upwards, popping his knot in and out of your pussy with a lewd, wet noise.

There’s just enough squeeze when Mephiston shoves it back in to make you squeal, bouncing on his knot. Your womb has opened for him and when Mephiston pulls you back down on his knot, nearly half of his cock is pushed inside of your womb. His hands pull your thighs apart so he can watch you bounce on his knot.

“What a blessed sight,” Mephiston groans, running on hand over the bulge he makes in your stomach. “Would you like to see yourself through my eyes?”

You barely manage a wibbly, whimpery “yes!” before Mephiston’s eyes are overcome with their blue glow. He holds you still on his cock, knot throbbing just inside your pussy lips. He needs to take a few deep breaths to focus, and instead of the usual touch on your mind, you feel as though someone has taken your head in two hands.

The sight of Mephiston beneath you, white hair fanned around his head like a halo, begins to blur. You try blinking multiple times to clear the image, desperate to watch his face shift with ecstasy and pleasure, but the next time you blink—

You’re looking at yourself, astride Mephiston’s lap with your stomach bulged from his cock. From this angle, you have a perfect view of your pussy stuffed with his knot, the lips forced apart and swollen from being plugged over and over again. It’s also the perfect view to watch Mephiston’s cock throbbing in your womb, as your stomach twitches slightly each time he throbs.

In a truly commendable display of his psyker powers, Mephiston maintains the mental link with you as he lifts you from his cock, just enough that the bulge in your stomach disappears. “Please, Lord, please, please, please,” you beg, watching through Mephiston’s eyes as you uselessly gyrate on his cock. “I’m so close, I just need it!”

“Are you sure, pet? If you’re close, then you should be able to finish without me.” Mephiston’s fingers dig into the soft meat of your thighs, holding you just at the tip of his cock. His powers are beginning to slip and you briefly return to your own mind to watch sweat beading on his forehead, glowing slightly from his eyes.

“No, I need it! I need your cock!” Your fingers scrape down his chest, leaving red marks in their wake that quickly fade. As if your bright red face wasn’t pathetic enough, tears start rolling down your cheeks. “Please let me cum on your knot!”

Maybe it’s your tears, your begging, or his own need for release, but Mephiston smiles with all his fangs. “I want to hear my name when you cum,” he rumbles, at last slamming you on his knot and returning you to your own mind.

You have at least the presence of mind to answer his request, “Mephiston!” before your thoughts are scrambled by your second orgasm, cumming and convulsing on his knot. A wetness pools under your thighs, and the viscosity indicates that it’s not just your juices.

“I will give you what you want,” Mephiston growls, beginning to pound you up and down his cock like a plastic sleeve for his own pleasure. “I will give you every single drop!” His knot is lodged in your pussy, too swollen to be removed as his cock prepares your womb for his seed. You can do little more than let your mouth hang open and your eyes roll back.

“I will—” Mephiston’s voice cuts off on a throaty grunt as his swollen knot forces him to stop thrusting, holding his cock deep into your womb. His cock throbs twice before his balls heave and begin unloading his cum inside of you. The first splash of Mephiston’s cum hits your womb, filling you with warmth.

With his knot keeping everything plugged, the second and third blasts are quickly filling your womb. “How much…?” You whisper, putting one hand on your belly to feel it swelling.

“Did I not say?” Mephiston pants, “I haven’t fit in a baseline before. I am eager to see how you are filled with my seed.” He grins again, watching your belly bloating with his cock and cum.

“I feel heavy,” you moan. Your womb is stuffed, and it sloshes with cum when you try to move—not that you can go anywhere, with Mephiston keeping your thighs in a viselike grip. Your belly continues to distend with the emptying of Mephiston’s balls, and you lower yourself on Mephiston’s chest to rest again.

His knot softens enough to pull out, and he does—slowly, moving you so your back is resting against his chest. Once Mephiston’s cock withdraws from you, fully, he tilts your head towards his face.

“Are you still with me?” You make a “mmmphhh” sound in response. Mephiston chuckles, kissing your forehead. “Perhaps we should next test the emotional support of a Space Marine towards their baseline."

#marine meat monday #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #wh40k #warhammer40k #mephiston #chief librarian mephiston #mephiston x reader #space marine #space marine x reader #blood angels #caphriel #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #archive of our own

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gtwscratch · 12 days ago

Note

What did the cells look like pre- Skizz and Mumbo death? Since Cleo and Impulse hadn’t always been in separate cells was BigB ever in a regular cell? Looking at the map it doesn’t seem possible

AFTER SEVERAL LONG MONTHS OF PROCRASTINATION AND ALSO COMPLETELY FORGETTING, I SHALL ANSWER YOUR ASK. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND I HOPE YOU’RE STILL INTERESTED IN AN ANSWER!

Stick with me guys, it’s currently 12:40am as I start typing this all out and explaining it.

Cell Diagrams

To start us off, here’s some layout stuff for the cells, which is where the story is primarily taking place at the moment. I believe the diagram speaks for itself on who is where and what is what (pretend that one cell has a slash through it, I’m not crawling out of bed and getting on my iPad to make that change).

It was a little bit of a tight squeeze before powers began manifesting, and the “First Arrival” is only that. Between then and “Before Death,” subjects were moved around frequently to find out who got along best with who. Everyone has shared a cell with everyone at some point while they’ve been here.

Cell Layout

This is the standard layout for the cells. The beds are part of the wall and low to the ground, just barely leaving enough room for a subject to squeeze under it. The mattresses are thin as are the blankets, and that glass goes around all three sides of the cells (unless a cell is against the outer walls).

Facility Levels

Warehouse

This is primarily security and storage. Despite how big it is, it’s mostly empty, acting more like a cover up for the facility’s true works. It’s the only floor above ground level.

Floor 1

This is just where scientists live if they don’t want to rent a place nearby to stay close to their work, and this is also the floor with all of the offices (including Ex’s).

Floor 2

This is the first of two labs, and this lab focuses on data and numbers. All experimentation records go to this part of the facility, and information is documented and studied. This is where Xisuma and Zedaph work.

Floor 3

This level is where experimentation on the subjects happens. Sometimes it comes from data collection, and sometimes it comes from the teams on Floor 3, but this is where subjects’ abilities and limits are tested. This is where Doc works, and it’s also where Cleo and Impulse are being held.

Floor 4

The fourth and final level is where the subjects are held. By keeping them on the bottommost floor, the scientists can buy more time if any of the subjects manage to escape.

I think that’s all I have to say on this now? Again, sorry it took so long to answer your ask!!

#life series #project x #project x au #project x q&a #life series au #life series lab au #wild life #wild life au #wild life lab au #mcyt #trafficblr

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llamaqueenprompt · 12 days ago

Text

Red Flags and Blushes - Part II

Characters: Max Verstappen, Reader

Not Requested

Word Count: 0.8k

Part I Part II Part III

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❁ Find out who I write for HERE

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❁ Send me a request HERE

Y/n lasted exactly twelve minutes.

Twelve minutes of pretending to care about telemetry data she wasn’t even seeing.

Twelve minutes of feeling Max’s gaze like a physical thing, burning across the garage every time she shifted in her chair.

Twelve minutes of remembering his mouth on her skin, the way he’d said her name like a secret only he knew.

She snapped the laptop shut harder than necessary.

Max noticed.

He always noticed.

Y/n got uo, her movements sharp, every nervr buzzing. She could feel him watching as she stalked across the garage, her boots thudding against the concrete floor.

The smart thing would have been to turn around.

The smart thing would have been to breathe and walk away.

But she wasn’t one for smart decisions.

Instead, she reached Max and grabbed his wrist, her fingers curling tight around the band of his watch.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised, but didn’t resist when she yanked him to his feet. His chair scraped loudly against the floor, but Y/n didn’t care who looked. Didn’t care what this would look like.

She hauled him toward the back hallway, weaving through the maze of equipment, storage crates, spare tires. Max followed easily, his long strides matching hers, and she could feel the smirk radiating off him even without looking.

“Y/n,” he murmured, low enough for only her to hear, “you’re making a scene.”

“Shut up,” she snapped.

He chuckled, the sound curling around her spine.

The reacher a door - storage closet - and she shoved it open, dragging him inside. The seond the door slammed shut, Max pinned her back against it with one fluid move, his hands braced on either side of her head.

Y/n’s heart hammered in her chest, wild and reckless.

“You gonna tell me what this is about?” he asked, his voice a low, dangerous murmur.

Instead of answering, she fisted the front of his fireproof undershirt and dragged him down to kiss her.

It wasn’t sweet.

It wasn’t careful.

It was hungry - a messy clash of lips and teeth and breathless gasps.

Max groaned against her mouth, deep and rough, and slid his hands down her sides, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.

Y/n curled her fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl.

She felt him smile against her lips, sharp and wicked, before he kissed her harder, his hips pinning her tighter against the door.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, schat,” he rasped between kisses.

Y/n tilted her head back, giving him access to the curve of her throat. He took it eagerly, dragging his mouth along her skin, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark.

Good. She wanted him to leave a mark.

“Just shut up and touch me,” she whispered.

Max cursed under his breath and slid his hands under her shirt, palms hot against her skin. She shivered at the feeling, at the way his fingers dragged slow, teasing paths along her ribs before finally, finally moving higher.

She gasped when he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist instictively. Max’s mouth found hers again, desperate and bruising, his hands supporting her effortlessly.

For one dizzying second, Y/n forgot everything - forgot where they were, who they were, what a disaster this was going to be.

All she knew was Max.

Max, whose hands knew exactly how to make her shiver.

Max, whose mouth was sinful and selfish against hers.

Max, who kissed like he never wanted to let her go.

He ground his hips into hers, slow and deliberate, and Emma’s head thudded back against the door with a breathless moan.

“You said we couldn’t do this again,” he murmured against her lips.

“I lied,” she gasped.

Max laughed, low and wicked, and kissed her again, biting at her bottom lip before soothing the sting with his tongue.

“You’re gonna regret this,” he said, his voice rough and shaky now, not nearly as smug as before.

“Probably,” Emma breathed, but her hands were already dragging his shirt up, fingers tracing every line of muscle underneath.

Max made a raw sound and pinned her harder against the door. His mouth was everywhere now - her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. Y/n dug her nails into his back, dragging him closer.

The heart between them built fast, overwhelming. His touch, his mouth, the rough scrape of stubble against her skin - it was too much and not enough, and Y/n never wanted it to end.

But eventually, they had to breathe.

Max rested his forehead against hers, both of them panting, his hands still gripping her thighs.

“You’re still blushing,” he whispered, lips brushing her temple.

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut. “Shut up,” she muttered.

Max chuckled, low and rough, and kissed her again, slower this time. Lingering.

Like he wasn’t ready to let her go.

Like he never would be.

Y/n stayed pressed against him, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against her chest, the solid weight of him anchoring her to the moment.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Maybe it was the best mistake she’d ever make.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max vertsappen fic #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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solar4seekstron · 4 months ago

Text

Plan F - Doubledealer

TF1!Megatron x Cybertronian!GN!Reader Part 6

Solars Indie Series

Plan A, Plan B, Plan C, Plan D, Plan E, Plan G, Plan H, Plan I, Plan J, Plan K, Plan L, Plan M, Plan N

Introduction Indie Series

Content: 18+, Doubledealer x reader, Back to Megatron x Reader at end. Reader is just trying to protect Locket.

TW/Tags: Basically Doubledealer x reader in this chapter, Megatron x reader any end and at some point, Another Forced Relationship, Reader needs sleep, Locket is so done with Doubledealers bs, Flashback, Swearing, attempted rape, death, angst, unhappy ending, I think that’s all? Probably missed something lol.

Notes: Don’t know if I mentioned send before but Doubledealer is a little shorter than Megatron but still taller than the reader.

You sat there. Shaking as so much goes through your mind. Little Locket in your arms sleeping peacefully. If you were any other life form, you’d have bags under your optics.

Forced to be the partner of someone else. Shooting your Conjunx in front of you and your sparkling. Primus the way things lead up to this is unbelievable.

You glanced next to you. Seeing Doubledealer sleeping peacefully on his back.

You then looked down at the little locket. Her helm and little cervos are on your chest while your cervos and arm try to cover her while also keeping her close. You haven’t slept. Something that hasn’t changed since Doubledealer took over. You sat there for a little while longer before glancing at the door.

Knowing there are guards on the other side. You let out a sigh and stood up. Walking to the cleaning area in your room.

You look at the mirror see your sad expression and lockets back as she continues to sleep. You then looked down. Letting out a sad sigh and tried to think about the good times you and D-16 had.

With and without Elita and Orion. His smile and everything. You then sat in a chair as Locket soon woke up from her sleep due to a nightmare.

You started to comfort her and closed your optics once more while you gently rocked her. Thinking about your past more and more as time passes. Hoping Locket's small cries don't wake up Doubledealer.

-Flashaback-

It was a few days after D was your patient and you finally gave him the ok to leave.

He didn’t seem all that too happy but understood he needed to work to make up for some money for energon.

One day, while you were making reports for the survivors after they spent some time flirting with you. You then heard a knock while in the patient room. You thought it might’ve been ratchet since you knew he was in the room next door taking care of another patient.

When you turned, still looking down at your data pad. You then spoke. “Ratchet, I looked over this report and can you give a second opinion over this diagram and-“

”Uh- I ain’t Ratchet.” You were startled a little by his voice. Damn that voice- You looked up to see D with a nervous smile. Scratching the back of his helm. He then walked over as he spoke. “Um. Thought I come and see if you’re up for that drink?”

You were surprised and let out a soft chuckle. Nodding and sending the notes on the data pad to Ratchet then setting it down. “Sure. What place were you thinking?”

D then glanced away for a moment. Seeming nervous. You have a soft smile on your dermas. It then cuts to you and him sitting in chairs on a roof. Where the view of the Iacon 5000 race is shown.

A storage room next door. An abandoned table set for you both. At least someone tried cleaning it.

D was shaking and continued to nervously smile as he looked at you and glanced at the floor and back to the side before looking at you. You weren’t too bothered.

Not like you miners can afford to get good energon anywhere fancy.

Orion then appeared trying to make a cool entrance by jumping off the storage rooms roof. Only to fail and land next to the table. You and D looking at him worried.

It was silent for a moment while Orion took his time standing up. Struggling at first.

Dusting off his arm and lap with a smile. Then fixes up his store-bought tie also made out of metal. Then walked to a large rock and picked it up. Two plates of energon are behind it.

He then brought them to you both. Placing a plate in front of you both along with drinks that were in the storage room.

Placing the kups next to the plates and pouring in some energon then holding the bottle as brings his digits to his dermas. Then saying Muah! Before speaking. “Bon Appétit”.

You were watching him the whole time.

Then chuckled when he was done and said thank you to him while he skipped away to into the storage room.

D has had the side of his helm on his cervo while looking in the opposite direction with an annoyed expression.

You then looked at him and gave a soft smile. Placing a cervo over his, this making him look at you. His optics were nervous. You then spoke.

”I don’t know about you, but this is the nicest date I’ve ever been on.” You then grabbed some energon, eating it as your other cervo remained on his on the table. D just stared at you for another moment before doing the same with his other cervo.

You then spoke again after a moment of silence between you both. “So, Orion offered to help. I assume?”

D choked on his energon a little and spoke as his cervos grabbed his drink. “I- Well yeah- I mean he offered. I wasn't for- I mean sure about it. I just thought maybe if I kept working then I could afford a better…Restaurant you know?”

At the end of that sentence, Orion can be seen in the background on his back.

His upper half was out of the room while Elita was strangling him and he was trying to keep her from seeing them. Elita then pulled him back in. D soon continued. “But Orion convinced me that since we’re all miners. I can only do so much that I can?”

You let out a soft chuckle. Your cervo gently squeezes the top of his. “Well..”

Orion is then seen to have his upper body being thrown over the window and then being pulled back in with a scream.

“This is honestly more than I can ever ask for. And…I look forward to the…Next ones?” Orion is then at the window again. screaming help- HELP!” Before being pulled back in again.

Ds cervo then turning you hold yours in his palm. You both now holding hands in the middle of the table.

Speaking as he finally has a calmer and genuine smile and soft optics as they brighten a bit. “Me too.”

You both then leaned forward a little as you both stared into each other's optics. Love in both your optics.

Orion is then seen crawling out slowly as he struggles to breathe before being pulled back into the room with another scream. Elita is heard in the storage room saying. “Get back here!!!”.

D then speaking. His expression remaining the same as he tilted his helm to the storage room but back to you. “We should probably help him out.”

You let out a hum and spoke once more. “He can handle it for a little longer.”

Ds grin growing wider and he lies out a deep chuckle.

You both lean back a little in your seats. Him drinking his energon while you ate another piece of energon while continuing to stare at each other. Orion's screams are being heard more.

That night was a good night.

-End of Flashback-

You had a smile on your dermas. Your optics closed and Locket was able to finally calm down. A smile on her little dermas as well. But. That’s until you feel someone taking her from your arms. This instantly made you wake up.

You looked up and saw Doubledealer gently holding her with a smile. He then started to walk to her crib. You are behind him watching as he puts her in her crib.

You then stand still when he turns to face you. Looking down at you with a smirk.

His cervos then gently held and rubbed your arms. Up and down as his helm leaned down. His forhelm pressed against yours. He then speaks in a low voice.

“Very nice of you sweetspark. But if I’m going to be a good sire for locket. I need to take a little more responsibility.”

You tried to back up, but his cervos held you still. He then stood straighter and with one cervo still holding your arm. He brought you with him back to the berth.

You look back at Locket who continued to sleep peacefully.

You and Doubledealer laying down together. Him making sure the side of your frame is against his so your helm will be on his chest.

His arm around you and your lower half between his legs. He sat up a little while his other cervo lay behind his helm. he let out a soft chuckle as he spoke.

“You should really stop babying her. She might grow soft…Like her carrier” He meant in a cruel tone

You just kept looking down. Your optics then close as you try to sleep. But the cervo once behind his helm moved to hold your chin. Making you look up at him.

Your optics tired as he stared down at you. “Tell me. When’s the last time that old brute gave you a good fragging hm? Maybe you need a…Oh I don’t know. A real but to show you a good time hm?”

Your optics widened a bit and you tried to pull away. But he wouldn’t let you.

He then leans closer. You felt his dermas press harshly against yours. Keeping you still for a moment longer. You tried your best to not cry out for him to stop. But you can’t help but think. He’s so different from Megatron.

He gave you more freedom. To walk around the ship.

Speaking to whom ever you wished. But doesn't truly seem that interesting with Locket.

Not to mention he flirts with the other nutural and femme bots in his team and the high guard. But he always says scrap like you being his main one. You doubt it though.

While the kiss continued, your cervos moved to bee against his chest.

You then tried to make the effort to push him away. He seemed to get annoyed and confused. His optic ridges furrowed as he stared down at you. The speaking.

”I treat you better than even Megatron does! Why must you be so difficult?!” He held you tightly with a large frown on his dermas.

You spoke finally while your cervos continued to press harshly against his chest.

”You are no different from Megatron. And as much as you like to tell yourself this. You both only care about power. And see me as some sort of desire!” Your pede then lifted up and kicked him from the side of his helm.

But while he let you go for a moment. But was quick to grab you once more and pinning you down.

You continue to try to kick him off you. But he has a bigger bot than you. Your wrists are pinned to the side of your helm. Doubledealer stared down at you as he watched you struggle.

He then spoke in a low voice. Whispering roughly. “Keep your damn voice down. Don’t wish for Locket to wake up to her carrier acting like a damn glitch!”

You continue to struggle. Your legs kicking at him. You then get horrible flashbacks of when Megatron would do this to you.

But…rougher…As you continue Doubledealer just lets out an annoyed sigh and slowly sits up. His optics almost seem softer as he seems to be deep in thought.

He would let go of one of your cervos and move it to gently hold your cheek. Your free cervo moves to grab and pull at his arm. Then start hitting at his chest. You then say in a yelled whisper. “Let me go!!!”

He continues to just lightly sit over your legs. Soon letting out a sigh and looked to the side. Then having a grin on his face and stares down at you with a glare.

Getting off you and letting you go. But as you sat up and were about to move towards Locket, he grabbed your arms from behind bringing you back to him.

Pressed against his frame while you continue to struggle. His helm next to yours.

You are between his legs while your back is against the front of his frame. His arms then wrap around you to hold you tightly.

You felt his dermas against your shoulder while you keep struggling.

After a couple of minutes. You slowly calmed down. Small tears fell once more. All you can do is cry.

You then feel his grip on you loosen a little but still keep you against him. His helm lifts a little so he speaks next to your audio sensors. “I may be a lot like him. But at least..” One of his cervos moved to rest on your stomach just over your pelvis.

You then get a shiver up your spine as he continues to speak. “If I am to lead with the “lords” former Conjunx. I should create an heir for the new cause. Giving life to children of the strongest bots in this ship I such an honor when you think about it. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You felt yourself shake. This guy is fucking sick.

He waits for you to speak. But you remained quiet as you looked down. His cervo over your stomach starts to gently rub up and down. He then spoke once more.

“Maybe..tonight. It’s already dawn it seems. So let’s make this relationship work. Locket becomes a general. Hm and our sparkling.”

His arms still around you soon squeezed you tighter against his frame. “Will become the new lord. I would be so happy if they became a neutral bot like my lovely Conjunx.”

He whispered in a seductive tone. Your tears were now done as you stared into space.

Wide optics while you imagine it. Locket becomes a cruel ruler over an army. While this sickos sparkling will be a lord over the planet. No…Not your sparkling. And you sure as hell won't bring another life into this world just to suffer.

Doubledealer continues to look at you and lets out a soft sigh. His dermas pressing soft kisses against the side of your neck. His optics closed while he remained close to you. Your frame limped against his.

This makes him think that you gave up. He continues until he gets a comm from one of his assassin bots.

Saying it’s time to start his speech. You will be there with your sparkling as to create an image for yourself and the new bots who chose to join during these past few weeks.

You then felt him get up off the berth. His arms were no longer around you while he took the call. You sitting there in defeat. At least that’s what he thinks.

You just drowned out the sound of his voice while he was taking the call. After a few minutes of standing there with your optics closed. You then heard him say your name.

“Now start getting yourself polished and locket ready when she awakens. We have a very important meeting to get to.”

You looked so out of it. Being up all night. Your helm low as your optics showed you have been crying.

Doubledealer walked out with a grin and could be heard talking to a guard on the other side of the door once it closed behind him.

You then looked over at the locket and let out a sigh.

Slowly getting off the berth and stood. Making your way to her. She had her little cervos clenched and they were close to her cheeks.

A small frown on her dermas while her optics remained closed and her little legs lifted to be closer to her body.

You watched her for a moment then closed your optics. Imagining her grown up and looking over the horizon on the surface of Cybertron.

With a smile and bright yellow optics outshining the sky. A strong capable warrior.

She soon turned her helm and frame toward someone. You. With reassuring optics along with a smile that grew wider.

When you opened your optics you then see that she had her little optics opened, soon giggling and reaching for you.

You gently picked her up and made your way back to the cleaning room. You get to work for both you and her to look nice…and clean.

-Time skip: Throne Room-

You sat there with a blank expression. Sitting on the arm of the throne while Doubledealer sat in it. Locket sitting on your lap. Hugging you with her little arms trying to get away from Doubledealer as much as she can.

Doubledealer was speaking to the bots who decided to join saying how he’ll be a great leader. Feeling his cervo running your lower back.

Your legs dangling off the arm of the throne. Your knees were made to turn towards him. So the bots in the room see the side of your frame. Same for Locket who kept her optics closed.

You tried your best to keep her from getting fussy. Doubledealer would chuckle when he made a joke and all the other bots laughed.

You held in your tears tightly. You thought hard. Today is the day Megatron and his most loyal followers die…And Doubledealer already made it clear for this day. That you will watch. But nothing will stop you from not letting Locket watch….

Even if he punishes you for you. The sick bastard.

As the hours went by everything was set to create a new cause and destroy the first leader. Doubledealer at one point before giving the word to bring Megatron and the others in made a very important choice.

You continued to hold Locket closely while her little chin rested on top of your chest. Her optics closed.

Doubledealer then set his cervos around your little frame and pulled her from your arms. You tried to reach but when he gave you a glare. You instantly stopped.

He then set her on his lap while she tried reaching for you and hitting and pushing at Doubledealer. Letting out little grunts with angry optics.

Doubledealer let out a deep chuckle and kept her there while he spoke.

“This little one will be a great general to lead this army's cause. So. Make sure to treat her like royalty throughout the years….Understood?”

All the bots nodded their helms while Locket continued to hit at his cervos and lower stomach. Doubledealer looked down at her with a smile and narrowed optics.

All you can do is sit there with worried optics.

Doubledealer than making the order to bring in the prisoners. You watched as the doors opened. Soundwave, Shockwave, Starscream, and a ew other seekers and guards walking with with mouth guards on to shut them up.

Their cervos are tied behind thier backs. All are being dragged in by many bots and then thrown in front of the throne.

Then as last but not least. Three bots came in dragging Megatron in. Having a mouth guard on and cervos tied behind him as he’s thrown in front of the throne as well.

Slowly he got on his knees and glared at Doubledealer. You looking at him with wide optics.

When he glanced at you, his optics showed almost worry and anger.

He then looked back at Doubledealer. Who kept one cervo around and held Locket? Who was reaching and crying out for him? Still hitting and grabbing at Doubledealers larger cervo.

Doubledealers other cervo now rested on your thighs. You visibly shaking a little while he seemed relaxed on the throne.

He finally spoke while glaring down at Megatron. “Happy to see them. Aren’t you” He paused for a moment.

“Traitor.”

Megatron visibly more angry now., slowly stood up back on his feet until a yard hit him on the back of his helm making him get back on his knees.

You stared in horror while Megatron tried to yell through the mouthguards. His optics were angry.

But he and his other followers just laughed at him. You then noticed Soundwave and Starscream looking at you. Able to tell what they’re feeling. You tried to think. Hard.

Doubledealer then speaking. “You and your followers will be adding examples of for My army. And will be remembered as such. Oh. And don’t worry Megatron. I’ll take good care of Y/N and Locket. Be sure Locket grows up to be a great general…..”

Megatron continues to glare at him. Waiting for him to finish.

“Alongside her sibling who’ll be such a great Lord.” He said with a devilish grin. Megatron becoming more angry. Quickly knowing what he meant by sibling.

Megatron then tried to get up again but two bots made sure to keep him down on his knees.

The tears became harder to hold in and Doubledealer just smiled at him. You were able to get an idea of what you can do. To at least by time.

And so. Swallowing your pride. You made a move you know is certain to work. Your frame turned more to face Doubledealer as he was about to speak once more. Stopping when he felt your cervo placed against his chest. His helm turned to look at you.

You then spoke. Trying to be as calm as you can while Locket continues to reach for her sire. Megatron looks at her with worry then looks back at you.

“Doubledealer, please. At least let Locket…and I say our goodbyes to Megatron. Locket needs that closer with her sire…Before..she…”

You sighed. “She gets a new one. Please.” Your optics show desperation as you look at him. The bots in the room whispering to each other. Doubledealer continued to stare at you and then looked back at Megatron for a moment.

He sighed and the cervo that was once on your thigh was now on your lower back. He then looked at Locket. Finally speaking he stared back at you.

“Very well, say your goodbyes and the execution will proceed.”

You nodded and got off the throne. Taking Locket off his lap and make your way to Megatron. He watched as Doubledealer did.

Kneeling down before him. Little Locket reached and grabbed at his mouthguard. Megatron stared down at her with softer optics. You glanced back at Doubledealer. Asking for permission. He just sighed and waved his cervo to show him acceptance.

You then look back at Megatron. His optics looking at you the same way he looked at Locket. You then took off his mouthguard.

Megatron intake then opened and moved his lower jaw.

Stretching it out a bit. He then stared back at you. Your optics show to be sad as well. You both then looked at Locket who was standing between you both. Letting out coos and reaching for him.

Megatron leaned down a bit so she could gently hold his chin. She smiled so brightly. You’d let out a soft sigh. Your cervo moving to hold the side of his helm. He then looked at you. You both then close your optics and press each other forhelms together.

You then set your cervo to be on his shoulder as he whispered to where only you can hear him.

“Shield Locket. Soundwave will get me out. Understood?” You thought for only a second until you leaned forward. Your dermas against his as understanding without making it obvious.

Doubledealer got angry and stood up and he spoke angrily.

“That’s enough time for the both of you! Return to me!” You and Megatron stared at each other once more.

You then picked up Locket. Who started to cry for her sire. Reaching for him. Megatron leaned forward a bit so her little cervos could touch him. You then walked to Doubledealer. Unashamed of what you just did.

Doubledealer looked really angry as you got close to him in front of the throne. One of his cervos grabs at the side of your waist. His frame turned to face you as he spoke angrily. Locket hid her face in your chest as she cried for her sire. Still refusing to look at Doubledealer.

“What the hell was that?! Cheating on me when I’ve been nothing but loyal?” You know that’s a lie ever since he forced you to bond with him.

But this argument is part of your crazy plan. Distracting him long enough for Soundwave to gain enough energy and send in a powerful force to release everyone.

You responded to anger him more.

“Wouldn’t you want your Conjunx or someone you truly love to give you your final loving kiss if you were on the brink of death?”

He stared at you and let out an annoyed groan. Keeping you close while he raised his cervo. The bots standing then pointing their guns right at the prisoner's helm. Ready to shoot on command. While holding Locket with one arm.

The other holding the back of her helm to keep her from looking.

Then telling her to turn off her audio sensors so she wouldn't hear the shooting. She does and just stares at the paintings on the walls of the ship in pure silence.

You stood there as Doubledealer was about to put his cervo down.

That is until Soundwaves blaster of sound soon releases the cuffs and frees Megatron and Starscream who are in front of him.

The blast also blows the guards away before they can shoot anyone in front of them. Doubledealer moved in front of you and Locket. Giving the order to the other guards to start shooting. But the blast was able to release the others and soon there was another fight.

Doubledealer then grabs your cervo and runs out of the throne room.

Megatron can be heard yelling as Doubledealer followers try to deal with him. When he believed you guys got to a far distance in a locked room.

He pressed you harshly by the shoulders while still holding Locket, who was still crying against your chest. Wanting her sire.

He then spoke in an angry tone. “You knew this would happen, didn’t you? Helping that bastard escape? You’re a terrible Conjunx. But don’t worry. When I’ve dealt with him. I’ll teach you a good lesson on why you should never betray me. Especially as a Conjunx. Understood!”

You just stared at him point-blank. Then turn your helm away. He growled then got a comm. You heard it too. They were able to get Megatron and his followers down in a blackmail situation.

Your optics widened in fear. It was all not worth it in the end.

Doubledealer then called for a guard. Letting you go as he unlocked the door. A guard came in after a minute. Doubledealer then walks up to you and takes Locket from your arm.

You tried to take her back without hurting her. But you couldn’t. He then gave her to the guard telling them to watch her.

Locket reached for you as she cried. The door then closed behind the guard. Doubledealer was fuming. He then walked up to you and roughly grabbed your arms. Making your frame slam against his.

His dermas roughly kissing yours. Then while his dermas remained against yours. He angrily spoke in a deep whisper voice.

“You should really learn to obey me better my sweet little Conjunx!”

You started to shake. Primus did you even do the right thing?! You then felt his dermas roughly kissing the side of your neck. His cervos then move to be under your things lifting you up. He walked to press you against the wall. All his movements were rough.

You tried your best to push him away. Only to struggle while he tried forcing your panel open. He angrily whispered next to your audio sensors.

��Time to start making the next lord on the day one dies. So poetic. Don’t you think?” He continued. Trying your best to smack him away.

Praying to Primus to be saved. You can’t bring another life into this world only to suffer. He continued until you then heard two loud steps getting closer and closer. Doublledealer didn’t seem to hear them since he was the one doing most of the action.

Hearing his moans and kisses against your frame. You shut your optics.

Crying once more begging for him to stop. Before you knew it though Doubledeale was then grabbing from behind and was taken off you. You fell on your aft when he was separated from you.

You then looked in horror as Megatron stood tall over Doubledealer with an angry expression. Doubledealer looks up in fear as Megatron starts to beat the living hell out of him. Beating him into the ground while you still sat there.

Your optics are wide, while Doubledealers energon blood started to spread on the floor. You were shaking.

You then turned your helmet away. Make your optics close tightly and cover your audio sensors. Moments went by until anything became silent once him. You kept your frame turned away and your optics closed. Shaking more and more every second.

You flinched when you felt a large cervo on your shoulder.

You kept still to not get hurt. But the cervo once on your shoulder moved to hold your chin. Make your helm turn and face the bot. You slowly opened your optics. Seeing it’s Megatron.

For the first time, his optics were…well almost soft and full of sadness and worry. He was covered in blood while he kneeled down before you.

You then spoke in a soft voice. “My..My Lord.”

‘He then spoke. His voice is actually soft. “Sorry that it took me so long sweetspark.” He then helped you stand up as you both held optic contact.

His cervos then held your waist as you spoke. Your cervos move to rest on his arms instead of his chest. “You..came for me. Wait Locket! That guard still has her!” Megatron let out a chuckle and held onto you tighter as he spoke.

“Soundwave and Starscream have her. They’re watching her now while I came to save you. She’s alright sweetspark.”

You let out a relieved sigh. You then felt Megatron grab the back of your helmet. Making you stay looking up at him. His dermas against yours almost aggressively. Forcing his glossa in as he engages into a heated kiss with you.

It lasted for a good while until he decided to finally pull away. Letting out a satisfied sigh while staring down at you. You just stared up at him when he spoke.

“Being in-prisoned made me think a lot you know?” You looked at him confused. But then felt his grip on you get tighter. He then finished his sentence. “While you remain by my side. You will just make Locket week. We need to fix that.”

Your optics were wide. No no no no no! You pressed your cervos against his arms and then his chest as you grew worried and scared.

“No No NO! Megatron you can’t do this. She is my sparkling. Our Sparkling! Please don’t separate me from her!” Your voice got louder until he grew annoyed. He soon spoke once more.

“You will still be her carrier. But in order for her to be the next heir. She must learn to be strong like her sire. Not weak. That’s my final decision Y/N-.”’ You slapped him. Hard. Tears running down as you looked at his shocked expression when he looked back at you.

“You will not take my Sparkling away from Me!!!! Not you or anyone will take her away from me! She’s the only thing that is you. Him! My D-16 before you changed! You will not take what I have felt of my true Conjunx away from me!!!” He just stared at you in shock. Taking in your words. His face full of confusion.

You then turned to the door to get your sparkling. But Megatrons arms wrapped around harshly around you and kept you in place while you screamed.

“LET ME GO. I HAVE TO SEE MY SPARKLING!!! YOU CAN’T TAKE HER FROM ME. YOU CAN’T! YOU CAN’T!”

Megatron just stood there for a moment. Then getting on his knees as he keeps holding you. You continuing to scream and cry for your sparkling. Who was peacefully sleeping in Soundwaves arms in another room down the hall?

You continue. Megatrons expression blank while he stared forward. His expression even seems unsure. You continue on and on. Thinking about her so much.

Slowly your body giving up from escaping his grasp after a few minutes went by, Crying in his arms begging to see her.

You got out of the dangerous situation. Only to back with the first one. Your life truly has changed. Just like your old Conjunx.

Yeah I REALLY got carried away with this one. I swear this can fit into a whole episode. I’m pretty proud of this one and can’t wait to get to continuing with the last two parts of the story and hope you guys enjoyed this one!!!

As always a repost is appreciated and Hope you guys have a good rest of your day! Before and so forth will be released in a couple hours I just wanna get a few more touchups cause I’m really sad to see the series go before I split it to two different timelines, but that doesn’t mean I’m not excited! See you guys then!

#transformers one megatron #transformers #x reader #transformers x reader #transformers one #transformers one x reader #megatron x reader #doubledealer #doubledealer x reader

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