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marlynnofmany · 10 months

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Star-Crossed

It’s not that I make a habit of being the nosy one on the spaceship, but some things you just can’t walk past. And an argument over whether to tell the captain was one of them.

I paused in the hallway, one foot in the air and my arms full of boxes from the storage hold, then I spun on my heel and went back to the doorway that Trrili was so fond of leaping out of. She wasn’t startling crewmates today. She was trying to convince Coals that something wasn’t worth bothering the captain about.

“There are no settlementssss nearby,” she said, hissing in irritation. “It is moving slowly. Old information.” She loomed over him, all black and red and mandibles and pincher arms.

Coals was just as unimpressed as usual. “Could still be useful information to someone,” he said, arms crossed and scaly face impassive.

“It issss marked,” Trrili said slowly, “For courtship.”

“That’s been known to be important,” Coals replied.

“Old information!” Trrili said again.

“What is?” I piped up from the hallway.

Trrili turned her faceted eyes on me. “A small message beacon that is clearly a waste of our precious time.”

“Might not be,” Coals said, not moving.

“Is it much of a detour?” I asked.

“Nope,” Coals said.

“Then it couldn’t hurt to look, right? I don’t think we’re behind schedule.”

Trrili made a hissing groan, waving pincher arms and forelegs both. “It is a courtship note! Those are beyond tiresome! And it is bound to be outdated!”

Coals tactfully stepped aside. “Could have been dropped by a passing ship.”

“At that speed?” Trrili demanded, jabbing a wrist-finger at one of the screens on the console behind her. “A wrench dropped in hull maintenance moves faster than that.”

I leaned to get a look without stepping into accidental whacking range. There did seem to be a radar-style image of a blinking dot off to the side of our projected route. I couldn’t make out all the words from across the room, but I did see one that looked like “courtship.” At least it wasn’t a distress beacon.

“So what does that classification mean?” I asked. “Is it a love note drifting through space? Did someone not have a way to send a proper transmission?”

Coals tipped his lizardy head in a shrug. “I’d say it was meant to be a secret, but then, it’s broadcasting for anyone nearby to pick up. My bet is that the sender didn’t know exactly where to find the recipient, so they launched this in their general direction.”

“A long time ago,” Trrili reminded him. “This area is empty.”

“Could have been aimed from one ship to another,” Coals said.

I looked at the screen, my head full of stories about forbidden romances and near-misses told by generations of Earthlings. “We should check. It could be very important. And it’s not far, right?”

Coals stepped toward the intercom. “Not at all. Let’s see what the captain says.”

Trrili threw her pinchers into the air like she was releasing prey that was too much trouble to bother with, but said nothing while he called the cockpit. I stood in the doorway and waited.

Captain Sunlight, as it turned out, saw no problem in a minor detour to pick up the message beacon. In moments, the ship was aimed in a new direction and instructions were being sent to the crew nearest the airlock to be ready.

Trrili grumbled mightily. Coals looked smug.

Excited, I dashed off to leave the boxes of supplies in the kitchen (I’d unpack them properly later), then join up with Coals and Trrili at the cargo bay.

“How are we going to grab it?” I asked when I arrived, noticing that they weren’t putting on exo suits. “Send somebody out to scoop it up, maybe use an extendo tool?”

“No need,” Coals said. He held a bucket and a pair of gloves. “Kavlae is going to just park us in its pathway and open the door. It’s not fast enough to dent anything.”

I laughed at that while Trrili brandished a scanner of some sort. “I will check it for contamination just in cassssse,” she hissed. “Not taking chances on something this ssssstupid.”

Coals looked up at me. “The ship scanners are fine. She just likes to be sure.”

Trrili hissed again.

From the far end of the cargo bay, where Blip and Blop stood on either side of the airlock like muscle-fish sentinels, the familiar opening chime sounded. Blip and Blop were also wearing gloves, I noticed. I was starting to wonder what kind of message beacons the crew had encountered before I’d joined up.

The little porthole on the inner door went dark as the outer door opened onto the blackness of space. Everyone was silent for long enough that I started to wonder if Kavlae had missed. But then there was a bang on the door, and the porthole turned silver again.

Blip looked through the porthole. “Got it!” she said. “Looks intact.”

The intercom pinged, and Kavlae said the ship scanners had cleared it of both contagion and heat. “So get it already; we want to know what it says.”

Blip opened the airlock while the rest of us crowded close. She picked up the mechanical whatsit the size of a shoe, then handed it to Coals with more ceremony than necessary. He’d already put down the bucket and gloves.

I was glad he knew how the thing worked, because I was still trying to figure out if it had buttons or touchpads when he pressed play. The message was spoken aloud and written in the air as well; how thorough.

It was a language that I didn’t speak. How annoying.

Judging by the body language of the various fins and antennae in attendance, Blip and Blop also had no idea what the message said, but Trrili and Coals were thinking hard.

“Meeting location,” Trrili murmured. She pointed a wrist finger at one squiggle in the air. “Is this the word for asteroid or planetary rock?”

“I’m more interested in this bit,” Coals told her, jiggling the display while he adjusted his grip to point out something near the end. “Don’t let the what catch you?”

They bickered about it while the message played on a loop, sounding less like proper language and more like an agitated waterfowl as far as I was concerned. Not that I was about to judge a sentient species for that, of course. I’d met stranger.

“This part has to be flowery symbolism,” Coals said. “Something about using rock-cutters to carve out a new life together.”

“Aw,” I said without meaning to.

Trrili flicked an antenna in my direction, but otherwise ignored me. “I do not see any reference to the time period, other than that part about the authority figures arriving.”

“Is this line talking about using those rock-cutters on the authorities instead of the rocks?” Coals asked.

Blip and Blop chorused, “Ooh.” They were hanging on every word, reminding me of bodybuilders entranced by a kitten. I smiled quietly and listened. I was curious too; this was getting good.

Trrili studied the line in question. “Obscure phrasing, but yes. I approve of this courtship.”

“So are these two people planning to meet up and fight off the oppressors keeping them apart?” I asked. “We have to see if we can get the message back to them! What if one is waiting to hear from the other?”

“I still say it is old,” Trrili said, but she didn’t sound as adamant this time.

“Can’t hurt to check,” Coals declared.

Blip and Blop cheered, then dashed for the intercom and elbowed each other over who got to tell the captain. (Blop won, but I think Blip let him because she’d been the one to open the door earlier.)

As soon as the intercom was on, Blop announced, “It’s a message between a courting pair who are going to fight their enemies together! Arranging a meeting! Can we go deliver it?”

Captain Sunlight sounded amused when she said, “Kavlae has already calculated its most likely origin. The region isn’t known to be dangerous to outsiders, so I’d say that’s worth a further detour.”

Blip and Blop cheered again.

The captain continued, asking Coals to bring her the best translation they could manage in the next few minutes. This really was a small detour. By the sound of it, we’d be there pretty darn soon. Hooray for top-of-the-line starship engines (or near top, according to Mimi in the engine room).

This was just enough time for our two translators to take it back to their office and wrangle the details, while Blip and Blop finished whatever they were doing and I put away those supplies.

I hurried. The jars of spices and extra napkins didn’t have to all be stored the right way up.

Coals and Trrili must have found a translation file for that exact language, because they were done almost before I was. I returned the empty boxes to the storage hold while I listened to Captain Sunlight read the translation over the whole-ship line of the intercom, so the crew was on the same page about our detour. She was always thoughtful that way.

And what a message it was. Star-crossed lovers on rival asteroid mining installations, one pledging undying love to the other! Suggesting plans to meet, and do a great many things with those mining tools. And yes, more than a hint of glorious rebellion against cruel overlords.

If the captain hadn’t already agreed to go, I would have been campaigning outside the cockpit. With some concern for the danger, if course. Rebellions are rarely safe for anyone, including random courier ships with no business being there. But the region really was marked as safe.

Hmm.

Was that rating a lie? Propaganda? Had the rebellion already been squashed? Or did we have the wrong asteroid belt entirely?

I was unabashed in my nosiness this time, peeking into the cockpit for a glimpse of our destination as it came on screen. Coals was there behind the captain’s chair, holding the message thingy with his usual dignity while Kavlae worked the controls, blue frills folded in concentration. Trrili was in the hallway with me because she was really too big for the remaining space in the room. She was probably grumpy about that, but honestly it was hard to tell. She watched the screen too.

When I’d heard “asteroid mining colony,” I’d pictured gray rocks and space suits, pickaxes and long work hours. This was … not that.

The asteroids were painted bright colors. They had houses on them. Also gravity generators, by the looks of it. And they were far closer together than any natural asteroid belt had any right to be, yet they weren’t crashing into each other any more than the zippy little cruisers going back and forth were. It looked like a suburb in space.

This was definitely the right species, though. The face that popped onscreen at the captain’s hail was birdlike, with white-flecked black feathers, a wide beak, and a voice best described as quackity. Recognizable words, though.

“Sky River Information Center,” she said. “How can I help you?”

“Hello,” said Captain Sunlight. “We intercepted a message meant for someone in this region. Is there a mining colony anywhere about?”

Quackity laughter. “There was! Oh grasses, did you find something that one of the miners threw at each other and missed?”

Beside me, Trrili folded her pinchers smugly. She whispered, “Old information. Ssssshhould have listened to me.”

Captain Sunlight maintained her calm. “That does appear to be the case,” she said. “It’s a message between — What are the names, Coals?”

Coals stepped forward with the message capsule. “Sharpeye of the Tall Reeds and Mud-dancer of the Deep Shadows.”

The duck lady’s amusement vanished. “WHAT? You found a message between them?”

“Yes,” the captain said. She ushered Coals further forward to make sure the camera saw the message capsule. “Were they important?”

“I’ll say!” The duck lady made frantic gestures to someone offscreen. “They spearheaded the Miner’s Revolution that made everything possible! I can’t believe this. Please, come land on the central pad, the blue one. A great many people would like to get a look at that message.”

Coals cast a smug grin over his shoulder at Trrili while the captain directed the landing. Trrili threw her pinchers in the air again, but didn’t leave. The official was still talking history.

“The battles were fierce from the start,” she said. “Mud-dancer and Sharpeye led more than one attack from opposite directions, coordinated in a way that was most unexpected.”

“Did they survive?” I asked quietly. When the captain raised a browridge at me, I elaborated. “Did they live to see that happy future together that they wanted?”

“Oh yes,” the duck lady said brightly. “They had an exceptionally productive mating season. I think they even met up again on a different year, though that’s hearsay. Certainly possible, given how many people around here claim to be direct descendants!”

“Oh,” I said. In all my thoughts about the undying romance of the whole thing, it had never occurred to me that the species in question might not mate for life. “Good for them.”

Trrili was hissing again, but this time it was laughter at my expense.

Duck lady didn’t even notice. “If I recall, there’s a nesting lake named after them back on the homeworld. One of the new ones, not an ancestral thing, but still a pretty big honor. They deserve all of that and more!”

“I’m sure they do,” Captain Sunlight said. “We’re coming in to land now. I don’t suppose there would be any sort of finder’s reward for an item with such historic value?”

“I have already called the Points to join us immediately,” she said. “They will certainly want to be generous.”

With my thoughts on trying to figure out that honorific (picturing a flock of ducks flying in a V after the leader), I could almost ignore Trrili’s hissing. Almost.

“Did you think they would spend their entire future together?” Trrili laughed. “I forgot your species does that.”

“Hey now, that’s a good thing,” I objected. I was interrupted in trying to justify it further by Coals heading for the airlock. Slowly. With all the smugness in the world.

“Told you it was worth it,” he said to Trrili.

“And I told you it was old information,” she retorted. “If that pair hadn’t accomplished historical violence as well as historical mating, we would have wasted all our time.”

“Totally,” Coals enunciated, head held high, “Worth it.”

I shook my head and followed him. “Yeah it was.” Star-crossed ducks were better than nothing.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

#my writing #The Token Human #writeblr #writblr #humans are space orcs #haso #hfy #science fiction #message in a bottle #in space

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cynoglav · 10 months

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what art supplies do u use? i rly like ur doodles ....

first of all, thank you!

this is gonna be a long one. and hey, before I get into this: getting better tools does not make you a better artist. I'm serious. Please don't get things from this list to improve your art, and especially if they're just gonna languish in a drawer because you're afraid of wasting them. I love you and you deserve nice things, but they are not the key to becoming a better artist.

I've also had many, many years to collect and curate stuff. A lot of it I gave away to friends because I didn't use it. If you're new to this, don't worry about getting "all the best things". It's a little silly, and can hold you back.

Especially for sketchbooks, exploration and just messing around, quality stuff isn't necessary. if you're selling commissions or making stuff that will be hung up, yeah, quality matters, but it's mostly about how archival/lightfast stuff is, not price. you won't catch me with caran d'ache or prismacolor stuff, nuh-uh. Only one of these is good and worth the price, and spoiler, it's not the prismacolor.

also, if I catch you hanging up alcohol marker originals, I will personally come into your house and put them into a safe drawer. that shit fades, and fast.

with that out of the way:

digital: clip studio paint + wacom intuos pro medium (circa 2017?). Don't bother with wacom tho, a huion is just fine. I do recommend not getting a small one though, your wrists will thank you. I use whatever brushes i like atm, usually default or custom-made by me.

watercolor: a mix of roman szmal + renesans paints, because they're high quality and extremely local (and thus cheap!!) to me. Currently I'm using arches 185gsm cold press (100% cotton). I chose it over 300gsm because it's cheaper, and thus feels less precious, so I'm not afraid to "waste it", whatever that means. for brushes, I use a #6 kolibri pure red sable round and a really, really old #2 cotman round (111 series). I would recommend synthetics due to environmental and ethical concerns over how sable hair is harvested. I also have a #16 flat somewhere, but I have no f%$#ing clue where it is. Do note that watercolor is rarely a vegan medium, as the sizing in watercolor paper is usually gelatine. I'm sure you can do it, but idk how. for gouache i use the watercolors mentioned above + white gouache because I'm a rebel. I do have a renesans gouache set tho, and will use it up because I hate wasting things.

ink: winsor&newton black and white shellac ink. I discovered G-pen nibs like a week ago and they're my jam, but I used a LS40 nib before (too flexy). FWIW i also use a white sakura gelly roll for white highlights sometimes, and sakura pigma microns in various sizes and colors (usually 003, 01, PN). I also use regular fountain pen ink in a fountain pen because it's fun.

sketchbooks/paper: royal talens art creation. they are the superior affordable sketchbook, no contest. I love the 12x12cm size and A5 bound on the short side. I'm also using a 12x12cm sakura sketchbook with black paper for gouache doodles. for watercolors, I use 100% cotton as mentioned before, as that is the only medium I ever consider selling to people. Everything else I don't bother keeping archival, so it's in my sketchbook or on cheap-ass copy paper. go nuts.

pencils: I prefer a 2H for layouts on watercolor paper and a HB for sketching, usually either a faber castell 9000 (the dark green ones) because idk they make me happy and are nice and smooth. Usually it's "whatever" though. as long as it writes and doesn't scratch I can use it.

colored pencils: a 36 set of faber castell polychromos and i refuse to elaborate

misc. sketching supplies: uni nano dia color mechanical pencil leads. My #1 most used is pink and I plan on getting more colors. for normal mechanical pencil lead i use a HB refill in whatever brand i can find (I'm even less picky than with wooden pencils). All of these are in 0.5mm size. oh, and tons of misc. cheapo colored pencils I have laying around, like most artists. for erasers, usually it's "whatever" but I do carry several with me at all times. current faves are colored kneadable erasers (ooo pretty colors!!), milan tri jet, pentel hi-polymer in green, pentel hi-polymer slim. pencil sharpeners are also a whatever as long as it doesn't break my pencil, but I do really like the derwent long point (i have the mini, its cute) for cute accents of color i use whatever pastel highlighter i have at hand, or a crayola supertip. I sometimes also use alcohol markers, but rarely.

alcohol markers: copic ciao, but don't bother buying them. ohuhu has refills now and copics lost their only advantage.

acrylic paint: renesans flowacryl, but I do plan to switch to golden fluid at some point. this is exclusively for mtg alters, btw. in terms of brushes, I use a #0 milan round (golden taklon i think but idk and I don't have any at hand rn to check) and a #6 oval (it's flat but with rounded off corners) in whatever brand is available.

i think i covered it all! now go grab a pencil and copy paper, and have fun. this is a threat.

#text post #long post #ask #anon ask #anon #art asks #art supplies

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drifterjo · 15 hours

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Te o Toriatte

Chapters V, VI, VII & VIII

Thinking back, I’m pretty sure those first hands I won were a mix of a lot of luck and a little bit of merit.

I got two pairs four times straight, if you can believe that, followed by a successful bluff and an ace-high. Enough to keep me well ahead. In a matter of minutes I tripled the money Vex had loaned me.

As for the guy, he remained apparently unperturbed by my winning streak.

I soon realized his mind was elsewhere. As it turned out, he had a story to tell and he was eager to talk. All he had been doing, it seemed, was waiting on a sympathetic ear willing to listen.

His name was Damien Hurst. He was a self-made man, a big business tycoon whose monetary health did not come from the cradle.

“I like to think of myself as a fortunate intergalactic entrepreneur,” Mr. Hurst said. “I got lucky with my initial investments. Afterwards, the right opportunities presented themselves one after the other. To be honest, the whole thing just snowballed.”

I listened.

“I’m but a merchant, really!” he went on. “There’s an abundance of precious minerals out there. I dig them and sell them, wherever and whenever. There’s nothing to it: just your basic law of supply and demand!”

“Do you own mines?” I asked, trying to mask my incredulity.

“Several of them, yes!”

“Where?”

“All over the solar system: Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, the moons of Neptune.”

“How many?”

“Hum… thirty or so!”

I was fascinated. In all fairness, Mr. Hurst didn’t strike me like the typical rich jerk. He seemed a decent guy. Little by little, I started to like him.

“What are you doing here then, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Damien sighed, “I get lonely, you know!”

“Still… you sit here all by yourself!” My voice trailed off.

“These people… they know who I am, most of them! I come here often, you know?”

I didn’t know that.

“So?”

“They are intimidated by my wealth. That’s why they refuse to play against me. Also, they won’t keep me company!”

I reflected about this for a moment. “Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it? They reckon that with all the dough you have, you’ll eventually end up emptying their pockets.’

Damien nodded.

“I guess.”

“Well… I don’t fear your money, so I’m staying right here.”

“Thanks!”

“Don’t thank me,” I grinned. “I’m winning, remember?”

He nodded again.

Our game proceeded in silence. The quick succession of good hands I’ve mentioned earlier - and my fortunate bluffing -, made my chutzpah grew exponentially.

VI.

My turn to deal came. I lit a cigarette before dealing us five cards each. Damien received his and eyed them one by one. He stiffened - a slight move, barely perceptible, but a reaction just the same.

I ignored it… don’t ask me why.

As for me, I got a couple of tens, a jack, a four and a two. Enough to win again, I thought.

I said, “How many cards do you want?”

Damien shook his head. Another sign; either I had given him a very good starting hand or he was bluffing.

“And you?” he asked.

“I stand pat as well!”

“Really?!?”

I stood my ground, defiantly.

“Okay! This should be interesting!”

His first round of betting was three hundred thousand woolongs - half of what I had won so far. I regarded it as a reasonable amount, which was absurd, really! An hour earlier I would have considered it a small fortune. I equaled his three hundred thousand, going blindly for the draw.

Damien took off his shades and looked me in the eye. He watched me closely.

“How much money have you got left?”

His question caught me off guard. I felt a whiff of unease. “Three hundred thousand.”

He studied me. “My bet is three hundred thousand, then!’

“You’re forcing me to go all in, uh?” I know… a childish thing to say.

“You can back down! It’s your decision!”

I felt trapped. How did it happen so fast? I should have read the signs properly and backed down earlier. Any poker player worth his salt would.

Yet, three hundred thousand woolongs seemed like a lot of money to go to waste just like that. Even if for now I got to keep the remaining three hundred - which could be gone later, anyway!

What if Damien was bluffing? He could, couldn’t he?

All of a sudden the air felt muggy. I gulped down half my whiskey, but still I remained hot. I loosened my lose tie a bit more, unbuttoned the front of my shirt and wiped the sweat from my face.

Typical player-in-trouble demeanor.

“Allow me a moment, will you?” I said.

“Take all the time you want,” he clenched his cards tightly. “I’m not going anywhere!”

VII.

I convinced myself my adversary was bluffing. I can only describe my idiocy like that. Riding high on pretension and self-deceit, I guess I was trying to impress the bigshot mogul.

I should have known better, of course.

For barely a minute I probably managed to look like I was giving the matter some serious thought. I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking at all. Then I held back no longer.

“All in,” I heard myself say.

Damien stared at me in silence. In retrospect, his attitude was not surprising. I had already figured him a decent enough fellow. In his quiescence, he was giving me a chance to own the error of my way.

“All in,” I repeated.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Damien showed his hand.

At first I didn’t look at it. I felt his quiet empathy instead. And even before I saw the cards he was now showing me, I knew I had lost.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was but a whisper.

I looked at the cards at last and I noticed right away that they were all of the same suit: hearts. Not a flush, though. Not even a straight flush. I blinked, looked again. The cards were ordered in a neat sequence: ten, jack, queen, king and ace.

A royal flush.

It was there, in front me. It was real.

Yet the reality of what I was witnessing was so immensely absurd that it took a while to sink in. Any poker player in all the planets and moons knew they had a higher chance of dying at the poker table than getting a royal flush handed to them.

And I was the one who had given Damien Hurst his royal flush of hearts. The odds of thathappening seemed unreal, impossible even.

And yet…

VIII.

Loosing that hand meant I was broke once again - not to mention deep in debt also.

“Christ,” I said.

“I know,” Damien said apologetically, “I can’t believe it myself!”

I got up, flustered.

“Where are you going?” he said.

“What do you mean? This game is over!”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Ponder my options.”

As if I had a lot of them…

“Sit down,” Damien was pointing at the chair I had just vacated. His sorrowful eyes were more than I could bear.

“Look, I really have to g-”

“Sit down,” he insisted. “Please!”

I sat back down.

“Finish your drink and light up another cigarette. Better still, have another whiskey. On me. Do whatever you need to do to calm yourself. You’ve just lost an awfully large amount of money.”

I exhaled loudly, “Tell me about it!”

Damien was silent for a moment then said, “Do you even have a next move?”

I browsed the place. Vex was nowhere in sight. To hell with him! At this point any other vulture would do!

“I need to get myself a loan!”

“Don’t do it,” he said at once. “You’ve already got a rather substantial one under your belt.”

I focused on him.

“How do you know that?”

“I watched you when you came in, engaging with a bookie; the one with creepy eyes!”

“Well, I didn’t have a choice then and I don’t have one now. It’s Christm-”

“Let me help you!”

“What? How?”

“You’re a bounty hunter, aren’t you?”

“You know me?”

Damien ignored my remark. “It so happens that I’ve been looking for someone with… your skills!”

“Is that so?”

I lit up one of my Marlboros, gazing at him. This guy was full of surprises. “Why?”

“Someone has been robbing me. Big money. I want you to find out who’s doing it.”

“What about the Inter-Solar System Police? Have you gone to them?”

“The ISSP has proved unable to find the guy so far.”

“What makes you think it’s a guy?”

He shrugged, “Maybe it’s a gal. Maybe it’s a bunch of gals, I don’t know and I don’t care. I just want you to hunt down who’s doing it.”

“And if I do?”

“Name your price first! We’ll settle the details later.”

#cowboy bebop #cowboy bebop fanart #cowboy bebop fanfiction #books #bookworm #my writing

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 3 years

Text

Of Constellations & Creeds

Chapter 21: Fire of Devotion

Summary/Author’s Note: Din presents you with a gift that he has had for while. You start exploring what it means to work as a team and meet a fiery mechanic that takes a shine to you.

There is a note at the end for what something looks like if you guys are having a hard time picturing it. I tried to do my best. Thank you for reading!

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!reader (Alpha/Omega/soulmates AU) Word Count: 5k Warnings/Promises: Mature/18+ - language, sexual themes, weapons/shooting

[Previous Chapter] [Series Masterlist] [My Complete Masterlist]

This is what dreaming felt like.

You were the perfect temperature of warm bodies and crisp blankets. Sprawled among the sheets, you lucidly stretched your body as your mind slowly woke up the rest of your limbs. You started by wiggling your toes while you listened to the birds chitter in the trees outside the barn, your ankles, your back, and lastly your arms. You quietly popped your fingers as you brought them up to rub gently at the back of your sore neck with a groan.

"Shit."

You winced as you stretched your arms and suddenly remembered why your shoulder was so tender. Rotating the cuff much slower, you worked the stiffness out of the muscle until you could move it more freely. That was at least a little better.

Before falling into bed last night, Din had ravished you against the wall, then again on the ground, neither one of you able to stop long enough to tear yourselves apart. The idea of moving into the comfort of your bed never came up, due to not wanting to wake the kid and once again...that required you to stop touching each other. Whatever discomfort you felt had absolutely been worth it.

The morning sun was warm on your face and you opened your eyes to find the Mandalorian facing you...still helmetless. You had worried the moment you fell asleep everything would have ceased to have happened. You really wouldn't have seen his face. You really wouldn't have received his mark. But he had sleepily assured you that closing your eyes erased nothing and he promised to be here when you woke up. Everything you had done last night was no dream. It had been very, very real.

“Din?” you whispered almost inaudible, as if to test him.

His eyes were closed and his mouth open ever so slightly as he continued to sleep with his arm bent behind his head against his pillow. He looked younger in the sunlight. The gentle rays tinting his already light brown skin to a warm sienna, it did the same to his hair, finding the small strands of molten gold throughout the tousled dark curls. He was so handsome and you had yet to tell him, but something told you he wouldn't believe you even if you did.

Did Mandalorians have a concept of beauty? When you spent your entire adolescence with a helmet on, you couldn’t imagine it mattered much what the person underneath looked like. It leveled the playing field so to speak. While society squabbled over such trivial attributes, you imagined Mandalore was more concerned with your ability to win a fight, to negotiate, to contribute to your clan.

It used to be easy to look at him with disdain. Then that disdain turned to something little more than convenient indifference. It was easy to blame him for the destruction of your home world, for the loss of your old life. Anger was always easier. And yet as you looked at him now, and fought the desperate urge to trace the bridge of his nose with the tip of your finger, you knew you felt something else towards him. Something that you hadn't felt in a very long time. Something that felt a lot like affection...a lot like love.

Yes, to you Din was beautiful. But then again when you loved someone, weren’t they always? There was that word again. It made you smile quietly to yourself as you mulled it over in your mind.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his, a chaste kiss that caused a soft groan to come from somewhere deep in his chest as his arm slid around your middle.

"Good morning," you whispered against his mouth and he grunted, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Ten more minutes."

You smiled, kissing him again as he pulled you closer. You reached down and grabbed the blanket before pulling it up over the both of you more securely. For a man that never took a break, he loved sleep more than anyone you had ever met.

"Alright, ten more minutes," you said quietly as you moved to kiss his cheek before tucking your head under his chin against his chest and closing your eyes.

Saying goodbye to Omera and Sorgan was more painful than you imagined it would be. She was the first person who understood your struggle. If it weren't for her who knew how long it would take you and the Mandalorian to find one another. But no matter how you felt, you couldn't stay here and she couldn't come with you. It seemed everywhere you went there was something new to lose, a new heartache to experience, and as you hugged her tightly and held back your tears she was added to the long list of loss in your life.

"You'll always have a place here," she said quietly as you squeezed her tighter. It's as if she knew you were trying not to fall apart. She felt the soft cloth that you had used to bandage your shoulder and she leaned back to see your face and give you a knowing grin. “But you are now right where you’re supposed to be.”

"Thank you," you said, wiping your eyes as she fixed the shawl around your shoulders and gave your arms a pat.

“Keep up with your meditations. They’ll help.”

“I know.”

"Take care of them," she nodded to the man behind you who was holding the child and waiting patiently for you by the cart. "But don't forget to take care of yourself."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The trip back through the woods to the Razor Crest was a somber one and you watched as the child stood at the back of the cart and waved its tiny three-fingered hand at the group of children who were waving in return. You leaned forward and rubbed the space between its massive ears gently. However you were feeling was probably nothing compared to the little guy. He didn't know what was going on, or that there were people hunting him, or why you couldn't stay in such a beautiful place where he had made so many friends. It was tough being a kid in such a big world. Maker, it was tough being an adult in such a big world.

You looked back as you felt Din put his hand on the small of your back and lean his helmet against your temple for the briefest of moments. You lowered your walls ever so slightly and accepted the comfort that he sent your way. Maybe Omera had been right, maybe he had wanted to stay too.

Being back on the Razor Crest came pretty naturally to the three of you and to say you were surprised was an understatement. Fresh supplies from Sorgan filled the storage bunker and with more variety to eat than prepackaged rations, your spirits were much higher than they had been previously.

“Come on, kid,” you said, gently as you picked up the child and straightened his burlap cloak. “Nap time.”

“Ba-to!” he squeaked, raising his arms up and giving you a two-toothed smile that warmed your heart.

“Just for a little bit,” you assured him. “Then you can come up front and help pilot. Sound good?”

“Ah-yo!”

“No, no, I promise,” you answered him like you were having a full conversation. “I’ll make him let you. You’re plenty old enough,” you scoffed with a laugh. “You just need a few phone books to sit on.”

He gave another happy squeak as you sat him in the hammock hanging above Din’s bed and tucked him in. You dug out the small stuffed frog that Winta had made for him back on Sorgan, with it’s bright blue felt skin and lopsided eyes, and helped him nestle it under his chin. You gave him a soft pat on the head and waited for him to close his eyes before pressing the button on the panel that closed the door with a quiet hiss.

You heard your name being said from above you and you went to the ladder that led to the cockpit, looking up to see the Mandalorian looking down. He had brought the ship out of hyperdrive for the time being as you researched a plan of action. Without coordinates, it was pointless to travel in circles and waste precious fuel.

“Can you come up here for a second?” he asked and you nodded.

Taking one rung at a time, you hauled yourself up into the main hull and gratefully accepted his help in order to plop your butt on the floor with a smile. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling back.

There had been precious little time for him to take off his helmet once you were back on the ship. Somehow the ship was less private than the bed you had shared in the barn. Although you were disappointed not to be able to look over and see his face whenever you wanted, you understood. This was a new experience for him in a way you would never understand, a type of vulnerability that you would never know, but how you longed to kiss him properly again. You wanted to feel his lips on the back of your neck as he curled himself behind you for sleep. All selfish reasons, of course, but that didn’t diminish them in any capacity.

“What’s up?” you asked as you leaned back on your hands and looked at him where he stooped beside the captain’s chair.

“I got you something.”

“Me?” You leaned up with widening eyes as you put a hand to your chest in question.

“Is there someone else I’m traveling with?” he asked and you glared at him before realizing it was his poor attempt at dry humor. “Yes, you.”

He moved under the chair and dragged a medium sized trunk out from the alcove created by the dashboard and the control panel. You recognized it as the trunk he had received from the armorer back on Nevarro. It was a dark slate colored material and he popped the latches before

beckoning you closer.

“I hope you like them.”

“Whatever it is,” you encouraged him. “I’m sure I will.”

“You don’t have to use any of it if you don’t want to--”

“Din, just show me.”

“Alright, okay,” he let out a heavy breath and lifted the lid before spinning the entire thing slowly around to show you.

“You didn’t have to get me anyth--oh, goddess,” you said softly in amazement.

Inside, carefully protected by a velvet type of lining, were crafted pieces of a silver metal. You hesitated, reaching out to touch one of them and thinking better of it before looking at him as if you needed permission. With a careful nod of his helmet, you picked up one of the cylindrical pieces and brought it closer for inspection.

“Is it--?”

“Beskar,” he nodded. “It’s yours.”

“Din, I--”

He held up a gloved hand to stop any argument you may have had and helped you take the pieces out one by one. Two bracers that fit perfectly over your wrists and protected your forearms about two inches from your elbows. He took them gently and slipped them over your tender skin before locking them into place and letting you get used to the feeling. You made a fist with both of your hands a few times, opening and squeezing, testing how they felt.

“They lock like this,” he said after completing the motion. “They’ll deflect anything. Blaster-proof. Just hold your arm like you would defensively,” he instructed, pulling your arm up to protect your face and tapping it once with his finger. “Ping. Right off the beskar. We can practice.”

“Handy,” you nodded and he dove back into the box for the next piece.

“This,” he offered the single pauldron to you, moving around your body slightly to fit it to your non-dominant shoulder. “Protects your dominant side by sitting opposite it.”

“Because I turn my body away from the blow?”

“Exactly.” He put it over your shoulder and clamped it down around your bicep. Hooking it securely across your torso. “Plus, the added weight on your dominant arm would slow you down if you’re using your staff.”

“Makes sense.”

“Move your arm,” he said and when you did, he adjusted it slightly. “How’s that?”

“It’s extremely generous and useful but--”

“No buts.”

“I--”

“You’re my Omega,” he interrupted you gently. “You have the right to wear it. And it’ll help keep you safe--and if you’re safe, I’m focused.” His hand came down to rest gently over your shoulder blade, covering the still tender skin of where he had marked you.

He had a point but it still made your ears burn with embarrassment. You knew he didn’t mean it as an insult to your abilities. You had more than proven you could handle your own when you first met, but the knowledge that your safety proved a distraction to him still made you feel guilty. You felt the sudden need to apologize but you knew Din wouldn’t want to hear it, let alone entertain such an idea.

“There’s one more piece,” he said gently. He held it out gently and when you looked at him in confusion he offered his hands forward. “Can I?”

You nodded and sat still with your hands in your lap as he made sure any stray pieces of your hair were out of the way. Even with the gloves and his armor, he was always so gentle, so careful. When he was satisfied he held out the silver circlet and slipped it around the front of your forehead and over your temples. The blocky beskar came to a strong point between your brows and the edges came down in front of your ears to frame the sides of your face. Each subtle point that mirrored the larger one turned what would have been an ordinary face guard into something much more symbolic.

“I feel ridiculous,” you said softly, not wanting to hurt his feelings but also having a hard time wrapping your head around the idea that such a piece of finery was really necessary.

“You look breathtaking,” he argued and it made you smile. “You’re an Omega, an Ursa at that--people deserve to know.” He swallowed hard and nodded to the box. “If we find more beskar I can have a proper helmet made instead of--”

“A tiara?” you asked with a bite of wit and he chuckled.

“It has more purpose than that, I promise.” He touched the sides that came down almost level with your jaw line. “These protect your peripherals--keeps light from obscuring your view for long range weapons.”

“Smart.”

“And this,” he touched higher, closer to your ear and a soft static hum came before you heard his next words twice, almost overlapping one another. “Has a direct com line to me.”

“That,” you put your hand over his and spoke into the mic as if to test it the other way. “Is incredibly useful.”

He gave a nod to signal that it had worked and he dropped his hand from your face to rest comfortably on your thigh. You put your hand over his and held in gently. It was beautifully crafted and you were having a hard time coming to terms with the idea that he had spent any of the rarest metal in the world on something for you. But that wasn’t the only issue, no, there was something else. An issue of the timeline.

“When did you have this made?” you asked, tracing the metal etching that lined the outside of the bracer.

“When we got the bounty on the kid--I had it made along with mine.”

“But that was before I agreed to be your Omega,” you said carefully, watching his body for any sign of tension. There wasn’t any.

“I know.”

You bit your lip and looked down. With a shake of your head, you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking. “What if I would have left? What if I never agreed to this? You--”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could have,” you argued. “And then all of this would have been for nothing. You--”

“I had a feeling.”

You looked at him in awe and realized how much he had staked on you making the right decision. He would have sooner sold his beskar than taken away your freedom, the freedom to choose what you wanted. He had hoped against all hope that you would eventually want him, but there was no guarantee. To Din it was all left up to faith. Faith in his creed, faith in his people, faith in you. It was hard not to feel undeserving of such things, but it only confirmed that perhaps it was time that you had a little faith in him.

Going up on your knees, you moved the metal storage box out of the way and grabbed him by the front of his chestplate. He said your name softly as you slid into his lap and his hands came around to rest on the swell of your hips. You tilted his helmet back just enough to kiss his lips, drawing a soft sound from them as he tasted you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly and you were glad you could see his mouth move up in a genuine smile.

“You’re very welcome.”

The more moments like this that you had, the easier it became to realize just how ‘all in’ you were when it came to the bounty hunter. When he had stepped off of his ship and chased you through the woods now flight like a lifetime ago and in a way it was. That was a different life completely. And you were okay with that. The world seemed a lot less scary now that you were on the same team.

You leaned in to kiss him again but there was a loud bang and whoosh of energy as something dropped out of hyperspace and the Razor Crest rocked slowly. Din lowered his helmet and the two of you looked around before you slowly climbed out of his lap and to your feet.

“What was that?”

“I’m not sure.”

He moved to the pilot’s chair and leaned over the control board, inspecting the map and waiting for the radar to ping something back. Nearly the exact moment a blip showed up on the neon green screen, a blast screamed passed your vessel and struck the ship, rocking it back and forth.

“Buckle in,” he barked and the two of you moved to your respective places.

You fell into the co-pilot bucket seat to the right of the Mandalorian and placed your feet up on the footrest to brace yourself. As soon as you clicked your seat belt, your fingers instinctively wrapped around the control stick in front of you and reached up to flip the buttons on your side of the dash. Your side of the ship whirred to life as you shared control of the panel with Din, making it easier for him to focus on flying. Like you had told him before, if he handled the fancy maneuvering, you could squeeze a trigger.

Another wave of fire lit up the dark atmosphere around you and Din turned the ship to try and find the culprit behind the attack.

“If the kid sleeps through this, I’ll be impressed,” Din said as he swiveled his own chair around and jammed the buttons for the back up thrusters.

“I’m pretty sure he could sleep through anything,” you agreed.

“Pa-too!”

The two of you both whipped around to see the small, green thing standing in the doorway with its arms in the air and a wide smile.

“You were saying?” the bounty hunter chuckled and the child stumbled its way to you as the ship took a nosedive. You barely had time to grab him by the tiny cloak and haul him into your lap.

“Got ya!” you said and he squealed with laughter. At least someone found your current predicament funny. You tucked him on your lap securely as a series of blaster fire whizzed passed the sides of the ship.

“Hand over the Child, Mando.” A deep voice said through the com-system and when the child in question squealed again you clapped your hand over his mouth. Another round of shots pinged around you and the crest gave a jolt as one of the engines took a hit. “I might let you live.”

“Guild?” you asked and Mando nodded before grabbing a large lever to his right and yanking it down quickly.

“You got both hands on the blaster cannons?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued. “When I say fire, let ‘em have it.”

Another hit rocked the ship as the engine on the left started to sputter and burst into flames before it powered down. Din cursed quietly under his helmet and pulled another lever to quickly power down both engines. “Hold on!” he yelled over the roar of the enemy ship as he rolled the crest out of the way of another round of fire. Stars streaked passed the windows as you both stared upwards and the other ship came directly into view.

“I can bring you in warm,” the enemy bounty hunter said flatly, “...or I can bring you in cold.”

“That's my line,” Din said in a deadly tone before he hit the thrusters and pointed at you and the kid. “Fire!”

You squeezed the trigger on the gun leavers and shots fired from the front of the razor crest, exploding the smaller ship into a wave of orange fire and metal debris. You flinched away from the bright light and the child clapped its tiny hands as Din gave you an approving nod.

“Oh-ah!”

“Not bad, little one,” you laughed softly, kissing the top of his green head between his ears. “Not bad.” Din clicked on a few of the switches above his head and the dashboard lit up in a series of red and orange lights. You watched him carefully and waited until he stopped before you spoke. “How bad is it?”

“We’re losing fuel,” he said, pulling up the map and thumbing through a few different screens. He thumbed through a few of the nearby planets before double tapping the screen and bringing up one of the larger orbs. “Mos Eisley is the closest place where we could dock and get some repairs.”

“Will we make it?”

“Of course.” He pulled another leaver and the ship gave a lurch forward before it evened out. “We have enough in the power reserves to get us there--don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” you said, biting your lip to keep a soft smile from gracing your features. The truth was, with Din, you were never worried.

Mos Eisley was the largest spaceport on the planet of Tatooine. Din explained that what it lacked in a centralized docking bay, they made up for in the fact that they had hundreds of hangars that were each maintained by individual workers and mechanics. It sounded impressive but to you it looked like little more than a patch of dust and poorly refined sandcastles.

The control tower told you to head for bay three-five and the Mandalorian copied as he steered the ship in that direction. The Crest had definitely seen better days as it sputtered and landed with jerky movements before finally touching down in a puff of sand and a clang of metal.

As you drifted through the vast emptiness of space before entering the atmosphere, the child had somehow lulled himself back to sleep. It was actually pretty impressive the amount of naps he managed to squeeze in in a day.

You carefully tucked him back into the sleeping compartment and put on the rest of the clothing you had from Arvala-7. It was still breathable but it wasn’t nearly as light as the cloth you had sported back on Sorgan. The leather riding pants and bantha hide boots would keep the sand out of your more intimate places, while the tan corded top and matching cloak kept your skin protected from the harsh sun without absorbing much of the light.

The beskar looked out of place with the rest of your attire, but something told you it was just the fact that you weren’t used to it. What was your favorite mantra as of late? One thing at a time.

You stopped in the doorway to the refresher and couldn’t help but stare at your reflection in the mirror. The metal of the headpiece that Din had tucked gingerly into your hairline. You had spent most of your life running from what you were: an Omega, an Ursa, a royal lineage of some kind that you had no desire to uphold. And yet, the tangible evidence was glittering on your forehead. Had Din designed such a thing or had it been at the behest of the Armorer? Somehow you felt you knew the answer to that.

You saw Din appear behind you in the mirror before you ever heard him and you prided yourself on not nearly jumping out of your skin.

"Good to go?"

When you nodded, he hit the button that started to lower the ramp on the main hull and you squinted against the bright sun. As you walked down the ramp a group of rust colored droids popped up from their current task and scurried towards the Mandalorian. Their saucer-shaped heads bobbed in place making them look like mushrooms on stilts as they surveyed the ship and chipped back and forth to one another.

Din pushed back his cloak and drew his blaster, firing one shot from the hip into the dirt. The droid squealed and jumped into the air before clamming up into a tiny ball.

“Mando!” you jumped and looked at him in surprise before looking back to the shivering droid.

“Hey!” a woman’s voice screeched from inside the building connected to the hangar. She pointed at the two of you through the window of what looked to be a very dusty office. “HEY!” she yelled again, scrambling out the door and stomping over to you.

Next to the Mandalorian she was incredibly short, but her demeanor was so incredibly scrappy that you weren’t entirely sure who you would bet on if the two of them were in a fight. Her grey mechanic’s jumpsuit was dusty and oil stained from no doubt thousands of ship repairs. Her hair was incredibly curly, poofing out in tight ringlets all around her head to her shoulders and seemed to be growing by the second as she jabbed her finger at Din’s chest.

“You damage one of my droids, you pay for it!”

“Just keep them away from my ship,” Din said flatly, pointed his own gloved finger to the fear-filled robot.

“Yeah? You think that's a good idea, do ya?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest before looking at you. “Blink twice if this brute is holding you hostage, honey. Though by the looks of ya, I’d say you can handle your own.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized on Din’s behalf before you introduced yourself and stepped in front of him. “We just need some repairs.”

“The name’s Peli,” she returned the politeness and shook your hand with strong, jerky movements. “He always this grumpy?” she nodded at the bounty hunter.

“Actually you caught him on a good day,” you smiled and she chuckled. Din sighed.

“Alright, well, let's look at your ship.” She picked up a clipboard and walked over to the crest. Looking it up and down slowly, she made a fist and knocked twice on the main hull and listened to the klonk that came from the inside.

“Is it bad?” you asked.

“Oof…” she winced as she wrote some things down. “Look at that.” She looked over her shoulder at you before gesturing to the sides of the ship. “Bad? You got a lot of carbon scoring building up top. Ya know--If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in a shootout.”

“Well…” you started and Din cleared his throat.

“Can you fix it?”

“Special tool for that one. Oh ya, I'm gonna have to rotate that…” She mumbled. Peli ignored you both as she continued to poke and prod the undercarriage of the ship before pulling down a side panel and coughing at the smoke that it produced. “You got a fuel leak! Look at that, this is a mess! How did you even land? That's gonna set you back.”

Din looked down at her as she walked back up to him and he tossed over a coin purse that jingled when she caught it. “I've got 500 Imperial Credits.”

“That all you got? Well…” she weighed the money in her hand and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She turned to the droids who were slowly approaching again now that she was there to protect them. “What do you guys think? I mean-- that should at least cover the hangar.”

“I'll get you your money,” Din reassured her.

“Ha! I've heard that before,” she rolled her eyes.

“I promise, we’ll pay you somehow,” you interjected and Peli looked you over again before waggling her finger at you.

“Now, you I believe.”

That made you smile and she returned it.

“Just remember--” Din started.

“Yeah. Yeah. No droids. I heard ya.” She stuffed the credits in her pocket. “You don't have to say it twice. Jeez. Womp rat.” She mumbled the last under her breath as the two of you took her dismissal as a sign you were free to leave.

You waited until you and Din were out of earshot before you glared at him in disappointment. “We have got to work on your people skills.”

Note: When imagining the headpiece Din had made for you, I was drawing heavy inspiration off of Queen Hippolyta’s crown. Something that keeps your hair out of the way, looks futuristic and strong.

Hey guys, as always there is always room on the tag lists! That being said there are about 300+ of you that want to be tagged in this fic and that is totally cool, but I am human and I miss names and forget tags, SO–if your tag didn’t work, I forgot it, or you want to be moved to another group, please message me or send me an ask. Even if you have already sent me one reminding me, I PROMISE it was not on purpose. A lot of times I wont answer until I have PHYSICALLY put you on the tag list that way I don’t forget! Thank you so much. - K

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scarofthewind · 3 years

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Touch at Midnight || Vampire!Brahms x Reader

A/N: This took so long, I am sure half of you forgot about this mini series I did. I’m sorry this took forever, I was just trying to make it perfect as well as work on requests too. I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: NSFW, R18+, breast worship, blood kink, biting, oral (m receiving), dom!brahms, rough sex, no prep, reader is under mind control so consensual/non-consensual, mentions of masturbation, plenty foul/dirty talk, creampie

word count: 2.01k Tip Jar (every bit helps!)

Mini Series Masterlist

There was a time in your life that you thought you’d live past eighty and get to watch your children, grand-children and even great-grand-children, grow up. There was a time that you believed in the world being a decent place and that you would make your mark on it one day. Now, you realized just how delusional it all sounded. Now, you knelt before a man you thought you knew, thought you would grow old with, thought you would love forever, your life dangling before you with nothing to spare.

When you had met Brahms, you never thought anything of him; just that he was a strange man who liked to keep to himself. You’d applied for a job to work under him; to cook, clean and care for him, as though he couldn’t do it himself. During the first few months of your duties, things were tense with you being new and Brahms really trying to understand what kind of woman you were. However, as the months went on into years, you slowly became drawn to the man, often times thinking of him from dusk until dawn.

Your mistake really.

See, you had no clue that he was a monster; something only silly children believed in. He was soft and gentle before you’d found out- another mistake on your part. Now he stared down at you with dark eyes that were once directed towards you with such kindness and joy that you almost fell for it; you did fall for it the more you realize. You fell for a man with no remorse for taking a human life, a man that could kill you with just one movement, a man that you didn’t know. Those thoughts alone nearly killed you.

You’d been sitting on the floor in front of his chair he had in the corner of the library, the moon peeking through the window curtains and casting a small amount of light towards his feet. His eyes were the only thing you could see on his face here in the dark; red with an anger so hot you had to pray he’d have mercy on you. You don’t know how long you’d been like this, unable to move as he stared down at you without moving an inch. The hair on your skin rose when he finally spoke, slow but sharp, “You had to be nosey, didn’t you?” Your lips trembled as you contemplated speaking. “I truly had no intention of ever hurting you; you did your work around the house wonderfully. Dare I say that you were the best at it?”

Your heart hammered in your chest at the confirmation of other caretakers before you, all of which were most likely dead. They probably got too comfortable too and went looking around in places that were off limits for a reason. Like his bedroom; where you remember finding a trunk full of blood bags from the hospital down the road. “Please,” you whimpered, watching him blink before shaking his head, silencing you.

“I’ve spent years in that pretty little head of yours, listening to everything. I know all of your secrets, (Y/N).” You sucked in a breath as he leaned forward in his chair, hovering over your face with a look that only made you want to cower even more. “I’m honored to know how fond you were of me, truthfully I am. I’d grown fond of you as well, but,” he clicked his tongue, reaching out and grabbing your jaw roughly, ignoring your whimpers of pain. “You know too much.”

“Please, I won’t tell anyone I swear! Just let me go and I’ll leave tow-” you were cut off by a sharp laugh; Brahms’ eyes wild and manic.

“Leave? No, no, no, you’re never leaving me.” His eyes were intense, red as the flames of hell and staring into your own without so much as blinking. “Here are your options; be my personal blood bank until you die, which is usually a couple of weeks, or, prove to me that you’re worth keeping alive. Of course, both require you to stay here with me,” Brahms touched your cheek gently with his other hand, moving some hair from your eyes.

“You know I care about you, don’t you (Y/N)? Don’t you want to stay with me?” His words had an effect on your mind that made it hard to think. The world seemed to slow, as if you’d been drugged, but you knew that it was just the power he had, manipulating your mind to believe that whatever he said was true. You could feel tears fall from your eyes as you stared into his condemning ones, a soft hush falling from his lips as he wiped the tears away.

It was wrong for you to say yes, you knew it even though you couldn’t stop it. Yet, some dark part inside of you almost wished he would keep you this way; brain being manipulated by whatever he wanted for the rest of your days. At least that way, you could imagine everything being right; you could day dream on the thoughts he forced inside your head. One’s where you end up with him, one’s where your happy.

One’s where he loved you just as much as you loved him.

This isn’t love, you thought as you made yourself sit up enough to press your lips against his.

This isn’t what I wanted, you told yourself when he spread his legs in the chair and you unzipped his pants.

This wasn’t how I was supposed to live, you cried as his fingers moved through your hair, guiding your mouth up and down his cock.

All you could do was prove to him that your life meant more than just being used as food. The buck of his hips every time you swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock made your eyes sting, the length making it hard to take all of it in your mouth. “You look so pretty like this,” Brahms gasped as he felt you take more of his member in your mouth, his eyes scanning your face and his mind going a mile a minute. He knew everything you were thinking as he pushed more ideas into your head, his control on you something he wished he’d never have to do.

A lulling tug of tiredness waved in the back of his head, knowing that he hadn’t gotten to eat tonight because of the unfortunate incident of you finding his real food supply in his room. Of course, fresh blood always tasted so much better than the crap he had in bags. Brahms felt himself grow bored of watching you try to make him come, you jaw surely was hurting by now. Roughly grabbing your hair, he pulled you off his cock before standing up and pulling you up with him. You barely could get a word out as he turned you facing the front of the shiny, black piano, bending you down to where your front half was pressed against the cool surface.

He wasted no time in ripping your clothes off of you, throwing them around the room and spreading your legs for his wandering eyes to see. A low growl made your cunt clench as he watched your juices build at your entrance where he drug the tip of his cock across. Brahms gave you no warning before sinking inside you to the base, the air practically taken from your lungs as he began moving immediately, your tight walls getting him off perfectly. “Do you know how many nights I wanted to do this?” He asked as he thrusted his hips roughly, the tip of his cock ramming against your cervix with no signs of easing up. “I’ve watched you, my innocent, precious (Y/N). Your fingers stuffing this filthy whole of yours as you squirm in bed, trying to cum.”

You can feel your walls tighten around his length at his words, your hands trying to grip the flat surface of the piano from the force he was jostling you around with. Your breasts bounced wildly, his hands coming up from your hips to find purchase there. His fingers pinched your nipples, twisting them and pulling until you were soaking his cock in your juices. “Did you know I was watching you touch yourself? I bet you did; you liked it didn’t you? Having someone else watch you fuck yourself until your tired...hmm?”

“N-No,” you groan, trying to reason with yourself, but the impending orgasm you felt building making it all the harder to. Quickly, Brahms moved you to where you were facing him, your back fully pressed against the piano as he fucked into you at an in-human pace. You couldn’t help the sounds that were coming out of your mouth, urging him to continue.

“I know what’s in your mind, my love. I’ve seen you think of me while you squirt all over the sheets,” you tremble at his words as his thumb barely grazes your clit. His mouth moving to your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth and nibbling on it before teasing it with his tongue. With one sharp sting, he sinks his teeth into your breast, a short cry coming from your lips as he eases his hip movements while lapping at the blood pooling from the wounds. “If only you could see in my mind too. Then you could see just how man nights I’ve fucked my fist to the thoughts of this.” He chuckled to himself, licking his lips that were stained crimson. Pulling his head back, he stared down at you with something you didn’t recognize.

The feeling was good though. Something positive out of the emotional negative you’d been put through. Brahms nearly stilled when you reached up and touched his face, his eyes watching yours for any signs of you trying to get away; all he found was sincerity. Running your fingers through his curly hair, you pressed his head down to yours where he kissed you without another word. From there, the sex was as beautiful as the day you first met him. Then, there had been sun, now there was the moon shining down on both of you. When he had first shaken your hand is was cold but now as he held yours, pinned above your head, it was all warm.

His teeth managed to find your neck, biting there and feeding a couple of times but other than there, his lips never left yours which were swollen from the heatedness of the kiss. You moaned into his mouth when his fingers circled your clit, your thighs shaking from the intensity of the orgasm that proceeded to wash through you. Brahms made sure to hold you close, swallowing your gasps and cries of pleasure as he eased you through your orgasm. His cock twitched inside you a few more times before he finally came, deep inside you with no regrets. Everything was quiet for a minute, your lips molding against his and the soft pants leaving them was the only sound left.

When he finally pulled away, you could see the glowing red of his eyes fade, returning to their normal hazel color and looking down at you with the kindness you had once known. His hands moved the hair out of your face and wiped away any tears that still fell, his fingers gentle against your skin. This may have been a different man to you now, but he was still the Brahms you’d fallen in love with years ago.

That was enough to make you stay.

#🏵.original work #😈.smut #horror imagines #horror x reader #au #Slashers #slasher x reader #slasher imagines #brahms the boy #brahms heelshire #brahms x reader #brahms: the boy 2 #brahms heelshire x reader

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glowingbadger · 3 years

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Can you write Fem!Reader that Felix is crushing on falls asleep on him on the couch and he gets all flustered.

Awww precious flustered Felix, how lovely~

Felix (FE3H) x Fem Reader - fluff, SFW

Numbers and letters start to wander and blur on the page before you. Keeping your head upright is challenge enough, but the struggle to wrestle this information into something cogent and actionable is positively draining. When you'd offered to help with the next batch of supply reorder forms, you hadn't quite realized how involved they would be- and after a day of marching and training and memorizing mapped strategies, the greatest battle you face now is against your heavy eyelids. At least you'd found a quiet corner of the library to settle onto a well-worn couch while you work. Try to work, at least.

"There you are."

You glance up over the parchment at the familiar voice, then smile- perhaps a little too earnestly.

"Hi Felix. Sorry, were you looking for me?"

He scoffs, a light pink dusting across his fair complexion.

"No, you just- you left this at the training grounds." he holds out a scrap of fabric, which you take. It's only a cheap handkerchief, hardly worth hunting someone down over. You smile and tuck it away for the time being.

"Thanks Felix, and sorry for the trouble."

He doesn't respond at first, but his narrowed gaze seems to be scrutinizing you intently. You try to think of some way to break the silence, but he sets himself down on the couch beside you before you've come up with any ideas. He leans close, his brow creased.

"You look awful."

You give an awkward half-laugh, your papers near forgotten in your lap,

"Thanks- you're a real sweet talker, you know. Has Sylvain been giving you lessons?"

Felix scoffs and sits back on the cushions, crossing his arms,

"That's not what I meant and you know it. You're pushing yourself too hard, and you look like you're about to fall over."

It's honestly sweet, albeit in a very Felix-way. You smile warmly at him, which he appears to intentionally ignore. Then, you shrug and say,

"Well, I offered to help, so I have to do my best."

With a sigh, Felix grumbles,

"Give me something to do to help you. I won't sit here and watch you waste away from being overly-charitable."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"I'm offering," he says with a scowl, "stop being so difficult."

He's avoiding your gaze like he always does when he's nice to you, and you smile sheepishly.

"Here," you say, handing over a small stack of papers, "These are the ones I've already filled out- can you review them to make sure I didn't screw anything up? That way I won't have to spend the time double checking them."

He sets to work without a word, and you continue with the forms you'd set on your lap. The two of you work together in comfortable silence, though you'll admit to a brief flutter in your chest at the occasional brush of physical contact as you sit side by side. You mentally scold yourself for getting worked up over something so silly. Surely Felix would scoff if he knew such trivial contact could distract you so thoroughly. He's shy about emotional matters, sure, but you've no doubt that he thinks little of just sitting together.

And you're, frankly, completely wrong. Felix feels like his skin is scorched with a hot iron every time your bodies touch. Focusing on the task in front of him takes every ounce of discipline he can muster, and even then, his pulse speeds when your arm brushes his. He hates it, and he hates that he seeks it out, anxiously waits for the next opportunity to feel you there beside him.

It's at least another hour before the end of the paperwork seems near. Just a little longer, Felix thinks, and he'll make sure you've eaten something and that you reach your quarters safely. His brow lowers. He doesn't need to do all of that- you're an adult and can take care of yourself. But... he hadn't seen you at the dining hall that night, and you really should at least eat. If he finishes before you do, perhaps he'll go get you something. Ugh, no, that's the kind of unnecessary gesture Sylvain would do to get on someone's good side. Felix doesn't need to get on your good side. He just wants you near at all. For some reason.

He dares to glance over to you, but then his frown only deepens. You're slightly slumped, your eyes have fluttered shut, even though your hands still grip one last checklist in your lap. You sway just slightly. You're leaning forward on the couch. Felix's hand bolts out just in time to nudge you back, but as a result, your body slackens towards him until you're resting fully on his shoulder. His eyes widen, and he can feel his face burning. He opens his mouth to protest at first, but somehow, he can't bring himself to make a sound.

You breathe deeply and nuzzle against him, and his heart feels ready to pound straight through his chest. His body goes stiff from head to toe, unwilling to move even an inch as you lean on him. He glances down at the paper's he'd been reviewing, but suddenly it's utter nonsense to him. How can he think straight with the warmth of your body against his, the scent of your hair, your steady breath along his shoulder and even brushing his neck.

Calm yourself already, he scolds himself, she can't just sleep like this- just get the work done and-

And what? Wake you up? The thought doesn't please him in the slightest. You obviously need your rest, or he wouldn't be in this situation to begin with. Then, the only thing to do is...

How much time had passed? Had you ever finished all those forms? You can't possibly discern the answer to either of the first questions that enter your mind as you toe the edge of consciousness. You must be more tired than even you realized. You feel like you're floating, and some wonderful scent is circling your senses- something earthy and masculine and... familiar.

"Relax, I'm just bringing you to your room," he says, his voice gentler than you've ever heard it, "Go back to sleep- you need your rest. I've got you."

Your eyes flutter open. You look up, and see Felix. You're in his arms- he's carrying you out of the library. What in the world is going on??

All you manage is a sleepy little groan.

#felix hugo fraldarius #felix x reader #fire emblem #feh #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem fluff #fire emblem x reader #x reader

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this-is-spn20 · 3 years

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FLUFF ALPHABET! Sam Winchester!

A/N: Here’s Sammy boy! My small adorable baby! Let me know what you guys think about this!

-Marissa

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A ctivities- What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Sam is a pretty laid-back man. When he sees a chance at relaxing with you, he snatches as quickly as possible. Whether it’s just walking or driving around towns, going to the local library (cause God knows the only book they have at the bunker are the Wizard of Oz books, and the men of letters’ books.), to looking up fun recipes to try with you. The man will always keep you occupied!

B eauty- What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Sam likes that despite you being very soft-spoken, you’re nowhere near dumb. You’re also very confident. Of course, you’ll still ask Sam what he thinks if you piece together a somewhat bold outfit. But you might as well call him Bruno Mars cause- well you know.

I feel like if you are an artist of some sort, he might decide to pick up your art of choice as a hobby for when he has no research or hunts. Maybe if you draw, he’ll buy both of you sketchbooks and pencils. Or if you use a tablet he might buy you a better one. He’ll try doing simple drawings to start off with a tree or two. An eye here and there. He struggling and he’s probably gonna get a bit upset with himself if his skills don’t pick up like yours. But he’s trying really hard! If you like making music, he might ask you to play guitar. He might even ask you to teach him how to sing! But be patient, he can barely carry a tune but he’s so happy to learn! Might take him almost a year to get the hang of it, but once he does, he is an absolute Beast with some strings!

C omfort- How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Sam has anxiety himself so he knows the signs when one is coming on. He’s been around stressful things/people/events all his life. His father was abusive throughout his and Dean’s childhood. When he ran away to go to college, he had to learn to interact with new environments and people. In conclusion, the man KNOWS what anxiety is. And how to handle it. He’ll have you sit down and close your eyes. He won’t touch you just in case it makes you more nervous. He’ll breathe slowly with you, serving as a guide to get your bearings. Once you’ve slowed your breathing he knows you can’t hold anything so he gets you a glass of water with a straw and holds the glass for you. He knows you probably won’t want to eat anything so he just picks you up when you say he can, and brings you to bed, and reads you to sleep while holding you close.

D reams- How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Sam knows for sure he wants to marry you. He also wants kids with you but the risk of being raised in the life he kept him up at night. Now don’t get him wrong, he knows that whatever happens, family will take care of it. They always do. But he’s not sure if that’s a risk worth taking. He just wants to have the apple pie life. He’d kill every monster with his bare hands just to have that with you.

E qual- Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Sam is quite dominant in the relationship. He always takes care of everything for you. He doesn't buy into the stereotype that women should be doing everything for their partners. He tries to help you out with everything and he doesn't take no for an answer. You've known for a while that Sam's love language is Acts of Service. All he's done all his life is help people, so it just seeps into the relationship. Sure he believes that a relationship should be a healthy balance of 50\50, but at the same time, he can't help take over and take care of you. This man is just precious.

F ight- Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Depending on what the fight was about Sam would be pretty open to forgiving you pretty quickly. However sweet Sam can be, if he believes that he has even a pinky toe to stand on in the fight, he’ll stick to it. It’s only when the shouting has gotten too much for you that you walk away that he may see where you’re coming from. Give him a or two. That way you both had time to cool down. You’ll spend the rest of the day talking it through, seeing each other’s perspectives. Even if you guys can’t agree with each other, you’ll know how to better handle the situation next time.

G ratitude- How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Even though he mostly does mundane things for you, you try to help out as much as he’ll let you. For example, if you noticed that he has a lot of research to do, while he’s sleeping or is on a supply run, you’ll continue his research so that he’ll have more time to relax and let loose a bit more. You think he doesn’t notice but he does, and he appreciates it. It makes him feel like he hasn’t been ‘slacking off’, or that he hasn’t wasted too much time doing other things. Sometimes you’ll even finish the research and he’ll have nothing much to do for a while. Except relaxing with you of course!

H onesty- Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Sam doesn’t have to hide much from you. You’re a damn good hunter. He would even go as far as to say you were better than him and Dean. He knows damn well you can take care of yourself and that you don’t like being babied often. He knows your secrets as well as you know his. It takes a big weight off his shoulders, knowing he doesn’t have to hide who he is with you.

I nspiration- Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You were always an adventurous and carefree person. You always had a hard time balancing fun and work. Sometimes it got you into trouble. Sam noticed this when you two first met and as your relationship got more serious and tried to help you with the balence. By all means you aren’t magically better, but you’re learning. Sam on the other hand, had the same issue. The work and fun balance is a tricky one to master. You help Sam have more fun, like you he’s getting better at having more fun. But again it’s not going to happen overnight. Oh and you eat a salad of two once a month now!

J ealousy- Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

On the rare occasion the Sam gets extremely jealous, it's usually when someone tries to touch. Regardless of whether you let it happen (for fun) or not, he can’t help himself. He wants you all to himself. No Sharing!!

K iss- Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Sam is a very good kisser. He always kisses you like he hasn’t seen you in years. Most of the time his kisses are very rough but intimate. The first kiss was after four dates. Yes that’s a long time but you wanted to make sure you did this right with Sam. Plus he reassured you that he’d wait as long as you wanted to. You were sitting next to Sam in the Library doing some light research since most of it had gotten done earlier that week. The tension had been building up all week, you were finally ready to kiss Sam. Despite this not being your first kiss, you hadn’t kissed many people so understandably, you were nervous. You reached your arm over his and gently closed his laptop and angled your body toward his. You leaned over to him slowly, creeping your hand to his shoulder and finally your lips connected. Sam’s hand softly grabbed your hand on his shoulder and you both stayed like that until you both needed air. That was one of, if not, the most intimate moment you’ve had with Sam so far.

L ove Confession- How would they confess to their s/o?

Sam would be a bundle of nerves when he tries to confess. He’s tried to do it at least three times but each time he either got too nervous or something would interrupt him. Eventually settled for being simple, yet intimate. He had invited you to come to the library with him to sit and read for a while. It was about an hour and a half of you both being immersed in your own books that he told you he was going to the coffee shop in the bookstore to get a coffee. He got you your favorite drink. He had the barista give him a sharpie before they made your drink, then he wrote his message to you and bought you the drink when the order was done. You could see Sam was shaking and fidgeting but you couldn’t tell why.You figured you’d let him tell you when he’s ready. If only you know. You were only a few sips into your drink when you noticed some writing on the cup. Curious, you read the message which read;

(Y/n), I have loved you from the best of times to the worst. Would you do the honor of going on a date with me?

-Sam

You sat up, a bit stunned. You looked at Sam to see him smiling shyly at you. You couldn’t do much but giggle and nod at the giant softie.

M arriage- Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Marriage is something Sam and you have talked a lot about it. You two know you definitely want to get married but the question was when. You want to do it sooner rather than later. While Sam agrees, he also feels like that it should be a sign of both of you leaving life for good. Sam is a very nostalgic person, which means he’ll most likely recreate him asking you out and your first date. At the end of the night he’d get down on one knee and before he gets to say one word you burst into tears. When he finishes his speech, you of course say yes and the night continues...elsewhere.

N icknames- What do they call their s/o?

Sugar is used more often than not. Baby and babygirl are pretty prevalent. Honey Bunch is used less but when he does call you that usually puppy dog eyes are shortly behind.

O n Cloud Nine- What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

When Sam is in love it’s less obvious to everyone, but if they know Sam, they’ll notice the little things. Things like Sam now has permanent smile lines and his shoulders don’t hold so much tension anymore. If you didn’t come on a hunt with him and Dean he always has Dean stop off to get a bouquet of flowers. Of course he gets shit from Dean but he still does it everytime cause he is a good big brother.

P DA- Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

While Sam will let anyone know that you’re together (if need be), he’s pretty subtle about it. There is the subtle hand on your thigh or around your waist. Maybe a little quick forehead kiss but other than that unless they knew you, someone wouldn’t be able to guess you two are together.

Q uirk- Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Sam has this really deep, rich, raspy type of voice. That makes him the BEST narrator ever! He often reads you to sleep when you two spend a lazy night in or if you have a nightmare. He’s there with a book you’ve been reading and he reads you a chapter or two before you’re out like a light.

R omance- How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Sam is the KING of romance. When he plans something for you, he goes all out! When it comes to making you happy, he’ll do whatever it takes. There are almost no limits to his love. He lives by the term “Happy Wife, Happy Life.”. Sam is pretty nostalgic so he’ll be cliche, but he’ll be creative and add his own twist to it! So you could say he’s pretty creative.

S upport- Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Sam loves learning about your goals and helping you achieve them. If you have 5 different goals, he's all there for you, helping you learn ways to achieve them quicker. If you want to. If you feel like those goals are impossible to reach, he’s there to help you see nothing’s impossible.

T hrill- Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

While Sam likes to have a solid routine, he tries to keep things *spicy* when it comes to your relationship. Whether it's something mundane or outrageous, you and Sam try your best to keep things fun for the both of you.

U nderstanding- How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

You and Sam know each other so well it's gotten to the point where if you or him need something, you know what’s needed and how much before the other even opened their mouth. When this happens, Dean just kinda stares at the both of you with a “what the actual fuck?’ look.

Sam: *sees you walking into the kitchen* Hey babe we-

Y/N: We need to get some milk today. You wanna leave at 11?

Sam: *goes back to drinking his coffee* Yep.

Dean: *freaking the fuck out*

V alue- How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Sam knew from the first date that his life would be in your hands. He trusts you with everything he has. What’s your relationship worth to him? More than any diamonds, jewels, or power. Nothing can ever be worth more than you.

W ild Card- A random Fluff Headcanon.

Sam took you to an event at a bar one night for a date. The theme that night was ‘50’s and 60’s dance night!’ He bought you a dress that would be worn in that era and he wore his brand new tux he bought, just for tonight. Just for you. Your feet were screaming in your heels but you and Sam were having too much fun to leave the dance floor. When you guys got home that night Sam gave you the BEST foot rub ever.

X OXO- Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

In private, Sam will smother you with kisses and cuddles. The man can almost never let you go. The poor touch starved baby.

Y earning- How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Sam likes to log in to your Spotify, he knows most likely wherever you are, you’re listening to your music. He likes to listen to your playlists with you. It makes him feel closer to you.

(He’ll never admit it but you have better taste in music than him.)

Z eal- Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

It’ll be a close call but if he had to choose to save Dean or you, he’d choose you. It’d break him for a while, but he knows his brother wants him to have the apple pie life with you. And in the end, he’d always do it. No matter how hard it’d be for him and you every time, he wouldn’t change a thing.

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A/N: Thank you guys for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Requests are always open!

Spread Love!

-Marissa

#Sam Winchester #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #dean winchester #supernatural imagines #supernatural

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

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I hope you are having a great day.

I wanted to tell you that I love the way you write and how you show the personality of your characters in so few words.

Also if you have time, for the Bad Things Happend Bingo, could I ask for a Soup for the Sick? (Maybe a villain whumpee)

Thank you for the ask! And especially thank you for that lovely message attached to it, it means a lot!

Soup for the sick... here you go, I hope you enjoy! I did, I had lots of fun writing this one.

Personalized Caretaker

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: drug abuse mention, feverish whumpee, talk of medications, mean caretaker, delirium, fever, pills (tylenol)

... there may be more so tell me if there is so I can list them.

Civilian wished that she didn't live in the most heavily super-powered city in the world.

Yes world.

Villains and heroes all running around like teenagers, not caring for the lives of innocent civilians... or the heroes were meant to, Civilian started to think that the whole "we will protect you" was all phony propaganda aimed to get the city to fund their organization.

But the daily bombings and increasing death toll was not the issue with the city. It wasn't even the large mass of heroes and villains. It was only one.

One.

Of all the heroic figures and devilish snakes, there was only one that ticked Civilian off.

Villain.

And not because he was the King of Monologues. No, it was because the bastard made Civilian his own personal caretaker.

Was she asked to tend to his very needs? No.

Was she hired? Paid? No, but she should be getting a salary for the tedious work of stitching wounds and feeding his greedy stomach. The bandage bills were adding up and Civilian's meager wage was completely wiped out from having to buy a pack every day.

She was an inch away from going on a rage and robbing every bank in the city.

No, she wasn't. She just happened to live on 489 Deertree Avenue, where six months ago the murderous villain decided to collapse unconscious on her doorstep to bleed out like it was no problem.

Like it was a leisure, a recreational activity. Probably to him, waking up in a warm bed, doped up on painkillers with the sickening sweet smell of caramel candles burning around him, it was.

But not to Civilian. She had to manually help the injured individual drink water, get dressed, and even use the bathroom.

UGGGHHHH!

The man had millions of henchmen, billions of wannabe minions at his beck and call.

But he just so happened to have a crush on the red door of 489 Deertree Avenue.

But it was a bad case of unrequited love of the highest order, so no hope of a romantic candlelit date at the most expensive restaurant in the most famous city in the world.

Dairy Queen.

The pure hilarity of that fact. Even the Avenger Tower did not hold nearly as many powered or high-tech individuals as the city and the most fanciest restaurant was a chain fastfood restaurant at the corner of main street.

Civilian clenched the towel she was holding. As much as the stupidity of the city got on her nerves, it was very unpatriotic of her to go on and embarrass the area even more.

Civilian was scrubbing the mirror in the bathroom. The walls of the whole room were stained in the most disgusting brown and red from all the grime and blood radiating off a singular person's- not even the owner of the house- body.

Those would never go away unless Civilian paid for someone to come and mega-wash the bathroom. Not that she had any money to invest in such a delightful gift, her bank account was too busy supporting the prescribed pain medications. Like, Civilian was probably on the watchlist for utter bankruptcy and for being a possible candidate for drug addiction.

Who needs two whole containers of opioids and a canteen of valium every three months?

Not a normal civilian washing floors at Walmart, that's for sure.

But then again, Civilian was far from normal. She worked as a personalized savior during her freetime.

Civilian clenched her teeth and took a deep breath in. Her ward hasn't made his grand appearance in over a week. She actually had time to relax, make some popcorn and actually decompress. It was like vacation, peaceful, tranquil and full of serenity, free of any-

Knock, knock, knock.

Civilian's moment of bliss was unceremoniously ended by the all too familiar beat of a fist on wood.

"You have my permission to make out with the door Villain! You don't need to ask anymore!"

Civilian hoped Villain was coherent enough to internalize that as an invitation to bleed on her couch.

Just so she could have one more moment. One more moment of her coveted break.

Cough.

Civilian's head perked up. That was new. She never, ever heard Villain cough in a sickly manner- she never let him get bad enough to get sick, or he didn't permit himself to wait around until infection and fever set in.

She set down the towel, worry settling into her bones like it always did- not that she liked the heart dropping feelings and nauseating pit in her stomach each and everytime Mr. Needy had blood on him. Or everyday that he didn't show up for a bandaid, or a "kiss-it-better".

Yes, the pure humiliation when her delirious patient painfully begged her to kiss his knee better. Like, the puny scrape on his leg was by far the least severe wound on his bloodstained body, but of course, Civilian complied and gave him a little peck on his Olaf bandaid.

Civilian ripped open the door and the scene in front of her chased away those obnoxious memories.

Villain collapsed into her arms, head lolling pathetically against her shoulder. His forehead felt like it was doused with gasoline and then lit by a torch five times over. Civilian's shocked arms involuntarily wrapped around his equally scorching body. Yes, it was not a conscious act. Not in a million years would Civilian muster up the compassion to actually comfort the villain more than the deed of "saving his life" called for.

No, no Civilian hated Villain. Completely and totally loathed each and every cell on his body.

But she dragged him into the house and shut- more like slammed- the door anyways because she couldn't let him die, it would be like murder's sidekick.

Especially since Villain trusted her. Oh how he trusted her. Trusted her to bathe him, to feed him, to give him medicine, but most importantly not to kill him. With all the horrors he committed, a swift knife to the throat would be more than justified. In fact, Civilian would likely be commemorated for such bravery.

Public approval, fame... all a deliciously yummy cake.

Not worth it. Too many calories.

Civilian sunk to the ground and put Villain's upper body in her lap. He nestled into her, pressing his cheek deep into her side with a small, contented smile on his pale face.

"Don't drool on me," Civilian snapped, jostling Villain who woke up. Before he had the chance to get his bearings, Civilian spoke up again, "Are you hurt?"

The villain stared at her for a while before breaking into desperate tears, shaking his head.

What the heck?

"Stop crying or I will punch you," Civilian threatened, but she rubbed Villain's back soothingly.

"Dying," Villain sobbed.

"You are not dying, buddy, you have a cold."

"No, I'm dying," Villain asserted. Civilian rolled her eyes. Did he have to be so dramatic?

"I don't think a cold will kill you. Stop acting like the world is ending now, or I will throw you in the trash."

Villain whimpered and pulled himself closer, still crying.

He really was sick. So sick to the point of being delirously delusional.

"You don't need to be a Disney princess," Civilian said, still rubbing the villain's back. Villain's cries turned into sobs and then into wails.

Okay this was getting out of hand. Civilian stood up and dragged Villain's body over to the couch. She marveled in her strength for a while. When Villain first made his appearance in her otherwise boring life, she was as skinny as a twig. Now? This girl was a freaking hulk, baby.

Okay stop that, Civilian chastised herself, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. She laid Villain on the beige colored couch and rested his wet head against a pillow that was metaphorically marked with his name.

Now that the villain was completely stretched out, Civilian- to her relief- found that he was not bleeding, therefore, she didn't have to waste her precious supply of gauze and bandages tonight.

But he still was very, very sick. His face was a gray mask of pale complexion, his hair snarled and matted in sweat. His lips were tinged blue as unfocused eyes gazed around the room, landing on the TV.

"You want to watch something?" Civilian asked, though the question was more than unnecessary. Villain always watched a movie as he dozed off, warm and comforted by the mound of blankets strewn over him.

But still, like a habit, he nodded weakly each and every time. Civilian smiled, the tiniest of grins, and connected the tablet to the television. When the screen popped up with the classic Amazon Prime Video layout, Civilian asked what movie.

"Boss Baby," Villain mumbled, lips hardly moving.

"You want to watch a movie with baby superheroes? Why don't we watch Toy Story or something?"

Or something a bit more adult-ish.

"Mhm," Villain groaned, eyes slipping shut. "Baby superheroes."

Now it was Civilian's turn to groan, loud and exaggerated. But, still he was her unwelcome guest so she had to please his obnoxiously childish wants.

Like how old was he? Five?

Civilian put in the movie and sat down next to Villain, putting his legs on her lap. She tapped lazily at his jeans as the opening credits showed. Leaning her head back, Civilian allowed her gaze to drift away from the stupid fat-faced animated figures and to Villain.

He was nearly asleep.

Civilian shifted her weight and rested against her arm to watch him. Even sick, she had to admit, the evil and annoying villain was shockingly handsome.

What was she thinking?!

Pushing Villain's feet away, Civilian stood up and aggressively shoved her palm to his forehead. It was buzzing with heat.

"You are paying for the bill," Civilian growled and went to go get some tylenol.

Upon returning to the sickly man's sweaty side, Civilian thrusted the pills into his mouth and washed them down with water. She didn't even give him a chance to wake up fully, the motion was instinctual. He swallowed on reflex.

Next, Civilian cussed herself for this, she cupped his cheek. Villain sunk into her palm, chewing silently, and continued to sleep.

When Villain first visited, Civilian couldn't get over how touch starved the poor guy was. It was to the point of absolute fear of touch. He would shiver before violently flinching away, glaring daggers.

He still didn't allow hugs or a highfive when he was in his right mind- not that Civilian saw him fully conscious ever apart from a couple times.

"Hungry?" Civilian mumbled, more to herself than anyone.

Still, Civilian placed Villain's head back onto the pillow and went into the kitchen to make some soup.

Chicken noodle soup with rice... her specialty. Chicken breast and rich seasoning, even one's dampened taste buds could taste the utter deliciousness of the watery broth.

Then the rice. Sometimes when Villain was on the mend, she would add some wild rice or lentils to the dish. Spooning some basic white rice into the bottom of the bowl, Civilian tapped her foot aimlessly.

The kettle on the stove whistled, Civilian pushed it off the heat and added the seasoning and celery. The savory scent wafted into her nose earning itself a tiny smile from Civilian.

Once the soup was done, she presented it to the still sleeping villain. His mouth hung open, desperate for air that his clogged nostrils couldn't deliver.

Dang. Poor guy was really ill.

Civilian sat next to Villain, so close that she could feel the rise of his chest. She shoved his face upwards. Villain blinked his eyes open and settled his gaze on Civilian's annoyed, but worried, face.

"Ghm," he moaned, rumbled in the back of his throat in a fatigued manner. "Cow hopping."

"Shut up," Civilian scolded and helped Villain to a seating position. He complied, but had no strength left to actually hold the stance.

So Civilian was forced to lay him against her chest and feed him by giving him a big old bear hug. Spoon after spoon went to his mouth until Civilian was just dumping it into his mouth without any natural swallowing reflex.

She took a wet rag and cleaned his face before laying him back onto the couch. Civilian smiled and tenderly touched his eyebrow.

Why did she have to care about him so much?

#bad things happen bingo #villain whumpee #civilian caretaker #villain x civilian #civilian #writing #sick villain #sick whumpee #delirious whumpee

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slothspaghettiwrites · 3 years

Note

It just popped into my head while I was trying to sleep, that as hot as monster fucking is as its own concept, I’m also so touch starved right now that being wrapped up in Lee’s tentacles or Thor’s Minotaur giant arms or even whatever stuff Venom is, must be so so so nice and comforting. Just to be utterly surrounded and cradled. I try to cocoon myself with pillows, but it’s not the same.

oh. this is where we at today. lets talk about Lee and Thor (Venom and Eddie would never leave you alone Nonnie. Those two simps would die first.)

Tentacle!Lee

This was probably the most ridiculous thing you'd ever done. The men who built the pool and surrounding space thought you were out of your damn mind, but money talked and they shut up. A harsh winter, freezing the surface of the reservoir and surrounding creeks along with a bout of flu were enough to convince Lee something had to change about how much time you spent together. Neither of you willing to waste any more precious time apart. So you finally walked into the bank and put money down on a plot of land right by the new reservoir. It took all spring to get the small house built.

Watching Lee now though made it worth it. Made all the long hours and extra stories you picked up worth his happiness in his new life. He could get sunlight if he needed it, the water was cleaner and temperature regulated, but still sourced from the reservoir.

"You just gonna stand there all day, baby, or you gonna join me?" A tentacle tugged at your ankle teasingly and that only sent a shiver up your spine. The touch so soft and welcome.

You took the steps down into the water and until you were at chest height. Lee took over from there, wrapping his arms and tentacles around your body. He hugged you so tight, twirled you around in the water, spraying water across the tiles.

"Missed you so much," he whispered against your forehead. "I'll love you forever babydoll."

Minotaur!Thor

He'd been gone for weeks, or at least you thought it was weeks. Sometimes it was hard to tell how time passed in the labyrinth. But Thor had never been away for this long before. You began to understand more why he was the way he was when you first met. You'd caught yourself speaking as if someone was with you and responding, and you noticed how tightly bound in the blankets you were when you woke up most mornings. Anxiety built in your chest as the days drove on and Thor hadn't returned.

It was on the morning you found yourself staring at an interestingly shaped courgette that Thor finally returned. He was laden with supplies and tools, but that didn't stop you from flinging yourself into his arms. The tickle of his fur under your nose, the scent of rain and sweat that clung to him, the feeling of his arms wrapping around you and squeezing you until you felt like you might pop, it was so familiar. It was home.

"Don't you ever leave me again," you commanded, tears running down your cheeks.

"I promise, little one."

#sloth asks #nonnie #tentacle!lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker #tentacle!lee bodecker #minotaur!thor odinson #minotaur!thor #thor odinson #thor odinson x reader #sloth monsterfucking

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emwritesstuff · 3 years

Text

as the world caves in | ch. 5 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode four. Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes: I was going to make it only one chapter with the plot of episode four but it ended up HUGE, so I'm splitting this one in two. I’m posting the next one very very soon (probably tomorrow), just need to finish reviewing it sksksk

(warnings: mentions of death, gunshots, blood) (word count: 4K)

five: funeral

Ayo considered you for a moment, then turned to Bucky. “Eight hours. Do not forget.”

You exhaled slowly after she was gone, allowing yourself to return to a more relaxed state.

“You know Ayo?” Bucky said, after he made sure the door was well closed.

Sam mused from behind you.

“And you speak Xhosa!”

“When King T’Challa opened Wakanda to the world, I ended up leading the relations between our countries from our side. Learning the language was the least I could do.” You shrugged, smiling fondly when you remember the awkward phase where you still mispronounced everything, and how astoundingly lenient the King had been during it.

“Accomplished. It was sweet of you to defend me, at least.”

You raised an eyebrow at the glass of water you’re drinking, grateful that Zemo didn’t speak the language. If only he knew.

Well, you had a feeling he would. Eight hours. T-minus-fifteen.

“Hey, you shut it. No one is defending you. You killed Nagel.” Sam bit at Zemo, and you put down your water and took your phone.

It had been blowing up since the signal returned after your flight to Latvia, every single person who ever had your contact was looking for you. Understandably. It was your first “vacation” in a long time.

You swiped the notifications away, and your eyes met Bucky’s while Sam and Zemo squabbled.

“You shouldn’t be good at that. It’s not fair.”

“It’s just a phone, Buck.” You smirk up at him, and a corner of his lip tugs upwards in response. “And I’ve been around long enough to know how to deal with the ever-changing technology.”

“Does that mean you’re the older one now? I’ve been frozen.”

“Do I get older privilege?” You asked, not looking up from the screen. The news feed caught your attention, and you were quick to scroll past the one talking about The Winter Soldier’s appearance in Madripoor.

“…No.” Bucky pushed his bottom lip forward, shaking his head. You bit your lip to refrain yourself from telling him just how much of a child he was, but couldn’t hide your grin.

The next headline made the grin fall out of your mouth, it being replaced by a frown. You slid the phone to Bucky, you two sharing a concerned look as soon as he read it too.

“Sam. Karli bombed a GRC supply depot.”

You rubbed your temples and started pacing as Bucky explained to the other two men the situation. Three dead. Eleven wounded. Your heart wrenched, and you pressed a fist to your chest when you imagine how dire the things have to be for that to had become the latest desperate measure.

Wars have civilian casualties. People are bound to be caught in the crossfire. You knew this. You’d seen it. This was a deliberate attack, and it was a different time and conjecture, but you felt almost the same as you did when you walked through the rubble made of Europe, 80 years ago.

Seeds for a new war. You’d hoped you wouldn’t get to see it sprout again.

You finally looked up as Zemo questioned the three of you about having the will to complete the mission.

“She’s just a kid.”

You moved to rest a hand on Sam’s shoulder, but in the end, you might have been more looking to ground yourself than anything. He nodded at you either way, and you could see Bucky’s eyes on you from your peripheral.

“You’re seeing something in her that isn’t there. You’re clouded by it. She’s a supremacist. The very concept of Super Soldier will always trouble people.” Zemo spoke with certainty, as if he was a professor and the three of you his pupils.

“I doubt she sees things that way.” You raised your finger as soon as he opened his mouth to retort. “Not everyone has the chance to be studying politics and understand how revolutionary movements can become extremism. Most people are just fighting to get to see another day.”

You wondered if Baron Helmut Zemo would ever understand that, the struggle. The uncertainty that wakes up with you and goes to sleep when you do, only to pose itself the next morning.

“It’s that warped aspiration that led to Nazis, to Ultron, to the Avengers.” His next line seemed to be enough of an answer. You let your hand slide off Sam’s shoulder, realizing you had it in a tight grip the whole time, and resumed your pacing.

You doubted Karli Morgenthau had much chance to reflect on the long-term consequences of her mobilization. She was helping people, people who needed things right away; she was providing immediate relief. The world only had given violence in return.

“She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her. Or she kills you.”

“Maybe you’re wrong, Zemo. The Serum never corrupted Steve.” Bucky retorted, but that obviously wasn’t enough to shake Zemo’s convictions.

The ache in our chest grew just a tad stronger, and you sank on the large sectional couch; Bucky seemed to have sensed your wariness, because soon enough he was bumping knees with you on the empty seat to your left. He radiated irritation, squared shoulders and head thrown back.

You laced your arm with his, nodding along with Sam as he talked about his aunt, understanding his plan when he reasoned that they might be doing a funeral ceremony for Donya. Bucky seemed to have loosened it up a little, and you agreed with him. It was worth a shot.

“You doin’ okay?” Bucky whispered, adjusting his arm so yours could have more room.

You raised your eyes at Zemo, stopping for a few seconds to observe the golden embroidery of the couch behind Bucky’s head before looking at him.

You squeezed his bicep. You mustered a small, strained smile.

Bucky’s eyes did not leave yours the entire time, two pools of blue and warmth and comfort that made you ache with how much you’d missed them all of these years.

“Jus’ fine.”

Bucky nodded.

“Liar.”

You flicked his ear with your free hand, which made him grunt. You giggled as Bucky shook his head and muttered something about you being such a child, and you could feel your nervousness easing up.

“Don’t be so grumpy, old man.”

---

You parted ways as Sam, Bucky and Zemo went to the displacement camp, and you went to the GRC office in Riga in search of information. You hadn’t been seen with them yet, so you took the chance of still being considered just a diplomat on a trip, seeking to maybe be of assistance in trying times.

It hadn’t been the most productive of mornings. The people at the office knew as little as you did of Donya Madani, or any of the other displaced people, which was appalling at the least. All they had was some half-assed records of when the camp had been formed, and that was months ago. Who knew how many people had joined by then. No wonder the Flag Smashers were at large, with more people joining and supporting the cause every day.

John Walker and Lemar Hoskins walked through the building’s doors, just as you were ready to leave. Hoskins recognized you immediately, whispering something to the new Captain America before both men approached you.

You shook their hands graciously, but your eyes remained on the door, you not wanting to waste precious time with the two. Especially Walker, who seemed to wear the shield on his back like it was a badge of honor, or even a safe-conduct to back up his moves.

It didn’t sit right with you, and not just because the man who wielded the shield before him was unreplaceable to you, and the man who stood before you seemed to have been handpicked to step inside Steve’s shoes, same size and all. His height, his built, his set jaw, the blue eyes, the blonde hair; as far as looks went, the perfect impersonator. It was the way he carried himself that set you off though, proud of himself and his own privilege. And you had barely any interaction with him aside from watching him perform in front of cameras, and, well, now.

“I’m very sorry gentlemen – but I should get going. This detour of my vacation is already on borrowed time.”

Hoskins nodded solemnly, but Walker took another step towards you. “I know about your previous work with Steve, it would be nice to have you on your side too.”

“Like I said, I’m off duty. Try not to make a mess out of it.” The lie slips off your lips easily, and you offer them an apologetic smile before turning to leave.

“There’s some Avengers on the hunt for the Flag Smashers too.”

Hoskins’ voice stopped you in your tracks, and you studied the two, wondering just how much they actually knew.

“Just think about it, okay? If you’re gonna help someone, make sure you’re helping the right people.”

That’s exactly what you were doing, but you weren’t about to tell him that.

“Hoskins. Cap. Have a nice day.” You nodded at them, not looking behind you as you take off to the cobblestone streets.

---

Sam and Bucky turned to watch you when arrived back at Zemo’s condo, closing the door gently behind you.

“Nothing.” You answered before they could ask, shaking your head slightly. From the defeated way they were sank on that couch, you assumed they were met with dead ends as well. “And Walker’s here, so expect things to get complicated.”

“You met with Walker?” Bucky asked, his jaw tensing up as he looked up at you.

“More like he met me. Offered me a job.” You chuckled humorlessly at the irony of it. Apparently you were now known for getting Steve out of trouble, and not for getting into it with him. How the tables turn. “He’s lacking intel as much as we are though.”

You threw your coat on the coffee table, and watched it slip down to the floor unimpressed. Bucky dipped to pick it up, draping it over the back of the couch while shaking his head and grumbling under his breath. Sam giggled, earning himself a glare.

Zemo approached your group with a tray of steaming tea. Bucky focused his glare on him.

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?” Bucky narrowed his eyes, a taunting tone to his voice.

Zemo paused, and his eyes jumped from Bucky, to Sam, to you, and the ground. The mood is restless, charged with tension, ready to spark like an open wire at the edge of water.

The Sokovian visibly relaxes his posture when he bends down to serve himself tea. “The funeral is this afternoon.”

It wasn’t not surprising to you that he was withholding information, though it was bold. His confidence was baffling, if anything.

“You’re on thin ice, Zemo.” You narrow your eyes at him, and he offers you a small, lofty smile.

Bucky looked at you and nodded before reminding Zemo of the Dora Milaje and demanding he kept talking.

“Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli.” He retorts to Bucky and hums, shaking his head. “There’s still much I want to know, including why an American diplomat is tagging along for an altercation against a group of Super Soldiers.”

Zemo looked at you, inspecting your form as you leaned over a tiled column. He lingers on, but you know you have the higher ground. You don’t look the part of super soldier, in the way like the Flag Smashers don’t also. It’s advantageous, it gets you to blend in with the rest of world. You were aware that Zemo has been suspicious ever since you walked through the heavy wooden doors the first time, though, and he was trying to carve information out of you through veiled threats.

“I prefer to keep my leverage.”

This seemed to spur Bucky on. He got up from the couch, stalking towards Zemo in a casual gait, only to grab the teacup from the other man’s grasp and throw it violently at another column.

Your breath hitched.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?”

It sounded almost alien to you, the venom that dripped from Bucky’s words. You definitely hadn’t kept that in your memories of him, and you remind yourself that Bucky was no longer just that gallant boy from Brooklyn, he had more wars and baggage than anyone should carry.

So did you.

Sam got to Bucky before you could get your legs to move. “Take it easy. Don’t engage him. He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing.”

As if on cue, Zemo tilted his head upright.

Sam retreats to make a call, whacking Bucky on the shoulder as he left the room. The sound makes you shift, and you walked forward to put yourself between him and Zemo.

“Thin fuckin’ ice.” You snarl. Bucky disengaged by leaning on his heels.

“Want some cherry blossom tea?”

You huffed and nudged Bucky’s waist to prompt him to follow you, wanting nothing more to get him – and yourself – away from Zemo before disaster ensued. He still held the information you needed, though his bargaining chips were running out.

You had the distinct feeling that he knew that too.

“No, you go ahead.”

The room you found yourselves next is small, but just as luxurious as the rest of the apartment, with thick embroidered cushions littering a daybed and stained glass on the windows, casting colorful rays of light over the floor.

“You won’t go home if I ask you to, will you?” Bucky asked, and you chuckled.

“Absolutely not.”

A pained little sound left Bucky’s throat, and you sat down on the daybed to face him. He was leaning against the wall, eyebrows knitted.

“It’s like you don’t know me at all, Buck.”

“I do. That’s why I’m worried.” You rolled your eyes at him, making him look away from you, jaw clenched.

You sighed. “Bucky. I’m a highly trained super soldier.” Retired, too, and probably rusty, but you decided to not put that thought on his head. “I have more field experience than you, I bet. Don’t trouble yourself too much.”

His shoulders sagged, and you raised your hand to smooth the collar of his jacket, like you’ve done a million times before, back when you were still only a girl, and he was only a boy. The familiarity in those acts of intimacy covered you like a warm blanket, and you caught yourself wondering if Bucky felt the same.

“I worry about you too, you know. Why I’m here.”

Bucky turned his head to look at you, eyes roaming over your face. “How much did Sam tell you about Madripoor?”

“All of it, I think.”

There was torment in his eyes, that he tried concealing by looking at the floor. He nodded curtly, and the gesture propels you to leap forward and hold his face in your hands.

“Not worried like that.” You knit your eyebrows together, speaking firmly at him. “Worried about you throwing yourself into another fight. And losing you to it, again. So here I am, James, and stop trying to get rid of me.”

He either crashed into you or you into him, you’re not sure, but it barely mattered. Bucky had his arms firmly around you, his forehead resting on your shoulder. A hug that came eight decades too late, making you have to blink tears away.

“Don’t wanna lose you again too.” Bucky mumbled into your hair, and you squeezed him just a little bit tighter.

“You won’t. M’ here.”

I’m here. I’m here. You believed it, because you knew yourself. Keeping away this long, because you knew that once you were with him, you wouldn’t be leaving.

You hoped Bucky believed it, too. You’d tell him over and over, just in case.

The moment was short lived, though, coming to an end the when Sam knocks on the door. You pry yourself apart from him like a band-aid, and the door opens, leaving you and Bucky to compartmentalize and get ready for the next steps in your mission with your backs turned to each other.

“You guys good?” Sam asked, looking from you to Bucky, and you groaned internally at the sight of the slight curl at the corner of his mouth.

It’s not like that, Sam.

“Yeah. Are you?”

He quirks his brow. You quirk yours. His smirk is more out in the open, now.

“C’mon, old guard, we have a funeral to attend.”

You and Bucky shoot him a double glare and follow him back to the living room, then out to the cobblestone streets. Sam specifically said no weapons, no doubt intending to keep things civil, but you strapped a knife to your boot anyway.

Bucky smirked at you when he caught you red handed and showed you the handle of his own knife secured at his hip. It’s funny, how among so many things that haven’t changed at all, remaining intact as if eternized in marble, so many other things did.

It’s the caution. Having a plan B, C, D, up to plan Z. It’s knowing every possible exit points when you enter a room, and it’s strapping a knife to your body even if you’re going on a mission of peace.

You wanted to think that the years made to fade most of your scars, but the smallest things reminded you that faded didn’t mean gone. The weight of the blade on your left foot was doing that, as you walked through the streets of Riga beside Bucky, Sam and Zemo.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.”

John Walker and Lemar Hoskins jogged down the steps in your direction. Bucky opened his arms in irritation.

“Ah! How’d you find us now?”

It wasn’t really a question.

“Come on. You think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” Hoskins questioned rhetorically back, and his eyes land on you. You raised your eyebrows at him. “Y/L/N.” He didn’t sound terribly surprised.

“No more keeping us in the dark. You can start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.” Walker’s voice nearly overlapped Hoskins’, and his eyes traveled from Zemo to you.

“He did that himself, technically.” Bucky quipped, and shifted to your side slightly.

“I thought you were on vacation.” Walker sneered, making you shrug. You waved idly at the buildings.

“What? I’m sightseeing.”

“Oh, this better have an unbelievable explanation—” He raised his arms, taking a couple steps in your direction, but you didn’t budge.

You were resigned to simply rest your hands at your hips and wait for his temper tantrum to be over, but Sam clapped him on the chest and commanded him to not make things weird. Walker simmered down enough, which makes you beam proudly at Sam.

“I know where Karli is.”

You’d never be caught dead saying that out loud, but thank heavens for Zemo.

The new Captain America insisted on leading the action and turning it into a hostile one. You couldn’t stop staring at the shield on his back while he strutted ahead and turned, arguing with Sam about whether or not attempting to reason with Morgenthau was a good idea. She was indeed dangerous, but the echo of Sam saying that she was only a child earlier filled your ears.

It was risky, but Sam wasn’t reckless. You believed in him wholly.

“Is that why you roped a diplomat into this? There’s still time to change sides and save your job, Y/L/N.”

You didn’t doubt John Walker could and would get you to lose your job position, but you were aware of that possible outcome the minute you flew yourself to Latvia. That was the kind of inconvenience your future self would have to deal with. Sam looked at you for a brief second, forehead creasing with worry.

“Don’t threaten her, Walker.” Bucky warned him, and it was like you were fighting off a gang of bullies in an alleyway back home again.

“You’ll let him do this? Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier, alone?” Walker pressed on, holding Bucky’s stare.

“He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner.”

You highly doubted that. These men were as hard-headed as you were, but you didn’t buy into the whole we-aren’t-friends thing. It was evident, in the way they checked on each other from time to time, and had each other’s backs.

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay? This is right in my wheelhouse.” Sam stepped forward, and Walker was quick to resume the argument. He was desperate for a win, any win, and you caught yourself wondering if he was truly ready for the role he was given.

Hoskins seemed to be the voice of reason he lacked. Walker gave in, reluctantly, and motioned at Zemo.

“We’ll deal with you later.”

You tapped your feet impatiently.

“Boys, there’s no time for this.”

“I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion. My associate is just up ahead.”

There was a small girl waiting by the building in front of you. She guided the group to an abandoned factory of some sort, and Zemo announced that Karli was inside, and not long after he was being handcuffed to an iron vault door.

Sam stopped himself in his tracks while Walker manhandles the man, and you and him shared a look.

“You wanna come with?”

“No. It’s two against one, might set her off.” You shook your head, turning to look at Walker as he paced around. “You got this, Sam.”

Sam nodded at you and went in.

Ten minutes. You listened attentively for any signs of struggle, hoping things would go smoothly. Your knife felt heavy inside your shoe. Bucky seemed to be focused on the same task next to you.

John Walker grew more anxious by the minute, and you stopped listening to watch him pace around.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.” Bucky sighed.

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

Rich, coming from him, who seemed keen on doing just that to everyone else. Walker squared his shoulders and marched on, Bucky having to stand on his way to stop him. You got off your post on the stairs and blocked the rest of the way. Walker glared at you, then at him.

“This is all really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins.”

Of course, he would consider the serum more of a blessing than the true curse it was. You exhaled sharply, struggling to keep your emotions in check, watching Bucky’s back as Walker continued.

“Barnes, your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

You could almost see Bucky’s resolve wavering.

“Bucky, don’t.”

“You really want a casualty that big, Ambassador?”

“You need to cool down, Walker. Sam is—”

You didn’t get to finish, because Walker is barreling his way through you and towards Karli Morgenthau. Hoskins is pushing you and Bucky back as you try to get to Sam and the girl before things blew up even further.

“Walker you can’t—”

“Karli Morgenthau, you’re under arrest.”

Karli knocks Walker down, and Bucky managed to shove Hoskins away to run after her.

“Y/N, ten minutes!” Sam said as the both of you ran off to join the pursuit.

“I know, Sam! There’s no reasoning with this guy!” You groaned. “I’ll go this way, cover more ground.”

Sam nodded, his concerned expression mirroring yours.

You split up as you take off to your right, passing through archways and enclosed cubbyholes, finding nothing but old industrial machinery and junk.

Gunshots.

You counted four, at least.

You managed to pick up the source of the sound after the third discharge, somewhere at the lower level of the building. It would take you forever to find your way down the traditional way.

You landed on the ground floor with a soft thud, and couldn’t help but grin as you look up at the window you had just jumped from. Not bad, though the impact was unexpected and almost knocked the wind out of you.

The sound of smashed glass prompted you to snap back to reality and run into the basement of the factory, the place holding massive iron pipes and boilers. Zemo had his back to you, gun in hand.

A flash of red curly hair poked from behind the last pipe. You tiptoed your way to Karli, crouching next to her. She was clutching her side, blood seeping through her fingers. The receiving end of the shots.

Karli looked at you with terrified eyes, then up, and your gaze followed hers to a man you didn’t recognize, but one of her friends without doubt.

“Get out of here, kid. Go.”

She wasted no time, clambering up the stairs and disappearing through a metal door.

Faster than you and Zemo could acknowledge each other’s actions, he was hit on the heat with flying metal, sending him unconscious to the floor. John Walker stepped into the light.

“Morgenthau?”

“Gone. I was too late.”

Walker appeared to believe you, or he didn’t care, eyeing with interest the shards of fine glass littered on the floor. Zemo had smashed every single vial of serum before being hit with the shield. You kneel next to him and check his pulse.

“Is he…?”

“No. Just out.” You breathed. Walker let out a disappointed hum, leaving you to attempt to waken Zemo by yourself.

Bucky and Sam entered through the door that Karli had escaped through, and Hoskins through the doorway you came in before.

“What did we miss?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #will reblog w taglist

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kemonoinuzuka · 3 years

Text

Ahkalla/2224771XS15/Luna

Note: I do not own the BBU universe, I am using the basics for this story to get a feel for it. While this story takes place in the BBU I will be writing supernatural whumpee. Hope I tagged everything if not please feel free to tell me and I will add the tags!

‘My name.....I know they want me to rattle off that stupid number, but I still know my name.’ I lift my heavy head. It feels like lots made of lead and my vision blurrs at the change in light. Stabbing pain just behind my right eye. “2224771XS15” fighting isn’t worth this pain anymore.

Handler Hinton smiles, and starts going over the positions. I grit my teeth and go through them, doing my best to not falter. I don’t want to go back to the drip...I don’t want to lose myself. “Good girl, 2224771XS15.” The Handler says. He actually sounds happy or once, even coming over to pet her head. She hated the way she leaned into the touch. Like she was some touch starved puppy. She used to hate touch!”

“I’m glad you’re making good progress, now. Someone just bought you, and now we can focus on what they want, and leave the basics. Exciting news, huh!?” It takes a moment for my head to make sense of what was just said. Someone bought me...and now there is to be more training...Fuck. He stops petting me and goes to grab the chart and reads through the specifics. “Well you get to train in domestics, and they want you trained to be a guard dog. Shame, with your looks you would have made a great Romantic.” She shivers at his comment. It wasn’t the first time he had mentioned this.

They day goes by easily enough. She is trained to do the specific tasks her master wishes her to learn, such as cooking and cleaning. It’s easy and comes naturally almost like she has done this before. The memories hurt and become overbearing but she remember the older wolf, her mother taught her these things. She cradled her head on the freezing cold floor and shivered. Handler Hinton moved her to the break matts. “Go ahead and sleep, get warm. When I get back we will start your guard training.” He latched her lead to a nearby post and attached it to her collar. “That’s a good girl, rest.” The blessed warmth pulled her into slumber as Hinton went to lunch.

His lunch was over to soon, and rather angrily she got up. “Your owner is here to see you, payed a handsome penny for visits during training so you better behave for them.” She was to grumpy to care following him down the white sterile hallways. He lead her into a viewing room, there were toys but most importantly a blanket! She quickly kneeled in the middle as they waited for her master to come in.

The scent hit her first. Far different from strike cleaning supplies scent on the facility itself, different from the smell of the memory wiping drugs in the drip rooms, and nothing compared to the blood, sweat, and other bodily fluids in the training rooms. This was the scent of her enemy! The undead! He walked in tall and proud, eyeing her maliciously. Glowing red amber eyes, short black hair, and perfect white teeth. He is wonderfully attractive, but in a predatory way. Her lips pulled back barring her teeth at him.

His laughter rings throughout the room. “My what spirit she has!” He grips her by her chin and forces her to look at him. “I can’t wait to see you in action, precious!” Her body recoils from his touch but his grip is bruising and firm. “Don’t brake her from being feisty, I can always fix it if it becomes too far over line.” He takes his other hand and begins massaging behind her left ear and she could feel herself lean into the good touch. The effect on her body was relaxing as she entered a trancelike state.

“What are you doing?” The Handler asked surprised.

“Werewolves learn their place through shows of dominance. The fastest way to get them to know who they belong to is to manipulate their left ear. The trance, is a side affect of the imprinting to the new Alpha. Surprised your organization hasn’t figured that out yet.” He bends closer to her breath hot against her ear. “And with this she will know who her master is.” A small whine escapes her chapped lips as this horrible creature bites her ear.

He stands up and let’s go of her face. The magic of the imprint settles and she glares up at her enemy, her master. “Are there any other instructions or training you would like?” Handler Hinton sounded a tad unsettled.

“I want her to be protective of young’s ones. She is going to be the first of many I buy if I like her, and she will be in charge of guarding the children in my care. I know you have been wanting to sell her as a Romantic, may I ask why?” The man asks while looking her over and touching everywhere, fixing her posture and testing her tolerance.

“She is a masochist. Most of our punishments while still effective given her humiliation, don’t have the same effect as it does the others hence how long her basic training has taken. We just feel it’s a waste of potential, but she is yours and we will follow your directions.” Hinton explained. She in turn turned many shades of red as he informed Master of this.

“Hmmm well, I don’t have current plans to bed my dog, perhaps breed her after she has settled in. Find a nice male wolf that matches her nicely. I can always bring her back for that training yes? Or perhaps choose certain parts of it?” He asked watching her turn even deeper shades of red.

“Of course we are always happy to help in any way!” Hinton responded excitedly.

“Luna, you will let them touch you for training, and you will listen to them while I am not here they are in charge.is that understood, precious?” she looked up at master until it clicked. She was Luna, that’s was her new name.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir” she said remembering her manners. She really didn’t want to give Hinton a reason to punish her. The Handler was creepy enough without testing how much pain her body could turn to pleasure. “So sweet for me already precious” her master said. “Go ahead teach her how to handle being intimately touched and oral, but absolutely in no way shape or form are any of you to penetrate her. That’s not for you and I will punish anyone who does.”

To be continued.....

@livingforthewhump

#bbu #female whumpee #whump #intimate whumper #guard dog #werewolf #lady whump #noncon touching (non sexual)#torture #dehumanization #shock collar #muzzle #drug mention #drug #drugs cw #pet whump #tw conditioning #conditioning whump #masochist

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phoenix-manga · 3 years

Text

The Serpent and the Octopus [pt. 2]

It was another day of mundane school work for the merchildren. It was the same old routine for them, from morning to noon they listen to the adults ramble on about something semi-interesting until the bell rings.

Azul looks at the merchildren playing tag and swimming about in the classroom, he scoffs at them and continues to study his spells. He thinks that they’ll fall behind if they just continue to slack off and waste the opportunity to be better.

He was focusing so much on writing a spell that he failed to notice the leech twins swimming up to him, Floyd poked his side which made the octopus yelp in surprise, nearly dropping his fish bone pen.

Floyd: Ahahaha! You’re so jittery today Azul!

Floyd grinned at him with his sharp teeth. Azul huffed and fixed the writing supplies that were scattered about from Floyd’s prank.

Jade: Don’t go around scaring people Floyd! What if I accidentally hit you as a reflex?

Azul huffed and looked at the eel boy with a look of annoyance. But it doesn’t seem to faze Floyd a bit.

Floyd: Don’t worry about that! I can dodge easily!

Azul: What is it that you want anyway?

Azul fixed the remaining scrolls and books that were on his desk. Jade had a curious gleam in his eyes as he leaned over the desk and huddled closer to him.

Jade: I just heard from the teachers that there’s another royal visiting our school today

Azul scoffed at that, what was so great about royals visiting when they have had a few visits in the past years? What was so great about this one?

Azul: That’s it? Another royal merprince or princess visiting isn’t news, Jade…

Floyd: But this one is special, Azul! I’ve heard the royal is from the Serpent Sea

Floyd’s eyes twinkled with intrigue as he said this. Now that is definitely something worth listening to. Azul has read books about the Serpent Sea from the local library, and they were all interesting.

How they live in a section of caves that are spacious enough to maneuver their long bodies, yet the maze-like tunnels will get you lost if you aren’t familiar with the area. And how it was so dark that sunlight could barely shine through the waters but with their bioluminescent bodies it was no problem navigating.

But what he was interested in the most was the theory that the Sea Witch’s lair was rumored to be the body of a deceased serpent. No one has solidified this claim but with the uncanny resemblance the lair had with the serpent folk it was a shocking theory to discuss to those who read about it.

Before he could inquire anything else from the twins the teacher came rushing in. Their teacher swam in the classroom and clapped her hands to signal the children to go to their seats.

Teacher: Class, I have a special announcement to make! As you all know, the Serpent King is currently visiting the Coral Sea for a political discussion.

However, this time we received some special news from our king! The Serpent King has brought his daughter along for a visit! We are given the opportunity to meet the princess of the Serpent Sea! Please treat her nicely, okay?

Most of the students were excited at the news and some were even speechless. Azul heard snickering; he recognized those two merkids who weren’t paying attention to the teacher. They were the ones who picked on him for being a slow swimmer and called his tentacles gross. He could hear their hushed conversations from his seat.

Merchild A: Princess… Pfft! I bet she’ll look like those ugly anglerfish. So creepy with large jaws!

Merchild B:I bet they’re more like those blobfish! People tell her she’s pretty only because she's a royal, I doubt they actually mean it!

As the two kids gossiped among themselves, Azul’s expression hardened into a scowl, he always hated how they thought so highly of themselves; that they weren’t ashamed of openly bad-mouthing someone they assumed would be different.

The merchildren started to go quiet as soon as the teacher motioned someone to come in, the majority of them were in awe as Cerule slowly and carefully swam into the classroom.

Azul had to admit that he wasn’t expecting the princess to look so radiant.

Her oarfish tail was glittering in the water, almost like a jewel, and the red fins looked like lace decorating the tail. Her red and white hair was styled neatly into a braid with a golden shell clipped to one side of her head.

For someone who was supposed to be the daughter of the intimidating Serpent King, she looked like the complete opposite. She had such a gentle face that would make anyone stop and admire. Azul could see that the two who were bad-mouthing her earlier had wide eyes and their jaws open, even the leech twins looked intrigued.

Cerule looked around the classroom, the eyes of all the people staring at her made her feel nervous but she kept her head high and made sure that she didn’t look the least bit bothered by their staring.

Teacher: Class, this is Princess Cerule! The Serpent King’s daughter, please say hello to our visitor

The students rose from their seats and greets her as they bowed.

Students: Nice to meet you!

Cerule: I-it’s nice to meet you too…

She greets the students with a graceful bow. The teacher urged her to sit at the available seat which just so happens to be next to Floyd. She carefully swam to sit next to the boy and made sure her tail wasn’t getting in the way.

The twins glanced at Cerule who was fidgeting on her seat, her tail was definitely too long and she looked like a group of canned sardines.

Jade: Are you alright?

Jade asked, seeing how uncomfortable the princess looked. Cerule faced the twins and wore a nervous smile, embarrassed to have to admit that she felt the space was too small for her long tail.

Cerule: Ah, I’m sorry… I’m not used to small spaces…

She looked away, as if she was ashamed to look quite foolish in front of strangers. Azul has never seen any royal act like this, she’s acting like a scared guppy in a room full of sharks. He had to admit, it was quite amusing to see someone of royal status act this way.

Teacher: Alright, let’s begin… instead of a lesson, for today we have a discussion about what the Serpent Sea is like

Princess, would you care to share with us what your home is like? We don’t hear much from the Serpent Sea

Cerule: O-of course!

The entire class hour, the teacher and students inquired about what the Serpent Sea is really like and Cerule was starting to feel like she would have a small chat with her father about how other kingdoms perceive them.

There were so many questions that were outrageous and it clearly doesn’t sound like her home at all. She has a feeling it was because of his unintentional wrong impressions; she is very aware that her father looks like he’s about to murder someone.

As soon as the class hours were up, the teacher instructed the students that they were drawing lots on who was going to be the tour guide for Cerule and show her around the Coral Sea. The students were excitedly writing down their names on pieces of paper and passing it to the teacher.

Azul went back to his studies as the teacher rummaged through the papers. He couldn’t care less about being a tour guide to a royal, it’ll just take him away from his precious study time. The teacher pulls out a paper and calls out the name of the student.

Teacher: Azul! Seems like you get to be Cerule’s tour guide! Congrats!

At that announcement, the octopus dropped his writing pen in shock, he looked to see everyone looking at him. Some with envy while the twins were mouthing to him with a teasing look.

Floyd: Lucky you! We’re tagging along anyway, there’s no way me and Jade would leave you alone

He felt uncomfortable with the way the merchildren were staring at him, but it was partially worth it since the two bullies were eyeing him with such envy, just now weren’t they making fun of her before she showed up?

It was satisfactory that he managed to snatch away a golden opportunity from them but then there is the princess… who was still struggling to keep her tail from wriggling too much.

He hasn’t formally talked to any of the visiting royals but he assumes that they would be the same. Know-it-all kids who think they’re better than everyone, despite his growing interest to know more about the serpents, he still feels like he should keep his distance.

As soon as class was over and Cerule was slowly getting out of her seat the other students who didn’t leave started to swarm around her. Cerule recoiled a bit at the bombardment of faces that got too close to her personal space.

They were trying to persuade her to join them instead, but before Cerule could get a word out she felt someone’s hand pull her away from the crowd.

Jade: Hey! Don’t go against what the teacher said. It’s rude you know!

Jade had a glint in his eye that warned them not to intervene as he swam alongside his twin. Floyd held Cerule’s wrist as he swam towards Azul with a grin on his face.

Floyd: Azul~! Try to keep the princess near you, wouldn't want anyone else to snatch her away, right?

Floyd has this cheeky grin as he ushers the princess towards him. Azul gathers his things and looks at Cerule and introduces himself, showing curtsey before the royal.

Azul: Pleasure to meet you, princess. I’m Azul Ashengrotto. The twins are Jade and Floyd Leech, they’re my friends, you could say…

Cerule: Nice to meet you! Umm… where do we go exactly?

She asked nervously, twiddling her fingers.

Azul: We’re going to the Atlantica museum. It’s the best place to start the tour

Said Azul as he gathered his schoolbag and swam to exit the classroom, along with the other three right behind him.

#phnx #dca #diamond crown academy #dca stories #azul ahsengrotto #floyd leech #jade leech #cerule oceana #twst oc #twst #twisted wonderland

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uselessbiwrites · 4 years

Text

Gold

Summary: Your favorite mornings were always the ones where Marcus woke up first.

Warnings: NSFW themes, Too Much Fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: I hope everyone enjoys this as much as I did. I’m very proud of how this turned out. 😊

Whether it was the insistent chirping of the birds outside the window or the sunlight streaming in through a small crack in the curtains, Marcus woke up early despite having worked late last night. He let out a low groan and slowly opened his eyes. He attempted to rub the sleep out of them and yawned.

He looked over to his side and immediately knew why he unconsciously willed himself to wake up now. Marcus couldn’t stop the smile that came to his face when he saw you, still asleep on your belly. He couldn’t help but think how cute you looked snuggled into his pillow, you had stolen it from him last night. Speaking of last night, despite having been tired from work, he still had enough energy to worship your body. That was something he was never too tired for.

Marcus resisted the urge to softly run his fingers along your bareback and press kisses all over it. If he did, you would wake up and that would ruin what he was planning. As quietly as he could, he slipped out of bed and put on a fresh pair of boxers. He roamed around your shared apartment searching for all the supplies he needed.

By the time he was done and returned to the bedroom, he was elated to see you were still sleeping. Marcus carefully got back into bed and sat down, hovering above you. He laid a towel next to him and placed a paint down on top of it.

Marcus had done this before, that’s how knew you were okay with it. Over time, he figured out you were enjoying yourself too. He saw the look in your eyes when you saw his paintings on you. He began to do it more often when you revealed to him it made your love your body a little more each time. That was the ultimate win for him.

You told him it brought a deep sense of love when he thought your body was precious enough to told his creations. That just made him fall even harder for you. Funny how even in sleep you still managed to distract him. Just the mere thought of you makes him lose his train of thought.

Without wasting any more time, he got started. Most of the time he usually knew what he wanted to paint because he just recreates his favorite paintings. Sometimes they didn’t look the exact same, but you loved them nonetheless. This time, however, he had the urge to make something new. Marcus loved the intimacy that came with the thought of creating something for just the two of you.

It reminded him of that investigation he was a part of a year ago. Art thieves tried stealing a painting worth nothing, but worth everything to a couple that worked at the art gallery they had just ransacked. Despite the husband’s insistence, they attempted to steal it anyway and he paid the price when he tried to protect it. Despite the situation being completely out his control, Marcus still felt a pang in his heart when he remembered what those criminals did.

The look in the wife’s eyes when she laid eyes on that special painting when they returned it made Marcus realize something. He longed for someone to gaze at him the way she did, fortunately, he found someone who did. In the end, he was happy Libson didn’t come with him because he found you.

Meanwhile, you had woken up while he was still painting, you were trying your best not to shiver. You’d told him many times those brush of his were ticklish. You knew there was nothing he could do about it, but you secretly liked it when he teased you about being ticklish. You’d never admit that to him though.

You tried not to shudder when his warm fingers brush against your neck to move your hair. You had to stifle a content sigh as well. It wasn’t a necessarily a problem when you woke up before he was finished, but you knew he wanted it to be a surprise. Which is why most of the time you pretended to sleep.

Other times, when you did wake up before he finished, you two would have long conversations of just about anything. Those were some of your best memories with Marcus. It was during those conversations you learned a lot of different things about each other and vice versa.

You had no idea how much time had passed when he kissed your neck. He did that every time he finished painting without fail. You didn't know when this had started, but you weren't complaining. You loved the feeling of his lips on your skin.

“You can stop pretending,” he said, grabbing one of your hands to place a kiss on it. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb along your knuckles.

You giggled to yourself and turned your head to face him. “How did you know I was awake?” You asked, reaching your hand out once he let go.

By now, Marcus knew what you meant when you did that. He reached back to the nightstand and grabbed a scrunchie. He watched as you grabbed your hair and sat up to begin tying it up. Once you turned to face him he laid his hand on your thighs and pressed kisses to your breasts.

"I could practically feel you shuddering under my brush," he explained in between kisses. You let out a content sigh and ran your hand through his hair.

Your sighs sound turned to moans when he trailed his lips from the skin of your breasts to your perked nipples. "Are you trying to distracting me from seeing what you did?" You managed to ask in between your soft moans.

He let go after giving it a soft nip causing you to yelp. "Sorry, but I couldn't help myself," he said sheepishly.

You playfully rolled your eyes and shook your head. Marcus gasped and swatted your ass, "no need for the attitude," he scolded. Your only response was to roll your eyes once more just to bother him before getting out bed.

You put on panties before practically sprinting to the bathroom. Every time he painted on you, you always got so excited to see what it was. Whether it was a painting he was recreating or something new, it always turned out beautiful.

It was impossible to smother the giddiness you felt in your chest when you turned on the light to the bathroom. You faced away from the mirror the moment the light was on to see what he painted. When you turned your head and finally saw it, nothing but adoration filled your eyes.

When Marcus joined you in the bathroom you wrapped your arms around his middle and pressed a kiss to his chest. The painting was simple, but you loved it nonetheless. He made it appear as if your skin was dripping in glittering gold. Makeshift drops spilled from the liquid gold down to the stretch marks on your hips and painted them in gold.

You didn't always have your best days when you stared too long into the mirror, but Marcus always knew how to make it better. Not to be cheesy, but you knew struck gold when he came into your life.

Marcus pulled away from you and placed his hands on your cheeks, "you love it?" He asked with a grin.

"Of course I do." You pressed a kiss to his nose and then his lips. You giggled when you felt him kiss you back and tap the backs of your thighs. Having already been with him for so long, you knew what he wanted and jumped up so he could wrap your legs around his waist.

He pulled away and continued to gaze at your lips, "why don't we go back to bed?" He suggested, bumping his nose with yours.

You licked your lips and nodded, "okay."

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #the mentalist #marcus pike x y/n

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dimimagines · 4 years

Text

It’s a certain someone’s birthday, so I had to write for him! Happy Birthday to the Tsundere Blue Lions boy, Felix!

Happy Birthday, My love

Felix x Reader (Post-timeskip)

Despite the fact that the war was still on-going, and Dimitri still hadn’t yet snapped out of his feral state, and everyone would soon be going to Ailell, the valley of torment to meet with Rodrigue for extra soldiers and supplies, you still wanted to take the time to properly celebrate Felix’s birthday with him. It wouldn’t be any big or grand party, partially because there weren’t the supplies to go around for that, but also because you knew he’d hate that. He never was the type to attend grand events such as balls and parties; a waste of time, he’d say.

You wouldn’t be surprised if he skimmed over his own birthday, preferring to not even acknowledge the day. So you decided to keep it private between the two of you, by giving him his gifts in surprise. Two weeks prior, you had placed an order on a customized sword for Felix. It was both beautiful and efficient, the blade was both something he’d appreciate and could use on the battle field. A custom blade did cost a fair chunk of gold, but it was more than worth it; the design came out much better than you had anticipated and you knew that upon seeing it, he’d bless you with one of his rare smiles. The rare and exclusive smile that always managed to make your heart flutter and grow for the swordsman even more, a task that you had previously thought to be impossible to achieve.

There was only one issue, something that you were stumped on; Felix hated sweets with a passion almost as great as his passion for training and swinging his sword. But you still wanted to bake something for him yourself. It was a matter of finding the right thing to bake for him, something that wasn’t so sweet and yet could pass as a birthday cake. In your current predicament, you found yourself in the kitchen with an apron on and surrounded by many baking recipe books. So far, you hadn’t had much luck in finding anything.

“These books are useless, what on earth could I make that isn’t too sweet but is still considered a cake?” You pondered closing your eyes in contemplation. Finally, an idea struck you like lightning and you got to work. You were going to make him a dark chocolate crepe cake. Chocolate is usually considered to be one of the sweetest of sweets, however with a really dark chocolate base, it would take on a more bitter flavour profile, and you could add spiced rum to the chocolate filling, allowing it to not be overbearingly bitter, and retaining a classy flavour. The crepes would also lean the cake more on the savoury rather than sweet side. It was the perfect plan.

So you immediately got to work, knowing that it would take a lot of time to make due to all the layers that would have to be stacked up.

“Cooking the crepes one by one just isn’t efficient… By the time I finish making this cake, Felix and I will have already gone into the afterlife.” You huffed, looking at the current layers in your cake- 5 layers. You wanted it to be at least 20 layers. You rolled your eyes and brought out a second pan- you supposed that you would just have to multitask and cook more than one at once.

After a significant amount of time had passed, the cake was finally done. Thankfully you managed to successfully make it without burning any layers, and the cake looked pretty good for someone who isn’t in the baking profession.

Now all you had to worry about was getting both of your gifts to Felix. Giving it to him in the training grounds seemed like a dumb idea, that would be a great place to go if you wanted to see all your hard work go flying in the air because someone bumped into you, being too caught up in their own training. You decided that his room was likely the best place to put it for the time being, as you wrapped everything up neatly into a cardboard gift box and carefully carried it to his dorm room.

You had gently placed the crepe cake on his desk as well as any utensils you two would use to eat it, before leaving to fetch the sword from your own room to bring over to his. Making sure everything was neatly in place and looked well-wrapped, you nodded and smiled at your hard work before leaving to go to the training grounds to get Felix. If you knew Felix well enough, and you do as his significant other, you knew he wouldn’t just leave the training ground; not without a sparing session. As you made your way to the training grounds, you stretched out your stiff arm muscles; sore from all that whisking they had to do earlier to make the filling and crepe mix.

Picking up your pace, you arrived at the training grounds, you looked around for the blunt swordsman. You smiled as you saw him skillfully swing his blade, somehow looking elegant and graceful in your own eyes. Watching him train has always captivated you; he made sure every move counted, for Felix there was no such thing as a wasted move; everything was well thought out and calculated in retaliating to his opponent. Very few people could actually put up a good match against him, one of the many things you had admired about him since academy days. Snapping out of your lovestruck stupor, you made your way over to him, catching his attention.

“There you are. I haven’t seen you all day, what was so important that you went missing for an entire day?” He spat out, crossing his arms.

You laughed at his attitude and shook your head, “Nothing too serious, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just had something personal to take care of, that’s all.”

“Tch, I wasn’t worried… Well you’re here now so you may as well train with me, after an entire day of slacking off.” He handed you a sword and got into a stance, ready to fight whether you approved of it or not.

“Fine by me, but under one condition; If I win you have to come with me to see something.” You smiled at him, getting into your own fighting stance, your face slowly shifting into something more serious. Felix wasn’t a pushover, after all. Lover or not, he still came at you with everything he had. It was his way of caring for you; if he hadn’t cared for you, he wouldn’t bother to train with you, but because he does, he goes hard to ensure that in the real battles you’re able to protect yourself well.

“You want me to go somewhere with you? Even after a day of slacking off you still want to… Fine. But only if you win against me. If I win you have to continue training with me.” His lips were firm, as he took the first swing, not waiting for you to respond. His eyes looked fierce as they watched your form closely, trying to read your body and gain the advantage; Felix did not like leaving the training grounds after all. As far as he was concerned, he had to win.

You parried his blow with your own blade, pushing back against his and creating more distance between the two of you. The two of you swung at each other, a loud clang echoing throughout the training grounds before you both pulled back once more. Circling each other, you two eyed one another, trying to gauge the other’s next move, both parties not wanting to lose this match. Deciding that more action and less watching needed to be done, you rushed forward, directing many quick blows at him. None of them were particularly strong, but they were fast and skillful. It would direct all his attention to taking the defence rather than the offence, allowing you precious time to think of a way to quickly secure a victory.

Finally, he left an opening for you, and you quickly seized it, his hand dropped the blade and you held your sword up to his neck, “Yield.” You simply said, looking into his eyes, determination from the spar still within your eyes. He let out a small huff and nodded.

“I yield.” He muttered quietly as he picked the blade off the ground and put his and your blade away.

“What did you want to show me?” He asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he followed you out of the training grounds.

“I can’t tell you, you’ll just have to see for yourself.” You smiled up at him cheerfully as you guided him to his dorm.

“My room? You pulled me away from the training grounds to see my own room. If this is your way of telling me to take a break and rest then thanks but no thanks. There’s training to be done-“ His eyebrows were furrowed, and you quickly cut him off.

“Felix, we had a deal. And I promise I didn’t just take you here to sleep, just… open the door and go inside!” You insisted, your smile perking up even more despite the fact that he had just tried to leave. He looked at you with exasperation before rolling his eyes and giving you a small nod.

He opened the door and stepped inside, before freezing, his eyes settling on the cake on his desk, as well as a long, thin box with a bow on it. You closed the door behind the two of you and giggled at his expression.

“Happy Birthday Felix, my love. I know you don’t like sweets, so before you complain about the cake, I just wanted to tell you that it’s a crepe cake, so it’s more on the savoury side- And I used dark chocolate, so it wouldn’t be overwhelmingly sweet, I even added in some spiced rum so it wouldn’t be so bitter.” You explained to him in a quick and timely manner, not allowing him to get a word in before you finished.

He sighed and ran a hand though his hair, “You didn’t have to do all that for me you know…”

“You say that, but that smile on your face says otherwise.” You grinned up at him, wrapping your arms around him in a hug, “And that’s not all. You haven’t even opened the gift yet. You’ll like that a whole lot more, I promise.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, allowing all your affection for him to bleed through the closed door. In public, you two put on more of a reserved front, however in private, the two of you tended to be much more physical and vocal about affections for one another.

He let out a soft chuckle, nodding as he reached over to open the gift. He pulled the blade out and looked at it carefully. His eyes drank in the intricate designs that were on the hilt of it, as he pressed it in his hand feeling the grip; it fit him perfectly. He nodded in approval, deeming the blade worthy, before he sheathed it away and turned toward you to properly wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a firm and loving hug.

“Thank you. I mean it. I don’t usually make a big deal out of celebrating my birthday, you know how noble parties are- stuffy, stupid, pompous… But this is nice. You put a lot of thought into everything.” His voice was quiet as he spoke into your ear, and you smiled in relief, knowing that all the effort had paid off. He was happy, which was a rarity these days; and also a blessing.

“Of course I did. I love you Felix, and I wanted to at least do something for your birthday. We can’t have a party or anything due to the circumstances- not that I think you would want one anyways, so I wanted to be able to spend some time with you, celebrating in our own way. The war has been taxing on everyone, even you. Even if you don’t want to admit it.” You spoke tenderly to him, one of your hands reaching down to grab his own and gently rubbing it. Savouring the feeling of he hands in your own.

“If the boar prince just snapped out of his thirst for revenge for the dead, then this war would be over a lot faster.” He rolled his eyes and you shook your head at him.

“Don’t think about that right now. Right now, it’s just the two of us, and we’re going to enjoy some quality time together, celebrating your birthday.” You tugged him towards the cake and handed him the knife. He sighed and nodded in response, before cutting the cake, placing a piece onto a plate. Then, he stabbed a fork in and took a bite. He was eating it slowly, as he evaluated the flavour, and you waited nervously in anticipation for his judgement.

He swallowed the cake, “It’s still a little sweet but… It’s tolerable. I’ll eat it. You put a lot of work into it.” He smirked at you, enjoying your nervous expression as you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Thank Sothis for that, I really stressed over making it for you.” He chuckled at your words, and pulled you in for a kiss, you squeaked in surprise but eagerly kissed him back.

“Next time, we can do without the sweets. I don’t need a cake, or anything fancy like that.” His cheeks flushed a bit as he gulped, and you knew he was going to say something cheesy.

“You’re more than enough, after all.” And you were correct. You giggled, watching him try to face away from you, hiding his own embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, could you say that again, Felix? I didn’t quite catch that~” You teased

“Shut up, and wipe that grin off your face. I’m not repeating myself.” He huffed at you, gently swatting you away from him.

A laugh slipped out of your lips, as you looked at him lovingly with adoration in your eyes; teasing him like this and getting him worked up did things to your heart. It made you more giddy. “Happy birthday... I love you, Felix” You simply responded, once again moving closer to him.

He rolled his eyes, “I love you too, idiot.”

#felix x reader #felix hugo fraldarius #Felix #felix hugo fraldarius x reader #fe3h felix #x reader #fire emblem #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fe3h #happy birthday #fanfic #FE #FE Three Houses #fluff

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the-winter-witcher · 4 years

Text

🥀Echoes {26/30}

Flowers Of Evil Masterlist

Pairings: Geralt x f!reader x Jaskier, Shelley x f!reader

Summary: Justice has finally caught up with Shelley...

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, torture, pain, blood, guns, knives, degrading language, threatening language, dismemberment, death

Word Count: 2.3k

A harsh cry breaks through the ringing in your ears and you realise loosely that it’s Jaskier. The shock of hearing his pained shout brings you back to your senses and you find yourself hitting Shelley hard over the head with the hilt of your knife, just once is enough for him to go limp in your grip.

“Jask, shit, Jask, are you okay?” you drop Shelley to the floor unceremoniously, both you and Geralt leaving him behind as you run to where Jask is leant against a tree for support. He’s still standing and you take that as a positive, though when your eyes track down to find the wound you can’t help but let out a sob. Blood is saturating the leg of his trousers and you can clearly see where the bullet has entered.

“Did it come out, fuck, did it come out?”

He mumbles something back that’s barely audible through his laboured breathing and Geralt is quick to wrap his arms around Jask and gently set him on the floor so that he doesn’t waste any more energy trying to stay upright. He’s growing pale rapidly and the darkening pool of blood on the ground beneath him has fear spiking in your veins.

“It’s still in” Geralt confirms your fears and you can hear the strain in his voice.

“Can you get it out?” “Not here- maybe back at the house? Should have something”

“Geralt, that’s- fuck- okay, you go. I’ll take care of Shelley”

“I’m not leaving you with him”

“And I’m not letting him go, so you have to Geralt”

You can see him debating it in his head, the chances of Jaskier surviving if he stays, the chances of you getting hurt if he goes. He looks like he’s about to say something when Jask makes a choked off sob from where he’s still cradled in Geralt’s arms and it makes his mind up for him.

“Be safe, okay? You need me just call me, just, just make sure the bastard pays for what he’s done. Please”

You take the chance to hold him while you can, your arms wrapping tightly round his broad waist and pulling him close as you bury your head in his chest.

"Just make sure Jask is okay, please, I couldn't bare it if-"

“He’ll be fine, I promise you, I won’t let anything happen to him” Geralt presses a fierce kiss to the top of your head, inhaling deeply as he does, and you know he’s terrified of leaving you here alone after what’s just happened.

“Thank you, now go, go, get him safe” it takes all of your strength to let go of Geralt.

He’s careful as he lifts Jask into his strong arms and you don’t miss the concern that paints his features as he gingerly positions Jaskier’s limp body so as best to avoid any further trauma. You take the chance to press a soft kiss to his forehead, a murmured “I love you” against his hair, and then Geralt is carrying him away and you’re left alone with Shelley.

You take a steadying breath as you fight back the tears that are threatening to spill, you know now isn’t the time for this, you have a lot to do before Shelley wakes up, and you’ll be damned if you let this bastard see you cry. It’s hard work without Geralt to help you with the heavy lifting and you find yourself tiring as you drag Shelley’s still limp body through the forest clearing; you strain as you make slow progress on your mission and by the time you have him suitably restrained to a tree you can feel the sweat trickling into your eyes from the exertion. Fucking built bastard. After checking the ropes a few times for strength you make a quick run back to the tree where you’d left your tools, before settling in to wait for him to wake up. You lose track of time as you sit resting against the same tree Jask had been not even an hour before, your mind caught up in the haze of emotions that wash over you. Every few minutes you find yourself pulling your phone out, desperate for any news at all on his condition as you wait.

After what feels like hours you finally see Shelley stir with a groan, and you practically leap to your feet to get to him. His eyes are wild and frenzied as he sees you approach and he starts to strain desperately at his binds in a futile attempt to get away.

“I told you to pray it wasn’t me Shelley” there’s no joy in your voice as you drop to a crouch in front of him. His face somehow grows paler as the realisation truly hits home for him. He’s stuck, no way out, and he’d made things worse for himself, “I want you to be truthful with me, just like I’m about to be with you. It won’t make it any easier on you, you have no hope of that after what you’ve done, I just want to know why”

He doesn’t attempt to answer for a few moments and you feel white hot rage bubble up in your veins at his silence. A snarl tears from you as you pull your knife from it’s strap on your chest and press it against his thigh in the exact same spot that Jaskier had taken the bullet.

“I’m sorry, I never-”,

“Never what?” you growl, viscous and sharp, as the knife slices a thin, deep cut, “fuck, and to think I felt bad about what I did to Renfri”

His eyes go wide for a second as he contemplates what that could possibly mean and you shoot him a sadistic grin in response, “She was strong willed, I’ll give her that, could’ve made it so much easier on herself if only she did as she was told, but she didn’t want you to hear her in pain. Stupid bitch”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you”

“Please-”

“You tried to take everything from me, and for what? Was it fucking worth it?” the knife twists deeper and Shelley howls in pain.

“I thought- I thought” his words are cut off by another cry as you pull your blade out and leave the wound gaping and open, gore now flowing thick and fast to the dull forest floor beneath.

“You thought what?”

“I- If you didn’t have them, you would come back”

“Come back? To what?”

“Me” it’s a whimpered confession, born of loss and sorrow, and if the situation had been different you’re sure you might even be able to feel some sympathy towards the deluded idiot. But right now, with the splattering of Jaskier’s blood not even 10 feet away and the hilt of the knife you’d used on Geralt still firmly in your grip, all you can feel is anger. You can’t help but to laugh, a hollow, empty bark that shows your incredulity at just how stupid this man could be.

“I’m not even going to entertain that with a response”

“Please, need you to know-”

“All of this for some deluded daydream. You had years, Shelley, years to reach out to me before I found Geralt, before I found my home. You let me think you were fucking dead until you got jealous? Fuck you” Rage permeates every word as you let the full extent of your fury be known, “I wasn’t expecting something so fucking stupid from you. I assumed Stregobor had some hold on you. But this? Of your own volition?”

There’s nothing else you can say right now, no way that words can express the pure hatred you feel for the man currently bound and bleeding at your feet, all that you have left to do is make him feel as much pain as you had before you end him. Your thoughts jump back to the bag at your side and an absolutely sickening grin creeps across your face.

“Do you want to see your precious Renfri one last time? I’m not even sure why in the fuck she was so loyal to you, not after what you just told me”

“Renfri, she- she’s here?”

“Of course, she’s going to watch what I’m about to do to you. Say hello Shelley, I’m sure she’s missed you”

His face grows even paler, though you’re not sure if that’s because of the blood loss or the head that you’re slowly lifting out of the bag to greet him.

“Now, she’s just gonna sit right here,” you set the severed head down on a tree stump close by, eyes pointed directly at Shelley’s now trembling figure, before heading to collect more tools from your collection, “while I get the information that I need from you”

He swallows thickly as you crouch down next to him to assume the same position you had been in previously and you’re thankful that he seems to have realised there’s no use in pleading with you. Smart man, just not when it really counts.

“I only have one very simple question- where is Stregobor?”

“I don’t know”

“Wrong answer” you hold up a small metal object just quick enough for him to see, before plunging it deep into the knife wound and he howls with pain as the jagged edges rip into the tender flesh, “try again”

“I don’t fucking know, fuck, I swear, please-”

“Wrong,” you twist the top of the metal device, “fucking,” you twist again, “answer” each twist causes the device to spread out, opening up the knife wound and tearing out new chunks of skin and muscle with each movement, “I know you know what this does, and I know that you aren’t going to enjoy it if I have to use more of them on you, so I’ll ask again. Where is he?”

“I swear, I fucking swear, I don’t know”

“Always were a stubborn fuck. No matter, I have plenty more toys where that came from”

The next one sinks into his shoulder, but unlike the one embedded deep in his thigh, this one cuts deep and encloses a thick swathe of muscle, before being ripped out violently. The spray of blood left in its aftermath has you smiling sadistically at Shelley who’s already starting to go limp in his binds.

“No, uh uh, you aren’t getting out of this so easily” another quick spear of the now dripping weapon into his other shoulder has him practically wailing, “I can do this all day, Shel, so you might as well save yourself the effort of trying to hide this from me”

“I- fuck, fuck, okay, I know where he is”

“I’m waiting”

He shakily breathes out the words that you so desperately needed to hear from him and you quickly text the information across to Geralt while it’s fresh in your mind.

“Well done,” you get back to your feet with a smile and begin to tidy up your supplies, “took less time than I thought”

“I- are you, are you letting me go?” The hopeful lift to his strained words has joy practically soaring through your veins. You can’t wait to crush that from him. But not yet.

“Well you did give me what I asked for. Do you think we’re even?”

“I don’t- uh- no, no I don’t”

“Good, glad we agree” before he can say anything else you pull your gun from it’s strap and aim.

“That,” you shoot his unmarked thigh, “is for Jaskier” he can’t hold back his scream of anguish as you inflict more pain on his already wrecked body, “and this,” you fall back to the now familiar crouch and slide your knife quickly and deeply between his ribs, “is for Geralt”

“P-Please, just, just kill me, fuck”

“You don’t deserve that luxury, not after what you did to me, to them, no. This is going to be as painful as I can make it,” your hand reaches down to put pressure on the head of the metal pear still stuck in his thigh and he hisses, a sickly sweet noise to your ears, before ripping it out in one fluid movement, “you’re fucking lucky Geralt isn’t here with me or I’d be ripping your damn ribcage open and pulling your lungs out like you deserve”

“Please” his words are hushed and you know he hasn’t got much longer left, not with the blood loss and the toll the pain will have taken on his body.

“Luckily for you I’m not strong enough to break ribs with my own hands, so this will have to suffice” you smile sweetly at him as you pull your knife out from its resting place in his chest and ever so slowly press it in, a fresh wound opening right next to the previous one; you repeat the motion over and over, new incisions lining his chest and welling fresh fountains of blood, until finally you feel him still beneath you.

A quick press of your fingers to his neck confirms he’s dead, no pulse to be found, and you let out a sob you didn’t even know you’d been holding in. Your hands shake as you grab at your phone to call Geralt, to let him know that clean up is needed asap and that it’s done, and the sound of his voice on the other end of the line helps to ground you from the spiral that you feel is fast approaching. He won’t be long, he says, Jask is currently being treated by the best private doctor that money can buy, he’ll tell you more when he sees you, and despite his words not being as hopeful as you’d liked his tone is reassuring and comforting in the way that only he can be.

You settle against an unmarked tree with a sigh, fighting the tears that are threatening to overtake you, and wait for Geralt to arrive.

#🥀#flowers of evil #jaskier x reader x geralt #geralt x reader x jaskier #xreader #jaskier x reader #geralt x reader #witcher #the witcher #dark geralt #dark jaskier #dark au

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