#continuing my backwards walk into hell being the only one drawing these ships I welcome company | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joel-millerr · 4 years ago

Text

Pushing Each Others Limits

Chapter Four of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10k

Summary: You and the Child share an intimate moment. Mando continues to boss you around, and this time you’ve had enough, choosing to defy him because you’re a brat.

Warnings: oral sex (man receiving), drinking, doing sexual stuff under the influence, dom/sub mentions, angst, slight gambling, a little bit of fluff with the Child, mentions of death/mourning

A/N: also I did a little bit of research on sabacc and then realized it’s a lot more intricate than I thought so watch me make shit up about the game ahahaha

-------

“And why can’t I come with you?”

Mando’s sigh is heavily distorted by the vocoder, and the eye slit in the helmet continues to study you. Hands resting on his hips, he hovers over your body, scolding you like a child. “Because I said so.”

Chuffing out a scoff, your eyes roll dramatically as you press him again, forcing to crane your neck in order to maintain your gaze, “That’s such bullshit, Mando.”

“Too fucking bad.”

Fists white knuckling at your sides, your eyebrows are pulled together tightly, feeling the childlike anger bubbling inside of you. Deep down, you know Mando’s right. It’s becoming increasingly riskier for you to keep roaming the streets, but being stuck in the hangar with Peli is the last thing you want to be doing. You’d much rather be out, no matter how dangerous it might be.

“I am more than capable of handling my own, thank you for very much.” You warn before stomping your way over to the door to the hangar, but before you can even get close enough to the door, your body is yanked backwards, a large hand gripping your arm and whipping you to face the Mandalorian.

“Can you just listen for once?” He growls, broad chest looming over your smaller figure. Your throat goes dry instantly—this being the first time in two days that he’s been this close to you.

Neither of you have spoken about what happened on your first night here, and since then Mando’s been keeping his distance. Once again, he’s keeping you at bay, forcing you to guess what the hell is going on under that bucket of a helmet he wears.

Having a knack for reading people, it’s always been impossible to hide things from you because you were continuously capable of finding out the truth based on body language or facial expressions. Given the fact that Mando’s face is covered by kriffing beskar, you have no way of trying to get a read on him. It’s just a blank space, and no matter how hard your eyes focus on the slightest movement of his body or tilt of his head, you’re stuck guessing what he could be thinking.

So in truth, you’re a little resentful, and hurt. What happened in that alley was more than just a spur of the moment type of thing. You felt it—it had been building up since you both met, and since then the tension had become so disgustingly thick that it was bound to take you both over, but now? It’s like you’re back to square one. Actually no, it’s like he’s purposely ignoring you, as if he doesn’t want anything to do with you, but has no choice since you’re essentially stuck with him.

But despite this gnawing feeling that you’ve worn out your welcome, you’d still rather spend the day with him than with Peli. At least with Mando, the chances of him making small talk are low; an outburst between you and the owner of the hangar is much more likely.

And now you’re stuck in a stare down with Mando. Visor watching you, you stare back in defiance with one eyebrow raised, and your jaw angled. He probably thinks the longer he keeps his gaze on you that you’ll eventually give in to what he wants, but you’re not that submissive. You rarely give into intimidation, and quite honestly, there’s a part of you that enjoys seeing him get this worked up. Wanting to know just how far you can push your luck, you take one step closer until you’re merely inches away from cool chrome durasteel. Your body is burning up, heartrate rising and rising until it’s thumping against your ribcage, and you swear you can see his chest puff out slightly.

The hand on your arm releases and balls up as his side. Quick breaths emit from the vocoder, and you bite down on your lip to stop the smile from creeping up on your lips. It shouldn’t bring you this much satisfaction seeing him get agitated, but your ego is flourishing right now.

Pushing your limits even further, you lean into his body ever so slowly, and whisper breathlessly into the side of his helmet, “Please let me come with you.”

Mando’s shoulders stiffen and his chest heaves, the cuirass brushing against your breasts. You start to think he might be considering letting you come with him, given your shameless efforts seducing him to your will. He stays quiet for far too long, and the air is starting to get thicker, your ability to breathe is becoming too difficult.

Just when you start to think you’re in control of the situation, he presses into you and your forced to take a step back to keep yourself from falling backwards. His broad chest encompasses you once again, demonstrating that any control you had was just him manipulating you into thinking that. “No.” He commands, the syllable ripping through the modulator, and just like that, the argument ends. Not bothering to wait for your rebuttal, he saunters passed you, and disappears through the door of the hangar.

You want to scream; you want to rip your hair out like an immature kid who didn’t get what they wanted, but you stand there dumbfounded. What happened? Were you so naïve as to think that you had any kind of control over the situation? Was he just letting you believe that you have any chance in deciding what the outcome of the argument would be?

Hearing another door swoosh open, your head turns towards the sound to see Peli exiting her office and heading in direction of the ship. Her reaction to seeing you still here is a mix of disappointment and annoyance. You see her roll her eyes and curse under her breath, and even though you can’t make out what she said, you know it wasn’t anything kind.

She saunters over to Crest to begin any last-minute tweaks that it might need, her back facing you. Ideally, today would be the day to squash your quarrel with her, since you’re both stuck with each other for the rest of the day, and having to tip-toe around each other just because neither of you refuse to be the first to bring up what happened all those years ago just seems juvenile.

Taking a deep, almost lung burning breath in an effort to release all the anger concerning Mando, you push down any pride you have and make a beeline towards Peli. You know she can hear your feet hitting the ground as you approach her, and you observe her posture change—she tries to disappear further into the Crest, pretending to be so busy that she could completely ignore you, but you’re too determined to squash your issues to give up now.

“Can I help with anything?” You ask just as get closer to her. Peli’s back stays glued to you, she doesn’t even bother looking in your direction before answering. “No.”

Biting down on your jaw and fighting the urge to roll your own eyes, your lips press into a thin line before prodding her again. “Peli, I don’t want any trouble. I can helpful.”

This seems to get her attention because her back stiffens, head turning slightly in your direction before her words come out like venom. “Even if I wanted help, the last person I’d ask it from is you.”

Her words cause you to recoil, only now realizing just how much resentment and bitterness for you lies deep inside her. The guilt that follows causes your fingers to twitch at your sides, chew the inside of your cheek and stand there awkwardly, not wanting to walk away but also not having anything to ease the anxiety in the air. The only thing you can think of is to try to make conversation about the ship. Taking a few steps back and leaning your shoulder against the side of the Crest, you begin to speak gently, “When Mando and I were on Sorgan, I had noticed the beginning’s a fuel leak, but I wasn’t able to fix it since I didn’t have any handy equipment on me.”

An obnoxious sneer is released from Peli as she begins to march around the Crest, checking off her to-do list on the datapad in her hands. “I don’t see how you would have been able to do that even if you did have the proper tools.”

“I’m a very capable mechanic, Peli.” You snap back, trailing behind her. Growing up surrounded by ships has given you an extensive knowledge into how a ship runs—the intricate mechanics involved in keeping a ship in good condition. Therefore, you knew what you were talking about. If anyone could go toe-to-toe with you when it came to repairing anything, it was Peli.

Finally pulling her eyes away from the tablet in her hands to look at you, she mumbles, “Don’t you mean a smuggler?” through gritted teeth, practically spitting the words at you.

Your weight shifts to one side, a hand placed firmly on your hip and clamping hard on your jaw to keep yourself from impulsively saying something you might regret later, you take your time trying to find the right words to respond with. “Look, you’re stuck with me all day, because somebody didn’t want to draw more attention to themselves, so we’re going to have to learn to deal with each other just for today. I know I can be civil, but can you?”

Peli throws her arms up, shrugging theatrically before going back to take notes on her datapad. “Just as long as you stay out of my way, I got no problems.”

Realizing there may never be a time to squash your quarrels with her, you retreat inside the Crest for some time alone. Climbing up the ladder to the cockpit, you settle down in one of the passenger chairs. The Child fusses in his pram, and sleepy eyes peer up at you, that gentle, childlike expression seems to make all your troubles disappear in an instant. Your head cocks to the side, admiring and gazing upon this little green creature.

His tiny arms reach out for you and you lean over to pick him up in your arms. He sits on your lap, a petite hand stretching out to touch your face. Your neck leans forward, closing the space between you and the Child. Three fingers caress your cheek, and just as that happens, a rush of emotions overwhelm you. It’s a familiar feeling—like when you reunite with an old friend after years of going your separate ways. All those years apart means nothing because now you’ve found each other. That kind of love—a rare kind of connection, usually found only in soulmates or family. You’ve only ever experienced it as familial—your parents were your soulmates. They meant everything you, and from this little baby in your lap, you feel it in him too. His giant eyes look into you, as if he’s letting you in on a secret—one he’s never felt before and is unable to express to others. It hits the same spot inside of you. That yearning for familial love and acceptance—devoid of judgement, just pure, kind adoration that’s been buried deep inside of you. Flashes of the Mandalorian flood into your mind, coming in quick bursts that almost make your head spin.

A large mammal with a giant horn on its snout. A mudhorn.

A female brunette.

She’s my friend! Cara is my friend!

A room engulfed in flames.

Let me have a warrior’s death…This is the way.

Sadness, love, a consciousness to protect—it’s all consuming. This is a bond between father and child, you now realize. The intensity in which the Child cares for Mando, it’s not only remarkable but heartwarming. In five years, you haven’t even come close to the kind of bond they clearly share, and it’s something you didn’t know you ached for. Actually, you probably knew on some level you craved this kind of undying love but were forced to reject and push down deep inside you.

The touch on your cheek suddenly disappears, and the Child falls backwards, just in time for you to catch his back with your other hand to keep him from falling out of your lap. Whatever he’s just shown you had taken all the force he had in his little body, because his eyes flutter shut, and almost instantly falling asleep in your arms. You don’t know how to show him that you now understand their relationship, but you wonder if on some level, he already knows. There’s clearly something that binds you and him together, something for whatever reason you’re unable to explain, but you somewhat subconsciously know this is the first time the Child has allowed anyone to know this. Gently placing him in his crib and shutting the pram, you slouch back in your seat and wonder if the Mandalorian knows just how much he means to this little gremlin.

Grogu.

Somehow you’ve fallen asleep. You don’t remember even closing your eyes but when they bat open, dusk has fallen on Mos Eisley. Looking over to your left haphazardly, the lack of a green baby in the pram shoots panic up and down your spine, causing you to jump to your feet immediately. Your eyesight is still hazy, but your feet are working on autopilot, searching frantically for him in the cockpit. When you see no obvious sign of him, you dash for the ladder. Taking the rungs two at a time, you all but fly down to the hull still hyped up on adrenaline, praying to the Maker that you did not lose Mando’s kid.

Once you reach the hull of the ship, you hear Peli’s voice and a series of noises from her pit droids. Descending down the side ramp, you see them gathered around a table, playing some kind of gambling game; probably sabacc. The little one is perched up on a seat at the table, ogling what the others are doing but not actually taking part in the festivities. Panic begins to subside, and a deep sigh of relief comes from you, your hand clutching your chest.

Noticing your presence, the Child coos and Peli looks up at you for a second before turning her attention back to the game in front of her. “I heard the kid fussing and when I came to check on him, you were asleep so I figured I’d take him so he doesn’t wake you up.”

“Oh, well thank you,” You didn’t know Peli was capable of being that kind, and it warms you to see such a different side to her.

Continuing to stand there awkwardly for a few seconds trying to decide what you should do next, your jaw stiffens, feeling like you’re intruding on their game. Pivoting slowly, you’re about to make for the ship again when Peli calls you over. “You still good at the game?”

Clearing your throat, you take a step towards her before responding, hands twiddling in front of you. “Uh, yeah I used to play all the time with my crew.”

She lets out a chuff of air, no doubt at the fact you said ‘crew’ as if to make fun of you, but you choose to ignore her obvious jest.

“Take a seat,” She says and then points to a chair off to the side of the hangar. You walk over to fetch it and lug it over to the table, choosing to sit down next to the Child. He peers up at you briefly before turning his big black eyes down to the game in front of you both.

“You’ll come in on the next round,” She informs you.

“Okay.”

“So,” Peli begins as she observes the cards in her hand. “How did you end up with Mando?”

Your hand rubs the nape of your neck absentmindedly, the other holding the cards in your hand. Your eyes are glued to the cards, but your mind focuses on something entirely different. “He had my tracking fob.”

“And he didn’t turn you in?” She says in surprise.

“Well he did, but turns out it was actually the Empire who had the hit on me so…” You answer.

“Why didn’t he just let the Imps have at you?” Curiosity is at the forefront of her voice, but there’s a hint of a sneer in the way she asks you—like she’s shocked he chose not to let the Empire do whatever they wanted to do to you.

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly, unsure of the reason yourself. He’s never actually told you why he didn’t just let the Imps take you, and you’ve been meaning to ask. It just never seemed like there was a right time to bring it up.

“Hmmm,” Peli hums.

It really was something that you wanted to know. Foolishly, you could say it was because you had developed a mutual respect for each other since your capture, but realistically, it probably came down to the fact that he hated the Empire, and didn’t want them to get what they wanted. If the latter were true, it would be hard to disguise the disappointment that would so clearly be plastered on your face whenever he’d choose to tell you. That’s part of the reason why you haven’t asked him yet. Often times, not knowing the truth has saved you from a lot of pain. This was just another one of those times. Never mind the fact that you also don’t know why you two almost fucked in an alley a couple nights ago. Just add that to the list of truths you didn’t want to know.

“Hey,” Peli’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “It’s your turn. You drawing, staying or swapping?”

Looking down at the cards in your hand and mentally adding them all up, you stand at 22. That’s almost a guaranteed win unless someone else at the table has a better hand than you do—which you doubt. It’s harder to tell what a droid’s hand might be given the fact that they…don’t have the ability to express anything facially and therefore have the best poker face in the galaxy, but you’ve been keeping count of the cards left in the deck, and you’re almost positive that you have the best hand at the table. Even Peli is starting to look nervous—her leg bounces off the ground, and you catch her furrowing her eyebrows. You have this win in the bag.

“All right, we ready to call it?” Peli asks the table. Her three droids mumble incoherently, and her eyes shift to you for a second to hear your answer. Your head dips forward in accordance and Peli offers a slight nod in approval. “Okay, you womp rats. Let’s do this.”

The droid immediately to her right shows his hand—19. Perfect, you’re one step closer to victory.

“Ha, close but not close enough!” Peli exclaims.

The next pit droid shows their hand—21. Okay, that’s a little too close to your number but it’s not good enough to beat you. It’s getting harder and harder to hide the shit-eating grin that’s slowly sneaking up on your face. Forcing your lips into a thin line, your body threatens to jump up and down in celebration.

The droid to your left shows their cards and once again, its hand isn’t as good as yours. They stand at -20 and now you’re all but shooting out of your seat with excitement.

Peli catches your attention by saying your name. You crane your neck to face her. “Your turn, smuggler.”

You can’t help but roll her eyes at her. It’s not that she’s wrong, but surely she could have thought of something more clever than that. Mouth curling up in a toothy smile, you—almost arrogantly, throw your cards on the table. “BOOM! 22, read ‘em and weep suckers!” The droids beep disappointedly, their little fists slamming down on the table, causing the cards and the miscellaneous pool in the middle to tumble around.

“Take it easy there, Spice-y…” Peli warns, her eyebrows dancing as she looks at you with her own shit-eating smile. Your face contorts in confusion as she slowly places her cards face up on the table.

“SON OF A BITCH!” You yell when you see her score.

Kriffing -23.

“‘Read ‘em and weep suckers’,” She mocks, letting out an obnoxiously loud laugh and wrapping her arms around the rewards in the middle. To be fair, it was all her parts anyway and you have no credits, so you didn’t actually lose anything—except your pride. The kid to your right laughs, his little arms waving up in down, totally unable to control his joy.

“How did—?”

“Kid, I’ve been playing this since before you were born. You don’t think I have some kind of strategy?”

“This is supposed to be a game based on luck,” Emphasizing the word luck because how in the Maker did she manage to win? You counted every card; you were so sure that you had this game in the bag.

“Guess I’m just lucky then.”

Rolling your eyes into the next galaxy and using your fists to push them off your knees to rise to your feet, you only notice then how dark it’s gotten since you woke up from your nap in the cockpit. Mando should be back by now. Eyes drifting off to the door of the hangar, he should be back any second, right? That sudden realization makes you cringe—you shouldn’t be ‘hoping’ for anything from him. You’re just…friends? Acquaintances? Making a mental note to add that to the list of things you’ll probably never know, you sigh to yourself.

“I’m gonna head out for a bit. The kid’s fine with you, right?” You ask Peli, keeping your eyes peeled to the hangar door.

“Didn’t Mando tell you to stay here?”

This time your neck cranes towards her direction, raising an eyebrow at her. “When have I ever done what someone’s told me to do?” You begin to say as your feet make for the door.

A rush of exhilaration and thrill hit you once the door closes behind you. Technically, you’re not doing anything wrong. Mando said you couldn’t go with him—he said nothing about you going off on your own, and besides the city is almost in complete darkness by now so the chances of anyone even paying any attention to you is pretty low. Even more so, you know this place like the back of your hand, and in the event that someone does identify you, it would be all too easy to zigzag your way through the streets and find your way back to the hangar without anything catching up to you. And since it’s your last night here, why shouldn’t you take one last walk around the town? After all, this was your home for many, many years so why wouldn’t you want to take one last nostalgic walk through your past? Especially if you’re trying to have the closure you didn’t allow yourself to have the last time you left Tatooine.

Not having a specific destination in mind, you let your feet guide you aimlessly through the city. Flashes of your youth appear in your mind, and you can see your younger self walking through these exact streets; sometimes with your parents, sometimes with Tye, sometimes just by yourself. As you watch yourself navigate through the roads, laughing and smiling with loved ones, you’re reminded of all the pain that’s happened to you since. Everyone you’ve ever loved is gone—dead or presumed dead. Every single person who’s brought happiness in your life, anyone who’s ever cared for you…gone.

It was right at this moment that you realize, you never had the time to mourn Tye’s death. There wasn’t time for you to process it—to accept it and move on. Instead, you had just forgotten all about it because there were too many other things to focus on, but now as you stroll through the city, the same city you and him would spend 90% of your time in, the realization that he’s gone pierces through you like dozens of vibroblades stabbing you in every corner of your body. An ache you didn’t know was stirring up inside you comes right to the surface, feeling empty and fucking alone once again.

He was your best friend.

He was the only family you had left. Tye was flawed, there’s no denying that, but he was with you right until the very last second. He tried to save your life—more times than you can count. Tye died trying to save your life and this is how you repay him? By fantasizing about the man who basically killed him? It shouldn’t be like this; you shouldn’t be with Mando. He took away the only family you had, and you’re out here wondering how mad he’ll be when he finds out you left the hangar when he told you to stay put?

But… Mando saved your life. He could have let the Imps carry you off but, he didn’t. He came back to rescue you. He told you to stay in the hangar for your own safety. Stars, he’s even out looking for some kind of lead as to why the Empire wants you.

It’s just too much. There are too many things you don’t know, too many conflicting emotions inside you, you’re unable to sift through them all and come to a logical conclusion. As you got older, it became easy to compartmentalize your feelings—locking some away and never allowing yourself the luxury of experiencing those again and for a while, it worked, but now everything’s changed. A Mandalorian came rushing into your life and has changed everything about the way you’ve been living. Nothing about you is the same anymore. The control you had is no longer there, slipping through your fingers like when rain slithers off leaves. Each drop of stability, and restriction is slipping out of your reach and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it.

You’re not sure when you started heading for the cantina, but you come to your senses just as your figure slides through the door. At the top of the stairs, the cantina is overwhelmed with people from all walks of life. Now that nightfall has stumbled on the city, all cantinas will look like this one—visitors, and locals alike all crammed together, dancing, drinking and gambling. Deciding against your better judgement to find a quiet place to sit alone and drink your thoughts away, you opt to sit at the bar. To make matters even more daring, you sit at the bar with your back to the entrance of the cantina. While others might not even think twice to do that, to you it’s stirring and terrifying all at the same time.

“What can I get ya?” The droid asks, his voice box distorting from how loud he actually has to speak in order for you to hear him.

“Just give me strongest thing you got,” You shout back, making a mental note to find a way to pay them back later.

“Rough day?” A gruff voice prompts.

Straining your neck to your right, a rather good-looking man back stares back at you, elbows resting on the counter. The cantina might be dimly lit, but you can make out some of his features. Floppy, black hair tickles the tops of his eyebrows, making his blue eyes stand out against the dark contrast. A tidy beard cascades across his cheeks and jawline, and for the first time in a while, you see a smile that doesn’t immediately trigger your fight or flight response.

“Uh, yeah,” You reply as the bartender hands you a cup full of a deep red liquid. Not taking a second to think about it, you grab the cup and throw the drink back, the alcohol hitting your tastebuds makes your body shiver involuntarily, but as it makes its way down your throat, the liquid warms your insides, relaxing the tautness in your shoulders. You motion to the bartender for another drink and the kind stranger giggles.

“Must have been a hell of a rough day,”

“Any day on Tatooine is a rough day.” You jest as the droid refills your cup.

“I wouldn’t know. It’s my first time here.”

You nearly choke on your drink, completely taken aback by the statement. “Why the hell are you here, then?”

The man’s head cocks to one side, and eyebrow raising in confusion, but that smile is still plastered on his face. He really does have a kind smile.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be imposing.” You correct, worried you might have offended him in some way.

“Not at all,” He shrugs. “I had to make a delivery here. I’m heading out at first light.”

“Oh?”

“What about you? What brings you here?”

Despite the alcohol lowering your defenses, you always know to keep your answers short and vague, so as to not draw attention to yourself. “Oh I’m just passing through.”

The brunette lets out a loud laugh, an infectious one that makes you laugh in return. He shakes his head, causing his disheveled hair to brush against his brow bone. The longer you look at him, the more you can feel arousal stirring up in your stomach. He really is attractive, in an easy, non-intimidating way.

Stars, this isn’t why you wanted to go out.

“How vague of you,” He quips.

“Gotta keep them on their toes, right?”

“That I have to agree with.”

Taking the cup in your hand and holding it up in front of you, he proposes a toast. “To keeping them on their toes”. The stranger holds up his own cup and knocks it against yours, albeit a little too aggressively because some of the liquid in your cup flies out of the mug and spills onto your tunic.

“Fuck, Maker I’m so sorry—” He starts to say but your hand comes up to stop him.

“It’s fine,” You assure him. “It’s not my finest shirt anyway.”

“At least let me pay for your drinks. It’s the least I can do since I may have completely ruined your shirt.”

Nodding your head, he calls the droid over and gestures for two more drinks.

Three drinks later, and the alcohol is definitely getting to you, now. More so than it did back on Sorgan, given that you’ve had just a fraction of whatever this red stuff is compared to an entire bottle of spotchka. Whatever this droid gave you was some powerful stuff. You’re not completely inebriated, but you’re definitely more relaxed than you were before, the warmth of the alcohol travelling through your system and making you a lot more comfortable and laid-back. To make matter worse, the alcohol has unfortunately made this strange man a lot more attractive and the thought of him touching you is making your cunt ache.

“Look, maybe I’m misreading things, but would you want to head back to my ship?”

It’s a bad idea—like, a really bad idea. You’ve known this man for maybe half an hour and you’re definitely not in the right state of mind to be accepting his offer. Actually, the fact that you’re drunk isn’t the problem. The real problem is that you’re being hunted by the fucking Empire and you have no idea if this guy is trying to find a way to lure you to his ship or if he really is just a kind traveler. Regardless, you shouldn’t say yes.

You really fucking shouldn’t.

Because you haven’t said anything, he begins to backtrack. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I take it back.”

Before your brain can control the words spewing out of your mouth, your ears hear you say, “No, you didn’t offend me at all.” Placing a hand over his on the counter and squeezing it in reassurance, the touch sends sparks up your arm and sends it straight to the apex of your thighs. You’re definitely in the wrong state of mind right now, but you’ve gone too far to pull back now and honestly, if Mando won’t fuck you, you’ll just have to find someone else who will. “Lead the way.”

Swallowing the rest of your drink in one big guuuulp, your buddy of the night throws some credits down on the counter and thanks the bartender for the drinks and all but jumps to his feet. He links his hand with yours and begins escorting you out of the cantina.

The cool air feels amazing against your red-hot cheeks, your heart thumping in your chest full of danger, excitement, and arousal. This reminds you of your smuggling days. After a job, still feeling the aftershocks of your dicey run, you’d find someone worth your while and let them fuck you senseless in your ship. It makes you feel like you again. This is what you do—this is the routine you’ve created for yourself. This is familiar.

Giggling like a bunch of teenagers, neither of you are able to hide your eagerness. Not even after a couple blocks walk away from the cantina, he’s pushing you against the nearest wall of a quiet street, trapping you with his body. His breath reeks of alcohol, but in that sweet way that’s even more intoxicating. Your lips part, eyes staring at his own plush lips just a few inches away from you. This wouldn’t be possible with Mando. You could never look at his face; look at his lips and crush them with yours, or feel his tongue brush against yours. No, this will have to do.

A gentle hand comes up and holds your chin in place. He’s not as tall as Mando either, you barely have to strain your neck to look up at him, but this will have to do. Bringing his face close to yours, you think he’s about to kiss you, but his lips pass yours and comes right to your ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers, his hot breath touching your even hotter skin. His voice sends shivers down your spine—not the way Mando’s voice does but this will have to do.

Your hands come flying up to grab fistfuls of his hair, pulling him back just so you’re inches away from each other’s face again. It would barely take any effort to close the gap and feel his lips against yours. Closing your eyes, you wait for him to make the first move. Despite you two knowing absolutely nothing about the other, he seems to catch on to your body language quickly, because the next thing you know, he’s crushing his lips on yours.

It’s not elegant or gentle, it’s needy and desperate. His teeth clash against yours, causing you both to pull away momentarily to chuckle before dipping back to each other’s mouths—more elegantly this time.

His mouth tastes like alcohol, it fills your nostrils and tastebuds with such aggression, it’s almost attacking them. Pressing his body further into yours, you could feel the outline of his hard cock brushing your thigh, forcing out a moan through your lips. In return, he forces his tongue through your open mouth, flicking your bottom lip and meeting yours. The hand on your cheek disappears, then both of them travel down your neck, grabbing your breasts and giving them a gentle squeeze before trailing down your abdomen and settling on your waist, wrapping them around you tightly in an effort to pull you closer to him.

Your mind tries to focus on this moment, on the man touching and kissing you, but you’re unable to shake the feeling you’re being watched. Pulling away from him, your back goes rigid at the sight of the Mandalorian just a few feet away from you two. The stranger from the cantina turns his head and nearly jumps back at the sight.

“What are you doing?” The Mandalorian growls, his vocoder scratching dangerously low, making your whole body shiver in fear.

“Uh—I—uh—we were—uh—” You manage to choke out, entire physique trembling from head to toe.

His helmet turns to face the stranger you were just making out with and he all but snarls when addressing him. “I suggest you leave.”

Turning to you, his eyes wide shot in absolutely terror, you can assume this is the first time he’s ever seen a Mandalorian, let alone a seething Mandalorian. “Are y-you gon-n-na be okay?” He stutters.

“She’ll be fine.” Mando answers for you.

Unable to get rid of the lump in your throat, you offer him a nod and within seconds, the brunette is gone. You’re left alone with Mando, in a horribly lit street in Mos Eisley—just like you were a couple days ago.

“I told you to stay at the hangar.” He spits out from what you assume is gritted teeth. The helmet gives no insight as to what Mando’s expression could be but somehow the visor burning into you right now is the most frightening and the most arousing thing you can imagine.

“I just wanted some fresh air.”

“The hangar is an open space. It’s full of fresh air.”

Noticing his hands clenched into fists at his sides and his back as stiff as a board, your little stunt has infuriated him more than you thought it would, and for some sick reason, that turns you on even more.

“Let’s go. Now.” He orders, body whipping around so fast his cape makes a loud whoosh noise as it whisks behind him.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the mental exhaustion from the day, but you’re pretty fucking tired of being bossed around by him. Despite being somewhat intoxicated and feeling your body sway, you straighten out your shoulders, cross your arms against your chest and muster as much strength as you can and say, “No.”

Mando stops in his tracks, the tip of his helmet turning ever so slowly until his head can’t turn any more. “What did you say?”

“I said no.”

Before you can fully understand what’s happening, Mando rushes towards you. At first you want to recoil from his sudden movement, but you plant yourself further into the ground, continuing to hold yourself in your stance.

“You don’t scare me.” Whether or not you’re trying to convince him or yourself that, it’s unclear, but the fact that Mando doesn’t pull away indicates that he clearly doesn’t believe you.

“I don’t?” He asks coyly as he cocks his head to the side, knowing damn well what he’s doing.

Moving into your body at a dangerously slow rate, your body mimics his as you feel yourself gradually leaning back. You’re losing balance, and if you don’t find some way to steady yourself, you’ll end up falling back on your bum. Thinking quickly, your left leg flies behind you, enabling you to get your footing in the sand and keep from falling backwards.

“Why does your body language tell me otherwise?” He’s downright taunting you right now. Mando gets off seeing you struggle under his authority.

“Because you’re pushing yourself into me!” You shriek.

“I don’t see you fighting back.”

It’s at this moment you realize, no matter how many men you meet in cantinas, no matter how many of them you spend the night with or even a moment with, no matter how drunk you get yourself in order to enjoy these one night stands, none of that will ever matter because it’ll never compare to how Mando makes you feel. No one in this kriffing galaxy will ever get your heart racing and your blood pounding like he does. No one will be able to drive you fucking crazy the way he does.

The stranger at the bar might have been able to get you wet and aching to be touched—probably not even wanting to be touched by him though. However, it’s nothing compared to the burning pit of desire that’s pooling inside you in Mando’s presence. He’s only touched you once but it wasn’t enough. Nothing will ever be enough. You want him, you fucking need him more than you would ever admit.

From the way you see it, you have two options to choose from. You can either yield to Mando’s dominance and follow him back to the Crest, feeling guilty and sorry for yourself or you can challenge him back, establish your own independence and see how far you can defy him. Given that you can be a pretty big fucking brat, you opt for the latter.

Pushing yourself forward while using your left leg and lowering your arms to your sides for extra balance, your breasts graze against his beskar cuirass while your legs shift to stand shoulder-width apart. Having to crane your neck upwards to look straight into the T of his visor, it’s somewhat uncomfortable but you’re trying to prove a point right now, so you’ll deal with the stress on your neck until the point’s been made clear.

Your chest is heaving, heartrate unbelievable fast as you stand so fucking close to each other, neither of you wanting to break the almost suffocating suspense by speaking. No, right now you’re both locked in a fight for dominance, wondering who will be the one to either pull away or close the tiny gap between your bodies. It might be the alcohol, but you’re feeling rather audacious, and you want to continue pushing him, push him passed his limits until he becomes the feral animal you know is clawing inside of him. The adrenaline rush you had kissing that kind stranger from the bar is fucking nothing compared to this. This is making your veins ignite with fire, burning through your entire core and not even the breeze can cut the heat radiating off your skin.

“Stop,” Mando says breathlessly, sounding more like a plea than an order.

“I don’t see you fighting back,” You repeat, drawling out every word so he knows you’re mocking him. The tables have flipped, you’re the one holding the power and it’s fucking invigorating. Having a Mandalorian practically beg you is sending sparks of arousal right to your throbbing cunt, resisting the urge to rub your thighs together to relieve some of the pain building up in the apex of your legs.

“You wouldn’t want to see me fight back.” Fuck, this is getting too much.

The baritone of his voice scratches low in the vocoder, sending shocks straight to your belly, while also suggesting he’s pulling back from fully allowing himself to do whatever his body hungers for. But you’re not, in fact you’re just getting started because now you know you’re affecting him, and the liquor in your bloodstream is making you a lot bolder than you normally would be.

“I don’t think you could fight back.” Obviously a lie, you know damn well he can fight back but you’re incessant need to toy with him, to continue to mock him until he absolutely loses his fucking mind is too inviting, you can’t stop yourself.

“Maker, I said stop.” Mando growls, drawing closer towards you to the point you’re leaning back again, invading your space so deliciously. Your sense of smell is engulfed with the aroma of metal and his musk, you’re practically drunk on him alone. Knowing you’ll need to choose your next words wisely; you opt for the ones you know will force him over the edge. Swallowing the gigantic lump in your throat, your gaze deepening into the eye slit of his visor, you speak low and as cunning as you can giving the current circumstance.

“Make me.”

In a swift movement, Mando’s gloved hands come up and grip your biceps, not hard enough to hurt but definitely strong enough for you to understand who’s actually in charge. He holds you tightly as he all but pushes you against the closest wall, the duracrete digging into your shoulder blades. Pressing into you, the beskar holding you in place, you feel the bulge in his pants grinding against your lower stomach. Your pussy is disgustingly wet, panties drenched as they stick to you.

Head pushed against the wall behind you, it’s difficult to properly look into the black slit of his helmet, but you try your hardest to maintain eye contact with him, to show him you’re not backing down without a proper fight…or whatever else might occur. His own chest is heaving, armour flush against your torso, locking you in this intimate moment. Wanting to touch him, one of your hands draws up from your side slowly, not entirely sure where exactly to place it. Flicking your tongue along your lower lip, and using the liquid courage that’s a mix of liquor and arousal, you push your palm between your bodies and grab hold of the growing erection in his pants. The noise that Mando makes is guttural, one of his hands letting go of your bicep to punch into the wall behind you.

“Fuck,” He moans, the helmet coming passed your head to press into the duracrete structure. The very end of the helmet scratches the crook of your neck, and you lean into it, feeling the beskar bring coolness to your hot cheek. Your hand continues to grope him, gently rubbing against his pants causing friction and feeling his cock twitch in your palm.

“We h-have to get back to t-t-the ship,” Mando pleads, still rough and low as he seems to be getting angrier with himself because he’s unable to pull away, and his body moves closer into yours, pushing you hard against the rough surface behind you while his beskar is flush on your chest, making it hard to breathe and difficult for you to continue teasing him. Quick, short breaths are coming consistently through the vocoder, your pussy gushing hearing his sweet groans.

Your right hand fumbles its way to his belt, both hands now frantically trying to undo the zipper of his pants. The helmet dips down, resting it on your shoulder as he watches one of your hands disappear into his trousers, and play with the waistband, toying with him. The scorching heat between your thighs is becoming too much, your cunt throbbing uncontrollably, begging to alleviate some of the tension but right now, this is about Mando. This is for Mando.

When you feel confident enough that he’s fully under your control, your hand pushes through the waistband and cups his erection. Mando curses under his breath, grinding himself against your hold in a feeble attempt to please himself. Maker, his cock is big—you don’t even have to look at it to feel it’s the biggest one you’ve ever felt. If you thought you were turned on before, this new information sends ripples through your entire body, your mouth watering, desperately wanting to taste him. With the little room you have to move, you begin lowering yourself down to the ground, and drop to your knees. The sand cuts into your pants, it’s somewhat uncomfortable, but you push through the discomfort because you’re about to put his cock in your mouth and drive him fucking crazy.

The street is barely lit, which unfortunately means you can barely see what’s in front of you, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing right now matters other than making him feel as good as he made you feel a couple nights ago. You want to show him what he’s been missing, what he’s been denying himself. Lowering his trousers just enough to spring his cock free, it bounces just inches from your lips. Heat continuously building in your belly, you adjust your hand to hold him at the base, and admire him. Your head bobs forward, tongue coming out to lick the precome forming at the tip of his length. A big hand comes down firmly on your shoulder, steadying himself as he continues to curse into the helmet.

“F-fuck, that feels good.”

Letting out a deep breath through your nostrils to calm your nerves and swallowing the lump in your throat, your jaw slacks as much as it can and you take him in your mouth, surrounding him with your warmth. Mando nearly convulses on the spot, feeling his hips buck, pushing more of himself into your mouth. Stars, you’ve never had a dick this big in your mouth and you’re worried you might not be able to take all of him, but you push through it, inching himself more and more passed your lips until you feel him reach the back of your throat. Your body shakes, fighting your gag reflex as he sits there on your tongue, hands bracing themselves on his hips, so you have more control.

“Look at you, taking my whole cock in your mouth. S-such a good girl.”

Mando’s praises practically make you swoon, and once you feel relaxed enough, you ease him out of your mouth and begin bobbing your head up and down the length of his girth, obscene and filthy sounds echoing through the street. You develop a rhythm, bobbing your neck down his cock a few times and then taking him as far as he’ll go, now no longer worried about gagging as you basically fucking choke on him. Tears are forming in the corners of your eyes, but you don’t stop, you can’t fucking stop because the whimpers coming from Mando are enough to push you over the edge. He grits out admirations like a prayer, the grip on your shoulder so tight it almost hurts, but you’re too entranced at the moment to give a shit about the bruise that’s no doubt forming on your skin.

His cock continues to slide in and out between your lips, feeling every curve, every vein, every fucking inch of him down to the pubic hair that tickles your nose when he rests fully inside your mouth. The tension in your pussy is excruciating, needing some kind of friction to alleviate some of the pressure, so one of the hands on his hips disappear and flies into your own pants, passed your undies, starting to rub tight circles around your clit. The immediate touch down your pants causes you to moan, sending vibrations along the Mandalorian’s length between your lips.

“Stars, you’re so good at this. How do you make it feel so fucking good?” He whispers breathlessly, now fully fucking himself into your mouth. Tears stream down your face at a consistent rate, but everything feels too good to stop. It’s overstimulating, it’s overwhelming but in the best fucking way possible. You on your knees, while Mando grinds his hips more aggressively into you. Feeling your own orgasm slowly building, you wrap your lips around Mando tighter, hallowing your cheeks as you draw him in at a quicker pace.

“Shit, you’re g-gonna ma-ake me c-c-ome,”

Rather than say something, you bob your head even faster, spit dribbling down your lips as you continue to take his cock deep in your mouth, swallowing a mixture of saliva and precome and groaning loudly. Mando recites a series of curses and praises as you feel his body tensing while he gets closer to his own orgasm. The fingers on your clit become erratic, no longer having the same rhythm because you’re too focused on getting Mando to come in your mouth to focus on pleasuring yourself properly.

“Oh—shit, fuck, fuck yes, j-just like t-that. You want me to c-c-come in your pr-r-retty little mouth?” He taunts, chest heaving unlike you’ve ever seen before. The power trip you’re on right now is amazing, and Maker you want him to see you as he comes. Through hooded lids, you peer up at him, the faint shape of his helmet beaming off the moons of Tatooine. You don’t see his eyes but it doesn’t matter, you know he’s looking down at you in awe. It’s a struggle to continue to please him while trying to maintain eye contact with him but you refuse to peel your eyes away from the visor. You want him to see you with your mouth full of his come, you want him to see you suck every bit of his seed out of him, and watch you swallow it like a champ.

Mando’s cock twitches in your mouth and stiffens for a moment, and then he’s coming, really fucking hard and for a second you wonder if you’ll even be able to swallow all of it. As he comes, you hollow your cheeks even more, sucking every last drop of his seed and swallowing it, and then your own orgasm creeps up on you and then smashes into you. It fucking rips you apart from the inside out, white-hot pleasure exploding from every nerve ending, and you cry out with his cock still in your mouth, causing some of his come to trickle down from the corners of your lips.

Once he’s finally done coming, his hand leaves your shoulder to tuck himself back in his pants before hooking both hands under your shoulders to lift you up to eye level. Your breathing is erratic, and your knees burn from the friction of the sand rubbing against the material of your pants. Head lulling back to lean along the wall behind you, your eyes flutter open, completely exhausted. Using one of his fingers, Mando wipes the come dripping down your lips and before he can do anything else, using the very limited strength you have, your hand clasps down on his wrist, taking it into your mouth and sucking whatever seed is on his finger, tasting him and leather in your mouth.

“Stars…” Mando remarks in absolute admiration. The corners of your lips curl into a sheepish smile, the weight of the fatigue fully taking you over. Your head dips in front of you, and rests on Mando’s chest, the instant cooling relief of beskar on your forehead.

“We have to get back to the ship.” He repeats, his baritone gentle but still low and raspy.

“Mmm…” You mumble back, unable to find the words.

“You’ll have to walk back, is that okay? The Crest isn’t far away.”

Head lifting up enough to nod, Mando takes a step back so you can get your bearings. The alcohol and the post-orgasm high make you woozy, but you force yourself to be somewhat conscious, blinking rapidly and rolling your shoulders back in an effort to show him you’ll be all right enough to head back to the hangar. “Lead the way, sir.”

A drawn-out breath emits from the helmet, and he tilts his head to the side like he wants to push you up against the wall once again but ultimately decides not to and turns on his heel to make way for the ship. Your feet are working slower than your brain, because it takes a couple of seconds for them to register that you want to walk. At first they buckle, probably because you’ve been on your knees for the last however many minutes, but eventually you’re able to trail behind him wearily as you both walk in silence to the hangar. Unlike you, there’s absolutely no hint that Mando just got his dick sucked in public. You on the other hand, are slouching when you walk, feeling the uncomfortable stickiness between your legs from your orgasm becoming more and more awful the longer you move.

When the hangar door comes into view, there’simmediate relief that swoons you. You want to rest, want to relax as there’s a slight headache now prodding at you—definitely a result from the night’s events. Peli sits around a makeshift fire, her droids also gathered around, no green baby in sight.

“Ah he found you!” She exclaims, gesticulating in your direction before rising to her feet to join you and Mando. “The little one’s inside the ship, by the way.”

“Thank you, Peli.”

“Anytime, Mando. You know I like having you and the kid around.” She admits, a genuine smile appearing on her face. She looks over at you and it’s impossible to hide the shock smeared on her expression.

“Kriff, what the hell happened to you?”

“Sorry?” You ask, brows pulling tightly together.

“You look like hell, that’s what.” She says, quite unfiltered.

Your eyes peer down at the ground, fingers interlacing together, not being able to come up with a good, fake reason as to why you look like a mess. Her gaze jumps between you and Mando, and you think she’s mentally putting the image together in her brain before Mando speaks.

“We should get going. Don’t want to stay longer than we need to.”

This snaps Peli out of her thoughts, nodding as she agrees with the Mandalorian.

“Sure thing. Uh, travel safe you three.”

Mando’s helmet dips forward, before heading up the side ramp of the ship. You stand there for a few more seconds, wanting to give Peli a proper good-bye, but not knowing how to go about that. Your arm comes up behind you to rub the back of your neck, jaw slacking and opening your mouth to say something—to say what, you’re still unsure of.

“Well, I have to admit, it was nice seeing you again kid.” She says sincerely, and for the seconds time today, you see a glimpse of warmth and tenderness in her you’ve never seen before. She isn’t this cold-hearted, confrontational woman you had conjured up in your mind. She’s gentle in her own way. Kind. Sympathetic. It warms you and also saddens you. This is a side of her you could have seen all these years ago, had you allowed yourself and her the opportunity. Instead, you had this pre-conceived idea of who she was, and didn’t allow either of you to have a different perspective of each other. It’s only now that you may never see each other again that you realize how alike you two are.

“Yeah, it was nice seeing you too, Peli.”

“Take care of each other,” She leans over and places a gentle hand on your forearm. Looking down to where her hand touches you, you feel a surge of emotions. Not just your own, but hers as well. Regret. Pain. Resolve. Hope. All of these subconscious emotions filling you up, making your head spin.

Turning your body, you head up the ramp to the ship’s hull. Peeping over to the fresher, you really should sanisteam, but the fatigue is too intense. You really just want to sleep in that shitty chair in the cockpit and deal with all your responsibilities when you wake up.

Taking to the ladder is a bit of struggle. You have no strength left, and but are forced to conjure some up just to make it to the top. When you see the floor at the top, you grab onto it and hoist yourself to the top, landing on your knees. For a moment, you actually consider just crawling over to the chair, but that seems a little…excessive, therefore you force yourself to your feet and drag them along the ground as you finally reach the chair. Collapsing into it immediately, this chair has never felt more comfortable in your life and the moan you let out once you feel yourself relaxing in it is downright obscene, but you don’t care. Instantly regretting every time you’ve complained about this chair, because right now it’s your saving grace. You’ll never leave this clump of leather; you swear it to the Maker.

“Where’re we headed, now?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you ask Mando who sits in the pilot’s chair, flicking switches and hearing the Crest’s thrusters come to life.

“Corvus.”

“Mmm? What’s on Corvus?”

“A Jedi.”

A Jedi? You’ve never had the opportunity of meeting a Jedi, but you’ve heard stories—good and bad ones. How they’re to blame for starting the Clone Wars. How they destroyed the Empire and freed the galaxy from tyranny.

You want to ask why you’re heading to meet a Jedi, but you succumb to sleep before you can ask him, the taste of the Mandalorian still lingering on your tongue.

taglist: @1800-fight-me, @tillytheslytherin, @ayamenimthiriel 💞💞

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #we are one when together #fics

116 notes · View notes

shawtygonemad · 4 years ago

Text

What Is This Feeling: Chapter 7

Fem!9th Doctor x Male!Rose Tyler

WITF Masterlist

Through time and space once more, our extraordinary duo was off to have another adventure. The TARDIS sped through the time vortex.

"Where are we going?" Ross asked.

"The planet Panera. They have fantastic bread," the Doctor grinned at her companion.

The TARDIS suddenly switched course and jolted in the opposite direction. The Doctor examined the screen and tried to figure out what was going on. The ship finally materialized. The Doctor and Ross stepped out. It was a dimly lit area with carpeting and display cases. It looked like a museum.

"So, what is it? What's wrong," Ross instantly began to ask.

"Don't know. Some kind of signal drawing the TARDIS off course," the Doctor spoke as she looked around.

"Where are we?"

"Earth. Utah, North America. About half a mile underground," the Time Lord deduced.

"And when are we?"

"2012," she informed her friend as she began to inspect a case.

"God, that's so close. So I should be 26."

The Doctor found the light switch and flipped it on. The room and cases suddenly lit up.

"Blimey. It's a great big museum."

"An alien museum," she looked at the exhibits as she walked forward. "Someone's got a hobby." She shook her head.

"They must have spent a fortune on this. Chunks of meteorites, moon dust. That's the milometer from Roswell spaceship." She furrowed her eyebrows, confused.

"That's a bit of Slitheen!" Ross pointed to a Slitheen arm in one of the glass cases. "That's a Slitheen's arm. It's been stuffed."

The Doctor stopped in front of one of the cases. "Oh, look at you."

Ross walked behind the Doctor and looked over her shoulder. "What is it?"

'Delete…' she heard an echo in her mind.

"An old friend of mine. Well, enemy. Stuff of nightmares reduced to an exhibit. I'm getting old." She internally groaned.

"Is that where the signal's coming from," Ross asked.

"No, it's stone dead. The signal's alive, calling out for help."

The Doctor reached out her fingers, and lightly brushed the glass. Alarms suddenly blared from all around. The pair slightly jumped at the sudden noise. The Time Lord mentally kicked herself. She should have been more careful. Before they could make it to the TARDIS they were cut off and surrounded by guards. The guards were armed and aiming at them.

"If someone's collecting aliens, that makes you exhibit A," Ross nervously joked.

The two of them were escorted by the armed guards up many levels, and throughout the complex. The journey was mostly silent. Ross stayed close by her side, however. Finally they were led into their destination. An office full of over confident Americans.

The man sitting at the desk seemed to be the one behind the complex. He was being showed their recent purchase. It was a musical instrument. They did not know it, and looked completely daft whilst holding it.

"You really wouldn't hold it like that," she almost laughed at how stupid he looked.

"Shut it," she was yelled at.

"Really though, it's wrong," she insisted.

"Is it dangerous?" A girl around Ross's age asked.

"No, it just looks silly," the Doctor smirked.

She reached for the item. Firing bolts clicked all around her. She stopped. The man behind the desk curiously looked at her, and handed over the curved palm sized object.

"You just need to be-"she stroked the instrument softly, and out rang a beautiful sound. "Delicate." To prove her point, she played several different notes.

"It's a musical instrument," the man said, fascinated.

"And it's a long way from home," the Doctor commented.

"Here, let me," the man took the instrument from her hands.

She raised her eyebrows. That was rude. The man proceeded to touch it harder, causing no noise to come out.

"I did say delicate. It reacts to the smallest fingerprint. It needs precision," she once again informed him.

Once he finally got the hang of it and produced music, she smiled.

"Very good. Quite the expert," she complimented.

"As are you," he said before tossing the object on the floor.

The Doctor's jaw dropped. That was almost two hundred years old! It was used to entertain kings and queens, and he just threw it away?! Who is this man?!

"Who are you, exactly?"

"I'm the Doctor. And you are?"

"Like you don't know. We're hidden away with the most valuable collection of extra-terrestrial artifacts in the world, and you just stumbled in by mistake?"

The Doctor laughed. "Pretty much sums me up, yeah."

The man slowly walked around his desk, and got closer to the Doctor.

"The question is, how did you get in? Fifty three floors down, with your cat burglar accomplice. You're quite an artifact yourself, being rather pretty."

"The cat burglar accomplice is going to smack you if you don't give the 'artifact' personal space," Ross shot off angrily. It shocked the Doctor a bit. It was the first time he was ever verbally protective of her.

"Oh, he's English too! Hey, little lady Fauntleroy. Got you a boyfriend."

"This is Mister Henry Van Statten," the girl introduced. She was the only English person, besides Ross, at the complex.

"Who is he at home?" Ross snidely remarked.

"Mister Van Statten owns the internet," she added.

"Don't be stupid. No one owns the internet," he jabbed again.

"And let's just keep letting the world think that, right kids," Van Statten remarked, smug.

"So you're just an expert in everything except the things in your museum. Anything you don't understand, you lock it up."

"And you claim greater knowledge?" Van Statten challenged.

"I don't need to make claims. I know how good I am," she shot back.

"And yet, I captured you. Right next to the cage. What were you doing down there?" He asked.

The Doctor placed her hands on her hips. "You tell me," she sassed.

"The cage contains my one living specimen."

"And what's that?"

"Like you don't know," Van Statten scoffed.

"Show me."

"You want to see it?" Van Statten once again challenged the Doctor.

"Blimey, do I need to separate you two?" Ross remarked, annoyed.

"Goddard, inform the cage we're heading down. You, English. Look after the boy. Go and canoodle or spoon or whatever it is you British do. And you, Doctor with no name, come and see my pet."

Van Statten stood in the elevator with a smirk on his face. The Doctor gave Ross a reassuring look before stepping on the lift next to the American. The ride down was quick and silent. Once they stepped out of the lift, the Doctor was led over toward a large metal door. Van Statten spoke as he unlocked and opened the large door.

"We've tried everything. The creature has shielded itself but there's a definite sign of life inside."

"Inside? Inside what?" The Doctor asked, curiously.

A man in an orange hazard suit walked over to Van Statten.

"Welcome back, Sir. I've had to take the power down. The Metaltron is resting."

"Metaltron?"

'What kind of dumb name is that?' She thought.

"I thought of it myself," Van Statten stated proudly.

'Of course.'

"Although I'd much to prefer to find out its real name."

"Here, you'd better put these on," the man in the hazard offered her rubber gloves. "The last guy that touched it burst into flames."

"I won't touch it then," she said like it was most obvious.

"Go on, Doctor. Impress me," Van Statten grinned at her.

The Doctor narrowed her eyes at him before strutting past, into the cage. It was very dark as she looked around. She jumped slightly as the door slammed shut behind her.

The Time Lord continued to investigate. She found a small table with drills, and other torture tools. Her heart instantly went out to the creature. She turned to where she assumed the 'Metaltron' was. She couldn't make it out. The room was too dark.

"Look, I'm sorry about this. Mister Van Statten might think he's clever, but never mind him. I've come to help. I'm the Doctor."

A few seconds of silence passed before a blue light was seen. When the Metaltron spoke, two white lights flashed with its words.

"Doc-tor?"

The Doctor's eyes widened, and her hearts stopped. No! This can't happen. It's-

"Impossible," she managed to breathe out.

"The Doc-tor?" The Metaltron spoke with more confidence this time.

The lights came up to reveal a Dalek. The Doctor's worst enemy. And it was chained to the floor. This didn't stop the Doctor from crying out in fear.

"Ex-ter-min-ate! Ex-ter-min-ate!"

The Time Lord flung herself onto the door and started to pound her fists.

"Let me out," she practically screamed.

"Ex-ter-min-ate!"

The door wouldn't open. The Doctor took a step back and just stared at the monstrosity. Her entire body was quivering. Her hearts were pounding hard into her chest.

"You are an en-e-my of the Da-leks! You must be des-troyed!"

The Doctor closed her eyes and awaited death. This was it. This was how she would finally die after nine hundred years. Maybe it was her time. Suddenly she accepted her fate. She never realized until now that she was ready to go.

After a few seconds without pain, she opened her eyes. She was alive! Yet a small part inside of her was disappointed. That part was overshadowed by the sickening joy she suddenly felt over her enemy.

"It's not working." She started to laugh like she's gone mad. "Fantastic! Oh, Fantastic! Powerless! Look at you. The great space dustbin. How does it feel?"

The Dalek tried to roll backwards, but was stopped by the chains.

"Keep back!" It demanded.

"What for?" She launched herself forward and became face to eyestock with the Dalek. "What're you going to do to me?" She challenged.

The Doctor, bottled with rage, began to circle the creature. Like a lion hunting its prey. She wanted to intimidate it.

"If you can't kill, then what are you good for, Dalek? What's the point of you? You're nothing!"

The Gallifreyan finally stopped back in front of the Dalek.

"What the hell are you here for?"

"I am a-wait-ing or-ders!" It responded to her.

"What does that mean?"

"I am a sold-ier. I was bred to rec-ieve or-ders."

"Well you're never going to get any. Your race is dead!" She yelled at it. "You all burnt, all of you. Ten million ships on fire. The entire race wiped out in one second."

"You lie!"

"I watched it happen. I made it happen," she spoke maliciously.

"You des-troyed us?" It asked, almost sounding heartbroken.

The alien stopped and calmed down a bit. She turned away from the Dalek in guilt. Their race wasn't the only one she destroyed that day.

"I had no choice," she responded quietly.

"And what of the Ti-me Lo-rds?"

"Dead." She managed to choke out. "They burned with you. The end of the last great Time War. Everyone lost."

"And the coward survived."

This fueled her rage once more. However, she managed to keep it under control.

"Oh, and I caught your little signal. Help me. Poor little thing. But there's no one else coming 'cause there's no one else left."

"I am a-lone in the un-i-verse," it almost sounded defeated.

"Yep."

"So are you. We are the same."

The Doctor spun around, no longer able to hold her anger.

"We're not the same! I'm not-"she paused as a cruel thought crossed her mind. "No, wait. Maybe we are. You're right. Yeah, okay. You've got a point. 'Cause I know what to do. I know what should happen. I know what you deserve." She grinned sickeningly.

"Exterminate."

With that the Doctor pulled a lever on a nearby console. The Dalek lit up with electricity. It began to scream, and she just watched.

"Have pity!" It cried out.

"Why should I? You never did." She pulled another lever, and increased the electricity.

"Help me!"

Suddenly the door opened and guards flooded in. She launched herself towards the last lever. No! This was her only chance to kill it! She was suddenly yanked away from the panel and was practically carried out of the cage.

"No! You've got to destroy it!" She yelled.

The Doctor ripped herself away from the guards once outside the cage. She frowned deeply as she waited for Van Statten to leave the cage. She was very cross with the American man. Once he left the cage they were guided towards the lift.

"The metal's just an armor. The real Dalek creature's inside," she explained to Van Statten.

"What's it look like?" he asked.

"A nightmare. It's a mutation. The Dalek race was genetically engineered. Every single emotion was removed except hate," she tried to explain to them. These stupid little apes weren't getting the big picture!

"Genetically engineered," he spoke as if it were Christmas. "By whom?"

"By a genius, Van Statten," she was starting to get stressed out. "By a man who was king of his own little world. You'd like him."

Van Statten's assistant Goddard decided to butt herself in.

"It's been on Earth for over fifty years. Sold at private auction, moving from one collection to another. Why would it be a threat now?" she asked.

"Because I'm here." How many times does she have to explain it? "How did it get to Earth? Does anyone know?"

"The records say it came from the sky like a meteorite. It fell on Earth on the Ascension Islands. Burnt in its crater for three days before anyone could get near it and all that time it was screaming. It must have gone insane," Goddard spoke in a superior tone.

The Doctor stood for a moment and thought. "It must of fallen through time. The only survivor."

"You talked about war," the human female asked.

"The Time War. The final battle between my people and the Dalek race."

"But you survived, too," Van Statten said with a devilish smile on his face.

"Not by choice," The Doctor added grimly.

"This means the Dalek isn't the only alien on Earth. Doctor, there's you. The only one of your kind in existence."

Just as the doors opened, the Doctor was once again grabbed. She struggled against their grip as they led her into her own cage.

"Any type of exposed metal is going to affect the laser scanner," Van Statten smiled.

The Doctor ended up having to shed her boots, jacket, and top. She was able to keep her bra on because Van Statten claimed he was a 'gentleman'. So now that the Doctor was stripped, she got chained spread eagle in front of the scanner.

"Now, smile!" Van Statten said, cheerfully.

The Doctor bit her lip as a painful shock ran through her body from the laser.

"Two hearts! Binary Vascular System. Oh, I am so going to patent this," Van Statten said.

The Doctor glared at the man. "So that's your secret. You don't just collect this stuff, you scavenge it."

She shook her head in anger as Van Statten went on to say how he cured the common cold and was going to sell cures for every disease. The Doctor was getting frustrated.

"Do you know what a Dalek is, Van Statten? A Dalek is honest. That creature in your dungeon is better than you."

"In that case, I'll be true to myself and continue," Van Statten frowned.

"Listen to me! That thing downstairs is going to kill every last one of us!" She tried to get through to him.

"Nothing can escape the cage."

Van Statten turned the laser up a Koch and blasted the Doctor. She bit her lip harder as she tried to endure the pain. Once the laser stopped, she attempted to catch her breath and speak.

"But it's woken up! It knows I'm here. It's going to get out. Van Statten, I swear, no one in this base is safe. No one on this planet!"

He turned the laser to its highest setting. It once again blasted the Doctor. This time around wasn't for informational purposes. He just wanted to hear her scream. And he did.

#romance #adventure #doctor who fanfic #doctor x rose #the doctor x rose tyler #the doctor #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who #ninth doctor #bbc doctor who #doctor who imagine #fem!9th doctor x male!rose tyler #fem!9th doctor #male!rose tyler #9th doctor x rose #rose tyler

11 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 5 years ago

Note

20 with Indruck please? Rating up to you!

20 was “Heat” so I went NSFW. Duck’s design is based on a Giant Pacific Octopus, Indrid’s on a Wrought-Iron Butterfly Fish, but with red in place of the yellow. Merman anatomy based on...nothing even remotely scientific

The kelp forest is a welcome respite from the halls of the palace.

Pity Indrid isn’t in much of a headspace to enjoy it.

He’s in heat. It hit him when he woke up this morning, and he left the palace as soon as he noticed. Which means he’s horny, hungry, and in desperate need of privacy. Privacy he knows he will not get if people in the castle pick up on his state.

A decently thick patch of kelp comes into view, and he shoos away stray sea stars and snappers to have the space to himself. It doesn’t take much coaxing for the slit in his upper tail to reveal itself and open. His cock will need a bit more stimulus to fully emerge, and so he focuses on rubbing the tip of it and frantically working his fingers into the sensitive opening beneath it. If he can just cum a few times, he might be able to clear his head.

His future vision, a bit cloudy from the haze of desire, alerts him that someone is coming.

“C’mon now, I know you’re back there. This area’s off limits.”

He hisses in discomfort as he tries to will his body to calm down and return to an unaroused state. He knows that voice, and it belongs to both the absolutely first and last person he wants to see him like this. Duck Newton, steward of this portion of the forest, whose tentacles he can just spy trawling along the ground.

Duck is one of a chosen few mers whose adolescent tail transformed into a set of eight tentacles, like those of an octopus when he turned eighteen. Only four are suckered, but all are dexterous, making the mers who have them capable warriors (both due to how many weapons they can wield and the fact the limbs can regrow if bitten off). Duck has chosen to use his to more efficiently tend to his beloved forest. This is just one of the many reasons Indrid is fond of him.

“Come on, you ain’t in trouble, but you cant’--oh, hey ‘Drid.” Duck's face appears through the foliage.

“H-hello Duck. Ah, apologies” he keeps several clumps of kelp in front of his lower half, “I, ah, got turned around.”

Duck shrugs with an easy smile, “It happens. If you come with me, sure I can help you find what you need. Oh!” He begins peeling the kelp back, seeming to think Indrid is tangled, “I found a nest of emerald sea dragons the other day. You wanna see ‘em?”

“Perhaps some, some other time. I, I should maybe just see myself home.”

“You okay? You’re lookin kinda ill.” Duck reaches out with his hand, touching Indrid’s cheek.

“I’m fine.” He squeaks.

“‘Drid, you feel real hot. We oughta check your gills, see if they’re green.”

Indrid looks down, tail going limp in surrender, “Look at your tentacles, Duck. They know, even if you do not.”

Duck glances at the limbs, now pulsing red to purple. A signal that he’s sensed the heat pheromones in the water.

“Huh.” Duck’s tongue presses the inside of his cheek, “no wonder you look so stressed. Heats can be a real pain in the ass.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Indrid relaxes when Duck’s tentacles stop trying to clear the foliage he’s using to preserve his modesty.

“You wanna come back to my place? I can make you some breakfast, make sure you don’t get too uncomfortable. My heats always make sleepin’ hard, so I even got some real nice pillows that can help you if you have trouble sleepin durin yours.”

Indrid cocks his head, “Breakfast? That’s...really why you want me to come back with you?” He lets his eyes roam across Duck’s chest, his strong arms and ample belly, the pleasing colors of his tentacles.

“Well, sure. Like I said, I know how rough the next couple of days can be. Happy to help a friend out.”

Indrid licks his lips, “I believe there is another way you can assist me.” He reaches out, drawing a finger along Ducks chest. But the mer rolls backwards, out of reach.

“Hold up, I’m, uh, I’m flattered, but I ain’t sure what you’re anglin’ for is a good idea.”

“Oh, ah, I apologize, I, that was far too forward of me.” He wishes he had the ability to camouflage so he could slink away in shame.

“No, I, uh, it’s just, I don’t want you offerin that to me when it’s your heat makin you do it.”

“It is not. I am quite capable of freely choosing my partners.” Indrid says, more petulant than he means to be.

Duck’s tentacles go an odd, bashful shade of red, “Don’t you have folks back in the palace who you’re interested in? Kinda assumed you could have your pick.”

Indrid sighs, “I could, in a way. But, well, I do not need yet another reminder that my appeal to people in the palace is only in my powers or my status; I learned the hard way the last time that there are many who would court my favor during my heat, but only because they found the pheromones appealing when combined with the possibility I might tell them beneficial futures.“

“Oh, ‘Drid.” Duck says softly, “that ain’t decent.”

“I mean, I always consented to it. I just felt naive in retrospect; I should have known the fact that people give me a wide berth unless they want something would not go away so easily.”

“You ain’t had even one person court you for you?”

“No.”

Duck teases him gently, “That why you were in my forest, hidin out and jerkin it like some fresh-faced young mer afraid his folks are about to walk in?”

“Yes. I, I just did not want anyone to know. Being lonely and needy feels better than being approached by suitors who care for my position but not me.”

Duck scratches the back of his neck, “And, uh, if there was someone who was wild about you and thinks those other mers are dipshits for not seein’ how incredible you are?”

Indrid snorts softly, “You already said no.”

“I said I didn’t wanna do anythin unless I was sure you really wanted to be with me.” Duck comes back to him, “but if you do...fuck, ‘Drid, I been dreamin about this for awhile now.”

“Please?” Indrid bites his lip, hopeful nerves rising.

Duck cups his cheeks, resting their foreheads together, “Hell yeah, darlin. Now, let’s see what we’re dealin with.” The front two tentacles gingerly moves Indrid’s cover aside, and Duck takes in his cock, now swollen, and the open slit with small tendrils trying to draw Duck in “oh, my poor sugar, you been like this since you got here?”

“Mhmmm.” Indrid whines.

“Let’s see if we can take the edge off. Put my hands where you need ‘em.”

Indrid pulls one hand down, sliding it into the slit, and Duck drops the other down around his waist to steady him.

“There we go, fuck, can practically fit my whole hand in, you sure it just started this morning?”

“Yes, though, though I think being near you has perhaps accelerated it.”

“That so? Wonder what happens if I-”

“OH! Ohyes, yesyes.” Indrid trills as Duck works his hand steadily back and forth, thumb catching the tendrils and tugging them just right.

“That’s it, I got you, gonna make you feel so good--uh, what are you doin’?””

“I want more of you, all of you, please” Indrid continues gathering the tentacles he can reach in one hand and pawing at the space where Duck’s cock is hiding, “need it, need you, want you to use me.”

“Nope” Duck tenderly guides his hands to rest around his shoulders, “we’re gonna go steady and sweet this time. You wanna go buckwild later, we can, but right now all I wanna do is watch the fuckin captivatin face while you cum.”

“But, but you are clearly-” Indrid nods at where he can see Duck’s cock trying to emerge.

“I know, but that don’t matter right now. All that matters is makin’ you feel good.” The drawl curls around him and he feels safer than and snugger than a sleeping otter, and he whines in gratitude.

‘You want a kiss?”

“Please”

Duck leans in, planting kisses up and down his cheeks before settling on his lips. Indrid hums, threads his fingers into Duck’s hair in hopes of making the kiss last forever. Then he gasps, moaning gratefully as a (non-suckered, thank goodness) tentacle wraps around his cock. Duck simply chuckles, tightens and twists the tentacle until Indrid is babbling praise into his mouth, hips twitching as pleasure overwhelms his system.

When he cums it’s with a thoroughly undignified groan, Duck kissing him through it.

“Better?” He murmurs, nuzzling Indrid’s cheek.

“Y-yes, at least I can actually get everything, ah, concealed again.”

Duck holds out his hand, “In that case, wanna come back to my place?”

Indrid holds his hand all the way back to the sunken fishing boat Duck calls home (he’d actually dragged the boats occupants to shore to save them, meaning his wreck is pleasantly corpse-free). He admires the new, tiny ships in bottles Duck has floating in a corner as the other mer shuts the door and draws a seaweed curtain over the windows.

“Now….” In the darkened hull, Duck’s tentacles begin rippling a deep purple, “what were you sayin’ earlier? Somethin’ about ‘wantin’ all of me?’” His voice has gone a shade huskier, and Indrid shivers excitedly when he realizes he’s in a remote place with a mer whose body is specifically built for power.

Then Duck smiles, so earnest and affectionate, the way he did the first time Indrid laughed at one of his jokes, and he remembers exactly why he followed him here.

“Yes, I believe I did.” He swims to him, circles him, tail and fingers brushing him teasingly.

“You gonna make me play chase? Kinda thought those days were behind us, given I ain’t a young mer, and neither are you.” Duck crosses his arms, grinning and spinning slowly to track Indrid’s progress.

“I never got to do such things, even with previous mates. It does hold a certain appeal.” He swims higher, brushes his tail along Ducks chest and throat.

Duck considers him for a moment, seems almost detached.

“Nah, don’t feel like chasin you down.”

Two tentacles shoot up, grabbing him and yanking him face to face with Duck and he laughs with delighted surprise.

“Oh dear, it seems you have won the chase.”

Duck snickers, gathers Indrid into his arms, tentacles releasing him, “Seems I have. But my prey don’t seem to mind one bit. Maybe because it knows I got what it needs.” He rolls his hips against Indird, and in a few short moments his cock presses against Indrid’s scales, his own body responding and opening readily.

“You want me to fuck you, or the other way around?”

In answer, Indrid guides Ducks’ cock inside him, and the other mer groans, hugging him tight.

“Fuck you feel good.”

“L-likewise. No, kindly stop holding backAHHhhhhhnnnnyesgoodthankyou.” Indrid scratches along Ducks muscled back as he pounds into him. His cock is made up of overlapping, twisting whirls, and their ridges rub deliciously inside him, catching the underside of his cock on each thrust.

“Yeah? That what you needed your highness?” Duck puts some bite into those last two words and Indrid moans. Duck raises an eyebrow in question, then understands, “You needed some rough-tailed mer to fuck you until you can’t swim, someone who doesn’t give a shit about--oh fuck yeah that feels good--your royal blood, just knows a nice piece of tail when he sees it, just wants to show you exactly how you oughta be treated.”

“Yes! Or, no? Wait, ah, oh goodness” Indrid blushes, “I apologize, ahnnn, I got lost somewhere in the rhetorical questions.”

Duck giggles against his neck, kisses his nose “Don’t worry about answerin’ them, then.”

“But, but I am enjoying you talking like that.”

“Oh yeah?”

Indrid nods, whimpering as the thrusts quicken and Duck tugs him into a bruising, teeth and tongue filled kiss.

“Then I oughta tell you I been thinkin’ about you since I had to prep, fuck, prep the royal garden for that party a few weeks after we met. Thought about layin’ you out in the seagrass, long tail under my fingers, workin you up with my mouth until you begged me to fuck you.”

“That long?”

“Yep” a softer kiss, “kept dreamin about sneakin in through the window and, uh, sullyin the royal bed oh damn, careful, gonna float away from me if you thrashin your tail like that.”

“I cannot help it, I, you feel so good, no one’s ever spoken to me like that before and I love it.”

“Here” Duck curls one tentacle around Indrid’s tail, keeping him in place.

“Oh” Indrid breaths out, eyes widening.

“That’s uh, that’s really okay? It don’t scare you or nothin?” Duck searches his eyes, gaze so loving that Indrid strokes his hair.

“Not at all. In fact, would, ah, would you do it more?”

The grin again, the wolf-eel one, and suddenly his wrists are pinned by his sides, the grip on his tail strengthens, and another tentacle snakes around his middle, trapping him against Duck. The mers hands stay on his shoulders and face, caressing him even as he snaps his hips harshly.

“Ohhhhhhit’slikeyouareeverywhere” Indrid can barely get the words out, hurries them for fear he’ll shortly lose the ability to form coherent thoughts.

“I am. Cause you’re all mine.” He drags out the “all,” running his hands and tentacles forcefully across Indrid’s skin as he does.

Indrid keens, something deep in his heat-brain responding to those words.

“Careful, or they’ll hear you all the way at the palace. Might come and take you away from me.”

“They, they wouldn’t dare, I’d tear them apart AH” He bites down on Duck’s shoulder when another tentacle teases his cock.

“All the same, and as much as I’d like to see their faces when they realized you chose me…” Another tentacle taps his lips politely, and Indrid parts them, lets the appendage slide into his mouth. It feels unlike anything else when it skates along his tongue, Duck watching him diligently for signs of discomfort. His heat makes his body more pliant and receptive than usual, so when it touches the back of his throat he nods. Duck presses past the hint of resistance, and Indrid moans, frantically working his hips in the small thrusts the restraints allow him.

Duck watches him with awe, “Fuck, fuck lookit you, takin’ me every which way, god ‘Drid, your throat feels good sugar, might have to shove half of these down there and half alongside my cock just to see if you can take it, fuck, shit, you wanna be full, you’re gonna be fuckin’ full.” He cums hard, and to Indrid’s shock he feels some spill out even as it pumps into him. The tentacle on his cock strokes mercilessly at the head and as he thrashes in Duck’s hold he spurts into the water between them.

He comes down in a haze, having barely enough energy to whine when Duck pulls out.

“Don’t worry, we can go again soon.” Duck carries him to bed, makes a face when he notices Indrid’s back, “Uh, you, uh, you, well, it’s gonna be real obvious what kinda mer you were with.”

Indrid turns his head, finds many sucker-shaped marks on his back, “I do not mind. It is nice to have some souvenirs.”

“Happy to give you more. But first, we gotta keep your strength up. ” Duck kisses him once before swimming off towards the pantry.

He spends the remainder of the day in the ship, heat waxing and then waning with each bout of sex. He fucks Duck twice, the other mer cooing encouraging words in his ear and flattering his every feature as he does.

Duck fucks him, by his very accurate count, about a hundred million thousand times. Sometimes his tentacles fuck him into a writhing, pleading mess while the mer himself sits and reads with a knowing smirk on his face. Sometimes he uses his mouth, or lets Indrid lavish his cock and slit with his tongue in-between cuddles.On one particular instance, Duck wraps him so tightly in so many of his tentacles that Indrid can’t move save for the odd flutter of the end of his tail. All he can do is moan as Duck fucks him twice in a row, growling in his ear for him to be a good little mate and take it.

Indrid has also never been more cared for during a heat; Duck brings him food, cuddles and kisses him, makes him a nest of books and pillows and tells bad jokes and brainteasers to distract Indrid from the waves of heat that come when he’d really rather just be held than fuck. Tells him over and over how much he cares about him, how handsome he finds him, and Indrid tells him the same.

When Duck asks, still a but bashful, if Indrid would like to stay with him until his heat ends, Indrid agrees immediately. And when Indrid asks if Duck will come back to the palace with him, at least for a few days, after it’s over, Duck says yes in an instant.

And when two royal guards coming looking for the erstwhile prince, given that no one has seen or heard from him in almost a day, they find sound asleep in Duck’s arms. Exactly where he belongs.

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermay fills

20 notes · View notes

madamhatter · 4 years ago

Text

ACT I. PROLOGUE your name is.....

NOTE(S): District names, locations, and NPC names (and roles) are ‘noncanonical’ by reasoning that I’m not the creator! Please enjoy! C= C= C= C= C=┌(;・ω・)┘

Tucked away between a valley had once been the memory of a home for one who longed for any semblance of being. Even in the peaceful times in the country, one would always wish for more. For how the circumstances came to be, this was certainly one surprising. Yet, she stands among passing figures, avoiding brushing and impolite touches with strangers, and her story, to her relief, disappears among converging crowds.

Tucked away between a bar committed to long-wasted lives to alcoholism and a brothel bustling at this time of night was an alleyway that led to freedom. Even in the quiet times in the city, one could never find peace. For how the situation came to be, this was certainly one unavoidable. Yet, they scurry through busy streets, avoiding getting hit by cars and certain death, and their story, to their irritation, drags on with rushing pursuers.

Eyes alight to the horizon, taking a glimpse of the rising sun with the rim of her hair providing shade from the rays. Not too far had been the crescent moon, its ghostly form blending into the powder blue sky. The day has only begun.

Eyes dart to the horizon, taking notice of the bleak night with the extensions of roofs providing no help with the chasers. Not too far had been the crescent moon, its phantasmic form illuminating from the black night sky. The night has yet to end.

However, today had been different from the other 364 days spent in the suspended city of Topaxi; no matter what the track of daily fate ushered them into, she couldn’t miss what the date meant. It was the first anniversary of her arrival to the empire’s capital, a place to call home.

In a distant memory away, her home had once been a roaming countryside of wheat fields and plains from how far the eye could see. A winding river dividing the northern and southern half, its serpent form bring cultivation and life for either side; the upper half wealthier than the lower, but all still with fortune and prosperity in sight. A pocket hidden from the modern marvels in the ever-growing, ever-moving world, one that embraced its temporal stasis to times forgotten.

In the closest memory, soot and ash snowed down on her small frame, hellish ember glowing in the distance above the thick smog that overtook home. Matting down her unnaturally silver locks and remains of natural white hair had been the debris and remains of dust and spared gravel from the wreckage. A never-ending whirl of blaring whistles and ear-rupturing drops, a place engulfed by cataclysmic finis, and she bears witness to the desolation of her world.

A flower weed endures adversity and scatters to survive. It survives to..

Get through another day.

Get the hell out of here!

12 D2, commonly known as the “El Pecho de Rosas,” was among the largest flower bazar available to massive municipal capital; most of the rarest and endangered flora, strangely unavailable for a place so grand and plentiful with endless possibilities, were often imported and sold at the open-air market. Given the bonus that the district was among the closest to the major shipping ports, the privileged and wealthy taken all their pleasure to walk carefree through and not feel at all endangered. And the ever-so curious was, not surprisingly, not one of those ‘gifted’ with such fortune, but she found herself falling into the bad habits that curiosity brought.

24 D24, coined by the locals as the “Cayo Condenado,” was among the festering pits that existed in the crevices of cracks in the pristine image of the massive municipal capital; typical unsanctioned and illicit crime, among other things, were subjugated in the nearly-claustrophobic space. Given the benefit that the district was compact and no longer than several blocks, squished between two massive guild wards, the unhinged and the deviants roamed taken all their pleasure to walk between the shadows and public space, eagerly awaiting for those to take the wrong steps into a place that was seemingly harmless by day. And the ever-so impulsive was, not surprisingly, not one of those visibly aberrant, but they found themselves falling into the bad habits that curiosity brought.

Form weaves through languid foot traffic, taking precaution to avoid any other humanoid presences, but far too drawn into the potted and hanging plants on display. She notes an empty stall, its vendor taking a step away, and her head tilts. How curious.

Form weaves through haste traffic, taking urgency to avoid being caught or hit by a car, but far too restricted to stay on the sidewalk and pass by the other businesses. They note growing bunches of crowds, most taking little care of the group of men behind them, and they bow their head. What a pain.

A potted plumeria was what first drew her towards the corner of the booth. Most of their buds had been closed and unwilling to bloom; she could only suspect that being in such a pot restricted itself from growing to full potential.

Two men holding together an assortment of mechanical parts, most likely torn from cars, was what first caught their attention amid their run. Rusted, jagged, sharp pieces bunched together, poorly ripped apart from unsuspecting vehicles; they could only suspect that being in such a rush meant the thieves wouldn’t be able to reap all the wealth they could’ve gotten from their impromptu thievery and terrible scavenging.

She leans over, tucking a loose strand from her ponytail behind her ear. Her brows lower, a soft frown emerging as she pats the top of the branch. Words of encouragement and sympathy given, she couldn’t help but whisper and pour out her feelings to the plant that deserved to be rightfully in the ground and growing to be the largest tree it could be for their flowers. After each sentence, the tree was already starting to look better.

Their posture straightens, shaking their head to keep their hair from falling over their eyes. Their brows raised, and their lips were slightly part, far too caught up in whatever was brewing in their mind. They nipped their thumb, glancing over their shoulder and back towards the incoming men, as they couldn’t hold onto their breath and ponder anymore. After each second spent in silence, they remove their hand from their mouth, finally set to do something.

Which was perhaps the literal interpretation one has to take when the wilting plumerias began twirling out, blossoming, with several of its branches began reaching out towards her. Her hand rests against the rim of the pot, watching the tree gain several more centimeters, hopefully not that stark of a difference. Several of the in-ground roots began peeping out from the soil -- to an unfortunate sound of a crack.

Which would explain the sudden rush they gave past two men, nearing knocking them off of their feet. Discernible bile and yelling mixed on their faces, uniting with the consistent shouts and jeers that came from the men still hot on the young runner’s trail. However, there was only yelling until a loud clatter overcame them. Bumpers, tires, tailgates, and loose doors had flown out of the two men’s arms, colliding with the pursuers, flying in whichever direction, but it always made contact with the group of men.

“Oh no, no more growing--” A quick breath left the young woman, ready to fan her hand to quell the sudden growth of the plumeria. “You’re cracking the pot; you need that still.” She pats the roots as they were slowly curling around her fingers, and she sighs, giving them an affectionate squeeze. Her expression softens, noticing the insistence behind the plant. If not, it was unsought desire, but she couldn’t provide any more. Her hand draws back hesitantly, quietly yet playfully scolding the curling out vines that hovered seconds more for what she’d given. Again, they slowly return into the recesses of the earth, and her hands rest over her abdomen.

“Oh, that wasn’t supposed to hit as hard.” A sigh left them, quick to turn backward and remain jogging in place. With three or four men either flat on the ground, out cold, or stumbling around, trying to find their way, guilt has taken its weight. Their expression loured as they remained paused...until one the burliest one of the bunch stumbled in the right direction. Black eyes met brown eyes, the moment of placidity vanishes as he takes his first step forward. Without any other option, they continue running, pushing forward, bracing themselves to reach the alleyway.

"My, my, what beautiful flowers. Miss Hatter, you have a keen eye.” A throaty yet serene voice calls out from behind her. Upon the sound, she hurriedly turns to acknowledge the recognizable voice, her body purposely stepping in the way to obscure the sight of the unsightly crack on the pot.

“Get back here, bastard! Give it back!” An out-of-breath and hostile voice calls out from behind them. Upon the demands, they continue flitting and refuse to acknowledge the remaining voice behind them; their body purposely remaining straight ahead to withdraw any inkling of power the stranger thunk he had over them.

“Good day,” she hums.

“Fuck off,” they retort.

Elisabeth Belmonte, age 83, jet-black hair that hasn’t shone any sign of age with amber eyes that would always give away when they’re watching someone, no taller than 157 centimeters, and the current guild master for the folklorist society of Topaxia. All this information came immediately to the woman as she presents a genial smile and a welcoming aura.

Raggedy Jack, age not relevant, hair missing and flesh used to be inked with numerous hand-poked tattoos, from a local artist in the city, with puny black eyes that are always scolding, taller than the runner, and one of the leading man in a gang circuit that hasn’t made its name yet. All this information came immediately to them, as they groaned and rolled their eyes with blasé.

Stepping forward, she offers her arm to the older woman, who graciously takes it and pats the younger woman’s forearm as both saunter away. “You’re doing quite well for yourself, Mrs. Belmonte, I wasn’t expecting such your appearance,” she muses, “especially in such official garbs. Is today special for your guild?” Yellow irises widened, proud smile on the guild master’s face, as she gestures to her robs with the shrug of her shoulders, “Several of our latest scouted members had their induction ceremony today, of course, I had to dress the part.” Elisabeth, though, glances at her companion’s attire. “As for yourself, what would have you wearing such a thick shirt for the summer? Had you already ran out of clothes? Shouldn’t a seamstress have closets’ worth of clothing?” The young woman looks down at her shirt, a long black turtleneck with its collar reaching below her chin. She hooks her finger into the collar, ensuring it is kept up. “While all the more peculiar, it just happens to be a habit of fashion, one could say. It isn’t that dense for the cool morning weather.”

Several steps forward, they are finally between the buildings that squeezed one of the few accesses out of the district. Desperation tangled itself into their thought process as the narrow gap to their safety was only guided now by the moonlight; most of the passing headlights and standing lampposts never had their lights meet the area. “Finally,” they breathed out in relief, their jogging finally coming to a slow halt. Hunched forward, their heavy lids finally closed and allowed the fresh night air to graze against their perspiring nape. Alleviation came in the most indirect forms, and their fingers groomed back the bangs stuck on their forehead from their sweat. Taking in all the air they could breathe, an invisible hunger sated, yet their stomach was far from full, but it was their lungs they’d concerned themselves more with. Scarred palms begin patting down the front of their thick jacket, accounting for their belongings, and they even checked inside, paying close attention to the hidden pockets. “Alright, all are there,” they muse, straightening themselves out, and they close their coat. Yet, it looks darker in the alleyway. “All’s there? Good.” And it feels more crowded.

“I take it you’re looking for congratulatory gifts for your newly initiated,” the young girl presumes, and she’s met with a thumb’s up from Elisabeth. “I encourage you to consider such flora like the laelia orchids, asters, and bougainvilleas. Quite hardy flowers, they are,” she waves her finger in the air, looking around at the other booths. “There is so much available here that I haven’t ever had the chance to see in person,” the words leave her lips, quieter, as if in a confessional, “a lot of these I‘ve only read in books--.” The older woman’s eyebrows raise upon hearing the whisper and eagerly jumps in to speak, “Of course, Topixa has plenty to offer for someone like you. Where else can you find one of the empire’s most elaborate and extensive collections of flowers? Compared to the rest of the world, we’re far too ahead of most in preserving, and some of these plants can no longer be found. Even in the few countries remaining outside of the alliance, just like yo--.” As chatty as a the empire-born citizen was, pride came second-nature to describing the internationally-recognized behemoth of power. Yet, as she turns her head, realizing the younger woman never shared which country she was from, there was only a polite smile. One from a face turned away from her, eyes remaining forward and away from her, and as much warmth there was seemingly in that smile, Elisabeth dared to ask herself: ‘how could one be so summery yet so cold on the inside?’

“Whatever kind of parlor trick you pulled or whatever you coordinated didn’t work.” A large hand came forth, groping centimeters between the runner’s face and Raggedy Jack’s palm, so large it could’ve held and crushed their entire face whole. Instinctively, they took a step back and rushed back to straightened posture, turning themselves to face the other. “Did you really think you had a one-man job?” He jeers, taking no hesitation to take all advantage of the wide-eyed startle and paralysis that overwhelmed the other moments ago. A swift step to the left and an answer he receives, “Are you qualified to ask that? You needed five for this job.” Hand-to-hand combat and close-quarters brawling hadn’t ever been a particular liking for the shorter; it wasn’t a matter of inexperience any ‘honorable’ code they followed, just a matter of cleanliness and time-consumption they overtly valued. Neither of their movements had been anchored, the constant back-and-forth between an aggressively offensive and an equally defensive opponent. Jack imposed to find any weak spots and take out all their anger through each blow their arms could make, and the scrawnier prioritized following their movements. Each swing and movement always had a prompt. All thoughts had a neurological function connected to the physiological effect, and much to their credit, they’ve been taking advantage of it. Twitching fingers, eye movements, footing, breathing -- any minuscule detail they could find within the fabric of this man’s fighting style only benefited them and their dodges. Strength was in no way an opportunity to overwhelm them in this situation. However, the fact stands that this was a stalemate if they persisted hopping and dodging in each of their counters. A rush of wind whistles near their cheek and the younger blinks, focus returning to reality; their objective isn’t to fight, nor was it any personal pleasure to fight, and the only thing racing against them was time. To run now or not? Their mind concludes the percentages, failure outweighing success, with considered and varied variables in play. But, there isn’t time for that; there isn’t time for anything. Seconds could mean everything at that moment, and they took the risk as they quickly turn and push themselves ahead -- to the rude awakening of their shirt collar pinned against their throat.

Whispered exchanges were made between the guild master and the foreigner, the last topic uncomfortably dying on the former’s lips as all she received was a pointed nod and the same polite smile yet unnerving gaze. Quietly, the young woman offers a gesture towards several of the booths, with personal recommendations of their vendors, musing the most about ‘sunflowers’ with nostalgic in her tone. It was then that both parted from another, leaving the silver-haired alone and still in the crowds. Her hand hovers over her covered neck and she hangs her head low.

Inaudible and adamant protests came between the silver-haired youth and their pursuer, frantic kicks in the air and nails burrowed and dragging down the man’s exposed arms. Broken flesh and drawn blood weren’t enough against him. Tighter and tighter, his palm closed around their neck, windpipes struggling to hold air and loud gasping emitted from the tenaciously desperate one. All the pressure forced into the larynx, forced coughing and wheezing growing louder and louder from them. Every inch of their body consumed in wild heat, frenzied resistance growing wilder as Jack raised them slowly into the air; they brutally bit down on their tongue, trying to breathe through the nostrils, unwavering to feed the sadist behind his black eyes. Resistance was met with equal brutality; his raised clutch smashing their frame against the brick wall.

Head turned by someone’s call, the sunflowers bloomed in the reflection of her earthly irises, dazzling golden and youthfully as it was a fragment of the home she finds. Crimson stains the apples of their cheeks, overwhelming their composure and stance had been flightiness. It continues stunting the fine lines of their facade and leaves a chill down the spine.

Head forced back by their throat, the stars swam in the reflection earthly irises, twinkling hopefully and brightly as it was the only fragment of peace they find. Crimson stains the corners of their mouth, iron overwhelming their nose and mouth. It continues spilling between the fine lines of their lips and drip down their nose.

Hurrying over, the silver-haired woman murmurs ‘excuses mes’ and ‘my apologies’ to each person that she might’ve bumped into. Her hands clasp together as she approaches and halts to a stop, a respectful distance from the guild master and the sunflowers in her possession. Bright eyes dazzled at the marveling sight of home, one that used to belong to roaming hills and fields untouched by anyone, no less, the empire. Her hands twitch from excitement and she takes a deep breath, keeping herself together, despite the tingling sinking in her boots. The guild master blinks before smiling, surprised by the sudden reaction, and could only assume that these were flowers that the younger had only read about. At the first inquiry, and needing a suggestion, Elisabeth asks if these flowers were appropriate for fits -- despite their height and how unusual it might be for any gift.

Dangling like an unstrung marionette, head laying back, every weight in their body finally welcomes gravity and its drag towards the ground. Unmoving and silent, the rampant monologue that Raggedy Jack is only met by a tough crowd of one seemingly dead rat from the streets. The man jerks his hand, his victim’s head slumps to their side, eyes glazed over and expression overwhelmingly calm, despite the gore smeared across their face. An inquiry he gives, only met with silence. An accusation he gives, only met with silence once more. A smug grin crosses his face, though vexed by how suddenly done the fight was. His mouth opens, ready to cry out --- and he was then met with the entirety of a foot shoved down their throat, stuffed right into oropharnyx.

Drool drips down the corners of their mouth, jaw hinged and incapable of movement, Jack’s clutch is quick to tighten once more around the attacker’s throat. And immediately, the heel of the other boot comes their way, whizzing to then become a hollow and a dull thud against the bridge of his nose. Any retaliation was met now their heel into their eye, specifically targeted right into the socket of the man’s left eye. Squelching, wet noises mixed through gurgling, agonizing screaming muffled by the stuffed foot in the man’s foot. And as the scelera of the eye mashed against the edge of the heel, white turning redder and redder by the minute,losing its once solid form, they continued kicked. Repeatedly, repeatedly, repeatedly. No sign of emotion legible on their expression. And then, in his own desperation, he tossed against his attacker, his yowls now echoing into the alleyway and mixing together with the seedy sounds of the district.

Raggedy Jack and the runner unceremoniously drop onto the backs against the pavement, one out of searing and hysterical pain, and the other out of a successful ruse -- yet, they are still taking desperate and loud breaths to regain themselves. They covered their head with their arms as they met the impact of the ground, while the other was writhing against the ground, yelling and screaming curses that were lost on ears that were still recovering from the blow to the back of their head.

Hurriedly, the runner drags their shoes against the ground, trying their hardest to get rid of the remains of mushed white, blood, and saliva on them. Turning their head, a quick spit of their blood and saliva left their mouth before they swiped off the drying blood from underneath their nostrils and corners of their lips. Both of their palms slowly greet the cold ground, thundering pounding apparent in their head, slightly swaying their head. It was a little longer until they managed to collect themselves, push through the pain, and regain their footing. On their feet, struggling to hold themselves together, they managed to speak, despite the large red hand print around their throat, which’ll soon bleed to purples, blues, and blacks in the upcoming days.

"These are wonderful!”

"I didn’t quite catch that. But I, nonetheless, don’t fancy myself to be your listener.”

No matter where I’ve begun, I must still move. I was nameless, a no one, and I want to remain that way. This journey I lived was but a footnote in a book that I wasn’t ever meant to be a part of. I am going by many things like the seamstress or the informant, depending on who I must be or what I must be. I am, undeniably, Sophie, the sorceress. But, I do not wish to be, and fate has proven to be untrue, breakable by my hands. It’s something man-made and not at all true to what it’s known to be. And I work in spite of it.

Yet, I fear something terrible is in the near future -- worse than what I was ‘fated’ for.

(want a funky start, instead? | want a morbid start, instead? | want a melancholic start, instead?)

NOTE(S): Thank you for reading and thank you having me! ^^9 A compact version of Sophie’s stats will be available shortly. If you have any questions, concerns, or anything of the sort, please DM on Discord or IM me on here. I will address everything that I can in a timely fashion. Thank you once again for reading!

#topaxi verse #( verse: ¿cual tu vas a ser? dentro del espejo ves; ¿algiuen más en ese cuerpo? | yni )#suffocation tw #suffocation #violence #violence tw #eye trauma tw #eye trauma #[ bocadito de helado time.....and also back to terraria woooo - ]

3 notes · View notes

allstarsstorymode867 · 6 years ago

Text

All-Stars -Story Mode- [CHAPTER 14] Part 3

Part 2 - [YOU’RE HERE] - Part 4

All finished with Part 3, I hope you’ll like it.

And looks like this part is short so I will leave it @sampoststuff and @gulliblepineapples to figure out how Pyro thinks of this after they had met Dempsey’s Ultimis self in this part. Good luck reading! 😉

Helghans, troops and soldiers alike, a small group of them sent by Visari himself. Are now in a fight with the Earth Dwellers known as Humans, bullets are flying everywhere and screams of the dying or a battle cry from someone in anyway while the heat of war is rising up.

*Welcome to Killzone.

Demoman is hiding behind the crate while Dempsey and Erron are out there fighting, as a Mercenary, war games are deemed the new normal when he was first hired by Redmond and it was the first time he will use his skills of denotations and demolitions on the first day of battle.

He had never thought that he would do it on his fourth day in an seemingly empty city that was inhabited with zombies, on a day like this even or any other day! Yet, now here he is, hiding behind the crate for cover listening to what was going on and waiting for a time to peek over the crate. Another gun fire is heard and as well with the scream coming with it, then a body of the Helghan Trooper plops onto the crate under him as Demoman jerked a bit in disgust.

“Like how it happened in Gravel Pit…” he whispered silently to himself as he palmed his temples with his free hand while another hand is gribbed on tightly on the Stickybomb Launcher. He peeked over again and see Takeo is shooting with the others, Dempsey slashed and then shot one of them and his teammates fighting to secure the area.

He then slowly and carefully got on his feet as Pyro passes by but then they stopped when they noticed him, “Demo!” they called out to him as they walked over to him and lends out their hand to them.

“Thanks mate.” Demoman said as he got on his feet quickly with the help of Pyro, “No problem.” they answered and before they could be on their way, Demoman stopped them as he looked at what was heading for them. Making Pyro looked at him and said “Demo, wha-” but didn’t had time to finish their sentence as they saw that a group of Troops are heading their way.

Demoman smiled as he had an idea in his head but needed Pyro’s help, “Pyro,” he said, making the pyromaniac looked at him and suddenly been grabbed by the wrist then being pulled along with Demoman as he continued “Come with me!” while they both ran.

Troops are behind them as they ran to the nearby connected iron overhead just standing on top of the train tracks and gone under it as Demo stops when he looked at it along with Pyro then a smile of inspiration grew on his face.

“Pyro!”

“Yeah?”

“I have an idea that includes yer skills of fire!” he said, Pyro turned over with interest.

The Troops are coming in as weapons are aimed and ready in their hands, running on foot to catch up to the duo as they are getting ready for them to come, with each stickybomb and oil dripping out from cans done by Demoman and Pyro as they hear each footstep coming closer and closer.

Troops around the corner and saw Demoman and Pyro just standing there as they ran towards them with promise of bring an end to their lives but one of them looked around as saw why there were just standing there; they were prepared for them to come into their trap after they rigged it.

Demoman stopped drinking when he had a feeling that one of them noticed so a smile smugly as he then throws a mock salute to them as Pyro waves a goodbye at their pursuers before donating the bombs on them as they blew up into pieces of them through the sky as the remaining troops were left to burn in the flaming fire as Pyro gleefully laughs.

Demoman, who is laughing merrily as body parts and blood rain down around them as he goes up to a severed head of one of the Helghan Troops before kneeling down to it and smugly yet proudly saying "Oh, they're going to have to glue you back together... in hell!"

Pyro picks up one of the body parts to examine it as that body part is just a torso of what’s left of the Trooper before searching through it,

*Searching… *... *Pyro finds a ammo for a Wunderwaffe and wielding torch light! *These two items are adding to their Back-Pit.

Demoman looked at the text as he drink what was left of the scrumpy inside the bottle and watching it fade away from sight. “Aye think we better get used to it now that we’re here.” he drunkenly said, Pyro nodded

“Loud and clear Demo.”

as they played around the lighter again but they didn’t noticed a familiar man in 1940s Marine uniform, coming their way as he surveyed the scene around him: Body parts, a few puddles of blood and weapons scattered throughout the area around him and the two RED Mercenaries.

“Hey guys-” a familiar voice of a man called out but Pyro and Demoman immediately got their weapons out, axe in the fire-lover’s hands and an empty bottle in the Scotsman’s left hand as he smashes it, breaking it into pieces except a part that allows him to hold it as a broken yet sharp melee weapon as they turned towards him, ready to fight if needed but soon thought that this man is Dempsey but they noticed a change in his usual style, buzzed haircut, a uniform used to be worn in the 1940s and a scar on his nose.

“Dempsey?” Demoman said, to winch it surprised Ultimis Dempsey to know they had know his last name as the Scotsman continued “Bloody hell, don’t scare us like that, lad.”

“Sorry?” Dempsey said, rising an eyebrow toward the two, Pyro tilts their head as they looked him; they can’t decide if the BLU Spy is trying to fool them again or not like back in Double Cross Map.

“Dempsey,” they started to say before grabbing a collar of his shirt, “Whatever happened to your jacket?” as he looked at them with more confusion as well with the Corporal who is looking at them. “H-Hey ma- er lady or… Whatever you are,” he began, making Pyro look up at him, “Can you, like let go?” he asked, trying to be nice and Pyro lets their hand let go of his collar in suspicion and confusion as they mumbled again “Okay, whatever…”

“Don’t cha remember us?” Demoman looked at him, “I’m Demoman and this is Pyro.” he gestured as Pyro went back on his side, still looking at him. “Well, ya know my name.” Dempsey said, crossing his arms as he looked at them.

Pyro was gonna hit him with their axe as they fully believed Ultimis Dempsey is the enemy spy from the BLU Team but as they turned, they noticed something in the skies as the familiar rocket thrusters had sounded the surrounded area as Demo and the Marine continued to talk.

Looking up, Pyro sees a ship nearly the same size as a tank with wings with thrusters soaring through the skies and heading for the west side of the city. Pyro looks around then they found a shovel on a nearby shed before walking towards it and picking it up, they then walked passed Demoman and Dempsey til they are just 5 foot from them as they looked at them before digging a trench with the shovel.

Demoman didn’t noticed that Pyro is digging until Dempsey pointed it out “Hey, what’s that doing?” as he looked at the pyromaniac digging, Demo looked over his shoulder and sees them digging winch it was odd to Demoman because they had never done something like this before.

It doesn’t take a while when Pyro managed to finished digging a trench and then opens up a Back Pit (Or in this Game-like Story; they had entered a Pause Menu like in video games) to pull out...

Class: Pyro

Real Name: Nova Eldon Gender: Female Birthdate: 01/1/1940 Birth Place: Tokyo, Japan Health Points:175/175 Overheal Points: 260/260 Quick-Fix Overheal Points: 220/220 Condition: Pyro Normal: 100% (If wielding a Powerjack; 115%) Backward: 90% (If wielding a Powerjack; 104) Crouched: 33% (If wielding a Powerjack; 38%) Swimming: 80% (If wielding a Powerjack; 92%) LV: 68% Gold: 117

Items (Bag): -Fabled Ribbon [Equipped] -Notebook >[Brodie Helmet] -Shovel Weapons: -Flame Thrower (Primary) -Shotgun (Secondary) -Flare Gun (For Emergencies Only) -Panic Attack Shotgun (Just in case there’s an Alien invasion again)[Equipped] -Fire Axe (Melee) -Powerjack (It is an antique automobile jack with a team-colored car battery strapped to its base with tan leather straps. It is count as a Melee.) -Thermal Thruster (Jetpack)

Back-Pit: -3 Blankets -Pillow -Tent -Drawing Pad -Crayons -Lighter -Wunderwaffe Ammo

*Pyro puts on Brodie Helmet on.

“Pyro, what are ye-” Demoman had time to finished when Pyro hurryingly grabbed him and U!Dempsey before running and jumping into the trench, taking cover from whatever it was in the skies. They then painted above the eyes with black sports paint, making them look like they are angry and ready for anything.

Pyro had prepared a trench just in case it’s going to be another Alien Invasion

Then three heads popped out of the trench, first one was Demo, then Dempsey and then Pyro with the Panic Attack, an pump-action shotgun with a drum magazine attached to the front and an external firing hammer hence the weapon’s name as they held it in their hands. Pointing it at the sky, looking around for the flying rocket-powered ship from the space age as Pyro adjusted their helmet on their head.

They are fully expect an attack as Dempsey tried saying “What the he-”

“Ssh…” Pyro shushed him with a old-finger-shushing motion on the muzzle.

“Hey I was talking-”

“Ssshh…!” They shushed him again still looking at the clouded sky as they halts him with a helt-motion of their index finger before holding the shotgun with both hands again.

“Pyro, what has gotten-” Demoman was then shushed by Pyro as they had placed their finger on his mouth and then doing a zipping-a-zipper motion as they shushed “SSsssshhhhhh….” before returning on the look-out for the ship. “What are ya looking for?” Dempsey whispered to them finally, Pyro looked over to him and mumbled “UFO, an Unidentified Flying Object.” before turning their attention back to the sky and of course, they heard him laughed on their right and saying “There no such things as UFOs.”

Pyro hickled back with a mock laugh, “Yes there is.” as Demoman said “Pyro, be nice.” while he looked at the sky.

“Oh, like you have encountered one before.” Ultimis Dempsey teased, Demoman looked over to him and said “Some things are different in yer Universe, isn’t it?” as he looked through his Back-Pit to find another weapon.

“Yeah?” the Corporal shrugged, looking over to him now and saw that he is serious. “Are you serious?” he asked, rising an eyebrow at this when Pyro nodding but doesn’t look at him as Demoman gives him a thumbs up.

“Anything, Pyro?”

“No.” they shook their head.

Pyro looked around, turning their head left to right as they gripped tight on the Panic Attack, looking for any alien ships coming in but… None so far but they not going to take any chances to relax at their most vulnerable as they got out of the trench, holding their hand out for their teammate as he grabbed it and being pulled out of the trench.

“Aliens had tried to take over our world once but both sides of RED and BLU are still too busy with the bloody war games until one day we had to defeat them with a giant ray that destroyed- Destroyed whot?” he said as he looked at Pyro before they both answered together:

“The mothership.” “The mothership.”

“Okay then…?” he said awkwardly, lending his hand out for anyone of the two and the one who grabbed him with Demoman and pulled him out of the trench with little trouble. “Anything else happened after that?” Dempsey asked next, “Only another time laddie.” Demoman shrugged as he looked around before Pyro placing their hand on his shoulder as gunfire is heard from elsewhere.

“Bloody hell… We better catch up with the others, Pyro!” Demoman rebuked as Pyro nodded with no argument. Then they ran with Demoman saying “We have to inform this to Richtofen!”

“You know the-” Dempsey questioned before being interrupted by Demoman yelling “Yeah!” while he runs as Pyro stopped to look at him and giving him the “I-am-watching-you” gesture before jugs up to catch up to their teammate.

“Wonderful…” Ultimis Dempsey groaned, “First it was with a goddamned Nazi, now this. Has the whole world gone crazy??” as he looked with caution but he is confused. How did they know who he is when he didn’t meet them?

“Ungh, I gotta get back to the others!” Dempsey said as he ran to where Demoman and Pyro are heading.

Something is going on around here and he’s going to need answers to that.

#All-Stars -Story Mode-#Team Fortress 2 #Call of Duty Zombies #Killzone #Mortal Kombat #Demoman #Pyro #Primis Tank Dempsey #Ultimis Tank Dempsey #Primis Takeo Masaki #Erron Black #Helghan Troops and Soldiers #[Could it be Ratchet and Clank coming into this story in the future...?]#Chapter 14 #Part 3 #Chapters

12 notes · View notes