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penvisions · 2 years ago

Text

of beskar and kyber {chapter 3}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: You begin to understand the dynamic between you and your new captor. But things aren’t always what they appear to be, and maybe that’s for the best.

Word Count: 7.8K

Warnings: talk of sexual favors, narcotics, reader was drugged previously, withdrawel, symptoms of withdrawel, light violence toward reader (very minimal and not detailed), nightmares, trauma, ptsd triggers, reader is in a survival headspace, readers hands are still bound, semi-nudity, moral dilemmas, morally confused din djarin

A/N: hello, hello! i initially planned to update twice a month, but this chapter flowed so easily once i began to flesh out the scenes i had outlined for this installment. it helps to set the dynamic between the reader and our dear mandalorian. i also am aware that my writing style allows for glimpses of his feelings and what he’s thinking, it’s still strictly set in the ‘reader knows x and acts that way’ and then some passages give way to how he’s experiencing the events as well (though reader isn’t privy to them). i like giving insight to him so he doesn’t seem so flat. please let me know what y’all think! ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

It was early morning, the sun just barely showing signs of peaking over distant mountain ridges. You hadn’t slept much, the chill of the desert and the close, heavy presence of your captor making the task difficult.

The familiar sound of your saber handle had you sitting up quickly, a warning on your tongue as the bright white of the blade formed with the push of a button by a gloved hand.

“Be careful!”

Glowing light cast from the blade illuminated the helmet of the Mandalorian, facing where you had shot up from your resting position. The fabric of your tunic swung as you reached a hand out, not thinking about the sudden movement inciting the man’s instincts. He leaned away from you, his legs pushing him up from his own seated position on a fluid movement, the blade coming in front of him in as a defensive shield. Your face was cautious, your outburst making you worried in the wake of the warning from the night before.

“Please be careful, jatne vod.” You spoke in a softer tone, not wanting the man to accidentally burn himself as he quelled his curiosity surround your weapon. Or wield it at you in defense, you were too weak to put up much of a fight, despite adrenaline that would pump through your system should the threat feel real enough. While it may not be particularly yours anymore, you wanted it to be cared for and handled with caution. “The crystal is very sensitive.”

“Crystal?” The man’s curiosity seemed to get the better of him. He experimentally twisted the handle in a mimic of how one would a blade to get the feel of the weight and balance. The handle moving from one hand to the other, the humming of the blade reacting to each minute swing and twist. It shouldn’t have but the vision of this strong, capable Mandalorian bounty hunter wielding your weapon so easily stirred something in your chest. You ignored the feeling, willing it to fade away and forcefully snapped your focus back.

“The energy of the crystal is harnessed by the handle, resulting in the blade. I mined the crystal myself, long ago.”

“A kyber crystal. Heard of it before, in passing.”

“Yes, jatne vod. A Kyber crystal, they are very important to jedi culture. Much like beskar to your people. It’s a living crystal, it’s bonded to me. It may not operate for everyone who attempts to.”

You didn’t mention that it meant a great deal that it had operated for him.

The Mandalorian didn’t respond, seeming to have the information he wanted regarding the weapon. His need to understand the weapon temporarily overriding the requisite of you being silent. The press of a button dimmed the blade, powering it down completely. A gloved hand reached up with a small flashlight in its grip and he flicked the beam on to point into the handle. The crystal reflected faceted light onto the front of his helmet, bathing his form in a mesmerizing display. The angle of the light hitting the bottom of his helmet giving you a faint glimpse of the shape of the man’s face. No features had been discernable, the darkness within the helmet keeping them hidden from you.

Your eyes traced the faint outline, searching for any hint of the man beneath the helmet even as your mind reprimanded you that it was an invasion of privacy. This man had sworn a creed, much like yourself, though his was different from yours. While yours forbade earthly attachments, his forbade revealing his face to those he was not bonded to. There was just something about him that you seemed instinctually react to…The reverent air that possessed him as he inspected the weapon, respect seeping into his gentle ministrations as he looked it over and got a feel for the way it moved and glided through the air.

You knew that Mandalorians put great worth on weaponry and armor. It was a part of their culture, of their way of life. For this man to take great time and care to figure out the logistics of your own weapon that was now in his possession, it felt like something. However misplaced it may be. The more sensible part of your brain was trying to argue that it didn’t mean anything, that the man probably collected every weapon from every quarry he’s ever captured. Inspected them, deemed them important enough to integrate into his own personal cache of weapons or store them upon the ship for when he may need them, if ever.

The sun was beginning to cast pastel orange rays that were bleeding into the dark navy of the fading night over the vast expanse of the open sky, painting the desert in a wash of golden light. Eclipsing the man standing before you, his back to the beauty of the day’s new beginnings.

Suddenly the silver helmet morphed into one that was all black, the visor disappearing. The quiet air of the early morning was filled with the sound of deep breaths being helped by a compressor, the figure of the Mandalorian shifting into that of one you’ve spent your entire life running from. A red blade sprang to life as the standing figure twisted the lightsaber and aimed it at you, stepping over you to hold it close to your throat.

The hum of it was loud in your ears, the heat of it setting your skin on fire even if it hadn’t touched you yet. Your name fell from the figure’s mouth, modulator making it low and it settled heavy in the air. It wasn’t the voice of the Mandalorian you had grown to recognize over the past day. A hand was raised and you felt yourself being lifted to hover few feet above the ground, your body hanging limply as the Force was worked against you. Chills rained down your arms and back despite the beads of sweat that were beginning to form along your skin, body freaking out even as your mind was utterly blank with panic.

The hand fell from its raised position, your body collapsing to the ground with a thump. Fear had you rooted in your spot, unable to do anything as the blade began to cut a line into your neck…

You shot up from where you had been laying, hand flying to your neck as a choking sound warbled from your mouth. You took a deep breath, blinking furiously to dispel the image of a dark cloaked figure with a black helmet as the light of day revealed to you that it had all been a dream. A dream of a memory that had morphed into a nightmare. The shade encompassing you had you stilling as you tried to mentally reign yourself in.

You whipped your head around, trying to get a bearing on your surroundings. You were down on the ground, a thick piece of tattered fabric separating your body from the coarse sand. The sound of metal on metal filled the air as you turned to see the Mandalorian and the Ugnaught working together to fit a final piece of siding back into place on the Razor Crest. The sun was setting but you had a feeling it wasn’t the same day as when you had fallen unconscious. The fuzzy feeling of your tongue in your dry mouth and the aching of your muscles were an indication of the time that had passed.

You watched silently, moving to sit more comfortably atop the fabric, as the two made sure the metal panel was securely in place. When the figure of the Mandalorian emerged from the shadows of the ship, you realized he was free of the mud that had covered him the last time you had been conscious, and he had fastened his cuirass back into place despite the large dents that still marred the metal. He was missing his cloak. Your middle dropped from you to disappear into the sand as you realized he had removed it and given it to you in your unconscious state to lay atop. That he had taken the time to clean it of the mud that had caked on it before doing so.

With frantic still bound hands, you brushed as much of the sand that had gathered onto it off, hoping he wouldn’t notice how careless you were treating something of his. Halfway through your ministrations, you realized you still had a layer of mud covering your own form, though it was dried and nearly baked into the fabric of your tunic and along your hair. Small bits of it crumpled off to land on the fabric. Your face had been wiped clean, though whoever had done had made sure to stop there.

“He told me of the powers you used to defeat the mudhorn, I’ve heard of them in passing.”

Your head shot up at the voice, suddenly realizing that the Ugnaught had approached you. You hoped he had been the one to wipe your face clean, unsure of how you felt about the Mandalorian taking the time to ensure you had something to lay on so you weren’t on the ground and to clean you. He had schooled his expression to one of slight curiosity, though you couldn’t read much else in his expression.

“Whispers of such powers have faded, but they still linger in the wind and minds of the galaxy.”

You just nodded, bringing your hands to rest atop your bent knees. Your eyes moved to the pod beside you, it was open to reveal the unconscious form of the Child inside. Worry stirred in your heart for him, he was so small and the Force took a lot of energy and concentration to direct, to harness. His moves to save the Mandalorian will have definitely hit him harder than yours had done to you. Memories of a similar figure in species and stature wove through your racing mind, though the one you were thinking of had been alive for millennia. He had been skilled beyond comprehension, his age allowing him the time to become one of the strongest people you had ever encountered. The Child had a long way to go and you’d surely be long dead by the time he was even ready to begin training himself.

“You must be stronger than the Child, he is still unconscious.”

You nodded again, not wanting to give anything away. The fleeting worry that the Mandalorian has recounted the events with the mudhorn grew in your chest and made it hurt as you fought your instincts to incapacitate the figure in front of you. That he had told the Ugnaught what you had shared with him in his native tongue, still so cautious about who you were.

No one could know what you were, what you possessed, you already had such a large target on your back. But this man had been nothing but kind to you in his own way, allowing you to share his farmed water, offer you transportation, and aid with repairing your captor’s ship. Surely he wasn’t a threat in any way, whether personally or by the sharing of information he’s gathered from the interactions of the past few days.

“You may speak with him, if you wish. Though I have not repeated what you told me,” The deep timbre of the Mandalorian’s modulated voice sounded as he approached as well. He pressed something along his left cuff and the pod beside you moved toward the repaired ship and up the ramp. Something stirred in you, quelling the panic and worry that had begun to consume your mind. But it was quashed just as quickly as it had begun to form at the next words to leave his modulator. “Word of what you told me would make it even more of a task to complete the job of returning you.”

You hoped none of the emotions that had washed over you had shown on your features, not wanting to be so easily read. You nodded again, the repeated motion beginning to cause nausea in the pit of your stomach now that you were conscious. You spied the handle of your saber secured in a spot on the Mandalorian’s utility belt. Hidden from anyone who didn’t know what to look for.

“Thank you for the kindness you have shown us while on your planet, sir. It is greatly appreciated. I don’t have anything to offer you in return.” Your attention snapped back to the man directly in front of you. His eyes meeting your own as he looked you over. It seemed as if he had more to say but had settled on holding the words back in favor of addressing your immediate response.

“I am in your service; you are my guests. There is no need to supplement me. I have spoken.”

The ship lifted into the air, and you gripped an arm of your seat tightly, both hands curling around it as you fought the rolling nausea in your stomach. You couldn’t tell if it was because of withdrawal or nerves at flying again. It had been so long since you’d been aboard a ship, and apparently the last time you hadn’t even been conscious enough to realize you were being transported. But this time you were, and you grounded yourself with that small notion. You were aware of what was happening at this moment, and it was all you could think of to comfort yourself even if you were being taken back to a place you never wanted to return.

Once the ship lurched into hyperspace, the mesmerizing colors wafting around the ship and displaying through the glass of the cockpit, you felt your nerves ease a little. The colors were beautiful, the light of them calming despite what they meant. Though the brightness of them could be felt behind your eyes as your head throbbed.

You climbed down into the hold once the course through hyperspace had evened out, taking in the space. It was small but enough room to allow the Mandalorian his sleeping quarters, space to store a good number of crates secured along the walls of the hull with thick netting and fabric straps with metal clasps, the small room that held the refresher that the ladder up to the cockpit lined, the cabinets that he used to hold his weaponry, and settled into the hull of the ship itself was the chamber he must’ve used to contain his quarries. You inspected the door, a slight confusion settling over you as you took in the control panel. With a start, you realized it was a carbon freezing chamber.

Backing quickly away from the doors that opened into the small chamber, you felt your back collide with something strong and solid, sending faint jolts of discomfort down your sore shoulders. Shifting on your feet with more energy than you thought you possessed, you came face to face with the Mandalorian himself.

You began to shake your head, fear growing hot in your body as you realized that your fate was to be frozen in this moment and roused once you were back in the hands of your cruel mother. No chance to put up a fight, no chance to scramble for freedom once in a place with more opportunities. You felt like a fool, thinking the armored man would allow you to occupy his space as he returned his other quarry, the one he had initially set out to capture. The job he had intended to fulfill when he happened upon you on the same planet. He said you had to be returned unharmed and the best way to do that would be to turn you into carbonate for travel.

But he didn’t activate the doors to open, he didn’t push you into the chamber. He didn’t move at all except to nod his helmet toward the other side of the hold space. There was a crate that had been taken from the netting and placed against the paneling that you knew opened up to reveal a condensed kitchen space. There was a small cooling supply unit and a hot plate. The cabinets around the immediate area housed a caf maker he had been adamant about retrieving from the Jawas and various boxes of nonperishable foods you weren’t too keen on. You preferred freshly prepared food, a product of your upbringing on a planet whose culture was rich with fishing and farming.

Two smaller crates had been set up next to it in a mimicry of a dining table and chairs. You looked to him before moving across the space and settling yourself atop one of the ‘seats’, him doing the same, sitting diagonal to you. His back was to the wall of the hull, while yours was open and exposed as you faced him and the paneling. It was quiet, the space filled with a weird tension you couldn’t explain when he moved to lean forward with something in his hand that you hadn’t noticed in your panic.

The ration pack placed in front of you atop the ‘table’ made you blink, the change of clothes that weren’t your own underneath it even more so. You glanced over to wall of armor that hide away the man who offered them to you. You stared at the pile of items in front of you, taking note that they were for a reason, one that you weren’t daft enough to ignore. When he reached forward again, this time to remove the binders still around your wrists, you stared at the visor, trying to gauge the situation to get a read on what he would prefer. Taking a breath, you stood and moved to face the man, your skin humming in hesitant anticipation like it always did before you were given instructions, no matter how silent.

You didn’t say anything as you stood from your seat and kneeled before him, hands reaching out to rest on his thighs. You couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you at the idea of touching the cold-looking armor decorating his form, but you would deal with it. You could deal with a lot if it meant you could eat and have clean clothes. You had thought that being taken by him only meant an exchange of who was handling your shackles, and you were correct. It didn’t matter if he claimed to be transporting you back to your home planet and mother, you were under his control in the meantime and you didn’t want to upset him. Didn’t want to run the risk of turning down his offer to trade and then ending up with nothing in exchange and him taking what he wanted anyway.

The harsh truth of the situation was that you needed the food. You needed something in your system to combat the waning drugs and the sensations they were leaving in their continued absence. Withdrawal had fully set it in, if your spells of nausea and dizziness were any indication. The sensitivity to light you were developing spoke of it even more so, accompanied by interwoven chills and hot flashes that had nothing to do with the planet’s environment. If you were to make it through, you needed something in your system to help counteract the energy it was taking from your already spent body.

The clothes looked soft, something that sounded like a blessing against your irritated skin. You needed those items. The fact of the matter was that you needed to trade for them with the man before you, nothing came for free. Not in this life, not in yours. Because underneath all that armor and the creed, he was just another man. Steeling yourself you began to reach out for him, to begin with something relatively tame. Hopefully it would be enough for the items…

You didn’t even get to lay your hands completely down on the armored plates over his thighs before there was a sharp sting on your cheek and you felt yourself crumble to the floor from the force of a hit.

You had been so focused on keeping your eyes on his lap that you hadn’t seen the twitch of his hand before it moved swiftly toward you. You didn’t move an inch from where you were on your backside on the floor, submitting completely to the man now standing. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides, the crinkling of leather giving away his irritation at the situation. You didn’t do anything, you didn’t look dare look at him, not wanting to upset him further. You waited for him to speak, to give you directions.

“What are you doing?” His voice was low and harsh, the same one he used when you had heard him talking to Jawas. It held no respect. It reverberated through your entire body, bringing you shame you hadn’t felt in a long time, having shut down feeling bad over the things you’ve had to endure. Shame at things you had to do to survive while being held captive for so long and on different occasions. “Answer me. Why would you think that’s appropriate?”

“Th-the food….and the clothes. Pay-payment, jatne vod.” You wanted to bring a hand up to your stinging cheek, the feeling of a cut underneath your eye bringing tears to your lash line as swelling began. You allowed your hair to shield your face from view, no one had ever struck your face before, and it had taken you off guard. It had hurt.

No one had dared touch your face, to leave marks on it, no matter who the captor had been or who had been watching over you. Your mother had wanted you to maintain the soft skin of your face in order to gain a husband someday, but as you got older the idea seemed to disappear from her mind. It became a silent way to hide the things they did to you. The same went for your captors, they wanted to keep anything they did to you covered. Easily hide the awful things they did to you should you need to be transported, avoiding as much unwanted attention as possible.

“Payment?” The Mandalorian took a step back, feeling his entire body go cold. He took in the way you were trying not to cower, your hands shaking where they held you up from being on the floor completely, your legs splayed out where you landed from the force of his panicked movement. He hadn’t meant to hit you, his mind urging him to push you away before you touched him had turned into a frantic swipe of his hand. You were a quarry, there was no need for touching unless he was fighting you.

You didn’t say anything further. He glanced at the items on the table for a second, his mind reeling at the idea of you having to pay for them when he had obviously placed them there for you to have. To make yourself somewhat comfortable aboard the ship. He may not have the best record of social interaction and had trouble accepting things offered to him without seeing the strings attached, but this? He hadn’t meant for you to take the items as something you had to earn, your puck instructed to bring you in alive and unharmed, he had just been trying to be accommodating to some degree.

You were covered in mud and dirt from the desert and your captivity. Even more so from saving him, taking out that second, raging mudhorn that had quite literally come out of nowhere. He had wiped your face free of mud, but hadn’t dared do anything further. It felt like too much, just what little he had already done. He’s intent on ignoring his betraying mind telling him he wouldn’t have done as much for anyone else.

The talk of the Jawas and the favors they had referred to when discussing wanting to trade his parts back for time with you echoed in his head. They had been talking about the way the guards of the compound had refused to give you anything lest you trade for them, but with no possessions to trade there was only one thing that could mean…

“I-if that’s not what you wanted, then do whatever you think is f-fair in exchange.” You turned to face him, though your eyes didn’t dare rise past his cuirass. You were kneeling once again, though instead of reaching out to him, your hands went up to untie the wrap keeping your tattered tunic closed and loosened the knot there. The fabric fell from your form onto the floor and puddled around you, leaving you in just your underthings. The fading bruises and cuts on your skin from your captivity on full display.

You rested your hands atop your thighs and waited for his instructions. You could feel your skin prickle in the cold air of the ship, your chest displaying the sensation through the fabric. “I h-have an implant, if that interests you, jatne vod.”

“It doesn’t interest me. Put your clothes back on and collect yourself. This isn’t a game.” Disgust at the insinuation dripped from his modulated voice. He looked at the wall just beyond your face, not looking at you but looking over your head. He could see the red line the plate of armor on the back of his hand had made underneath your eye, the trickle of blood that blossomed from the end of it. He hadn’t meant to strike you so hard, he hadn’t even meant to strike you in the first place. “I gave you those things, they’re yours.”

“But-“ You cut yourself off, as if realizing you were arguing with him. He didn’t see having a conversation as arguing, but he guessed you weren’t used to having a simple conversation. He realized that days ago he had snapped at you to remain silent, that he preferred if you didn’t talk. The sentiment carved into your every interaction with him since then as you spoke only when spoken to. Outside of when you had explained the diagnostics of your weapon. You had been missing for so long, no doubt having been captured for most of it. Obeying despite not wanting to instilled in your mind for survival. You remained unmoving, as if waiting for another strike to fall on you. “Apologies.”

He was quiet, taking in the way you sat before him. When he raised his hand to point at the items on the table, he took in the way you began to flinch. He had tried to abort the movement at the realization you were worried he would strike you again. Unfamiliar guilt stuttered through his chest, prompting a heavy sigh to sound through the modulator.

“Eat, then wash off. The refresher is through that door. The soap and towels in there are for you to use, do so. I’ll be overlooking the course.” He walked away from you, leaving you kneeled on the floor. His footsteps could barely be heard as he crossed the space and disappeared up the ladder.

The Mandalorian was overwhelmed with not knowing how to interact with someone who seemed conditioned to wait for commands but could take down an assailant and a raging mudhorn with ease. It made him uncomfortable; you made him uncomfortable. Strength and ability hidden away in favor of submitting; he didn’t understand. Even if it was a survival tactic. He’d just rather fight his way through threats than submit and bid his time. Shaking his head roughly to dispel his thoughts, he reached out for the last rung on the ladder and pulled himself up to the level of the ship that held the cockpit.

The sooner he could return the Child to Nevarro, the sooner he could get you where you needed to be and off his ship.

Your stomach protested the heartiness of the ration pack. It was too heavy, even if all you had taken was two bites before realizing. The waning of the drugs in your system paired with no other food or nutrients made it hard to swallow what you did dare to intake. You didn’t want the Mandalorian to think you were ungrateful, especially after giving you the ration pack. You just stood there, staring at the opened foil of it and frowned.

You had used the refresher, taking your time washing the caked-on mud and sand from the past few days journey. You were donning the rather large, long sleeve shirt and pants that had been given to you as well. You tugged the belt from your dirty clothes and cleaned it quickly to help hold up the waist. A sigh fell unbidden from you and you pushed up the long sleeves and began to handwash the rest of your stuff in the refresher sink, leaving the unfinished pack on the table. You had carefully folded the foil to conceal what you had not been able to eat.

You were about to hang your tunic and cloak on the top of the shower stall door when you heard faint footsteps in the hold. They seemed to pause before they redirected and a knock on the refresher door sounded. Jumping slightly at the loud sound, the fabric in your hand fell to make a wet smack on the tile of the shower floor.

You abandoned in to open the door, the broad figure of armor taking up the entire open space. His visor was turned down to look at you directly, though you hadn’t the faintest clue what expression was truly on his features.

“You didn’t finish your ration pack.”

“I am grateful for your generosity, jatne vod. I…may I speak plainly?”

The visor continued to stare at you, no confirmation or denial leaving the face behind it. You felt your face heat as you were aware of how close he was, that you were in his own clothing, that the steam from your shower was still wafting through the air. Embarrassment made you heat up even more so, hating the way that it affected you so. But you were beginning to realize how pathetic you must have appeared to the man before you and continued to so do the longer you were in his presence.

“It’s… too dense on my stomach. Food wasn’t a priority for me, at the compound. And the…stuff they used to keep me contained may have worked out of my system but it’s still affecting me.”

“They kept you drugged so you wouldn’t fight.”

“Yes, jatne vod.”

“They starved you and kept you drugged.”

“They starved me in order to make food something desirable, something I would trade…companionship for.”

A knot formed in your throat, the words physically hurting you to speak aloud, keeping your head bowed enough to not make eye contact with the visor. Your cheek throbbed where the armor on his hand had sliced you. Your body was sore, your muscles exhausted from the events of the past few days on top of the particularly harsh reality you had been living for however long you had been captive. You must’ve been shaking, or your muscles twitched, or you made a face when stab of pain reverberated through your stomach as it tried to digest what little you had eaten. The flinch didn’t go unnoticed.

“Do you require medical attention?”

“No. I would not want to waste your supplies.” The immediate response flew from you before you even knew the words existed. But you had no way of paying to supplement what he would use. You didn’t even know what would help beyond bacta spray for your cheek.

“Not a waste if you’re injured. You are to be returned intact.”

“…I would appreciate it, if I would be allowed to just settle somewhere and rest for a bit. If that’s amenable, jatne vod.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“You’re my captor, I’m your quarry. What do you wish me to call you? Because I don’t think you’d like the term I’m using in my head.” Your eyes flared in annoyance at the man in front of you as you straightened to your full height and gazed directly into the visor. His own eyes caught the flash of emotion through the visor. You were trying to be respectful, despite the circumstances. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve pummeled them and taken off with your freedom. But he was a Mandalorian, a rather extraordinarily skilled one despite his propensity for aggravated outbursts over mundane things. And you knew when you were outmatched, especially in your prevailing weakened state.

“What were you doing in here for so long?” He peered over your head, toward the damp clothing that was hung up and then to the piece that had been left forgotten on the floor at his appearance.

“Tending to my clothes, I did not want to anger you by being in your own for too long should you need them. Mine should be dry by the time I’m done resting.”

It was silent as he entered the small space, you shifting to plaster yourself against the wall that faced the small mirror above the sink. You could only watch as he gathered the damp clothing in his hands and walked clear out of the refresher. He opened up a panel along the side of the hold space and dumped the clothing in the dark space. You didn’t protest as he did so, nor did you apologize for taking up space with them as you had tried to dry them.

“Once the Child is returned, we will find a stall for a new tunic.”

With that he moved to the concealed door that led to his own, small quarters. He opened it and disappeared inside, the door closing nearly completely behind him. The pod containing the Child had floated into the space along with him. You allowed yourself to relax just a bit, the tension pulling your shoulders taut waned and you sighed in relief. You moved to sit atop the ‘seat’ he had occupied before, with your back leaning against the siding of the space you closed your eyes and hoped your head would stop hurting soon.

You were awoken some time later by the sound of ceramic on metal. You jumped, your hair swinging with the sudden motion and your body protested the tensing of muscles. Your eyes immediately took in the form of the Mandalorian seated across from you in your previous spot. His hand was still curved around the mug he had set atop the ‘table’ in front of you. Steam wafted up from it and the faint smell of something delicious had your mouth watering. Your stomach gurgled in response to the smell, loud enough to be heard in the silence.

“Bone broth, should be easy on your stomach.”

Eyes raked over the helmet, the dark shape of the visor in the low light of the hold space. He didn’t remove his hand from the mug, his gloved hand curled around it to display just how wide his palm was and how thick his fingers were. Your eyes snapped to the steaming mug and then back to him as he leaned forward slightly, his other arm coming to rest atop the ‘table’. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts, the silence getting heavy as you realized he was about to ask for something in exchange for the delicacy that had been placed between you.

“The Child. He’s still unconscious.”

Straightening your back, stifling a groan at the action you took in the way his own shoulders were tensed, the way his legs were firmly planted on the floor of the ship. He was carrying something he wasn’t accustomed to and it was a burden that could be read on him as if he had plainly told you. The Mandalorian was worried about the Child.

“He may be older than both of us, but he is still young for his species. The Force is…a complicated thing to wield and he may have hidden his powers in the time since we were first hunted. He will be okay, his mind is recovering and his body is allowing it to happen in the safety of unconsciousness.”

Your words seem to hold what he was looking for, as his large hand detangles from around the mug to leave it sitting in front of you in a clear display that it is now yours. You try to not greedily reach out for it, your stomach making more noises as the prospect of something that smells so enticing. You bring the mug to your lips slowly, the action of swallowing making you grimace slightly as you realize you may have been out for longer than you initially thought, once again. Your cheek throbbed at the movement though you visibly relaxed as the warm, smooth liquid flowed down your throat to settle in your stomach.

A somewhat comfortable silence hung in the air, until the man across from you reached into the box you hadn’t seen atop the ‘table’ in your distraction of the mug. He pulled out a small tube that looked too much like something that would house a needle.

The clatter of the mug on metal and your uncomfortable shuffling to make yourself smaller had the visor training back on you with a quick movement. Your eyes were wide, and your breathing shallowed as thoughts of him drugging you created a feeling of foolishness to swell in your chest. He didn’t say anything as he held the tube out to you in his wide palm for you to see the label on it.

‘Bacta’ in small, all capital letters spelled out in Basic.

“For your wrists,” He set it down slowly by the mug. “So they don’t scar.”

You had been rubbing unconsciously at your sore wrists, the angry red marring the tan skin around them irritating. You hadn’t noticed you had been doing so, had probably been doing so since your departure from the compound, even around the binders he had placed on you while in the desert. You watched with cautious eyes as he stood and took the box that must hold his medical supplies in it back toward his sleeping quarters. He returned to the ‘table’ and took the tube back in his hand, popping off the protective cap to reveal a squat spray nozzle. He held out his other hand in a silent request.

Hesitantly you held your arms out, palms turned up where the most damage had been caused. Dried, ugly looking scabs decorated your skin. The area around them irritated and painful looking. He hovered his free palm below your outstretched hands and proceeded to spray in small bursts over the circumference of them. Your heartbeat fast and painful in your chest throughout the whole ordeal. He pocketed the now empty tube before leaning back out of your space. You nodded your thanks as you moved to pick the half empty mug back up, your wrists tingling as the medicine began working to heal the damage to your skin. Quiet resumed.

Once you’ve finished the mug, the contents of it sitting comfortably in your stomach, you both move to the cockpit as he announced you would be leaving hyperspace soon.

Settling into the chair behind the pilot’s seat, off to his left, you spied the pod housing the Child resting in the one to both his and your right side. The Child was still unconscious, though his chest was rising and falling evenly. The ship lurched, pulling your attention from the small being toward the open windshield of the ship. A planet taking up the airspace directly in front of it as it exited hyperspace.

Turning, the Mandalorian reached out to grasp the open lip of the pod. He gently shook it, to gauge the figure inside. But it didn’t stir, not so much as a wiggle of adorable ears or the twitch of a small nose. He turned back to face the control panel, taking the handles of the power steering in his grip. The planet grew larger, the view of it expanding as you closed in on it.

Through the atmosphere you could make out the fluorescent reds and oranges that meant it was a volcanic planet. The realization striking panic to simmer low in your abdomen. The bases of most Imperials were hidden away on planets with volcanic environments, harnessing the energy and movement of the lava to create the weapons they had used during times of war. If the lack of response to your earlier question of the Imperials being the ones to contract the Child’s return was anything to go off of, then you were positive they were here on this planet.

Rustling drew your attention, you looked over to see the Child was awake, his head popping up over the lip of the pod as he peered curiously over the top of it. He clambered down from the pod, from the chair the pod was nestled in and walked over toward the side of the pilot seat. You couldn’t see him, but you did see when one of his small green hands reached for the handle of one of the controls. The shiny top of it commanding his attention. The Mandalorian was momentarily focused on a transmission he played as it dinged in.

When the transmission ended, his attention focused on the Child beside him. The small figure had climbed up atop the control panel, small hand gripping at the top of a lever in front of him. The shiny ball of metal atop it his goal. He removed it easily, bringing it to his mouth to chew on.

“It’s not a toy.” A gloved hand grasped the back of the Child’s clothing and lifted him up. A small noise left him as he was moved back to his pod and deposited back into the confines of it. They shared a look, a soft coo sounding before the Child looked over to you with his bright eyes. You smiled at him, wiggled your fingers at him in a motion that pulled a giggle from him in his cute voice.

“Remain on the ship. I’m going to lock it down and set access coding, attempting to mess with the panels or controls will send an alert directly to me.”

You watched as the armored man stood before his storage cabinet and donned what he deemed appropriate. The act of him fastening weapons and adjusting his armor and the underling padding over his clothing seemed an invasion of privacy almost, though he hadn’t told you to leave him be or leave the room. The intimacy of knowing where he had hidden blades and extra munitions seemed to be something you should not be privy to.

You hide away in the cockpit during his absence, spending the time watching the hustle and bustle of the city through the main archway that separated the open expanse from the landing area for ships.

The city was dirty, the streets full of people and trash. The buildings were crumbling in some places, blaster damage and dirt decorating the exterior of most of them. It was seedy and it was exactly the type of environment you had spent most of your life hiding in. You didn’t miss it, having been so young when you first took to a life on the run, forced to. You took in the way people didn’t linger their gazes on anything or anyone else for too long. As if they were afraid of inciting conflict. Too common a thing in places like this.

You watched the goings-on of the main street you could see that wound its way through the center of the small city. Losing track of time, it was growing dark as the day began to bleed into night. The time of twilight taking over the planet and bathing it in blue light. The light pollution from the city shields the stars and surrounding planets from view.

When the Mandalorian returned, you had tracked his path down the main street until he had gotten too close to the ship to do so. He was alone, the pod no longer trailing beside him. But that had been the end of this mission after all. It didn’t matter that he had asked after the Child’s wellbeing as it had laid unconscious for days. His task was predetermined.

His armor was different. The plates were still secured to the same places as his previous set, but this one was all comprised of the same silver metal as his helmet and his right pauldron. Of beskar. The spoils of his mission plainly on display for all to see.

It was beautiful, it was gorgeous. It made him look even stronger and more capable, if that was even possible. You wanted to skim your hands over the smooth expanse of the plates and feel the coolness of the metal underneath them. Even as you realized it was the very embodiment of the Child being no more.

Grief for another of your kind fallen was an old friend, one that was knocking to be let back into your world after such a long absence. It was not welcome. No words were exchanged, the air holding a sense of detachment as he entered the cockpit. He was holding tension in his entire body as he moved past you and settled into the pilot chair. He punched in the coding he had set and began to power up the ship for lift off.

When he reached over to pull the lever to begin take off, he paused. The ball that normally sat atop the lever had been placed on the control panel when he had removed it from the Child’s mouth hours ago upon arrival. He held the small piece of round metal in his gloved hand, and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head beneath the helmet. He slowly screwed the piece back onto the lever and he pushed it forward, his hand hovering over it after the fact.

He suddenly pulled the lever back, reached up and hit some switches. He was a flurry of quick, precise movements as he powered the ship back down just as efficiently as he had powered it on, making your heartbeat fast as you watched him do so.

He didn’t reset the access coding.

As he turned his seat around, the door to the cockpit opened. He stood beside you for the briefest of moments, offering you a curt nod that spoke volumes.

“As soon as you see me returning, ready the ship for take-off.”

“May the Force be with you, jatne vod.”

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taglist: @js-favnanadoongi

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skullsnbruises · 1 year ago

Text

I’m so happy to finish this ugh, I think this is the best vore descriptions I’ve written so far? Let me know how y’all liked it :)

If I made any mistakes no I didn’t, we wrote this partially at midnight and then the next morning on very little sleep. Lol. (Also. One day I’ll finish my requests, HAHAH, don’t worry I haven’t forgotten them)

[Ao3 Link]

Taglist: @poprockpanda @brick-a-doodle-do @local-squishmallow @dingbatnix @da3dm

As the Sun Sets

(2722 words) [fearplay, miscommunication, violence]

Walking along the wall was Philza and his two adopted dragon children. The skull masked one, Chayanne, was leading the group, proud dark purple scales on display as his tail whipped from side to side, a much smaller Tallulah gripping onto it lightly with her teeth. She was speckled with brown and blue, and her features were quite reminiscent of being aquatic, while Chayanne’s features were sharp and like knives, and was more striking of a scorpion, if anything. His body was his armor, tough skin built for anything, while Tallulah was meek, her petite body built for beauty instead.

Philza walked behind them, keeping an eye on his oversized children as they attempted to slow to his pace. He felt a spark of pride flicker inside his chest, watching how Chayanne was so careful with Tallulah, making sure to defend her at any cost. He’d tear obstructions out of their way with his claws, and nudge a path out for her, as she’d shyly pass through.

Phil loved his children a lot. He’d do anything to protect them, just like how he knew Chayanne would do anything to protect Tallulah.

Chayanne always striked Phil as reminiscent of Technoblade. They were both deeply caring, and highly protective, going to great lengths to defend their loved ones, no matter the cost. It was a charming quality, but Phil always had a fear in the back of his mind that it could be Chayanne’s downfall. He always prioritized others above himself, and that was worrisome.

Philza looked up into the sky, and estimated the time, “Hey, mates, it’s gonna get dark soon, let’s head back okay?”

The dragons turned around, and Tallulah let go of Chayanne’s tail for a moment, brushing herself against him instead. Chayanne made a chirp of acknowledgement and Tallulah dipped her head.

The dad waved his hand in motion for them to follow along, “Alright, come on you two.”

The sun was setting, and admittedly, Philza should’ve realized earlier. If only he hadn’t been so caught up in his own thoughts. Neither dragons could fly yet, their wings weren’t ready for that type of work, so they’d have to make the trek back on foot. It’s not like they couldn’t handle mobs, it would just be annoying to deal with. Chayanne might get caught up in the fight, too.

At least they had the beautiful scenic view of the sun dipping behind the land in the distance, meeting the ocean around the island. No matter how many centuries Philza lived through, the sunset took his breath away everytime.

Tallulah met beside Phil, and she nudged at his shoulder. She was very small compared to Chayanne, but still at least two feet taller than her dad, when she was on all fours.

They traveled back along against the wall, occasionally peering out at the forest, the trees obstructing their vision of any threats that might be posed in the distance.

They would be safe, Philza assured himself. He wasn’t exactly anxious, but he wanted to be cautious anyway. No need to have any unnecessary injuries.

Everything was going okay so far. Philza was chatting with the two dragons, and they’d chirp back, but occasionally pause to write a response on a sigh instead. Their handwritings were scratchy, words written with claws, but legible. They were mostly making small talk, nothing too important. Phil had commented on how much he loved the sunset, to the agreement of his kids.

It was turning out to be a pleasant walk back. Phil might’ve realized his guard had slipped in any other scenario, but he couldn’t now, simply enjoying his time with Chayanne and Tallulah, walking between the two dragons who were his family and love.

The sudden flash of a neon green light shot out, and Phil was blinded by the sudden brightness against the now-approaching night sky. He shielded his vision, eyes adjusting to the light in front of him, and with horror, he realized the creature in the air before them was the binary entity. Phil’s heart sank and his body tensed up, arm reaching instantly towards his sword, drawing it with a vengeful glint in his eye. He watched as Chayanne stepped in front of him and let out an enraged roar. His spiked tail whipped warningly, and Tallulah cowered behind Phil, body shrinking like she was his shadow.

The formless figure shaped its code around to resemble arms outstretched from its main body, and it zipped through the sky like lightning. It was suddenly overwhelming Phil, darting past his body, leaving sharp cuts along him as it whipped around him. He could hear Tallulah squeak in fear, and Chayanne let out a booming shriek, swinging his tail around to smack the entity like a flyswatter to a pesky bug.

The code monster was thwacked out of the air and collided hard against the ground, kicking up clumps of dirt. It was a brief moment of getting reorganized. Phil turned quickly towards his children, as Chayanne approached Tallulah with a pinched up terrified expression. She bowed her head at him, and he widened his mouth. Philza felt his heartbeat throbbing in his ears, breath heavy, as he watched in terror; Chayanne’s maw stretched open and scooped Tallulah up in one fell swoop. She disappeared behind a click of Chayanne’s teeth, and a large bump followed down the dragon's throat.

He wasn't allowed to question it any longer, as the code monster had recovered and was flying through the air again. Philza braced for the impact of its knife-like cuts, but his world was suddenly til shifted as his body was thrown up into the air. Philza’s breath was knocked out of his chest, staring downward was an open maw. His son’s open maw.

Everything seemed to slow, as his immortal life flashed behind his eyes. Chayanne has just swallowed Tallulah whole, and he was the next victim. He hadn’t any time to mourn his daughter, nor himself, as time returned to normal and gravity plummeted the man straight into the open mouth.

Teeth were sharp all around him, and he clung onto Chayanne’s tongue like a lifeline. The squishy appendage rolled around, and the pointed tongue curled in on itself, trying to push Phil back to his throat.

The man was filled with anxiety, kicking and flailing desperate, like his brain was powered only by instinct to survive. The uvula dangled, curling up and contorting as the mouth he was trapped inside shifted about. The tongue nudged and prodded at Philza, but he refused to go down easy. Something was seriously wrong with Chayanne right now, and Phil needed to make it out alive to find out what. Maybe there was a chance to save Tallulah too, before it was too late.

Philza reached and tried to climb, but was only slipping and losing his grip under the squishy tongue, salvia being Phil’s worst enemy. He used his nails, trying to pry himself up.

Chayanne’s body dramatically shook, and it felt as if he had been knocked over. Phil’s spot was taken from him, and he fell a significant amount. Chayanne’s constant movement was making it impossible, and then the worst thing Philza could’ve hoped would never happen happened.

He felt as Chayanne’s head lifted upward, leaving Philza grasping to hold onto the dragon's uvula. His son swallowed hard, tongue pushing up against the already soaked man, and uvula shifting around so Phil was kicking. His sandal slipped off and felt into the abyss of Chayanne’s esophagus. Phil had tried so hard to hold it until now, but a sudden grief ridden sob took over his body, and it was his downfall. As his body shook, his grip was lost, and he found himself trapped between squishy walls within the blink of an eye.

The walls of the throat squished Philza, his body folding along the wetness. His struggles were pointless, and nothing was good enough to grab, so the hard swallows that followed were more than enough to drag Phil deeper into his doom. The man let himself cry. For himself. For Tallulah. For Chayanne.

Within short lived moments, Phil wasn’t being squeezed anymore, and he slipped into a pool of some kind. As his mind raced, he realized this was the stomach. Dark, drenched, and dangerous. His eyes squinted, needy for a source of light to judge how fast he was going to die, and if escape might still be possible. The darkness was hard, but a few seconds gave him just enough that Phil could make out outlines.

In front of him was Tallulah. His beautiful daughter. She was small, she had shifted into her humanoid form again. Philza sludged wobbly through the pool. His hands came around her body, and he hugged her.

She let out small chirps, aroused from the touch. Her pretty brown eyes blinked open and she looked up to meet eyes with her dad. His heart panged, so grateful that she was still alive.

The dragon was thrust around again, sloshing the wetness up and splashing against the stomach walls. Tallulah tightened her claws into Philza’s shirt, steadying against his weight. They silently decided sitting was less dangerous, and Phil sat Tallulah onto his lap, brushing fingers through her soaking curled hair.

“Oh my gods, Tallulah,” he swore he’d never cried so much, “I was so worried.”

She tilted her head and a small noise sounded from her chest. Her sweater paws wrapped around him in a warm embrace.

“I’ll find us a way out,” Phil bit his lip, the words feeling rotten on his tongue. It felt like a lie, and he wouldn’t promise a thing to her now. As much as he wanted to stay positive, things were looking hopeless.

Philza glanced around, the walls were a deepend purple hue, squiggly and textured. The faint shine reflected on them, showing off the small hints of blue and green. Everything felt small inside the stomach, the space was little, and the stomach contracted around them ever so often, a claustrophobic dread washing over him with every slosh of acid.

Chayanne’s body was no longer being flailed and thrown around, Phil realized. The only movement was a steady rhythmic pattern; walking, if he had to guess.

“I think things have calmed down, Tallulah,” Phil gulped, “Maybe Chayanne will realize now and let us out.”

His daughter made that same tiny movement. Confused body language.

“What is it?” He glanced down at her frown. He squinted, making out her limited sign language skills.

“S-a-f-e. No Tallulah, this isn’t safe right now, I’m gonna make us safe though, if it’s the last thing I do-,” he was cut off by her nudging him.

“S-a-f-e, yes Tallulah, I understood. I’m saying that-“ She crossed her arms and pointed at the spot they were sitting, then around in a circular motion towards the stomach walls. She repeated the word, emphasizing each letter in her hands.

The man was confused, and a little concerned, “Are you saying we’re safe right now,” a nod, “we aren’t, Tallulah. I’m going to-“

Their bodies were shifted around once more, tossed around inside the organ. The walls squeezed in on them again, making ‘gllk’ and sloppy sounds as the walls seemed to throb like a heart. Suddenly, Philza, with a death grip on Tallulah , was being pushed back up the esophagus. The man was overtaken by dizziness as light once again flooded his senses, and a hard thud knocked against his back. His hands still carried Tallulah’s meek weight, and his disoriented state kept him laying on the ground.

Several deep breaths later, senses coming back into fruition, Philza was ready to properly open his eyes and see what the hell was going on.

He was immediately met with Chayanne’s snout, exhales breathing over his body. He jolted up, backing up slightly. Chayanne and Tallulah were staring at him so calmly, like nothing deeply traumatic had just happened.

The deep purple dragon slowly shifted back, scales morphing into skin, entire figure shrinking, tail and horns sliding into a proportionate size to his child body. He tilted his head at his dad.

Breathless, the man tried to stand, “W-what the fuck?!”

The boy pulled out a yellow sign, placing it on the ground. He crouched the carve in his sentence. When finished, he scooted to the side, sitting with the duck floaty around his body comfortably.

“I’m confused dad, what’s wrong?” Phil read, “MATE. You just ate me and your sister! How is that not obviously the problem?!”

Chayanne shrunk into himself, tail curling around his legs. He looked ashamed now.

Tallulah took her turn to write, a purple sign displayed for Philza.

Again, he read it aloud, “This is a dragon thing.” He made a noise of disbelief, “You’re just able to swallow each other alive, no problem?!”

A casual nod from both children.

“How haven’t I known this sooner?! Would’ve saved a lot of panic!” His stern tone came to a halt, staring at the sad expressions of the siblings, “Okay. I’m sorry for how I reacted. You two need to let me know about things this important though, okay? Your dad needs to know if he’s going to get swallowed alive next time.”

Then the situation hit him, “Oh shit, is everyone okay?”

Chayanne had a few cuts. Nothing serious, upon inspection. Tallulah was unscathed. Phil had some nasty slices along his face, but it would be fine with some painkillers and days to heal.

Inside Chayanne’s room, Philza bandaged the boy up, as Tallulah bounced happily on the bed. Phil was knelt down, sticking another bandage over Chayanne’s arm. The blood was dried, so he’d wiped the dark remnants away with a damp cloth. The boy was peering down, and even through the mask, Phil could sense the sadness within him.

He hummed, “What’s up?” He patted Chayanne’s chest, finishing up the bandages and medicine. The boy sighed, taking his place beside his sister on the bed. He leaned against her, and Tallulah wrapped his arm around his waist.

Chayanne’s lower lip quivered, taking out a sign and slowly started writing on it. Phil waited patiently, putting the medical supplies away. He occasionally glanced over to his son, frowning at Chayanne’s sad expression. Tallulah watching over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowing as she watched his sentence form.

Chayanne turned the finished sign around, dipping his head and avoiding all eye contact.

Philza read it out. “Did I fail?” His breath slowed and instantly rushed over to wrap Chayanne into his arms, squeezing him tightly, “Of course not, you saved us. You protected us, Chayanne.” His heart twisted and he held him closer. Phil shifted, bringing Chayanne into his lap as he sat up on the bed, leaning against the wall with his son resting now on his chest, “Listen, mate, you did amazing. I’m sorry how I acted, I didn’t know what was up. But you got me and your sister out of there. I’m just so fucking sorry you had to fight alone.”

The little dragon whimpered, and Tallulah scooted over to join the hug. She held up a sign for him, reading, ‘We love you!’

He whimpered in response, biting his tongue to hold back the tears.

“It’s okay. You can cry. You’re allowed,” Philza whispered out. His son needed the confirmation now more than anything. His son’s hold tightened, and a bundle of tears and twitches broke through him. Tallulah and Phil kept him close, comforting him through his sobs. They rubbed circles into his clothes.

After a few minutes, his cries died out, and they were left holding one another. Philza wordlessly stood from the bed, and tucked the two under the blankets, fluffing their pillows and bending down to press kisses against either of their foreheads.

“You both were perfect today,” he spoke softly, “Get some sleep. I love you both so much.”

Tallulah held up a hand, sleepily showing the sign for ‘I love you.’ Chayanne made a few groggy clicks, before turning to hold his sister, wrapping around her smaller body in a protective cuddle. They both purred, closing their eyes and adjusting quietly. Philza smiled, waiting until they fell asleep before he silently left, shutting the door with a click behind him.

#mcyt g/t #qsmp g/t #mcyt vore #qsmp vore #g!chayanne #pred!chayanne #t!philza #t!tallulah #prey!philza #prey!tallulah #posts by sunny #sunnys fics

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quigonswife8 · 2 years ago

Text

Namor x vampire soulmate

"What if Namor’s soulmate was a vampire? How would he react?"

Request by anon || Thank you for the request!! I love it :) :)

First part is a bit of backstory, the rest is gonna be like how I write my headcanons.

---

Namor had always wondered who his soulmate would be. Maybe they were like him? Or maybe a surface dweller he was bound to meet sooner or later. He never knew his soulmate would be a vampire.

When you had met, he was forced to go on land. He'd had to make a deal with people from millennia ago that only resided on land. This was around the 1900's when partying was at it's peak and tales of vampires were passed around like old ghost stories.

Namor nears the 'meeting place', wanting to get the meeting over and done. He walks past an alleyway...then that's when he feels it. A feeling washes over him, one he has never felt before. So he decides to look down an alleway to see who, or what, is behind this.

That's when he sees someone crouched over, feeding on someone. It's hard to make everything out, as the alleyway is dimly lit, so he decides to approach.

He knows he should leave...but doesn't. Part of him wants to, but the other part is more interested in you, the person that's making him feel this way. 'they're a vampire' he thinks, moving closer. That's when he stops, having noticed you stop, then you turn to look at him.

Your bloodshot eyes staring into his, the cloak you wear covering part of your face. Confused, but more-so cautious, you wipe your mouth and stand, though you don't walk over to him.

"Who are you?"

Bringing your hand behind you, you grip onto the dagger in your back pocket.

"I mean you no harm." he holds up his hands, "...I am Namor. I am here simply for a meeting but I was...intrigued with you."

He's very straightforward, you note. Unsure still, you remain holding onto the dagger, ready to attack if he were to try anything.

"What are you doing here?”

He feels it again. This time, stronger, leaving him more puzzled.

That’s when you freeze, and you mimic the expression he holds. The cogs in your brain start going together, until it clicks, and the words that should come out, don’t.

For Namor, it takes a bit longer to click for him. When it does, he’s left speechless, only able to stare at you with disbelief.

They’re my soulmate?

He’s my soulmate?

Skip to now, and you’re living + married to him.

-As you're underwater, it's hard to die from the sun. Though he still does block out the windows to make sure.

-Finds ways for you to feed:

If you don't feed on humans anymore, then he'll get you animals to feed on. Or whatever you usually need to feed.

If you do still feed on humans, he'll take you out whenever you need to eat.

-As you only sleep during the day, you're up during the night. During this time you'll usually occupy your time.

-You like watching Namor as he sleeps. Not in a creepy way, more in a protective way.

-For so long you’d wondered about your soulmate.

-People could only dream of meeting theirs, though some have never been able to. So you’re beyond happy that you’re one of the ones who found theirs.

-As he can sleep, you wonder what it's like. It's been so long since you've slept, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss it sometimes.

-Plus being awake when he isn't means warning him if anything were to happen.

There was one time when you had nearly killed Namor.

-You had been infected with something that made you feral. When Namor had tried to help you, you'd thrown him against the wall.

-It wasn't until you were 'cured' and fully snapped back to reality that you spent so long hating yourself.

Even though he let you know that it wasn't your fault.

-Namor had made you a new coffin when you moved there.

-You'd told him you hadn't had the chance to fix yours up, as it had been kind of falling apart, so he came up with the idea to make you a new one.

-The coffin is one of your favorite things now.

-You know you'll be together for a while, as Namor ages slow, while you are immortal. However as you are immortal [unless you were to be killed] you worry a lot about being alone once he's gone.

-You're grateful for the time you do have together, though.

-It feels as if you’ve known eachother longer than you have. Which you find fitting.

-Everything is just perfect, just fits right. The universe had brought you to one another, decided that it was time for you both to meet.

-You can never describe how lucky you are to have found your soulmate.

-K’uk’ulkan loves that despite everything, you have continued to be with him. To love him. As nothing else matters, as he knows that your his person.

-You love that you have found your person. Through everything, through the many years of being alive, you have someone- your soulmate- who just means the world.

-Means more than you can comprehend

-Namor never thought he could love anyone so intensely, until you.

Oh how you feel the same for him.

#namor #namor x reader #tenoch huerta #wakanda forever

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mimine666 · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Would you be willing to write something with the prompt

‘Well…you grabbed my hand first’ from the prompt list? It’s up to you for who you write it.

Thank you, hope you have a nice day!

of course I am ! Thank you for asking !!

They were walking on the beach, letting the quietness wash over them. It had been a few hard days.

Each and everyone of them reacted differently to each case. Amy was particularly moved by feminicides and rapes. Provenza needed for the crime to make sense : greed, lust, whatever but it had to mean something. For Andy and her, it was children.

Maybe because they were both parents or it was just their sensitivity. They both had been greatly disturbed by Alice’s murder and maybe even more by the lack of empathy of her former employer.

They needed to wash the day over and move on. So they did what they usually did in cases like that. They went out to eat together, spoke about their kids, their memories from back when they lived in the East Coast, they just talked about everything and anything. Once they finished eating neither of them felt like going back home so they decided for a walk. They let their feet lead them and soon they found themself walking shoeless in the sand. The sun was setting, the sky was dark and looming over them. No orange hues tonight, no, the sky matched their mood.

The crash of the waves was loud and overwhelming. They couldn’t talk if they wanted to. Instead they keep walking, side by side, lost in their closeness and their thoughts. The wind blew and Sharon’s hair was sent all over her face. She meant to move her right hand to shove it away but noticed at that moment that Andy and her were holding hands. She looked at him, inquisitive and saw him shrug. “Well… You grabbed my hand first.”

She knew she should have overthink it, analyzed it, and been more cautious. No, she shrugged too, arranged her hair and grabbed his hand back.

—---------------------------------------------------

The atmosphere was pleasant, convivial, even jovial. It wasn’t that often that they had to deal with “only” robbery. No murder, no kidnapping, just a good old theft. Sure it was Queen Elizabeth’s crown but a theft was a theft. The stakes were both very high and very low, leading to a very peculiar atmosphere in the murder room.

Sharon was listening to Tao’s explanation, trying very hard not to let her mind drift. She might not have succeeded as she felt all pairs of eyes on her, no one was talking anymore. She cast them an inquisitive look, wondering what she missed when she noticed they were all looking at the same point, somewhere near her right hip. As her eyes moved down, she heard Provenza’s “Yeee Gods, it’s not enough to know that you’re together, now you have to hold hands here.”

It finally registered in her mind: the pleasant sensation she was concentrating on, instead of Mike’s word, was Andy caressing the back of her hand with his thumb, like they did when alone. She pulled her hand abruptly away, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

“What?!” He said, defensive. “You grabbed my hand first!” She couldn’t help but laugh at his very Andy justification.

—---------------------------------------------------

Since the shooting, she felt.. she felt.. It was hard to describe. The good word might be reckless. She didn’t care anymore about anything.

No it wasn’t true. She was worried sick about her children, much more than usual. She had deep concerns for Andy’s health and couldn't bear the idea of anything happening to him, that thought was enough to trigger a panic attack. She was unwell. She had always been someone very anxious, with trouble sleeping but since it happened, it was incredibly worse. The only thing, weirdly, that didn’t cause her any anxiety was her job.

She was… fed up about politics? Not invested Having enough proved herself for a lifetime? Finally entitled to a little happiness? She just wanted to do her job in peace and was about to quit at the slightest irritation. If Winnie Davis wanted trouble, she would not find it. She would receive a resignation letter. Sharon was done. She neither had the motivation nor the energy to deal with it.

But here she was, at the LAPD annual charity ball, trying to enjoy herself. Andy had insisted they arrived separately, not to rise suspicious. Well, fuck suspicion.

She went to him, grabbed his hand and let him to the dancefloor. Everyone could think what they wanted, he was hers and she wasn’t afraid of showing it anymore.

#fanfiction #andy flynn #shandy #sharon raydor #fall season #autumn #fic prompt

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silver-heller · 2 years ago

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Huh, there's a note on this computer...

See Carrd for more info.

Call me havoc. (5'0" and in 20s). From top left to right: Regular form (#havoc🎭), demon form (#baggiezombie🔩), Katamari form (#havocboo👻), music form (#dododo🎧), villain form (#wherethethornsaintfake🌹), and, finally, my Night Vale S/I Worden (#isee👁️).

I'm 21 and this is an 18+ blog.

Selfshipping and D.I.D blog (@kittenandmuse)

I'm new to this whole thing so be nice to me, please.

Idc if you have the same F/Os as mine.

Will not be posting smut.

Any adult x minor shippers will be punted into the sun.

Their Verse

My Fanfic Writing

Havoc's Phone

F/Os below

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)

S/I Version: Demon

Type: Romantic Pronouns: He/him Age: 26 Height: 7'0"

Orientation: Asexual demiromantic Met: When asked if I could pet his head as part of a deal.

An overlord in Hell, known as the radio demon. Known for making deals with others and toppling overlords.

Daisuke Kambe (The Millionaire Detective: Balance Unlimited)

@daisukebriefcollector

S/I Version: Normal

Type: Romantic Pronouns: He/him Age: 26 Height: 5'6"

Orientation: Demisexual Homosexual homoromantic Met: Almost being thrown off a bridge.

Member of the Modern Crime Prevention Task Force and uses modern and questionable means to solve his cases. Often getting into trouble and having to calculate his way out of it.

Izaya Orihara (Durarara)

S/I Version: Normal

Type: Romantic Pronouns: He/she/they Age: 24 Height: 5'9"

Orientation: Asexual demiromantic biromantic Met: Was recommended to him for information.

The mysterious info broker of Ikebukuro, known for pulling the strings and acting as "God". Is more himself online and struggles to have any friends.

Percival de Rolo (Vox Machina)

S/I Version: Monster/normal

Type: Romantic Pronouns: He/him Age: 23 Height: 6'0"

Orientation: Asexual biromantic Met: Brought into the party when my village was destroyed. Water mage.

The brains of Vox Machina (sometimes). With a royal title at his back, he is doing his best to move on and make the life he wants for himself. A bit of a nerd and a clumsy dork.

Celty Sturluson (Durarara)

S/I Version: Normal/monster

Type: Platonic (older sister) Pronouns: She/her Age: Mentally in her late 20s Height: 5'8"

Orientation: Bisexual biromantic Met: Saved by goons.

Celty, also known as the black rider, is a mysterious urban legend that rides the streets of Ikebukuro. Is truthfully a Dullahan who came to this city in the search for her head.

Jinx (Arcane)

S/I Version: Normal/villain

Type: Platonic (close friends/sisters) Pronouns: She/her Age: 19 Height: 5'4"

Orientation: Asexual biromantic Met: Found abandoned on the street.

Sister of Vi. Adopted by Silco later in life and works with his goons. Known for causing chaos wherever she goes.

Alucard (Castlevania)

S/I Version: Monster

Type: Queerplatonic Pronouns: He/they Age: 20 Height: 5'11"

Orientation: Bisexual biromantic Met: Wondered onto his castle one day.

Son of Dracula, and lives in his old castle. Not known for being very friendly to strangers, and a bit paranoid.

Kaoru Sakurayashiki Aka Cherry (SK8)

S/I Version: Normal

Type: Romantic Pronouns: He/they Age: 26 Height: 5'9"

Orientation: Bisexual biromantic Met: Taught some skating moves when saw him attempting it in the park.

One of the members of an underground skateboarding rink. Is a calligrapher as his full time career, and keeps his other identity as "Cherry" under wraps.

Chane Laforet (Baccano)

S/I Version: Normal/villain

Type: Romantic Pronouns: She/her Age: 20 Height: 5'8"

Orientation: Bisexual biromantic Met: Saved when almost fell off a train.

A secret agency who had her voice removed so she could no longer tell any secrets. Extremely cautious and perspective.

Rachel (Baccano)

S/I Version: Normal/villain

Type: Romantic Pronouns: They/them Age: 20 Height: 5'9"

Orientation: Bisexual biromantic Met: Found hiding at a train station after almost fell.

An undercover spy working to clear her father's name. Tries to stay out of the spotlight but sees it all.

Westley Vuk (Wyldeflowers)

S/I Version: Normal/monster

Type: Romantic Pronouns: He/him Age: 25 Height: 6'0"

Orientation: Bisexual biromantic Met: Met when accidentally fell into the other world.

The owner of a bookshop in a magical world. Secretly a werewolf, and fighting to accept himself.

(SPOILERS!!!) Miles Upshur (Outlast)

S/I Version: Normal/monster

Type: Romantic Pronouns: He/him Age: 24 Height: 6'1"

Orientation: Homosexual homoromantic Met: Met at the old outskirts of the asylum.

A journalist who went into Mount Massive Asylum after hearing about their unethical practices in an email from one of the employees. He never came out and is now the Walrider.

Viktor (Arcane)

S/I Version: Normal

Type: Romantic Pronouns: He/him Age: 25 Height: 5'10"

Orientation: Asexual biromantic Met: Met on the bridge when Viktor was brainstorming.

Viktor is a scientist working to make magic work with science. Helped create a new energy source for the world but rarely got any credit.

Sypha Belnades (Castlevania)

S/I Version: Monster

Type: Romantic Pronouns: She/her Age: 24 Height: 5'8"

Orientation: Bisexual biromantic Met: Saved from a Hell beast.

The mage of the group. Uses her magic to fight the monsters of Dracula and other vampires.

Damien Bloodmarch (Dream Daddy)

S/I Version: Normal

Type: Romantic Pronouns: He/him Age: 25 Height: 6'1"

Orientation: Asexual biromantic Met: At a local coffee shop they both frequent.

A gothic dad just trying to make his way in the world. Secretly a bit more soft than he lets on. Known for being quite poetic.

Senpai (Friday Night Funkin')

S/I Version: Music/monster

Type: Queerplatonic Pronouns: He/him Age: 18 Height: 5'9"

Orientation: Bisexual biromantic Met: Was working at the same coffee shop where Damien frequents.

A senior college student whose quite popular in his class. However, this has caused him to be a little spoiled, and he can get very ill-tempered when

Spirit (Friday Night Funkin')

S/I Version: Music/monster

Type: Romantic Pronouns: He/him Age: Adult being Height: ???

Orientation: Pansexual biromantic Met: Through Senpai.

The spirit haunting Senpai. Wants to steal the bodies of others to be freed.

Yuuki Anzai (Devils' Line)

S/I Version: Normal

Type: Romantic Pronouns: He/him Age: 21 Height: 5'9"

Orientation: Asexual biromantic Met: Being saved from a devil one late night.

A devil in the F squad, working on devil related crimes and dangerous. Unsure if there can ever be peace between devils and humans, but wants there to be.

Man In The Walls (Red Haze)

S/I Version: Villain

Type: Romantic Pronouns: He/him Age: Adult Height: Unknown

Orientation: Asexual omniromantic Met: When stayed in that apartment building and heard him in the walls, guiding her out.

A mysterious voice behind the walls of the apartment building, occasionally giving keys and other assistance. Has never been seen before, only heard.

Building 9 (Tales From Off-Peak City Vol 1.)

S/I Version: Normal/monster

Type: Platonic Pronouns: It/its Age: Adult Height: Unknown

Orientation: Bisexual biromantic Met: When delivering pizza with @mrslitmus.

A sad building that just wants a little pizza to cheer it up.

Carnival Attendant (Smile For Me)

S/I Version: Normal/Worden

Type: Queerplatonic Pronouns: He/it Age: Adult Height: Unknown

Orientation: Bisexual biromantic Met: Attending a strange carnival with Kevin.

A carnival attendant that encourages people not to be afraid of their smiles. Always trying to cheer humans up.

Kevin (Welcome To Desert Bluffs)

Picrew

S/I Version: Worden

Type: Romantic Pronouns: He/they Age: 20s or 30s Height: 5'9"

Orientation: Homosexual biromantic Met: Broke into his studio while being chased down by StrexCorp. He stopped them, invited Worden in as an honored guest, and let him take a nap on his lap to calm him down.

The host of a radio show covering the strange activity in Desert Bluffs, though wants to take over Night Vale as well. Known for being overly positive and encouraging others to smile wider.

Steve (Calico)

S/I Version: Music

Type: Romantic Pronouns: He/him Age: 20s Height: 5'9"

Orientation: Homosexual biromantic Met: While helping Steve with his potions and magic.

#cw undescribed #Spotify #tw gun #tw sword

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writer-realm · 2 years ago

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All throughout your childhood and teen years, your grandmother had always had a strange but very firm set of rules. Living out in the middle of the forest, almost a full days walk from town, naturally came with many dangers, all of which you had been taught how to handle at a young age. The rules your grandmother always stressed however, had always been different.

Rule one: Never answer any call or speak to anyone whilst outside of the house, even if it sounded like your grandmother.

Rule two: Never accept gifts from strangers you met in, or surrounding the forest, and always be cautious when accepting gifts whilst in town.

Rule three: Never leave the house without your iron dagger and iron wrist cuffs.

Rule four: Never leave the house or linger outside after the sun begins to set.

Rule five: Never answer the door, or calls from outside at night.

Rule six: Never stray from the path, no matter the circumstances.

Those rules, strange as they were, had been drilled into you since you were a child, your grandmother acting almost fanatic in her protection of you in your younger years. For a time, your grandmother had loosened her over protectiveness on you, allowing you some freedom as a young preteen and teen, though the rules always remained unchanging. You had used the opportunity to explore the town whenever you got the chance back then, something you had deeply enjoyed, even if the townsfolk did treat you a bit strangely.

Lately however, your grandmother seemed to have almost doubled her protectiveness of you, once again forcing you to stay where she could watch you, despite the fact that you were now an adult. It was stifling, but she was all that you had, and you refused to push her away just because she cared a little too much.

Today was one of the few days that she had relaxed her control a little, and you had rather eagerly taken the chance to go and spend some time out of the house, picking berries at a lovely little spot that was within one of your grandmother’s designated “safe zones”. Enamoured as you were, with the moment of peace, you almost didn’t notice as the sky began to turn pink with the setting of the sun.

With a pounding heart, you gathered up your basket and deftly dashed down the thin path, knowing the trail by heart. You knew if you were even a moment late, your grandmother would tighten her hold on you even more, something you really didn’t want to deal with.

You were only a few minutes away from the house, when you found yourself coming to a sudden stop.

Leaning against a tree up ahead, a tall figure was slumped, their shoulders rising and falling slowly and shakily with their breaths. Hesitantly, you started to move past them, only to freeze as you realised they were clutching a massive gash in their side, their fine clothing stained with their blood, and a trail of it leading from the direction you were headed.

Without thought, you fall to your knees before them, abandoning your basket as you tore off a section of your coat, carefully pressing it over the strangers wound. You were so intently focused on helping them stem the flow, that you never noticed as they flinched at the sight of your cuffs, only noticing as they began to lean back and away from you.

Letting out a soft sound of distress, you moved further forward Rule six, pressing your hand more firmly over the wound and ignoring the warmth of their blood quickly staining your hand.

Rule one “Please stay still, you need to keep pressure on it to stop the bleeding.”

Your voice timid and quiet as you spoke, eyes worried as you pressed more cloth over the wound, shifting closer still in your attempt to help. When no response came, you finally looked up, freezing when you found the stranger staring at you in awe and wonder, face no longer shielded by their long hair.

Your breath hitched as you took in the delicately pointed ears, their unnatural ethereal beauty, and the strange eyes that glowed softly in the dimming light Rule four. Entranced by the sight of them, you didn’t notice them moving until you felt their blood stained fingers ever so gently brushing over your cheek, as though to check if you were really there before them.

“….It’s you.”

You were surprised by their statement. What did they mean by it’s you? You couldn’t think about that now, this creature needed your help. You tell them to hold the cloth on the wound. Remembering how they backed away moments before, you take off your cuffs and roll up your coat sleeves and place your hands around the edge of the wound on the stranger’s side.

“Can you get home safely?” You ask the stranger who was still only staring at you. They looked down at their wound, seeming to be contemplating their answer to your question. They look back up at you and say,

“I don’t think I’ll be able to, is there anyway I could stay with-”

“No. Grandmother will kill you if I bring you to our home.” You didn’t want to sound harsh, but you knew that Grandmother would be absolutely furious if you brought a fae home. “Is there someone you could stay with who’s nearby here?” They looked at you, intrigued by your answer. They pondered your question, then responded.

“Yes, actually, just a few paces that way.”

Slight time skip

“My name is Cein, your royal highness.” You were stunned. You had helped him last night, but you don’t see what that has to do to make him call you “your royal highness”.

“Is this about last night on the path? I told you, it was no trouble.” He looked at you stunned, then seemed to look past you. You turned to see Elvy staring at you with eyes that were piercing blue, as if they were carved out of ice. That wasn’t their usual eye color though. You were used to seeing their eyes the color of deep green, like the forest trees. You know what this means. “You’re a fae? Or something else entirely?” You manage to say.

#original writing #the bulk of this was a writing prompt I saw forever ago on tumblr #my writing actually starts after It's You.#original work

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madeofconcept · 11 days ago

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It's February. A report. ☆

hi! how are you on the first day of the new month? i hope it feels as cozy and comforting as a warm cup of your favorite drink.

january seemed long for many, but it passed by so quickly for me. i kept myself busy with things like working out, buying a new shelf, rearranging another piano piece, finding joy in my work, and collecting cute things to keep me smiling. i was shocked when it was time to flip through the calendar, haha.

i’m genuinely surprised at my productivity, especially after feeling so down last year. i didn’t set any resolutions then, but now, i feel refreshed and ready to set small goals again. it’s nice to live with intention and just refine little parts of myself, not reinvent. reinventing sounds like changing too much, and while it's good, i don’t think i need that. i’ll just live as i am, gently growing in the right direction without losing my true self.

but of course, january wasn’t all sunshine. there were days i tried so hard to push away a growing sadness but ended up crying whenever i had the house to myself. at one point, i cried so hard that i had to listen to a calming voice on repeat to help me feel better. those moments didn’t feel good, but letting those emotions out was necessary to move on. eventually, i grew tired of this cycle and felt i had to do something.

that was my january. :>

now, it's february! valentine’s day is coming, which means lots of chocolate, among other things. i love dark chocolate, the kind that’s not too sweet and pairs perfectly with coffee! i guess it’s an age thing—when i was younger, i loved super sweet milk chocolate, but now even the smell of it makes my nose wrinkle.

if you're not into sweets, that’s okay too! you can still enjoy your favorite meals on the 14th. i wonder, though, if someone gives you chocolates for valentine’s day, would you eat them? would you take a bite, just for the occasion? hihi.

also, weather has been shifting between warm and cold lately. mornings are pretty chilly, but as soon as the sun rises, you can feel its familiar warmth on your back.

sometimes, it’s so hot that i can barely stay awake at work. i really want a nap! (i’ve been taking a lot lately.)

but on mornings when i’m out for coffee, i like to close my eyes and feel the sun on my face. it’s so nice, and it looks pretty in pictures too!

i love early mornings where there is very little movement, people still rubbing their half-sleepy eyes, but still making an effort to greet each other. "good morning, thank you," and all that.

the changing season brings various beautiful views, yet i can’t help but worry about catching a cold. some of my loved ones have been dealing with minor sore throats and coughs, so we have to be careful. when i came home and looked at my glasses, they seemed dirtier than usual.

fever can also come on quickly, so i recommend being cautious every day, even when you feel fine. i always take my vitamins, wear a mask when i go out, and keep pain relief medicine in my bag, just in case.

if you’re not careful, the temperature changes could make you sick, so take care of yourself! even if you don’t feel affected by the weather shifts, it’s always best to be prepared—wear glasses and masks and drink plenty of water. enjoy the season while staying healthy!

since february is short, i think it’s going to be a busy month. there will also be lots of hellos and goodbyes, so let’s be extra gentle with our feelings this time.

that’s all for now! take care and i’m looking forward to seeing you soon. with love 🍀

#diary #new month #open letter

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saratogaroadwrites · 1 year ago

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For King and Country (40/122)

For King and Country | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount: 280,466 characters: Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane, Aranella, Batu, Tani, Lofty, Leander Aristidies, Bracken Meadows relationships: Roland Crane & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Aranella & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane & Aranella, Batu & Tani, Batu & Evan, Tani & Evan, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Lofty, Rolander other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mother-Son Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Place Slowly Becomes Home People Slowly Become Family, Found Family, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

Pulled from his world by mysterious powers, former president Roland Crane finds himself caught in the middle of a coup meant to take the life of the young King Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum. Joining forces with Aranella, the pair of them set out to aid Evan in making his dream of a kingdom where everyone can live happily ever after a reality.

But the road to peace is a long and treacherous one and there is no promise of success in a world where darkness spreads ever thicker with each passing day. If they are to stand a chance, they must stand together, for king and for country.

(A retelling.)

“Is this really necessary?” Evan asked, peering at the deep pond just ahead of where he had planted his feet. The river that wound its way through Evermore was a gentle twisting stream, and the Greenlings had carved large bowls into the ground to collect the water as it flowed towards the sea. With a nearly nonexistent current, it was the best place to learn how to swim.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to! Stepping into the shallows of the river was one thing, and he’d take his baths without much protest, but swimming? Vaguely aware of how immature he sounded, he looked up at Roland.

“I mean, how often will I be swimming when we’re out at sea?”

“It’s not how often you’ll be swimming by choice,” Roland replied, pulling his hair into a low bun at the back of his skull. “It’s in case something happens and someone can’t get to you right away. I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’d rather you be able to tread water than not.”

That was a—fair point. Evan sank back. The stomach ache that he had been dealing with for days reared its ugly head, sharp and painful. He swallowed it back down as best he could.

“Yes, well…” he eyed the pond again. It was clear enough that he could see the bottom, the polished stones looking very slippery and so far down. He shivered. “What makes you think that something’s going to happen?”

“Nothing.” Roland shucked off his boots and arms band, leaving them on the bank. “It’s just a precaution. Better safe than sorry.”

It made sense, Evan thought. Even if Niall had sworn to them that the Ironbough trees were the strongest wood in the world, they were still just wood. A strong enough storm, or a monster, or a reef, or any number of things…Evan gulped. It made sense. Roland was probably right.

That didn’t mean he had to like it!

He hadn’t liked a lot of things recently. The thought was harder to push away than he liked and it sat heavy in his aching stomach as he bent to take off his slippers, pulling off his socks and stuffing them into his shoes. The mud squelched beneath his toes, warmed by the sun overhead that gleamed across the surface of his arms band. He watched as Roland stepped into the pond, cautiously making his way away from the edge until he stood chest deep in the water. Carefully, he turned around and extended a hand in Evan’s direction.

“Your turn,” he said. “Just take it one step at a time.”

Evan whimpered low in his throat. He really didn’t want to do this! But…was that a reason not to? Not wanting to do something didn’t mean you didn’t have to, and…well. He had to do this, too.

Taking a deep breath, Evan took a few cautious steps forward. The ground sloped down the closer he got to the water, and keeping his heels from slipping took all of his concentration. He steadied himself on his hands as he stepped into the pond, shivering. In spite of the sun, the water was cold! His tail drifted out behind him as he went deeper into the water, then deeper still until it was up to his chest.

One more step, and he wouldn’t have his feet on the ground anymore. He gulped and reached forward for Roland’s hand.

“H-have you done this before?” He asked. Roland shrugged one shoulder.

“Once,” he said. “With someone about your age, actually.” Taking Evan’s hands firmly in his, he took one step back. “Now, step forward. Kick your legs like you’re walking.”

“I…” Evan took a huge breath of air. The water was reaching for his shoulders now, tugging at the longest locks of his hair. There was still time to back out. He closed his eyes. “Alright.”

It was like stepping off the edge of a cliff. Well, not really. It was more like taking a step off of a staircase in the dark and not realizing there wasn’t another step beneath your foot until you stumbled. Evan lurched and nearly went under.

“Careful—” Roland tugged him back up. “You have to start kicking. Your body’s going to want to sink if you let it.”

He could tell! The unbalanced, floating feeling set Evan’s teeth on edge and he clung to Roland’s hand, kicking wildly beneath the surface. His toes barely skimmed the mud, and it was a fight just to maintain any sense of balance in the water. It was nothing at all like walking, that was for sure!

“That’s it,” Roland said after a minute or two had passed and Evan hadn't sunk. “Now, start using your arms.” He demonstrated with his free hand. Evan took another gulp of air, kicking harder to try and get his shoulders out of the water before he did the same. It actually seemed to be helping! He rose a little higher, able to get his chin to crest the surface. Roland smiled at him. “Good. Now—”

“Now I try on my own.” Evan said. Roland’s eyes widened.

“No, that’s not—”

Too late. Evan let go of Roland’s hand and started using both his arms to stay afloat, but the sudden loss of support caught him off guard and he slipped beneath the surface. Barely a second later, Roland hauled him back up. Evan coughed, sputtering.

“It’s okay, it’s okay—” Roland said, hauling him back towards the bank. “Just breathe. We can try again—”

“What’s the point?!” Evan yowled, yanking himself free the second he had mud beneath his feet again. He sloshed away towards the bank, hauling himself back onto dry land. “What’s the point of any of this?!”

There was no point to it. Not to the lessons, not to the voyage, nothing! People were always going to fight and there was nothing he could do about it! He hadn’t even been able to stop himself from being kidnapped out of his own home!

With a wet huff, Evan sat down hard and turned away from the river. Regret for his words washed over him, but it was too late to take them back. His stomach ache sharpened even as he pulled his knees up tight. He heard as Roland climbed out of the pond.

“This isn’t just about swimming lessons, is it?” Roland asked softly. Silently, Evan looked away. With a quiet sigh, Roland sat down in the mud beside him. “Whatever this is, you don’t have to handle it alone.”

“It’s stupid.” Evan said, voice muffled into his knees.

“It’s bothering you. That’s reason enough to talk about it.” He heard more than saw Roland lean forward. “Evan. You can talk to me.”

“I just…” He swallowed hard. “It’s…when Jack had me, he said…I…”

“You thought no one was coming after you?”

Evan shook his head. “I knew someone would come,” he said softly. It had been the one thing he had been sure of. “I just…” He swallowed hard, eyes burning. “Jack believed that Mausinger would reward him…what if…what if everyone else in Dell does, too? What if none of them…” The words caught in his throat.

He didn’t want to, but Evan had to face the idea that maybe, just maybe, no one in Dell would want to join a united nation with him at its helm. He didn’t want to make things so untenable for citizens of any nation and—

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Roland said gently. His hand came to rest on the back of Evan’s neck, thumb rubbing soothing circles. “Once we have something worth trading, we can open talks with Mausinger. If he’s half a good a king as he thinks he is, he’ll do what’s right for his people.”

“Even if that’s starting a war?” Evan asked in a small voice. How many Mousekind wanted his head on a pike? If Dell attacked them, then…he knew they would have to respond. The thought kept him up at night. He tightened his grip on his knees. “I don’t want to fight him, Roland…”

“I know,” Roland said. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think he wants to start a war, either. He would have done that already if that was what he was after.” Roland went silent for a moment, then asked in a soft voice, “I'm sorry I have to ask, but…would you be willing to trade the Mark of Kings? Give Mausinger what he wants in exchange for Dell signing the Declaration?”

Would he? Evan swallowed the immediate “no” that threatened to burst out of his throat. Squeezing his eyes tight, he actually thought about it. By blood, he still had claim to Dell. The crown of Dell had passed down his father’s line for hundreds of generations, and by birthright it was his. Mausinger had stolen that from him as obviously as he had stolen King Leonhard’s life, and he wanted it back.

Didn’t he? Did he really want to rule Dell when it was becoming so very obvious that half of his almost-subjects didn’t want him on the throne? He’d spoken to the Grimalkin that had made their way to Evermore, and it had become very obvious that tension between the two races had long since reached a boiling point. He didn’t know how to fix that, or even if he could. It wouldn’t be fair to retake a throne when he had no idea how to best lead the people it served.

Even so…the Mark was the last thing he had of his father. For that reason, he didn’t want to just let it go! But…if it could unite the nations, bring peace, then…

Heart aching, Evan nodded into his knees.

“If it would…end the fighting…” He whispered, “Yes. But only then.”

“Okay.” Roland said. He removed his hand from the back of Evan’s neck, only to slip an arm around his shoulders instead. Evan sniffled, leaning into Roland’s side. “Once we’re back from Hydropolis, I’ll start drafting an agreement.” He rubbed a hand up and down Evan’s arm. “We’ll figure this out, Evan.”

Evan nodded, reaching up with one hand to rub at his still burning eyes. Sniffling once more, he took a deep, shaky breath. It was the best they could do. Maybe someday it wouldn’t sting so badly.

“We should…” He swallowed the lump in his throat, and his pride. “We should probably try that lesson again.”

“When you’re ready,” Roland said, “We’ve still got time.”

How much time, neither could say. But, at least for now, there was peace.

It was as much as Evan could hope for at this point. Hopefully it would last.

#nnk2 #ni no kuni 2 #nnk2 fic #!fic #fic: for king and country

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xmalereader · 3 years ago

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Bruce Wayne X Male Reader

|| Masterlist ||

Authors note: Here is the Mafia AU! Hope you enjoy it! Tried to make it as spicy as I could but stuck with something simple a little bit fluffy, because we are just seeing Bruce being all happy and gooey for his sunshine husband who is a teacher! |(￣3￣)|

Request: Hi, can I request Male reader x Bruce Wayne Mafia au where reader is Bruce's Husband. Reader being a school teacher coming home to their manor/mansion before Bruce arrives from his "Mafia work" that reader doesn't know about since bruce hides it from him for some reason. Bruce comes home, very moody and angry because of work, reader trying to calm down his husband, then maybe he thinks of letting bruce use him (with consent of course) to let off steam👀 (so smut but its up to you if no details).

Warnings: Fluff, mafia AU, Bruce is a mob boss, husbands, reader is a sunshine, NSFW, 18+ only, mentions of oral, language, rough sex, consent, unprotected sex ( be safe in real life ), Bruce needs some stress relief, domestic house husbands.

Word count: 2.4K

Tags: @readerisobssessed

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Bruce Wayne is a patient man, but when something goes wrong he won’t hesitate to kill the persons who screwed up there deals. Everyone in Gotham knew who he was and what he did, everyone feared the man and shakes him respect if they didn’t want to get themselves killed. What surprised a lot of people about Bruce is his husband, Y/n.

The young man was brighter than the sun, opposite from Bruce. He was Gothams popular middle school teacher, educating young children and helping them learn. What surprised them the most was that his husband had no idea who Bruce was. The man was either oblivious or just refused to believe that his husband was one of the most dangerous men living in Gotham.

Bruce was also surprised when he learned about this. The first time he met his husband he expected him to freak out and run or to be cautious around him. But, instead he would smoky brightly at Bruce and give him kisses. The man would also bake whenever Bruce felt down and offered him cookies. Bruce immediately fell in love with the man, dating him and then marrying him after a year.

Due to Bruce being married to an adorable husband he couldn’t help but grow protective of him to the point where he hired bodyguards for his husband and to work under the school, keeping themselves hidden as they watched over Bruce Wayne’s husband bonding with the children. Bruce had planned to tell his husband about his job and who he really was, but was afraid to ruin their marriage.

The two understood each other so well that when Bruce arrived home angry and upset, his husband is able to feel his anger, causing him to raise a brow in question as he finished cleaning the kitchen that Alfred allowed him to use as long as he cleaned up his mess. He cleans his hands on the rag and take the fresh plate of cookies to the living room where he sees Bruce sitting back on the couch, tie loosened and head thrown back.

“Hi.” Y/n says, looking down at him as Bruce opened his eyes to stare up at his husband who was upside down. He gives him a soft smile in return. “Cookie?” He held one out to Bruce, holding it near his lips as Bruce takes a bite into it. Taking the cookie into his hand as he sat up properly.

Y/n sets the plate on the coffee table and sits next to Bruce. “From the way your acting and eating the cookie,” he starts while Bruce looked away angrily. “I’m guessing something went wrong at work?”

It didn’t go wrong, it went terrible. Bruce but his trust on a newbie and lost ten million, causing him to give the new guy a lesson and to be taught properly. “Don’t worry about it.” He sighs out, running his fingers in his hair and pushing it back. “I’ve got it handled, just stressed.”

Y/n frowns, moving closer to Bruce as he placed his hand on his shoulder. “Want me to run you a warm bath?” He offers, leaning to kiss his cheek and his neck.

Bruce sighs in relief, turning to face his husband and pulling him close. He was far too stressed and a warmth bath won’t relieve it, he shakes his head at the next thought. He wouldn’t use his husband as stress relief, no. He told himself from the very beginning that he would never use his husband.

“Bruce?”

“A bath sounds nice.” He responds back, smiling and kissing him softly on the lips. Which Y/n leans into, placing his hands on his shoulders as deeps the kiss, catching Bruce off guard as he crawls onto his lap, still kissing him and trialing his hands down his back.

Bruce moans against his lips, wrapping an arm around his back and pulling him close. He’s too focused on kissing his husband that he doesn’t feel him trail his hands down his chest and to his belt, until he hears him unbuckling it’s. Bruce is quick to pull away. “What—?”

“It’s okay.” Y/n hums out, smiling at him. “Let me help you.”

Bruce shakes his head, gripping his wrists. “I’m fine.”

His husband frowns. “No your not, your stressed and need to let it out.”

“Not on you.” Bruce bites back. It wasn’t the first time they’ve had sex, they’ve done it various times but bruce was always gentle with him and took care of him and this anger he felt, he wasn’t going to let it out on his husband. He couldn’t be rough with him and hurt him.

“Bruce.” Y/n’s voice becomes stern, shocking the Wayne. “I want this, I really do.” He whines out, grinning down against him. “Your always so nice and soft, but this lust I see in your eyes,” he bites his lip. “I want you to be rough, I know you want too.”

“No—“ bruce shakes his head.

“I know you want to bend me over, fuck me against the coffee table. Maybe even against our bedroom door.” He whispers against Bruce’s ear. “I want to feel you deep inside of me, fucking me hard while scream your name. I want to feel you the next day.” He takes Bruce’s hand and placed it against his hard on, surprising him.

Bruce swallows nervously as he looks up to his husband. Y/n held pleading eyes full of lust as he grinds up against his hands as bruce groans. Whatever happened to his sunshine husband? The man who would smile brightly and teach young kids new things everyday?

“Bruce.”

Bruce’s attention is back on his husband. “Please.” Bruce snarled and shoved his mouth over Y/n’s, pushing his tongue ruthlessly in passed his teeth and sucking and flicking about him. The wet noises of their kissing filled the room and Y/n gave a little whimper as he reached up to tug at Bruce’s hair. Bruce’s larger hands went down and cupped at Y/n’s cheeks, gripping them tight before he massaged them open and shut and then gripped them again. His lover moaned, pleased with the attention.

They pulled apart for air, Y/n nipping at Bruce’s lips, before he started to fumble with Wayne’s tie, removing it completely and throwing it aside. Bruce smirks at him before coming to a stand, hearing his husband gasp in surprise as he kept his legs around his waist and carried him back to their bedroom for some privacy and where he throws him back on their large bed.

Y/n giggled as he flops down on the bed while Bruce worked on removing his button down, fumbling with the last button as he slips it off quickly, exposing his pale chest, scars littered his chest as Y/n roamed his hands over his broad chest. “Your body is beautiful.” He hums out, leaning up to place a kiss on his chest.

“So is yours and I want to see it. Get out of those clothes.” Bruce reached down to pull in his husband a belt buckle, lifting him up the bed a bit and pushing him back while he chuckles.

Y/n grins, struggling with his sweater and pulling it off while Bruce worked on his belt buckle, harshly pulling it out from a round his waist and startling his husband. “Bruce.” He whines out.

“I can buy you a new belt.” Bruce leans forward to place a kiss on his face, unbuttoning his pants and zipper and helping him shimmy out of them. Y/n bites his lip, moving his hips to remove his pants to reveal himself half naked, boxers still on but his hard on is now more visible.

Bruce eyes widen as he stares down at his beautiful husband. “Fuck.”

Y/n’s fave turns red as he slowly sits up, reaching out to trace his fingers temptingly and pressed them into the hem of Bruce’s pants. “Love, please…please put this inside me.”

Bruce growled and undid his pants and pushed them off quickly. “Shouldn’t you be a little slow? Enjoy it?” Y/n teased and kissed him again. “Your a tease and you’ll always be one.” Bruce tugs on his husbands boxers, a loud rip of fabric startles Y/n.

“Bruce!”

He looks at his destroyed boxers.

“Seriously?”

“Don’t worry darling, you married a rich man. I can buy you new ones.” Bruce mouths at his neck as Y/n’s goes red, looking away in shyness. Bruce’s eyes look up to his husband and chuckles at how his husband went from hungry lust to a shy Angel.

“Y/n.” He breaths out. “I want you.”

“I want you…want you in me.” Y/n turns back to face Bruce, reaching up to nibble under his jaw. “Please, tell me how you want me.”

“All fours.”

Y/n released a weak noise, “Fuck, yeah okay.” He moved over to their bed, crawling over on it. “I…uhm…”

Bruce’s smirk widens. “Put your shoulder down against the bed.” When his husband didn’t move quick enough he grabbed the back of his neck and pushed him down the mattress. “Just like that.”

“Bruce.” Y/n whimpered.

“Stay.” Bruce stood back and grinned at the beautiful sight. “Fuck, look at you.”

“Bruce, please.” Y/n loves over his shoulder. Bruce smiled, licking his lips hungrily and reached over to open his beloved up. “Y/n…” His fingers reached over to stroke over the hole, playing over the rim, purring to himself as it twitched. Y/n felt bruce shift behind him and then Y/n lunged forward in surprise, eyes flying open wide when Bruce’s tongue was pushed mercilessly into him. “Bruce!” He gasped out.

Bruces mouth was a bit occupied so he just hummed back and Y/n yelped again. This was new. Bruce had eaten him out a few times but not so deeply nor aggressively before. He could feel his nose pressed up against him as he fed into Y/n like he was starving. “Oh, Bruce!” He shrieked out. He knows that they’ve gone this aggressive or rough before and he gave Bruce his permission to do so, and he was enjoying it.

“Can’t—I’m gonna—!” He screamed as he came untouched into the mattress beneath him. He groaned, upper body falling weakly into the softness as he lower form began to join before Bruces firm hands grasped him and held him in place. “Now that your relaxed, we should be able to move to the next step.” Bruce licked his lips and sat up.

“Deep breaths.” Bruce whispers as his only warning before his thick, dripping head popped into Y/n and before his husband could catch his breath he gave a rough thrust. “Bruce!” Y/n squeals, his hands gripping the end sheets as he bites into the pillows beneath him. His breathing become heavily but is quick to calm himself. Bruce groans as he started pounding. His husband giving off moans between thrusts, growing louder each time he slammed into him. With each frantic thrust, Bruce looked down at Y/n’s gorgeous ass, watching it bounce with each thrust.

“Bruce—fuck, harder!” Y/n throws his head back, eyes glossy from the intense pleasure. All this time whenever Bruce was soft with him he enjoyed the small gestures and the amount of times that Bruce was gentle with him. But this whole new side of Bruce and the frantic fucking he was giving him was something he was enjoying. He loved this side of his husband as he fucked him into their mattress.

“You want to come?” Bruce questions and pulling back, causing his husband to whine at the lose before he’s lifted up and pressed up against his chest. His back to him while Bruce slammed back down into him.

Y/n sobbed as he bounced back against Bruce. “Yes! Please I want to come, let me come!” He pleads out between moans and whimpers while Bruce reached down to wrap his fingers around him, jerking him off as Y/n gasps. It was too much for him, he felt like he was going to explode.

“Does my good boy want to come?” Bruce grunts out against his neck, licking and biting down. “Yes! Yes! Let me come let me come!”

Bruce smirks at his husband. “That’s it,” he threw his head back and practically moans out loudly as Y/n clamped around him, squeezing tight. The two coming together, y/n gripping Bruce’s wrist and whining out. When he came back to himself he was still pumping Y/n with his seed and he moaned, the heat and squelching noise was delightful. It was the best orgasm he had ever had.

Y/n was panting softly as he leans back against Bruce who gently and slowly pulls out, lying him back down on the bed as he kissed the back of his neck and back. “Easy.” He hears Bruce whisper to him as he turns him around my slowly to see Y/n smiling.

“That was new.” Y/n says with a chuckle as Bruce chuckles in return, leaning down to capture his lips into a soft kiss. “Let me clean you up.” He mumbled against his lips as Y/n nods tiredly, watching Bruce pull away and head towards their bathroom where he grabs a wet rag to clean up their mess, his husbands eyes closing slowly and tired.

Bruce smiles, tossing the rag in the hamper and covering Y/n up with the blankets as he crawled next to his side, holding him close to his chest as he kissed the top of his head. Y/n groaning and shifting around to snuggling up to his chest. The Wayne sighs to himself as he keeps his arms wrapped around his husband as the two slept the day away.

When morning came, Bruce is awoken by the sound of his husbands phone ringing. The billionaire groans, shifting to the other side as he reached down on their discarded clothes, fishing out Y/n’s phone as he answers.

“Hello?”

“Oh! Hello? Is Y/n there by any chance? My name is Stephan, from Gothams middle school office. We were wondering if Y/n would be coming in today?”

Bruce glanced at the clock that hung on their bedroom wall. Y/n was suppose to be teaching today and he was an hour late. He looks over his shoulder to see y/n still asleep, peacefully and comfortable.

Bruce smiles and clears his throat. “Im sorry but Y/n won��t be able to make it in today, he is sick at the moment and should get better later on.” He informs to the man on the other side of the phone before hanging up and tossing the phone aside, crawling back under the sheets and hugging Y/n close as he chuckles to himself.

#male reader #batman #batman x male reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x male reader #dc x male reader #dc #robert battinson #robert patterson #the batman #batman 2022

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asstrolo · 4 years ago

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explaining the moon signs; i didn’t even remember i made this lol

(if you wanna know your moon sign do your chart on astro.com , it’s the most accurate!)

moon in aries: the childlike, their responses are rushed by their emotions and their emotions change drastically, incredible creative and talented, aggressive in both bad and good ways; they have initiative, they love so much and are unconditionally supportive of their loved ones, they usually have a really good style and look good even in the most casual outfits, it’s because they love so much they tend to stay in toxic relationships, depending on what other signs are on their charts, they tend to leave those situations to focus on themselves, after all the most important person is themselves, it can make them as much of a narcissist as it can make them self-sufficient and natural born leaders, they need to look more around them or they’ll get lost in their reflection

moon in taurus: a natural caretaker, the friend to call when you want to relax, they have a homey presence, they might have a calming voice or a more quiet way of approaching, they are materialistic, they cannot help but want to protect things they worked so hard to buy, as one would except they can be very possessive in their relationships of any kind, they might even treat their partners as objects that hey want to protect and take care of, they are very patient, not more than a sun in taurus, but as a sun in taurus they can get really defensive out of nowhere, feel hurted by things for no reason and make a big deal about it, but only in private, for they want to look completely different in public, as a Venus dominant, they like to be gracious and classy, seem calm and collected, one of the flaws they have is to be really lazy, they have certain routines and they like to follow them, they can get caught up in money, they need to learn to not be so dependable of material objects as if that’ll show that their life is good

moon in gemini: the crazy genius, a revolutionary person, an inspiring, independent being, ones that people look up to, or so they’d like to think, this moon lives in a constant state of delusion between their projects and how quickly they move from anything, it’s hard for them to keep a promise because they’re always changing, most of the time they don’t even realize they’re doing it, they like books, more so, they like to know things, even more, they like to know everything, they are completely drawn by their morals and idea of the world, even if idealistic and naive, they follow them, it’s really difficult for them to look at the mirror and define one thing, they like to keep an open mind in everything, but they tend to think they know better, think they’re superior, better, more interesting, they want the smartest friends, but not smarter than them, they tend to copy other’s people personalities if they admire them (just like gemini risings) they don’t realize about this either, they need to speak their mind all the time, if they don’t, they feel really restricted and imprisoned, they won’t like that, so they run off, they like gossips, they need to learn to think before they speak and to stop interrupting people when they talk

moon in cancer: the sentimentalist, here the sign is in it’s original planet, that is good, with that said, they are dramatic people, they feel every emotion, people with this moon need to write down their feelings or else they’ll feel very suffocated by them, they’re empaths, they put themselves in others shoes, they have a way with words because they’re so good at naming all their emotions, they tend to dramatize situations, they live in the past, for them is really difficult to let go of things, specially people, because they know they remember everything and the memories always haunt them, as anyone would expect they know how to take care of people, they have a strong intuition that tells them if a person needs help, they like being at home a lot, they like sleeping even more, it’s very common for them to not sleep at night because they feel very attracted to the moon and their creativity is better at night, they might really like painting and music, these people, even if they’re extroverted, might feel overwhelmed by people, because they feel people’s energies very deeply and need to recharge from time to time, they need to learn to not look for someone to save or save them and do that for themselves instead

moon in leo: the performer, they live in a movie, in the stage, they tend to dramatize their responses and their emotions towards everything even if it does not involve them, they pull off a good part on being the positive friend even when sad, they see things from a very self-centered way, meaning they only see their own point of view, always tries to understand their loved ones emotions by putting themselves in their shoes, that’s why they always talk about personal experience, because that is their way of empathizing with others, some of these tend to stay in unhealthy situations for the sake of not being disliked by the other person, they like to be liked more than anything, as any other fire moon, they hold a lot of creativity that needs to be constantly explored for them to feel better, these moon signs tend to put a façade of innocence a lot, they can victimize and not even realize it, might even cry out of exhaustion for their own emotions, if encountered by someone who is prettier in looks they might get defensive and jealous, but they won’t say it, they’ll be passive-aggressive towards it, they are constantly looking for artistic ways or words to cheer their friends up, because they’re so fond of all of their relationships and are so transparent with them, they want that back, these people are naturally good at anything for arts, specially acting, they can see other’s emotions and act them out, however these people need to learn to be more self-aware and to not get defensive when it comes to criticism

moon in virgo: a helping micromanager, these people are very self-disciplined, mature and resilient, as much as the are neurotic, and nihilistic and go through dozens of existencial crisis, they tend to be very cold, because their way of showing love comes from being helpful in tasks rather than in emotional support, they question everything, all the time, they question themselves and they question the universe, can appear paranoid about certain stuff, like the leo moon, they like to perform, put on a mask, make it seem like they have everything in control, when put in a lot of stress they might run off, they like to be seen when they feel like it, have a very Hermit way of living for those around them, they enjoy their time alone because that’s when they allow their minds to be at peace, but even there they’re overthinking, this moon is one of those that might have a simple and calm way of living, but in their minds there’s always chaos, always thinking about what comes next, how to make something better, how to go faster, smarter, how to improve social skills while still maintain their alone time sacred to them, because they never rest mentally, they are prone to anxiety, to not see the good things that life has to offer to them if they just stopped over analyzing things around them, they are very good friends, because they think the definitive show of affection is helping their loved ones to organize their life is because they take care of people, and they like doing so, might get taken advantage of this, they’re really, really smart and sharp, they know how to use their words and can manipulate a situation if they’re willing to, if they think it requires that, they like their own space without changes and usually keep things the same for a very long time, they need to learn to let go of things they cannot control and to give time to themselves

moon in libra: the mediator, people with this moon tend to be shallow, victimize themselves and hypocrites, they’re usually torn between who they are and who they want to be, and who they pretend to be most of the times, gemini moons get the reputation of being “two-faced” but in honesty, libra moons might as well fight for that tittle too, they’re not the most ambitious moon sign, they look into superficial things to be happy, friendships are very important to them, might keep a toxic friend or a toxic ex as friends because they do not know how to say no, they might have strong opinions of injustice that they brought up depending on the person, if it’s a friend or someone they want to impress that have different views these might not say anything, just let it pass, but if they don’t care about the person’s acceptance then they will show their points of view, no matter how different from others it is, these cannot keep a secret for too long, like any other air sign, likes to gossip to, they do have an open mind, they like to see a situation from all angles before making a serious statement, but halfway through it they might change their mind again, reconsidering things, that is why people sees them as hypocrites, also the fact that they can’t keep their promises, they’re not good at that, have an eye for aesthetically pleasing things, their friends might even ask them for advice on decor, they need to learn to make up their mind and not speak too quickly before setting something, and to own up to their mistakes

moon in scorpio: the secretive feeler, a dark enigma, the moon in scorpio it’s very intense, because it’s in detriment here, that makes it even harder for these individuals to talk about their feelings without getting frustrated or a little bit uncomfortable, they are so cautious and secretive about everything they do, not only their feelings, as anyone would have guessed, they are very protective of their own personal space, it takes them so much to trust someone that they might regret having done so, they get easily offended, never have their guard down and can become really self-destructive, sabotage themselves, they have a very enigmatic aura that they might not even know about, they like spirituality, they’re very drawn to those type of things, can become very controlling of people around them and micromanage their loved ones without realizing it, they have very demanding presences, they can be as charming as they can be scary, people with this moon can appear sometimes an earth sign even if they don't have anything of that in their chart, they're also very intuitive people but it's hard for them to follow that intuition, it can appear very strongly around strangers, they might know what kind of person they're dealing with only by looking at them, they also like to keep on check about everything their loved ones are doing, ask them how they are, might come off as kinda clingy, but they like to know how people around them are doing and see if they can be of help for them, they’re good at twisting other peoples words and they know how to manipulate, for good or bad intentions, they need to let their guards down and accept help from others, not everything is black and white.

moon in sagittarius: the eternal kid at heart, they are ambitious but lose interest as soon as they're not passionate about it anymore, they are deep thinkers but can be very on their own beliefs, it's because they are so passionate about these beliefs and ideas that they can come off as stubborn, they are so pure, like a kid, and like a kid this moon might have moments of feeling very misunderstood, some of them wear their hearts on their sleeve and can actually be super honest, without even realizing, they like questioning everything as well as standing up for what they think it's right, as any other fire moon, these people are creative, they are very positive people, they light up a whole room just for how they are and how they present themselves, however, they crave love and affection, can be too into their own ways and get easily frustrated if others don't have the same idealistic thoughts as them, their ideas are important to them that it's why they can come off as delusional or "hitting on a dead horse" when it comes to these, they need to learn to be more patient and to listen to others opinions before forming one of their own, just based off of what they've seen, they don't know or don't want to be held accountable for the damages they might have done, that's why they are irresponsible at times, these kind of people were meant to inspire others, they just have a way of making you feel passionate about their work and what they like, however they need to learn to not just jump the gut, take a step back and think the situations a little bit more, don't be so stubborn and accept other points of view.

moon in capricorn: a fatherless figure, this might come off too strong, or ironic since they're seen as a parental figure in the zodiac most of the time, this moon can have trouble directly with the family, since childhood, actually, they just don't have a very normal family life unlike all of their friends, they attract people a lot of the times without not doing anything, they tend to be very laid-back and chill when you first meet them or have this aura of tranquility, like any other earth moon, they're very sarcastic and good at reading people, they're witty and can be very funny at times, even if they have a lot of friends these moon signs often feel very lonely, that's just how they are, their emotions are very contradictory all the time, since this moon is in detriment here all of the emotions are to be avoided or bottle up, they are very helpful, selfless people because they know what it's like to feel misunderstood at first hand, they wouldn't want anybody to feel that way, they can be malicious or manipulative, like a cancer moon, thinking it's for a greater good, they don't see themselves in a good light, this moon often has what it's called the impostor syndrome, they think they're not deserve of what they have or what they want to have, they need to learn to be more self-confident and follow their heart more than their minds all the time, let go of past childhood trauma to live without any baggage.

moon in aquarius: the misunderstood artist, these people are ought to be different and unique and one of a kind, and they are, they truly are, but this uniqueness they try so hard to keep might isolate them from others, this moon it's pioneer of great, creative ideas only an aquarius moon would have, they're so refreshing and they just get you, aside from the conspiracies and the aliens they're so very smart, but they don't posses that emotional intelligence they'd like to have, as figures these people can come off as too cold, detached from the world and a lone wolf, they like doing things on their own but when it comes to having time for yourself and completely isolating yourself they don't know how to draw the line, the way they view the world to themselves it's "the right way", think very highly of themselves or their way of thinking, might be a very cynical person, but they're very humanitarian as well, as a Libra moon, they do not tolerate injustice and are not afraid to talk and make a change, these people usually make a huge change in others environments, even without realizing it, as great and unique as they are, they need to learn to talk more to people, not think they're alone or that nobody gets them, they need to connect with their emotions and only then they'll see a real change from within.

moon in pisces: The "feeling all the feelings", this moon is authentically one of the most difficult to deal with, alongside Capricorn and Scorpio, if so they are very connected to their emotions, they might be too connected to them, this kind of people are highly sensitive and deal with a lot of the feels all the time, they like art, something related to music most likely and have a special connection with water, they come off as oblivious, and they most likely are, but they're also very wise, they just don't know yet how to balance both things, people might see them as a person who's not too much but not too little, they're very reserved and like their privacy, very ambiguous personality in general, one might wonder what they think about all the time, tendency to hide or escape from anxious or tense situations, they need peace, they might avoid conflict to a unhealthy degree where they don't speak up just to not cause a dispute, deals with low self-esteem or one that's changing a lot, they confuse themselves because their minds are confusing and there's a lot going on at once, they do victimize a lot, they might or might not have a distorted way of seeing or thinking, while they have a big heart and are good people, they can come off as very victimizing people, manipulate you into petty them so you would do something for them, some acknowledge this, some don't, if they find a healthy way of dealing with their emotions they can not only help themselves but people around them too, after all they are big empaths, they have a special way to talk and connect with people, they need to learn to not victimize themselves every time they feel pressure and to control a little bit more their emotions

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ossonee777 · 4 years ago

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Moon through the houses

Moon in the first house: Your feelings are right out there for everyone to see, and you can come across as emotional and impatient, or nurturing and caring (or both). You need emotional stimulation, movement, and freedom to express yourself in order to feel happy and fulfilled. They may try to hide their emotions, but it is difficult. They are on display. First-house moon people are cautious in their interactions and always on guard for fear of getting hurt. Forget about pleasing everyone (it can't be done) and instead focus on doing your best. Develop self-confidence and the courage to be different and don't let it get to you. You can be very sensitive to your environment so do not go to places that might bring up ill feelings or bad memories in you. Your sub-conscious is probably very strong and sometimes quite unmanageable.

Moon in the second house: A constant worry about money and keeping the security it provides is common with a second-house moon. If money is plentiful, the chart holder may easily become complacent until the money dwindles causing a cycle of comfort and worry. Financial security is necessary for a person with their moon in their second house. You tend to hold back and wait before expressing yourself, and when you do it is with deliberation.

Moon in the third house: You are very responsive, communicative, and curious. You can have a talent for imitating others and/or for picking up languages. A third house-moon is at ease with learning and finds it comforting. Like the third-house sun, early schooling is a central issue whether it is positive or negative. This position also inclines a person to communicate their feelings and lends an ability to explain their feelings clearly. it gives a bit of detachment to the moon's emotions because it ads an intellectualism.

Moon in the fourth house: You long for a sense of true belonging, but you may be quite restless in your search. You might change residence frequently, or simply feel the need to make many changes in your home. Home and family are paramount for fourth-house moons as they look to home and family as their sanctuary in the world. Interacting with family members is serious business for fourth-house moons and any disagreements or disputes are taken to heart. Their heritage is experienced on a feeling level rather than as something they learn about as they mature.

Moon in the fifth house: There is a constant need to find ways of expressing themselves. With the moon, there is always a need to fulfill the desires of the house in which it falls, which is so deep it is often unconscious. In the fifth house of self-expression, art, music, performing, home decorating, fashion, dating, and bearing children are examples of activities that fill the need, but the list is endless. Many people with a fifth-house moon are able to express themselves genuinely, and they are satisfied. Easily flowing from one creative endeavor to the next, they feel comfortable with who they are. Romance is second nature rather than awkward.

Moon in the sixth house: With the moon in the sixth house, the focus is on caring rather than perfecting. The sixth-house moon chart holder doesn't lose the desire to live well and perfect their skills, but this need is subdued by the need to care for others and be cared for by others in practical ways. Those with sixth-house moons assume that their loved ones will always provide them with food, money and shelter. Likewise, they are happy to do laundry, clean and cook. As long as the balance is there, these chart holders hum along happily.

Moon in the seventh house: You seem to attract sensitive people as partners, perhaps those who want to "mother" you or be mothered. There can be many changes of partners and many relationships because of the need to find someone who can bring an ultimate security. You desire companionship, hence many relationships. Your feelings are greatly influenced by those with whom you are in close personal contact. You want to be popular with others. You are therefore likely to attract a partner who is kind and domesticated. Both you and your partner may need to be on your guard against moody or fickle behavior. Marriage may be undertaken with the object of establishing a home. More than one marriage is possible.

Moon in eighth house: You desire security and perhaps look for it through other people's possessions or resources. You have self-doubt and worry. You may be subject to jealousy, envy and possessiveness. Psychic sensitivity is noticeable and psychic abilities can be developed, hopefully along positive lines. There may be financial gain through a partnership, business or through marriage. You are intrigued by what motivates others. Preoccupation with sex or death can exist for you.

Moon in ninth house: You are a dreamer and muse often about the higher aspects of life. Since you may not be content with the way your life currently is going, you have the desire to search for fresh fields. This search may take you on many long travels, both physically and mentally. Security may be found in a religious or philosophical ideal. Your philosophy of life is what nurtures you and gives you security. You have a variety of interests, in sports, hobbies, and studies. You make a stimulating teacher because of your personal interest in the subjects you teach. They are really a part of you and that comes across to those who listen to you.

Moon in tenth house: Comfortable in the public eye, the tenth-house moon wants to be out in the world enjoying its natural gift of assumed high status. The public arena is the natural home for these chart holders and the world naturally accepts them. From an early age, these chart holders feel comfortable in the public eye. It is emotionally satisfying for them to feel accepted by the public. Being on stage, in front of a camera or speaking to the public comes naturally to them and feels emotionally natural. In fact, the feeling of being accepted by the public feeds their emotions, and success in the public eye gives them emotional homeostasis. These chart holders will always do well in careers involving caring for the public as the moon is about mutual caring. Think of Mahatma Gandhi whose tenth-house moon wanted to care for the world before himself.

Moon in the eleventh house: Their ability to move society on a large scale comes from a deeply felt need rather than the drive seen with the eleventh-house suns. It is emotionally based and there is comfort in groups. When an eleventh-house moon gives a speech or promotes their social message it has a caring tone to it. These chart holders often use the moon's emotional nature to express their views artistically. A high comfort level in group leadership positions puts people at ease and instills trust in people. They are able to lead people and enact social change by gaining trusting supporters. They also expect society to support them. The moon's caring nature has an equal but opposite need to be cared for in return. Depending on signs and aspects, they may have an expectancy of acceptance which gives them a natural advantage and confidence.

Moon in the twelfth: The twelfth-house moon person is denied the comforting, nurturing childhood the rest us assume is a normal part of childhood. A mother who is preoccupied, distant or absent creates an unnurturing environment for this twelfth-house moon child. Childhood is often painful and lonely. Over time, these chart holders have no choice but to learn how to self nurture. Sometimes this is done with drugs or alcohol, but religion, meditation, philosophy and service to others also satisfies the nurturing need. The ability to find a productive way to self-nurture that isn't self destructive is difficult and often takes years. It's easy for these people to fall into depression and feel lost and alone. It takes a great deal of emotional strength for them to crawl out of the dark loneliness of this planetary position and develop the ability to love themselves enough to compensate for the lack of emotional support they receive from the world. Even when these people are able to get past this, there is a vague feeling of confusion about how to find comfort and nurturing on a daily basis. They don't know what they like or how to really feel satisfied.

#astrology #astrology observations #astrology notes #astro observations #astro notes #astrology aspects #spirituality #learning astrology #transits #astrology mention #moon in 12th house

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 3 years ago

Text

#259

“Seth? Right? C’mon in. Your brother told you who I am? Good. Want a beer?... Here you go. Let’s go out to the back deck. The sun went down, and the cool evening air is starting to kick in. Have a seat…. Ok. Seth, do you know why you are here? Let me be blunt. Your brother David owes me a lot of money. A lot. He’s been doing jobs for me that I need someone I can trust to do. But that’s barely covering the interest. I told him he needs to start working down the principal. So, he offered me… you….

“That’s right he sold you to me. You are going to whore off his debt…. Shut the fuck up. The deal is set. Have some more beer; it will help you to deal with what I need to go over with you….

“Your brother probably told you that I am a powerful man. Hopefully he didn’t tell you what I did. I will share with you one part of my business that you will be a part of. I have several whore agencies across several states. They ain’t like the whorehouses in the movies. The girls never see money; they show up at a set time and do whatever the man wants. They do not say no. They get to live in city, and they show their clients the best the city has to offer. They have everything paid for and get a nice credit card too.

“A few years ago—hell it’s more like ten or so, —I was convinced to do the same but on the fag side. Now, I knew nothing about fag sex, and it disgusted me. Once I got over the visuals, the business was just like the girls. The difference I found out was that I had to have two sets of whores—fag boys like yourself, and men old enough to be your father.

“It was Frankie, one of my goons, who told me that there is a lot money to be made by men taking the dominant role. I didn’t believe it. So, he arranged for me to watch him from a distance him work over this faggot. He didn’t tell me how much he was earning. When I saw this fag hand over three hundred bucks, I knew I needed to get into this. I mean my guy did barely anything other than smack the fag around, call him names, and sit on the faggot’s face at the end. That fag ate that fat ass while pounding its pud. Frankie even went over to the fag’s wallet and took an additional hundred out of it. And wouldn’t you know, that fag boy was loving life.

“Needless to say, that was how I got into the fag whoring business. I had Frankie lead it; he even got somewhat in shape, and now he’s my most popular whore men. Wait a minute, you know him. He fucked you behind a dumpster in the alley behind that fag bar a couple weeks ago. When I saw you at David’s birthday partner at my tavern and he told me that you were his sperm burping brother, I sent Frankie to find out more about you. I know that you can take a good pounding, face slaps, rough housing. Frankie also told me that you cleaned off his cock after we was done and that you drank his piss. You even begged him for more as he walked away from you, naked covered in piss behind the dumpster. That’s all I needed to hear.

“After meeting with your brother, all I had to do was press the massive debt. I knew how self-serving he was. He sold you out so fucking fast. And now I own you. Now strip faggot….

“You do realize who I am? No one ever disobeys one of my direct commands. Now think about your next move real carefully. STRIP YOU FUCKING FAGGOT. Take your time standing up. That drug I put in your beer will make you kinda dizzy if you stand too fast. Yeah, I didn’t want you to run back to your car. Kid, when you came in that door, you were mine. That’s it. Accept your fate. Good boy.

“Yeah, after Frankie roughed up that fag, I was curious. He arranged for me to use one of his regulars who was blindfolded. It was so much fun to kick and punch that faggot only to have him crawl to me, begging for more. With each time, I got more wicked, and they wanted more. I had a few fags over the years locked up and had the best of all worlds. My wife provides me with companionship. My girlfriend offers sensual making love and snuggling. And my faggot takes all my rage filled abuse.

“Underwear needs to go too. Let’s see what you have. Not bad. Looks like you are excited about being naked in front of me. That’s a lot of pre-cum. Decent sized balls. I’d say you are about six inches long. The shaft is a bit thin, but the head is good size. Your foreskin is not too long. That’s good. If there’s going to be one sweaty stinky dick around here, it will be mine. If yours becomes a problem, we’ll get you circumcised.

“What? Faggot, you are nothing more to me than my pickup. If I want to modify you out, I sure as hell am going to. I modify all my property. Tattoos, piercing, permanent hair removal, castration, branding, and so on. But actually, I am a bit cautious. I made the mistake of castrating a fag and regretted it afterwards. He just didn’t seem right to me. The cutter I went to tried to put in fake balls, but it still didn’t seem right. I ended up replacing that fag with another.

“I am looking for my perfect fag. I’m planning on letting my girlfriend go, but sometimes I need that close touch. Not going to do that with my wife. Every day now I realize that I want to be with faggots over women. Faggots are so much easier to mold into what I want. And every now and then I might snuggle with one.

“I like what I see. I want to see your cumload. Jerk off for me. I’ll give you a few minutes to do so. When you do, shoot in your spare hand. I want to see the quantity. I’m going to get your collar; it’s probably done charging. I’m also going to take your car keys. You ain’t going anywhere. Continue jacking….

“….Did you cum? You did! Good fag. When was the last time you came? Yesterday morning? Well that’s a good load. Here, lock this collar around your neck. Ok, so here’s the deal. You can jack off as often as you like, whenever you like as long as I am not using you. If I catch you jacking off, don’t stop. If you are watching porn, continue. But know this, no matter if you haven’t cum in days or you just had a massive orgasm, should I require your use, I fully expect 100% horniness and enthusiasm.

“This remote is hooked up to your collar. With this button… you fall to the floor just like that. Hurt’s like a mother fucker hunh? That’s on low. Remember that. It is also set up to shock you should you cross a 20-foot perimeter of the house. I am notified by an app on my phone when you do something that stupid. Also, the garage and my office on the third floor are completely off limits. You will not fare well should you cross that threshold without me.

“Bring your cock over here. Is your dick head sensitive. It is! Fuck yes! As you get soft, it’s driving you crazy. Good. Good. I see a problem here. Your pubic hair is all over the place. You shouldn’t have hair down here. Look how long this hair is. There’s enough so that I can twirl a bunch around my finger. With a firm yank,… it comes out in one clump. Aww shut the fuck up. Most of the time your screams of pain will turn me on, but now it’s just annoying. Another clump on the other side, and it doesn’t even look like you lost any.

“Look at me faggot. Say ‘Thank you.’ Good fag. Open your mouth. Here eat your pubic hair. Go on chew it. Nasty? I know, now swallow. And here’s… another bunch. Swallow these…. And these… And these… You’ll be permanently shaved in the near future so you won’t have to do much pubic hair eating.

“While you finish your snack, let me take you around the place and show you your duties. This is the kitchen. David told me that you went to culinary school but then dropped out. Well, you will be doing all the cooking here. Cleaning too.

“Let’s go downstairs…. This is your room, although you really don’t have privacy. Over there is your cot. Next to it is the plug you will put into your collar every night. I am notified on my app should the power level drop below 75%. That’s equivalent for not charging for a full week. Unless I just slam you with shocks, I should never get one of those notifications.

“You have a wash basin there, and your toilet is there. There’s your douche hose over there in the shower. No, I haven’t gotten around to buying it a toilet seat; the cold porcelain is fine. And I haven’t hooked up the hot water down here.

“Let’s go up to the Master bedroom…. You never climb into my bed unless I invite you in. In fact no non-sexual furniture for you either without permission. Through that door is the master bath. You will keep this place spotless. That includes licking clean my toilet. The rimseat next to it is when I want to make you toilet paper or a full toilet.

“And here’s the playroom. It’s totally soundproofed. You are going to suffer a lot in here. Screaming is encouraged. In fact, what time is it? Seven. Well we might as well start now. Get on all fours—knees and elbows. Spread those knees wide. Every night you will present yourself in this position, as you will every morning.

“Don’t get too excited. I am going to fuck you good, long, and deep. But that won’t until the end. We got a long way to go. You see, the only people who knows my affinity for preferring the boys to the girls are Frankie, me, and now you. Your brother thinks I’m adding you to my harem of fags. This is something that cannot get out. And if it does, I will know it came from you, and I want you to know the perpetual hell that will come your way.

“Tonight is a test of what you can expect, but keep in mind, tonight’s suffering will be only five hours long, much shorter than what will be if my preference is ever widely known.

“And after the paddling your ass to a welted mess, whipping your back until it turns to bloody hamburger, kicking your balls until they are swollen to twice their size, bruising up your face, and fucking you with very little lube, I may feel the need to snuggle up with you afterwards.

“But first, there’s a lot to do before we do that. Oh look your balls are just ripe for a good old fashioned full-force kick. Every night and every morning you will get one to always remind you what you are.

“Faggot right now with this kick your hell begins.”

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god1ngs · 4 years ago

Text

━‎ ghost of a memory

synopsis; the ghost of a man comes back.

contains; pogtopia wilbur spoilers, yandere themes, mentions of death, implied death, swearing, mentions of stalking, wilbur is a creep in this

yandere c!wilbur soot / reader, 2.8k wc

note; this is the longest thing i've ever written >:)) very proud of this

masterlist

‎ ‎ ‎it was snowing, like it usually was. the layers of snow piled up on the floor only to get crushed down by your boot. you were on your way back to your house, ready to lay down and relax. days were hard now, especially since having moved away from the dream smp and l'manberg.

‎ ‎ ‎it was easy at first, but you were more lonely now. there was no tommy to come greet you in the mornings, or no tubbo to show you his new bee portrait done by someone else. it was lonely, only your presence to comfort you when days got too lonely.

‎ ‎ ‎you lived near techno, phil, and ranboo, but you never really talked to them. while you could hold your own, the angel of death and blood god striked fear into your heart. phil, although somewhat of an intimidating man, had been much different after the explosion of l'manberg.

‎ ‎ ‎you hadn't been there to know what happened, but it was something severely detrimental from what you've heard. and you haven't even heard that much. you heard of how l'manberg was exploded, but didn't know much else. there was a way people looked whenever you asked about it though.

‎ ‎ ‎you set down your things as you came inside your house, tired from the long day of venturing out from the snowy area. you had been trying to find some more resources, having been slowly running out of some minor ones, but wanting to have them nonetheless. sighing, you tiredly looked down at your hands.

‎ ‎ ‎you never went a day without thinking of what you had done with those hands. blood splattered along the calloused palms of them, rough from gripping swords and bows. you regretted your previous decisions, having worked alongside l'manberg. while you didn't regret meeting the people, the experiences would plague you for years to come.

‎ ‎ ‎a knock on your door brung you out of your mind, gentle and soft. it was unlike any of the loud banging from the war. you shook away your troubles, wanting to block out everything from your past as a soldier. you opened the door, hesitantly bringing your hand to the sword rested on your side.

‎ ‎ ‎it was ranboo. he stood at the door, taller than your doorframe, and looking down at you. "oh," you said, retracting your hand from the hilt of it. "hello ranboo. what brings you here?" you were curious, never having really been close to ranboo during your time at l'manberg. you two had become closer since you lived in each others radius, but had never talked for a long time.

‎ ‎ ‎"uh, i just.. i just wanted to ask if you've seen ghostbur. i haven't seen him in a while and was wondering if you have?" the dual boy asked, tugging at his shirt collar. ghostbur? your brows furrowed, a nervousness piling in your stomach. did he mean wilbur? he seemed confident about what he had said though.

‎ ‎ ‎you cleared your throat before speaking again, leaning against the doorframe. "who's ghostbur?" you asked, confused. maybe it was just a mess up with his name, ranboo was very forgetful after all. realization crossed his features, eyes wide. "you don't know who ghostbur is?"

‎ ‎ ‎disbelief coated his tone, shining in his eyes as well. the boy stammered, trying to figure out what to say. "oh boy, uh..." he exhaled harshly, scratching at his neck in nervousness. "do you know what happened when l'manberg was blown up?" you hadn't known much, but you did know what mainly happened ─ l'manberg had been blown to the smithereens.

‎ ‎ ‎"not really, i guess. i mean, i know l'manberg was blown up, but i don't know much besides that." you told ranboo, being confused as to why this was even important. he stayed silent for a minute, cautious as to what he should say. does he just tell you outright that wilbur had been killed and that ghostbur was his ghost?

‎ ‎ ‎he exhaled again, nervous. "well, wilbur is the one who blew up l'manberg and.. phil killed him after." he said, pausing between his words to see your reaction. your eyes were wide, throat dry. there was a deep pit in your stomach, a neverending bad feeling. "he's dead?" your voice trembled as you spoke, brows furrowed.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo nodded, sucking in a breath awkwardly. "i'm sorry i had to be the one to tell you." he said shortly, hands clasped behind his back. you tried to shake it off, laugh and tell him it was fine, but no words could come out. "so," you spoke once you had finally grasped your words. "is ghostbur his.. ghost?"

‎ ‎ ‎he nodded again, rocking on his heels. "he doesn't act anything like from what the old wilbur used to, from what i've heard." he tried to confide you, however it didn't do much to help. you smiled weakly at the male, not exactly knowing how to deal with the information as of now. "thank you, ranboo, and uh, no i haven't seen.. ghostbur. i hope you find him though."

‎ ‎ ‎with that, he thanked you and left you alone for now. you shut the door gently before breaking down. you grasped your hair, sliding against the wooden door. he was dead? while you slid against the door, you began laughing. he was dead. you were gleeful. you laughed and laughed and laughed. god, he was dead.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't know you would ever celebrate a mans passing, but wilbur was different. wilbur was.. obsessive. not only with control, but with you. you always got a weird feeling from him too. he was always with you somehow, always greeting you wherever you would be. he was highly protective of you and, while he passed it off as it due to you being a citizen of his country, you suspected otherwise.

‎ ‎ ‎your gleeful laughter masked the sound of the rustling bushes.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo hadn't known you didn't know of wilbur's passing. he thought maybe phil or someone else would've told you, not him having to break the news to you. you seemed awfully upset, he hoped you would be okay. as he walked, head down with a friend, there was a thought nagging at the back of his head.

‎ ‎ ‎recently, ghostbur had been acting different. he couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off. he tossed the thought when there was a sudden shout of his name. he turned, quickly, seeing the man of the hour. "hello ranboo!" ghostbur said, smiling warmly at the other. "oh, hey ghostbur." he replied, a soft smile painting his face.

‎ ‎ ‎the two talked for a little while, catching up with each other and seeing how the other was. "well actually, i think i left friend at phil's house, do you mind go getting him for me, ranboo?" ghostbur asked, tilting his head at the half and half boy. ranboo's brows furrowed, wondering why he couldn't go get the sheep himself. it was his sheep after all.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo glanced back at his house, rubbing at the back of his neck before answering him. "uh, sure, yeah. i can do that! why can't you go get him though?" he asked, confused. he didn't mind going to go get friend, liking to help out his friends, he was simply curious. "oh, i just have something to do! it's nothing really, but thank you again ranboo!" the airy tone of ghostbur coated with delight, he smiled at the man.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo nodded, wishing him a farewell, before walking away to get more food for the trip. finally. ghostbur smiled, turning to the wooden house you had gone in a few minutes prior.

‎ ‎ ‎he would have you.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't think that today would be the day you celebrate a dead man, but you learned new things everyday. you didn't celebrate per say, you were just happy the british man wouldn't bother you anymore. he had creeped you out when he was alive, but in death he couldn't do anything.

‎ ‎ ‎knocking at your door had interrupted your moment, brows arching at the door. hadn't ranboo just left? maybe there was something else he had to tell you. as you got closer to the door, hand nearly on the doorknob, you hesitated. why would ranboo come right back? it didn't make sense.

‎ ‎ ‎you put your hand on the hilt of your sword, once again preparing you for if you were to get attacked. yet as you opened the door, there only stood a man ─ a man who looked exactly like wilbur soot. from the hair, to the clothes, to the face shape; it all reminded you too much of wilbur.

‎ ‎ ‎"hello! i'm ghostbur!" the man happily introduced himself, smiling warmly at you. this wasn't how wilbur acted? ranboo had told you that ghostbur acted different from him. "uh, hey. why are you here?" awkward and a tad rude, you asked, narrowing your [color] eyes at the brunette. he only smiled.

‎ ‎ ‎translucent, nearly grey in color hands rose up to wave you off. "i just wanted to come meet you! ranboo had said you were a good person! here, do you want some blue?" fishing in his pockets, ghostbur pulled out a small clump of blue. royal blue in color, it made you somewhat happy to look at it. the corners of your mouth twitched.

‎ ‎ ‎you accepted the blue, gently getting it place in your hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he did so. you squished it some, finding a certain fondness in the way it felt. maybe he wasn't bad. "may i come in?" the ghost asked, tilting his head quizzically. could you trust this guy enough to let him inside your house?

‎ ‎ ‎you pondered the idea, considering the worse case scenario ─ which would really be just takes all of your things or killing you. you doubt he was able to though, he seemed way too nice to even think about it. he seemed trustworthy and so, without another thought, you let ghostbur inside of your home.

‎ ‎ ‎he thanked you and took a look around, complimenting your interior design with a warm smile. he had that aura, the one that makes you feel comforted in his presence. kind and gentle, he was the type of man to be gentle with anything and everything. he seemed rather innocent as well, a child like enthusiasm in the way he carried himself.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't mind, you actually found it quite admirable. before the war, you had been like that as well. bubbly and warm, smiles that could outshine the sun ─ and now, you were alone, although of your own accord. you had to admit, it was better for it to be like this though. the war and other experiences you shared with l'manberg still haunted your nightmares, causing you to wake up in a cold sweat everytime.

‎ ‎ ‎"[name]," the ghost murmured, looking over the paintings on the wall. "these paintings are quite lovely!" you smiled, agreeing with him. the paintings were nice, as they had been given to you as a president from ranboo. he had magnificent taste, the paintings holding such beauty. you sighed softly, glancing towards ghostbur.

‎ ‎ ‎"hey ghostbur? do you remember anything.. before you died?" you asked, cringing at the question yourself. you assumed it was a question he got a lot, being the ghost of a man who was loved by many, but you couldn't help the curiousity arising in you. he only smiled at you, he always seemed to be smiling.

‎ ‎ ‎"only the good memories! i don't remember any of the bad memories wilbur has!" he answered, still staring at the paintings. he seemed to take a liking to them. you nodded, humming in thought as you glossed over the paintings. "you know," you murmured. "i never really had fond memories with wilbur."

‎ ‎ ‎you had never told anyone of your past experiences with the man, being too scared of being called a liar or saying that you were wrong. wilbur was a man of great charm and charisma, traits he knew how to use to gain what he wants. you knew this first hand, having been on the receiving side of the anger he never showed the public.

‎ ‎ ‎ghostbur was quite for a moment, causing you to look over at him. he seemed deep in thought, eyes nearly wide with a nearly upset look crossing his face. "are you alright?" you asked him, concerned. it would be understandable if he didn't like talking about wilbur, having been the ghost of said man.

‎ ‎ ‎"oh yes, i'm fine! can you tell me about your memories with alivebur?" he asked, looking over at you questionably. you nodded, sitting down on the couch, to where the ghost followed. he sat beside you, almost a little too close for comfort, but he did seem obvious so you chose to let it slide.

‎ ‎ ‎you told ghostbur everything. about how wilbur was a creep. how you suspected he was stalking you. how he had been possessive of you. how you saw a side of wilbur that was never shown to the public. how you never liked him. how wilbur was a deranged man.

‎ ‎ ‎he listened to you quietly, not talking as he stared down at his lap. as you were finished talking, going to ask him if he was okay, he sighed. he shook his head, tsking at you. this was different. confused you scooted away from him, brows furrowed. he only looked up at you, grinning.

‎ ‎ ‎"was my disguise that good?"

‎ ‎ ‎your mouth ran dry. your hands trembled, trembled with fear of the danger lurking in his voice. the madness glinting in his eyes. was this ghostbur? no, this couldn't be. as you stared at him in disbelief, shock coating his features, something started happening. he was melting?

‎ ‎ ‎the grey skin, along with the yellow sweater and beanie, melted off of him. it was like slime dripping, coating your couch in the gooey substance. it disgusted you, how it melted into a puddle of grey just below him. but that was the least of your problem, as the disguise had melted, something sinister lurked below.

‎ ‎ ‎it was wilbur.

‎ ‎ ‎unmistakably, it was wilbur soot.

‎ ‎ ‎the brown hair that bunched up, the dull red beanie atop his head, the brown trenchcoat that coated his features. you backed away, horrified. standing up, you tried to run, yet he only laughed. a sickening laugh that made you stop in place, eyes wide with fear. your feet were glued to the floor, unable to move despite your door beckoning you to run.

‎ ‎ ‎the crazed look in the mans expression would be one you would never forget. he laughed maniacally, grin wide with unmasked enthusiasm. "you really thought it was ghostbur!? that little punk, yeah? you thought wrong, sweetheart!" he shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls, surrounding your every direction, making it impossible to escape.

‎ ‎ ‎who knew you would be trapped inside your own house?

‎ ‎ ‎you could hardly find the words to talk, the phrases getting stuck in your throat as you simply shook your head. it couldn't be wilbur. why was he here? how was he here? the man, who you previously believed to be ghostbur, had been inside your house. you had ranted to him on your troubles with his alive state, unaware he was the one you were speaking to.

‎ ‎ ‎"you- how? how are you - how are you here?" you mustered out, your voice weak. you could barely make them out, quiet and frail. he laughed once more, throwing his head back with unfiltered euphoria. he was so joyous, so content with watching you fall apart in front of him. watching you break down was what he wanted.

‎ ‎ ‎"i always come back, sweetheart, you should know this." he said, smirking devilishly. he walked to you, triumph yelling with every step he took. you backed away as he came closer, fearfully backing away from the brunette until your back hit a wall. alarm coursed through you, desperately trying to look around for a way to leave, a way to escape the misery that would soon come.

‎ ‎ ‎he stalked up to you, stopping in front of you. he was even more terrifying up closer. the broad shoulders and the looming shadow over your figure terrifying you more than anything ever had. "sweetheart!" the pet name rolled off of his tongue, almost in a sing song tone. you hadn't even noticed the tears running down your face until he wiped them away.

‎ ‎ ‎"don't cry, don't cry," wilbur muttered, pulling you closer to him, bringing your scared form into his chest. you tensed, worry clear in your figure as you tried to fight back. you tried to pull away, muttering how you didn't want this. you didn't want wilbur to touch you, to hold you as if he was someone special to you. "why do you keep trying to pull away from me?"

‎ ‎ ‎once you had finally pulled away from him, you looked at him in the eyes. you were still backed up against a wall, knowing your end was nearer than you thought. you glared at him one last time, choosing to pick fight over flight, and spit in his face.

‎ ‎ ‎"fuck you, wilbur soot."

‎ ‎ ‎blood splattered on the walls seconds later.

#dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #wilbur soot x reader #dream smp x y/n #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #c!wilbur x reader #mcyt x reader #yandere mcyt x reader #yandere dream smp x reader #yandere wilbur soot x reader #( ♡ ) + bones writes #( ♡ ) + oneshots

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legends-of-apex · 4 years ago

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‘Close Encounters of The Soft Kind’ - Bi-Han/Sub-Zero x Reader (fluff)

Summary: Shang Tsung asks you to tend to Bi-Han’s wounds after the fight with Jax.

A/N: Thank you all so much for your interest in this idea! Here it is! Hope you all enjoy :D Was so excited to write for Bi-Han as he’s such a great character! Hope you enjoy a softer side of him lol. TW for slight injury detail and the reader (GN) being a servant of Shang Tsung

Word Count: 3,500

Part Two

Tagging: @nyxdjarin @dragon-chica (if you’d like to be tagged in future fics please let me know!)

“You have returned, my champion! Were you successful?” Shang Tsung’s voice boomed as Sub-Zero made his way towards the dark, looming throne. The setting sun created a brilliant orange glow that bloomed behind it. He shook his head in reply, clenching and releasing his shoulder muscles in an attempt to release some of the aches and tension built up in the aftermath of the fight with Jax.

Shang Tsung let out a frustrated sigh through his teeth and cracked his neck, “You will have ample opportunity to succeed, I can assure you.” He was disappointed at his failure but he knew he had to keep Bi-Han on his side and sometimes that meant not letting his pride get in the way. He had to treat him well and keep him happy to retain the allegiance of someone so powerful. “You are injured?” Sub-Zero looked up at him, confused but saw that some of the blood had leaked through his armour on his forearm. Most of it wasn’t his but he truly couldn’t be bothered to explain as much.

Shang Tsung called your name then and you carefully stepped out from beside his throne, leaving the all too comfortable darkness. “Tend to our guests' wounds. And see to it that he is comfortable.” You bowed quickly before him, walking swiftly past Sub-Zero, your eyes cast straight at the floor. You turned briefly to see if the man was following you and you saw that he was, slowly, his eyes dead set on you. You caught his bright eyes for a moment and then turned your attention back to the ground as you walked towards the nearest free room in the castle.

The man’s footsteps were silent, the only sound following him was the occasional clink of his armour as he moved. When you reached the closest empty room you opened the door for him and stood to the side, avoiding his bright gaze at all costs. He took a cautious step inside, but he was too tired to care at this point if you were leading him to his death. He just wanted to sleep.

You closed the door behind you and started searching one of the many cupboards within the room. It was lavish, with all kinds of expensive furnishings and fabrics that Bi-Han hadn’t had the time to enjoy for a century. The room was warm too, but he would soon fix that if he needed to. He noticed the faint flickering of the candles on the wall, the room was clearly well prepared.

You approached him with a bundle of supplies in your arms and he now noticed the tatters and tears on the hems of your clothing. He wondered exactly what you were to Shang Tsung. If you were a lover or a concubine he was sure you would have been kept in better dress. You seemed far too shy for that anyhow, you wouldn’t even look him in the eye but that wasn’t usually an accurate indicator of anything. It was rare for anyone to counter his gaze.

You dumped the supplies on the bed and a quick flicker of your eyes up to his signalled for him to take a seat. He did, chin tilted towards the sky as he looked at you over his nose. He sat at the edge of the extravagantly large bed in the centre of the room, moving to undo his bracers but stopped when your hand shot out to stop him. You lay his large hand out over his lap and carefully undid the first buckle, then the other before sliding the piece of armour off his hand and placing it on a nearby dresser. He thought it was adorable how you cradled the piece in your arms as though it were made of gold.

He watched your face the entire time, brows knitted together as he studied you. He was trying to figure out what your intentions were in Shang Tsung’s castle, why you were here. You were beautiful, he didn’t mind admitting it. He knew beauty when he saw it although it was rare that he stopped to notice it. He couldn’t help but wonder exactly what such beauty was doing here of all places.

As you slipped the other bracer from his wrist, your finger brushed against his skin and recoiled slightly from the cold. He didn’t really notice, all too focused on the feeling of the touch of another on his skin. It was such a foreign feeling that he found himself frowning at it. You moved around him, undoing the straps that held his shoulder pads in place before setting those aside as well. His eyes burned into the back of your head as you moved around the room and you caught them with your own when you turned to face him again.

“Do you- Would you like your mask removed?” You asked, eyes flickering between him and the floor. He contemplated the question for a moment. Did he want you to see his face? He wasn’t sure. It had been at least a decade since anyone had. But your kind eyes and soft touch outweighed any concerns he had. Your voice was kind too, but worrisome in how you stumbled over your words. He hated to think why you were afraid to speak. A strange pang of concern drummed through his stomach as he contemplated the reason. Perhaps you were just afraid of him? That’s what he would usually put it down to but it wasn’t him you seemed afraid of.

He nodded his head once and went to undo the strap at the back of his head, pulling the helmet off, taking the mask with it. You couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. He was human. Or at least he looked human. If it wasn’t for his eyes and his slightly busted lip then he could’ve been any normal man you’d see walk by on the street. But he wasn’t and you knew that. You’d heard the whispers of his brutality, his callousness echoing through Shang Tsung’s castle. But now, as you gazed upon his handsome face, the faintest ghost of a smile gracing his reddened lips as he looked right back at you, he almost could’ve fooled you into thinking he wasn’t any of that.

The way you looked at him now was hilarious, he couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps you were expecting some gaping maw for a mouth and not the face of what appeared to be just a man? A very handsome man. He hadn’t had anyone look at him like that in so long, you were almost admiring him. He suddenly felt a little nervous under your stare, he hadn’t the faintest idea why.

You extended both your hands to him and he placed the mask and helmet into your palms.

When you return back to him, you help him shrug off the rest of his armour and he felt the weight that left with it deep within his very bones. He needed a rest, not that he would ever admit it. You searched his body for a clasp to undo his chest plate, frowning slightly when you couldn’t see any. He liked your frown, he decided. It looked so out of place on your features.

Your breath hitched when he took your hand in his. His skin was so cold, colder than any living person’s flesh you had ever felt. He guided your hand to the side of his ribs then and you felt the clasp beneath your fingertips. He knew you weren’t going to let him do it himself but his hand didn’t leave yours, neither did his eyes but you were too focused on undoing the armour to truly notice the extent of his stare.

Once shed of his chest plate, the only thing standing between you and his injuries now was his black undershirt. You didn’t need to ask him to remove it. He reached back and grabbed the hem of it at the base of his neck, pulling the ruined material over his head and into his lap. You bit the inside of your cheek at the sight.

His shoulders were broad, as was his chest, the muscle thick and skin scarred. In a way it looked like someone had ran a jagged paintbrush over his skin, it was certainly a better alternative than the tool that was actually responsible. His arms were well worked too but you had to stop admiring him when you caught sight of his wound.

With a shaky hand, you placed a finger on either side of the gash on his bicep. It wasn’t deep but it would need stitches. Every other mark and bruise paled in comparison to that gash so you would deal with it first. His gaze almost softened as you touched his arm, he could’ve closed his eyes at the feeling of such intimacy. Your fingertips were so warm, so soft. If he hadn’t known better he would’ve mistaken you for someone who cared about him.

You moved away from him to grab a chair to pull up beside him and filled a bowl with water so you could clean the wound and his other grazes. You had never thought that you of all people would be the one to see Sub-Zero without his armour. It was a daunting thought. You knew of the work he did for Shang Tsung, you knew he was a monster. But the way he looked at you now was less like he wanted to hurt you, and more like he was savouring you and your presence. You didn’t mind being so close to him now either. He wasn’t harsh, in fact, he was anything but. Any move he made was slow, almost as though he was afraid of scaring you.

You dipped a cotton ball into the warm water, lifting it and squeezing some of the liquid out before bringing it to his wound. You dabbed at it gently, wiping away any crusted blood or debris you could find. His gaze was still locked on your face then but it was soft, studying.

He liked watching you work. He admired how gentle your touch was despite you having no relation to him at all. Did you treat everyone with such kindness? Either way, he savoured the inherent intimacy of what you were doing. You could’ve nearly been a lover then, he thought. A lover painstakingly tending to him after a hard day. Your touch certainly could have been that of a lover, so gentle and careful not to apply too much pressure to his skin in case you hurt him. It had been a long time since he had let anyone touch him in such a way, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be cared for.

He knew you weren’t a lover, of course. But he let himself relax as though you were. He trusted you, not finding a single ounce of malice in your presence. You seemed grateful when his shoulders slacked a little, knowing he wasn’t too on edge now. In truth, he was relaxed. Having forgotten how calming the touch of another could be, even if you were just wiping away dried blood.

Once that wound was cleaned, you turned to the stray scratches that littered the rest of him. He hadn’t the heart to tell you they would heal in no time. As you looked over his chest, a frown graced you as you noticed a particularly wretched-looking scar that zig zagged across his abdomen. You examined it between your fingers, gently stretching the skin to get a better look. You were frowning again, and you took in a breath like you wanted to say something but bit your tongue.

He cocked his head to the side, silently asking you what it was you wanted to say.

“This hasn’t been stitched up very well.”

And he laughed beneath his breath. That was such a strange sound. You looked up at him, finding the amusement in his brilliant eyes. You raised your eyebrows in question, wondering what on earth he found funny.

“Healing techniques weren’t particularly precise when it happened.” That scar had come from Hanzo’s blade, stabbed him right through a gap in his armour.

“Oh.” You continued to look it over, examining just how badly it had been taken care of. You were doing literally anything you could to distract yourself from how nice his voice was and how seemingly privileged you were to hear it. “When did it happen?”

He smiled, weighing up whether or not he should tell you. “1617.”

You pulled back and looked at him with wide eyes. You didn’t look afraid, you just looked at him like you couldn’t believe what he’d just told you. With a shake of your head, you returned to cleaning the rest of his wounds. You looked like you wanted to say something but held your tongue again, he longed to hear what you had to say about the matter. Or anything else really.

As you dabbed at the specks of blood on his chest he found himself relaxing more and more, his shoulders slumped forward slightly. Your touch felt like heaven, warm fluttering fingertips on his skin.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying.” You cleared your throat, “You don’t look a day over a hundred.” You smiled up at him then. A brilliant smile that he couldn’t help return. You were joking with him, and he loved it.

Once his wounds were cleaned and his skin held a glistening sheen from your moistened cotton wool, you sat up and grabbed a needle, holding it over a candle for a moment before threading it. When you returned to him, he held his injured arm out for you, not shying away from the red hot needle at all. You were careful with your stitches, not that he had high standards for your needlework. But you noticed how he didn’t even flinch. Not once, in fact, he only moved to turn his arm slightly so you could see the wound better. What a strange man he was.

When you were finished you grabbed a bottle of ointment for him. The herbs smelt wonderful, a refreshing change to the smell of blood. You coated your hands in it then and set about rubbing it into his gashes and grazes. You’d be lying if you said your fingers hadn’t lingered longer than necessary on his torn skin. He didn’t seem to care. Your fingers rubbed in circles, slow and gentle. The cold radiating off of him didn’t seem to bother you now, in fact, his skin warmed slightly beneath your touch.

When you were finished, you stood but noticed a single droplet of dried blood on his temple. Instinctively, you reached forward to find the source. Your nails dragged over his scalp as you parted his hair to find the gash, and he swore he’d never felt a sensation so wonderful.

“You hit your head.” You noted, more to yourself than him it seemed. The gash was small, only a graze really but you cleaned it anyways. Any head injury was concerning no matter how small. “Do you need some ice?” You asked and he looked up at you as if asking if you were joking.

You had no idea why he’d had that reaction. Maybe it was because it didn’t hurt at all?

Sensing your confusion, he extended his hand towards you, his palm turned towards the ceiling. Specks of blood appeared in the centre of his palm, shortly followed by small ice crystals. The crystals swelled and grew until in his hand he held the most perfect sphere of solid ice. You blinked rapidly, looking between his face and the ice.

“A cryomancer?” You asked, excitement evidence on your face as you cupped his large hand between both of yours, admiring the ice. “I didn’t realise there were any of you left.” You whispered to yourself but he heard. “I’m so sorry. Please excuse my excitement. I’ve just never met anyone like you before.” Your voice was timid now, almost sheepish as you straightened your posture and regained your composure.

“Please, there is no need to apologise.” His voice was low, and he swallowed thickly after he spoke. Like he wasn't too used to speaking anymore.

You took the sphere from his hands, cradling it as though it were some precious gem. You wrapped it in a cloth then and held it carefully to the side of his head. “For the swelling.” You confirmed, daring to sneak a glance at his face again. His eyes were like pools, you could stare at them forever but you forced yourself to break away from his gaze and focus on why you were here. “Have you any more injuries?” You asked him and he shook his head in reply, placing his hand over yours to support your makeshift ice pack. You left your hand there for a moment, biting the inside of your lip at the touch before letting your hand drop to your side.

You began to gather your things together, “It was wonderful to meet you…” you trailed off, realising you didn’t know his name,

“Bi-Han.” He didn’t know why he said it, as freely and openly as he did.

“Bi-Han.” You confirmed and he decided then that your voice was the only one he ever wanted to hear saying his name. “It was lovely to meet you, Bi-Han. If you need anything, there will be servants passing through the halls all night.”

“Is that what you are?” He asked, silently hoping that wasn’t the case.

“A servant?” You sighed, “I suppose you could call me that.” He didn’t like that answer.

“Are you here of your own accord?”

“No.” You shook your head, sadness evident across your beautiful face, “I should be going.”

His eyes closed. That was exactly what he was afraid of. You were a prisoner here. No wonder you were so nervous. Shang Tsung was a bastard, to be fair so was he. But Bi-Han was always a bigger fan of quick deaths rather than prolonged suffering or servitude. He was only here to end Hanzo’s line, the only one who offered him the chance to do so was Shang Tsung but that didn’t mean he held any semblance of loyalty to the man.

He wasn’t sure what to say then. He couldn’t really offer any comfort. So he gave you the one thing he could. You saw the ice begin to sprout from one hand, and he shaped it with his other. You looked on, curious as to what exactly he was doing. When he held his hand out to you again, a dagger made of solid ice sat within it. He grabbed the hilt between his fingers and twirled it towards you. You took it with a shaky hand, unsure of his intentions.

“Should you need to defend yourself.” he clarified, “It will not melt.” Not with how dense he had made it.

You threw your arms around his neck then, something he truly wasn’t expecting. When you pulled back your eyes were teary.

“Thank you.” You spoke with such sincerity and vigour that he felt some foreign emotion stir within his chest. It seems like it had been a while since you had been shown any kindness too.

He admired how you stared in awe of the dagger, pressing it flat against your chest as though it was the most precious gift you had ever received. “Thank you, Bi-Han. Whatever can I do to repay you?” You looked to him for an answer. He was about to shake his head, tell you that you’d already done far more for him than he could ever hope to explain. But then he had a thought.

“Your name. All I ask is your name.”

You told him without hesitation and he extended his hand towards you once more. You took it, surprised when he turned your palm around and brought your knuckles to his lips, his eyes dead set on yours as he did.

“Thank you,” he told you with all the sincerity in his heart, you assumed it was for patching him up but he meant it for much much more. The kindness you had shown him was truly something else, he felt truly blessed by the gods to have met you. He released your hand then and you stood frozen for a moment before shifting the dagger into the bundle of supplies and gathering them back in your arms.

You shook your head as you walked towards the door. “No, thank you.” You offered him a final smile then, “Good night, Bi-Han.” With that, you were gone. He silently cursed himself for not wishing you a good night as well. He decided then and there that he would speak with Shang Tsung about you in the morning. There was no way in hell that he was letting him keep you here without your say so and he didn’t care what he had to do to get you out of that place.

Part two

#bi-han x reader #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #mortal kombat #bi-han #sub zero #mortal kombat 2021 #fic #mine #my writing #fluff

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xiaongh · 4 years ago

Text

[ early gossip. ]

➤ pairing: levi x fem!reader

➤ cw’s: suggestive - mentions of make up and angry sex, eren doesn’t knock, cursing, reader is 5′7, levi get’s embarrassed, the scouts goofing around, hange teases levi and reader, crackfic (?).

➤ summary: connie and jean dared eren to walk into levi’s bedroom without knocking. what they saw shocked them all, and word got around about what happened.

➤ w. count: 2k+

➤ request by anon: hey bestie, can i request a crackfic for aot. basically the scouts are dared to enter levi's bedroom and they see his fem s/o cuddling him, but they were sleeping and they didn't know that levi was a little spoon. and they end up waking them up. the rest is up to you bestie !

➤ a/n: PLEASE THIS WAS A SHIT TON OF FUN TO WRITE. YOURE WELCOME BESTIE AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT. <3 gif isn’t mine. takes place when historia is going to be the queen, so season three-ish.

“i’m not doing shit! captain levi will have my head! if you really want to see what it looks like in there go do it yourself, i’m staying put here,” eren was getting nervous at what jean and connie dared him to do.

like any group of teenagers, they stayed up all night, talked and played games. they had just started playing truth or dare when jean and connie both dared eren to walk into levi’s bedroom without knocking.

“what, you’re gonna be a pussy, jaeger?” jean teased. he knew that if he started calling eren a wimp for not wanting to do it, he would do it for sure. and the only reason he was pressuring him was because he himself wouldn’t do it either.

“guys, i don’t think that’s a good idea. what if he genuinely gets upset. he won’t let us live it down,” armin reasoned.

all of the scouts were sitting up late at night in the lunch room with a candle in the center of the table.

mikasa nodded her head in agreement, “and we also have to get up early for historia’s coronation tomorrow.”

“coronation for what?” asked sasha after getting a few snacks and opening the bags while putting them in the center of the table for everyone to grab their share.

“sasha, hange told us this today,” armin chuckled nervously, “but it’s so she can become the queen tomorrow- or today since i’m assuming it’s pretty early judging by the way the sun is coming up.”

“that makes this even better, jaeger. if you do it now, there’s a chance that captain levi won’t even know,” connie encouraged.

“don’t do it if you don’t want to, eren. it doesn’t make you a pussy like jean says,” since mikasa was seated next to eren she put a hand on his shoulder.

eren’s face flushed and he nodded and sighed, “i’ll do it.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

eren’s fist shook as it hovered over the door knob of his office. after he stayed there for a while, jean complained, “c’mon and do this! we’ve all been wanting to see what his bedroom looks like,” jean whispered. if he had actually talked aloud, it would echo off the walls and levi would for sure wake up.

eren looked back at him, “if it’s so easy, why don’t you do it?” eren whisper yelled back. mikasa stood in between them. sasha, connie, and armin were behind all of them -- preparing to run in case levi woke up.

“guys, calm down, eren, if you’re going to do this, do it now.’

eren took a deep breath and his hand twisted the door knob. the door creaked and they all cringed. when the door opened -- levi’s office was present to them. of course they had all seen it already and knew it was always clean, but they were surprised when they saw how messy it was. his report papers were on the floor, the desk was cleared off with everything on the floor. the couch he had in his office was messed up with all of the cushions on the floor.

“... what do you think happened?” jean asked all of them as they all walked into his office.

“there’s a slight chance that he got angry or something and went to go sleep it off. that probably explains why he didn’t clean it up,” armin said. after they scanned the room and its state, they all looked at the door in the far corner of the whole room.

jean came up from behind eren, “go on, do it,” eren was sweating as he took cautious steps towards the door.

they all followed behind in suspense. eren took a deep breath before putting his hand on the doorknob and twisting it quietly. this time the door didn’t creak. eren was the only one to walk in as the others stayed behind.

eren’s eyes squinted and his eyebrows furrowed after he saw a rather big figure in levi’s bed that was too big to be levi. they were fully covered with the bed sheets -- meaning that eren would have to go on the other side of the bed to see who that was.

eren’s footsteps were barely heard on the floor as he walked to the opposite side of the room and his eyes widened when he saw the face of commander y/n spooning a shirtless levi.

his panicked eyes looked back to the group who had their heads peeped out of the doorway. in a panic, he misplaced his foot and a very audible creaking noise went through the room. eren slowly looked back at the duo in the bed and sighed in relief when they hadn’t woken up.

eren tip toed back to the rest of them. they all looked at him expectantly, “so, what’d you find out?” asked connie. they all stared at him eagerly.

“uh- how do i word this?”

“spit it out.”

“captain levi is a ... little spoon, and they person spooning him is commander y/n,” their eyes were the size of saucers as they all rushed - quietly - into his bedroom and in fact saw that commander y/n was spooning captain levi.

“he looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping,” said sasha. she was the closest to the two.

“sasha! back up,” jean whispered while pulling her back.

they all inspected them. they looked a little too comfortable with each other. and that’s when armin connected the dots. while everyone was watching the two, he had figured something out.

“wait- guys ..” they all looked back at armin.

“what is it?” they all had their backs turned to the duo to hear what the blonde had to say.

“guys, you remember how everything was cleared off of his desk, and how his couch was a mess? the captain is shirtless .. and if i’m correct, commander y/n is also ,, uhm- shirtless,” armin looked at the floor with his new found discovery.

as if on time, a knife was thrown at armin. there was a small opening where they could throw something at armin. it didn’t hit him, but it was thrown next to his face and hit the wall, “bingo! you figured it out, arlert, i’m surprised though. thought it would take you longer,” they all slowly looked back in horror.

there was you and levi - awake.

while levi was undeniably flustered -- you didn’t have any shame. they all saw a bit of your side boob since levi was turned away from them and laying on your chest. when he realized who they were - thinking it was hange - his shy façade faded and he looked back at them while covering you up after seeing jean and eren looking a bit.

“what the fuck are you guys doing here?” that’s when all hell broke loose.

jean, connie, and sasha were yelling while running around the room. just when they were going to run out the room, a knife was thrown that stopped them. it hit the tip of sasha’s nose since she was in front. they looked back to see that you had thrown it. “no you don’t. unless you want to see my naked body, you’re not going anywhere.”

armin was on his knees repeatedly saying that they were sorry and begged for mercy. eren was getting yelled at by captain levi and mikasa was just standing there.

you and levi were properly sat up and levi offered most of the blanket to you for you to cover your breasts.

sasha, connie, and jean all walked to where eren was and they all got yelled at.

they were assigned cleaning, kitchen, and stable duty for 3 months, “any questions?”

eren looked up at you, “uh- if it’s not intruding or anything- what are you two?”

“now, that’s none of your business. jaeger-”

“levi, they need to know,” they all noticed how levi’s eyes softened a bit when they looked at you. levi sighed before nodding his head.

“levi and i have been dating for 6 months now, and before any of you panic and ask us why we didn’t tell you- it’s because the both of us aren’t that fond of pda,” they all didn’t know how to respond to this.

armin was the first to speak up, “so .. did you two ... have-”

“make up sex and angry sex? yes. levi was being a bitch to everyone about something-”

“oh it wasn’t just something, you almost got yourself killed,” levi glared at you.

they watched the both of you going back and forth before you ended the conversation to answer armins question, “anyways yeah he was mad about something and ignored everyone for like a week before he called me here yesterday night and apologized. i, of course, blew up on him and here we are now,” you grinned at them.

levi was definitely going to say something to you later about revealing certain things about your relationship that didn’t need revealing.

that’s when you rubbed your eyes and looked outside the window and panicked, “shit- levi we’re gonna be late. we have to do that thing and all the superiors need to be earlier than the scouts,” levi nodded his head.

“hey, can you pass me that?’ you asked mikasa. mikasa’s cheeks flamed up when she saw you were pointing at your black bra on the floor. mikasa grabbed the bra and tossed it to you. now that they all looked at the floor, yours and levi’s clothes were thrown all over the place.

you grabbed your panties from the nightstand besides your side of the bed and put them on. you looked over at levi who was staring at the group, “you’re not gonna get ready?”

levi shook his head, “i still have to deal with them,” after sasha tossed your jeans and shirt after pointing at them for her to grab, you put them on and stood up. your shirt wasn’t buttoned up - making your bra visible. levi knew you were in a rush so didn’t say anything.

knowing that he was going to be stubborn, you walked over his side, “don’t be harsh on them, okay?” you gave him a kiss and hugged him before you walked out and shut the door.

everything you needed was in your own bedroom.

levi looked at where you left with a slight blush that made the scouts smile. they’re smiles faded when they saw the look their captain was giving them, “now that she’s gone ... let’s discuss some things.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

hange looked at the terrified and sleepy looking scouts in front of them at the lunch room. they raised an eyebrow at the scouts, “what happened? you guys look like you just went through hell and back.”

“it was just a stupid dare,” sasha started, “and we got yelled at by captain levi,” eren finished for her.

“did he catch all of you staying up or something?”

“they walked into levi’s bedroom without knocking or anything,” you said after walking towards their table with levi behind you and sat yourself next to hange. levi sat next to you.

“they don’t know how to fucking knock-”

“levi, we talked about this. they’re kids, let them have fun so they don’t get all grumpy like you,” you teased while bumping his shoulder with yours.

hange looked between the two of you, “wait- did they walk in while you two were-?!” hange cackled.

“more like the aftermath,” you chuckled.

“that’s even worse!” hange held their stomach with both hands.

the scouts looked at hange, “wait, you knew about them?!” they all exclaimed.

hange wiped their tears, “of course i did? who do you think levi first told? he was so happy and couldn’t stop talking about it. when y/n first entered the training thing around the time levi joined, he wouldn’t stop getting all shy around her,” hange’s mouth was covered by you since you could tell that levi was getting annoyed. the scouts shivered, there was an aura surrounding the captain while he sipped his tea.

“hange, if you want to live to see tomorrow, run for it,” they dashed out of the room.

that’s when you realized that hange quite literally yelled and everyone heard what hange had said and chaos broke loose.

“they were dating?”

“captain levi’s known commander y/n for that long?”

“he had a crush on her when she first came here?”

“captain levi gets shy?”

“oi, leave it be or all of you will run 110 laps,” everyone went back to their business.

you chuckled nervously and scratched the back of your head.

levi looked all of them dead in the eyes, “knock next time or i’ll have your heads on a plate-”

“no, you won’t.”

“yes i will.”

“love, don’t start please.”

“you started it first.”

#levi x reader #crackfic #aot #aot crackfic #levi ackerman x reader #eremika #is canon #shinkegi no kyojin #attack on titan #levi ackerman

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