#i assumed it was one of those metal tags with his blood type that soldiers wear | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Bent, not broken 2

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; violence; injury; blood; drugging, tags to be added throughout series.

This is a dark!fic and features the winter soldier and Captain Hydra x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: An attack leads to the uncovering of decades old secrets when you are taken by the deadliest assassin in the world

Note: Thank you all for your patience with this :) So happy to get part 2 out!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The man with the metal arm brought you a set of plain grey clothes. It was the type of shapeless linen given to patients in a long-term facility or inmates at a prison. When you struggled to lift your right shoulder over your head and winced as your ribs throbbed, he helped you get into the long-sleeved shirt, pulling the fabric down gruffly and backing away.

You shoved your feet into the rubber shoes, and held your arm across your middle, as you stood with shoulders curled forward pathetically. You hobbled to the door as he beckoned to you. You were reluctant to leave the room, fearful of a worse prison ahead. You didn’t have much choice in the matter; resistance was a ridiculous idea given your injuries.

As it was, you were still too hazy with shock and pain to even think of doing anything other than what you were told. You only hoped that you would have a moment to lay down again. Standing up was torture, even just breathing, and those fleeting moments of sleep were your only relief.

The halls stretched on and on. The twists and turns seemed counterintuitive as he led you along and when you didn’t walk fast enough, he grabbed your arm and dragged you along. You limped and tripped several times but he hardly noticed as he kept his eyes forward.

He brought you out into the sombre grey evening and the gulp of cold air was like a slap in the face. You didn’t know how long it was since you last felt the outside, but it made you tear up. The subtle chill tickled your nose and sent a shiver up your neck. It didn’t feel real, not after the stifling stillness of that white room.

He ushered you over to the boxy black vehicle and opened the backdoor. He nudged you and pointed inside. You looked at him and then around at the barren dirt. You braced the side of the doorframe and grunted as you tried to climb up into the backseat. You gasped and dropped back onto the ground and touched your ribs.

He sniffed and you flinched as his hand came up under your ass and he pushed you up and into the car. You groaned and landed heavily across the seat and kept yourself from sliding onto the floor. You turned back just as he slammed the door.

You coughed and reclined against the seat. You watched him climb in the front, a clear barrier between the front and back of the vehicle. The engine turned and hummed as he played with the controls. A screen above the dash lit up and showed coordinates on a map as several switches lit up below.

The jeep began to move as he steered mechanically away from the building. You peeked back at the grey brick and stretched your legs out as you leaned on the door. You rocked with the motion of the wheels but each jolt made you whimper. You closed your eyes and quelled the panic bubbling in your stomach.

You knew it couldn’t be good. None of it was. Waking up in that closet, being locked up in that white room, and now, your unknown destination hardly meant a mysterious fate. The Captain’s leer returned to you and his ominous words. The way he ordered the masked man around like a dog worried you more.

When you next opened your eyes, just about to doze off, you heard a subtle buzz through the barrier. Next to the screen, a phone was propped up and the timer counted up the minutes in the call. You couldn’t read what you assumed was Russian Cyrillic and you couldn’t quite hear the words coming from the speaker.

You sighed and it caused a stab in your ribs. You closed your eyes again and opted to try to cling onto your fatigue. It wouldn’t matter if you could hear the conversation, likely one-sided as it was, or if you could figure out where that little blinking tag on the map was. None of it made a difference. You could be certain you would not escape those men.

★

Mountains rose with sun through the slits of your eyelids. You batted away the sleepiness and shifted as you looked around at the rocky landscape, the road ahead steep and winding as the tires gripped the dirt. The angle of your ascent made your stomach flip and you leaned into the corner more heavily.

When the terrain plateaued, the mist thick around you, you dared to move and craned to peer around at the obscured lands below. The man drove on along the trail, just wide enough for the wide military vehicle and steered into the open mouth of a cave hidden between tall rocks jutting out from the mountain face.

The darkness consumed all but the glowing screen and symbols in the front of the vehicle and when the tires crunched to a halt, you sat up cautiously. The lights all went out and the front door opened and closed. The door behind you swung open and the rigid metal grip pulled you out.

Your feet hit the ground harshly and you stumbled against the man’s unwavering posture. The door shut and he sidled you ahead of him between the metal and stone. You couldn’t see in the suffocating blackness of the cave but he walked on without hesitation. His hold on your arm was the only guide you had.

He stopped as the air grew sharp and startlingly cold. Your teeth chattered and you heard the shift of rock against rock. A glowing blue oval appeared, as if floating, and he covered it with his thumb. A low rumble came from deep in the mountain and suddenly the slate before you shifted and a wall of light shone over you.

He shoved you through the door and followed, the metal door sliding closed as the rock wall on the other side clattered back into place. You looked up and down the hallway. The walls were constructed of metal sheets and the atmosphere was just as sterile as that before. Each door was thick and firmly shut, a keypad set into the wall by every frame.

The metal finger pointed you ahead of the masked man and you staggered down the long hall. He led you from behind, a right turn and then to the end. The only open door led to a peculiarly cozy room. The walls were made of rippled wood and lent the air of a cabin as the fireplace burned with artificial flames. There was a long sofa and two plaid armchairs, and the place was decorated like a real home.

Your eyes were drawn to the walnut bar in the corner where the lone figure stood. The Captain no longer sported his helmet or combat suit but wore a pale blue cable knit sweater. He smirked at you as he swirled the dark liquor in a round-bellied bottle and sniffed the neck.

“About time,” he said to the man behind you.

The masked man poked you and grabbed your elbow. He brought you to the bar and pulled a stool close to you. You couldn’t climb up on your own and so he lifted you and plunked you down. He perched on another as the Captain ordered him to.

“You look confused,” the Captain said coolly, “why wouldn’t you be? I can only assume the breadth of explanation offered by my companion.” He winked at the other man who only glared back above his black mask, “he doesn’t say much but you can call him Bucky, he might answer to it.”

He took a slender shot glass and filled it with the nearly black liquid. He turned it slowly and tilted his head as he eyed it. He put the bottle down and leaned an arm on the bar as he watched you.

“Soldat, maybe,” he offered, “he’s a good soldier. And you already know who I am, but sir will suffice.”

You frowned and glanced between him and the other man; Bucky, soldat, whatever he was. Steve chuckled and lifted the shot. He held it up until you looked at it and just as quickly, knocked it back and hissed as he slammed the glass back down.

“You see, me and him, we have different variants of the serum. Similar enough, one of the things we have in common being our tolerance for alcohol. But this…” he flicked the top of the bottle, “a couple shots and the edge starts to blur. If someone like you were to take just a sip, well, you’d be on your ass.”

You shook your head, not quite catching his point. He inhaled and poured another shot. He put it in front of the soldat.

“Loosen up, will ya?” he chided.

The dark-haired man squinted and stared at the glass. He reached up with one hand and took off the mask. He revealed a square jaw and chiseled cheekbones. He drained the shot in a single robotic motion but when he brought the glass back down, it shattered against the bar.

“He has issues with… restraint,” Steve said, “to him, a knock in the head is like a peck on the lips. He doesn’t feel it. If he can’t feel, how can he know what others can?”

“I don’t…” you sniffed.

“He could’ve killed you. He almost did by the looks of it, but he didn’t,” he continued, “there are flickers in him… little things left behind from who he once was, but I don’t think it was mercy.”

You chewed your lip and stayed silent. You took a breath and once more wracked your tender ribs. You folded your arms around you and grimaced.

“Yeah, hurts, doesn’t it?” he taunted, “unfortunately for us, you’ll need lots of rest if you don’t wanna puncture a lung.”

“What do you… mean?” you regretted asking the moment the question was out. It was a dumb question.

He raised his brows and the scar across his eye paled. He rubbed his forehead and chuckled. His blue eyes wandered for just a moment to the plain gray cotton along your shoulders and he shrugged.

“Look, you don’t wanna do this now,” he said, “so I suggest…” he reached under the bar and revealed a bottle of wine then a stemmed glass, “you get comfortable,” he turned and searched the slim drawer at the top, “and try not to think too much.”

He put an orange bottle of pills down beside the glass and filled the crystal. He pushed the wine towards you and uncapped the bottle. He placed two tablets beside the base and popped the lid back on.

“It will help with the pain,” he assured you, “and it will make it easier to get settled in.”

“I… I don’t what these are,” you scoffed as you pointed at the pills.

“I wouldn’t poison you. I could end it a lot quicker than that,” he tisked, “so, accept my generosity or I’ll shove it down your throat.”

You blanched and stared at him. The other man, Bucky, stood and stopped you from reaching for the wine. Steve looked at him in amusement and watched him jab a finger towards his chest.

“I’m helping her,” Steve said flatly, “but if you have an easier way, by all means.”

Bucky lowered his chin and closed his eyes. He sat and turned to you. He took the pills and held them out to you. You scooped them up shakily and he swiped up the wine, hovering it just before you. You shoved the pills in your mouth and accepted the wine.

His eyes focused on your lips as you sipped and he glanced back at Steve. He put his hand flat in the air, a blunt gesture. The blond laughed and raised his palms defensively.

“He wants me to leave you alone now,” he snickered, “go on then, Buck, find her a bed.”

The soldier stood and waited for you to do the same. You left the wine half-finished and he ushered you back to the door. As he reached it, Steve’s voice rose again.

“Shouldn’t worry so much about me hurting her, soldat,” he called mockingly, “you do that well enough.”

He prodded you through the door and growled under his breath. He directed you down to the corner and pressed his thumb to the keypad. The door slid up suddenly and you flinched. He blocked the doorway behind you as you entered and looked around at the bedroom. Everything you needed awaited you within those walls and if you weren’t in the middle of a mountain, it would seem an entirely ordinary place.

You turned back but all you saw was the metal descend and close you in. You stared at it for a moment then went to the bed. You sat and rubbed your temples. You could feel the pills dredging up your mind and the wine curdling in your stomach. Sleep was tempting as it was your only choice.

★

When you woke next, you felt an odd presence. The room was dark but it was that feeling you got as a child when you left the closet door open and conjured monstrous creatures watching from within.

You groaned as you propped yourself up on one elbow and reached to the switch above the headboard that turned on the lamps on the side table. The room lit up and you crooked as you found a visitor in your corner.

It was the soldat, his mask back in place as he stood and watched you. You blinked and looked at the door. It was firmly shut. You kept the blanket over you like a shield as you sat up and tried not to show your fear.

“Hi,” you said softly, “are you… okay?”

His blue eyes searched you but gave nothing away. The mask and the curtain of his hair shrouded his emotion. You just stared back in silence as his lashes flicked subtly, his irises moving up and down the bed. He took a step closer and you winced, squeezing the edge of the blankets.

He neared and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. He grabbed the top of the blanket and tugged until you let them go. You quivered as he pushed your shoulders down and you were forced flat with your head on the pillows. You gulped and the movement of your throat caught his gaze.

His metal fingers tickled along your neck and sent a chill down your spine. His hand continued down the front of your shirt and he pushed the hem up as the blanket bunched beneath your stomach. You latched onto it in a panic and he tore your hands away. He pressed them to the bed beside you until you went limp.

He raised your shirt higher and framed your ribs with his hands, feeling carefully along your bruised torso. When you exclaimed he retracted his hands and pulled your shirt back down roughly. He shook his head and his brows slanted.

His metal fingertips tapped on his thigh as he thought. You laid frozen on the mattress as his forehead wrinkled and he angled his head as if arguing with himself. His hand shifted suddenly and closed around yours. You let him lift it, terrified to anger him.

He reached to unhook his mask and set it in his lap. He brought your hand to his cheek and leaned his face into your palm as he bent over you. You felt the short stubble stabbing your palm. He took your hand away and swung it back towards him sharply so that you smacked him stiffly.

You stared at him in confusion and he did it again. Then he let your hand go and pointed at his cheek and nodded. You dropped your hand and did nothing. His blue eyes turned to daggers and his jaw squared. He balled his hand and punched his leg in frustration.

He huffed and picked up his mask. He stood and put it back on. He waved his fingers at you dismissively and stomped to the door. He pressed his thumb to the small indent and it slid open before him. When the door shut, you left the lights on.

Even with the drugs still coursing through you, sleep didn’t seem likely.

492 notes · View notes

sweetiepie08 · 3 years

Text

RebelZ (Chapter 9)

Invader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn, @agentpinerulesall

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list feel free to message me. Also, if you’re on the tag list and you changed your name, please just let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10.

[-]

“Care to tell us what the fuck that was?” the Dib shouted as they ran down the hall.

“A coup, obviously,” Zim shot back. “Just not one where you seize power at the end. So, half a coup.”

“So then who seizes power now?”

“The Tallest Red and Purple still have it,”

Dib nearly tripped over his own feet in his shock. “You mean you didn’t kill them?”

“It’s nearly impossible to poison an Irken,” Tak explained. “The PAK filters out most toxins. You can incapacitate them, though, for a short period of time.”

“So you basically just quit your job in spectacular fashion,” Dib said indignantly.

Tak almost couldn’t believe it. Zim must be sincere in his betrayal. He poisoned the Tallest and declared to the entire upper crust of the Irken military that it was intentional. There was no coming back from that. Every other disaster he caused could reasonably be argued as a mistake. But there could be no doubt here. Zim truly had turned on the empire.

Yet, something still didn’t sit quite right with her. If he had gone rebel, if he had truly turned traitor, then his life clock would have gone off like hers did. One would reasonably assume the impotence for this betrayal was her discovery of the Control Brains parasite, but she was with him ever since she told him that news and she never saw his life clock go off. But that could only mean something else prompted him at an earlier date. So the question was, what made Zim finally snap?

They came to a split in the hallway. Tak started going right while Zim went left.

“Uh, the Voot is this way,” Tak called.

“I’m not going to the Voot,” Zim yelled back. “I’m going to the control room.”

Dib and Tak cast each other a glance, then followed him. They found him crouched behind a door at the end of the hall and joined him in his hiding spot. Dib took a peak inside. There, dozens of Irkens worked at their stations. They seemed unaware that, for now, their leaders were incapacitated.

Zim tapped his PAK and a metal ball flew into his hands. He pulled a pin, tossed it in, and smashed the control panel, shutting the door. They heard coughing from the other side and, after a few minutes, opened the door to find the Irkens unconscious on the floor.

“So, what are we doing in here again?” Dib asked, as they stepped into the room.

Zim grabbed one of the Irkens who still slouched in their chair and threw them to the floor. “Wiping Urth off the navigation map.” He sat down and the monitor and started messing with the buttons. “If I’m going to continue to use it as my home base, I can’t have them finding it.”

“Not so fast,” Tak slapped his fingers away from the buttons. “Before this goes any further, I need answers. If you’re truly on our side, there’s only one way your life clock didn’t go off.”

“We don’t have time for this!”

“You had a rebellious thought!” Tak declared. “When?”

“Three Urth years ago.”

“Three years?” Dib shouted, stepping up to them. “But I’ve been watching you. Why were you still trying to conquer Earth if you kinda-quit three years ago?”

“I wasn’t.”

“But I saw you building machines!” Dib argued.

“They weren’t for me!” Zim shot back.

Tak began to ask “But how-” before Zim cut her off.

“Silence!” he shouted. “Silence your questions! I need to concentrate.”

Zim continued typing on the buttons until a picture of the Earth appeared on the screen. The stats were scarce, save for the coordinates and the note, ‘that place where Zim is.’ The little blue ball of dirt and water had gone unnoticed by the empire, noteworthy only as a banishment site. To them, it was merely a place to keep Zim contained, far away from anything important. But after the stunt they pulled today, it would be a target.

Another few clicks of a button and the Urth was gone, leaving only a blank file in its wake. All Irken military ships automatically synced with the Massive. If it was gone from this data base, it was essentially invisible to all Irkens. If they wanted to find Urth again, they’d have to scour the universe for it. But why stop at Urth?

“Let’s dump it all,” Tak said.

“What?”

“Erase the database,” she said. “It’ll be a crippling blow to the empire.”

“Do we really have time to erase everything?” Dib asked. The human made a good point.

“Jut the maps then,” she suggested. “They would have to rebuild their navigation systems from scratch and it would send the fleet into disarray.”

“Zim is no radical!” Zim snapped. “I’m only doing this to cover my own ass.”

“Not a raical?” Dib scoffed. “You just poisoned your own leaders.”

“That was personal,” Zim argued. “This is political.”

“And what about those weapons you’re building?!” Dib shot back. “If they’re not for Irk, then who are they for?”

“Zim’s business deals are none of your… um… business!”

“Shut up!” Tak commanded, taking a seat at another monitor. “We don’t have time for this! Let’s get these maps erased and get out of here.”

“If you even make it that far,” a chorus of voices answered.

Dib looked around. “Who said that?”

“We did, human.”

Every Irken in the room rose to their feet. Tak prepared herself for a fight. Her eyes darted as she watched them all, poised to deploy the weapons in her PAK. But none made a move to attack. They all stood there, stalk still, with a dead look in their eyes.

Dib gaped at the sight. “H-how are you…”

“Silence Urth Creature!” the possessed Irkens shouted in unison, turning their cold eyes toward Dib. “Do not interrupt us again!” Dib shut his mouth and the Irkens calmed. “Congratulations defectives” they said, now addressing Zim and Tak. “It’s been centuries since we had to resort to total override, but mark our words, you will pay for this waste of food.”

“What do you care for waste?” Tak spat back at them. “You throw Irken lives away every day in your conquest.”

“A calculated cost to bring me more to feed from in the long term,” the Irkens explained with their eerily monotone voices. “You should know about calculated risks. Don’t forget, we see everything you do.”

“When have I ever sacrificed good soldiers?”

Every possessed Irken in the room wore the same mocking smirk. “All through your training days. Don’t you remember? We saw everything you did, every little cheat to get ahead.”

The Irkens tapped buttons on their control boards and soon, every monitor showed various scenes from Tak’s training years. “Electrodes hidden in your boots to cripple race opponents. Stealing test answers and planting them in a rival’s locker after copying them for yourself. You got top scores on your exams and excelled at your drills, but is it really victory if you have to sabotage your competitions? Oh sure, you studied and trained, but it never felt like enough, did it? Never thought you could win a fair fight. Had to tear someone else down first. Maybe, if it weren’t for all your cheating, we’d have let you make up your Elite ranking test. After all, we allowed everyone else who was inconvenienced by the blackout to take it.” Their smirks grew as they twisted the knife further. “Just not you.”

Tak ground her teeth together as she watched the images play out on the screen. There was no denying them. The monitors played footage from her own memory bank. They showed her and everyone else who she really was. She work so hard. She clawed her way to the top and did everything she could to stay there. But it was all a lie. And now they knew it. What was worse, Zim knew it. That little pain in the ass managed to make it to elite the first time, even while being a walking disaster, and he never had to deliberately cheat. The idea of him lording that over her was enough to make her blood boil.

“Perhaps you can prove everyone wrong, though,” the Irken voices went on. “Take the honest route for once in your life. Tell Zim what you learned on your little trip to Refirencee. Tell him what you suspect.”

“Fool!” Zim scoffed. “Zim already accessed Tak’s memories. I know everything she knows about the Control Brain parasite.”

“Yes, you saw the same books. But did you reach the same conclusions?”

“Guys! Don’t you see what it’s doing?” The Dib burst in. “It’s distracting you. It’s keeping you here until your leaders recover. Let’s erase those maps and get out of here!”

“Silence!” Zim snapped at Dib, then turned back to the dead-eyed Irkens. “Tell Zim what you know, creepy hive-mind…thing!”

“Have you ever wondered why you’re such a failure? Why you destroy everything you touch? Why, no matter what you do, everything always blows up in your face? It’s because you have no choice in the matter. It’s what you were made for.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Before we push for something big, we require extra sustenance. We take this sustenance in what some have called a blood toll. On our first planet, we made many mistakes, one was asking our hosts directly for sacrifices. We know better now.”

“Ans what does this have to do with me?” Zim growled impatiently.

“Since the beginning of our reign, one PAK has been passed down through generations, carrying a suppressed impulse for destruction. We need only to activate it and we have our blood toll. Clearly our PAK has become quite damaged over the years. It no longer works quite right. You’re so defective, you couldn’t even declare your name right.”

The screen flashed the name Zim across it. It then reversed the letters and spread them out to reveal an acronym. ZIM became MIZ. And MIZ became Massacre Initiator Z.

“You were supposed to live as a low-ranking drone until we activated your destructive impulse and die in the disaster. You, however, defied us at every turn. We kept you alive out of sheer curiosity. We wanted to see how your life would play out. It’s been entertaining, however, you’ve become too great a burden to bare.”

Zim stood motionless, staring straight ahead. They waited for the typical Zim outburst of “lies!” or declaring his greatness, but nothing came. His eyes looked as dead as the possessed Irkens around them. He said nothing, did nothing. As much as Tak couldn’t stand Zim’s obnoxious voice or erratic behavior, watching him be so still was chilling.

Tak’s antenna perks at the sound of footsteps trooping down the hall. The Dib’s head darted for the door. “Guy! Come on! We’re out of time!”

Tak smacked Zim’s lifeless body away from the control panel. “Do you think you can stop us by getting into our heads?”

“Oh simple Tak,” the Irkens sighed. “We've lived in your heads since you were fitted with your packs.”

Tak sneered at them. “I cut you off for me and I won't rest until every Irken is free of you.”

“Please, you worked your whole life to get our attention. You finally have it. Do you want to throw that away? Perhaps we can find a place with someone of your drive and ingenuity.”

“Liars!” Did they think she was stupid? She knew as well as it that treason of this scale would never go unpunished. Even if they tried to appease her with a higher rank or a cushy job, it’d only be a matter of time before they got rid of her. But even the fact that it was trying to negotiate meant something. She was a threat to it, and she would stay a threat until the day she died.

“We you know you, Tak. You’re a plotter. You won't do anything rash.”

They don’t know me half as well as they think. “Want a bet?” She started hitting buttons on the control board. An alert came up on the screen and the voice blared from the speakers. “All maps queued for deletion. Are you sure you want to proceed?”

She hit one more button and the screen went black. “Deletion successful.”

“Take that you parasite bitch.”

“Come on,” Dib begged, pulling on her arm. The footsteps were noticeably louder. “We have to go now!”

Tak took off running and Dib pulled on the frozen Zim until his legs moved. They burst into the hall and immediately came across a group of Irkan soldiers. “There they are!” one of the soldiers cried.

Tak led the way as they ran toward the ship’s hanger. The soldiers fired at them. A laser cannon popped out of Tak’s pack and returned fire, but it was difficult for her to aim while leading the dash to the Voot. She wished one of her companions had could back her up with a pistol but Zim was still barely conscious and Dib was preoccupied with keeping his legs moving. The sound of little metallic feet running beside them gave her an idea.

“Zim, tell me your SIR unit to go into defensive mode.

There was no response. Zim was as helpful as a sack of empty ginzor cans.

“Hey Zim’s robot,” Dib said to the little SIR unit.

Gir looked up at him curiously. “Hmm?”

“Don't you have any weapons or something?”

“Huh?”

“You know, something that makes pretty lights and goes ‘pew, pew’?”

“Oh that. I got that.” A giant laser cannon popped out of his head and he fired wildly into the soldiers behind them, forcing the Irkens to scatter for cover

Finally, they made it to the hangar and all jumped in the Voot. Zim slid zombie-like into the pilot seat.

“Come on,” Dib said, shaking Zim’s shoulder. “Get us out of here!”

“Zim!” Tak snapped. “If you don't fly this ship, I will!”

That seemed to work. Zim shook off whatever stupor he was in and his usual look of single-minded determination returned to his eyes. “No one pilots Zim’s ship but Zim!” He took hold of the controls and the ship roared to life. In a flash, they took off into the stars.

#invader zim #invader zim fanfic #invader zim fanfiction #parasite au #iz parasite au #zim #tak #dib #gir #rebel zim #rebel leader tak #iz #zadf #sweetiepie writes #sweetipiewrites #sweetiepie fanfiction #sweetiepie fanfic #sweetiepie08

47 notes · View notes

inforapound · 4 years

Text

Albatross Chapter 1

Summary - Leaving the security of a lonely life, a young woman heads out into the universe in search of a colony of like-minded beings. The Mandalorian, a lone-wolf, intergalactic bounty hunter reluctantly finds himself drawn to her, challenging his resolve and way of life.

Pairing - Mando x OC Words - 2,400 Ask to be tagged

Warnings - fluff, explicit love scenes, there will be series inaccuracies

Don’t look at anyone, don’t draw attention, just find a seat and wait for the man they call Greef Karga.

The bar was a dingy little place but everything appeared to be in this armpit of a city. Moving further into the low lit, adobe-like building, the strange, unfamiliar sounds of foreign languages confused my ears. The place was fairly busy, smelled of something fermented and was filled with species I could not have ever imagined. Behind the murmur was a low repetitive beat with some high pitch, melodic whistle, I assumed was a style of ambient music. The feeling of panic, I continued to ignore, was settling at the bottom of my stomach, feeling cold and tasting sour. I had been in this place, this slum planet called Nevarro for less than an hour and I was already terrified I had made a grave error.

I needed transport though. A way out and off and was told by the courier who had responded to my beacon, that this Mr. Karga was my best chance. Apparently, he was a businessman of sorts, well connected with access to ships.

The bag over my shoulder was weighed down with my parent’s life savings, and I could only hope a ride to a more habitable, civilized planet would not cost as much as my journey here. Having never had actual employment before, my chance at a life, survival even, depended on that ride. Everything was different now, and despite being surrounded by others, I felt more on my own than I had in all my years of isolation.

Squeezing my duffel bag against my side, I approached the bar, choosing one of the stools, chancing that it was the safest place to wait and watch. Sliding in, I couldn’t help but make eye contact with the…… being beside me. Possibly some species of Verpine, his large deep red eyes were opaque making it impossible to tell where he was actually looking.

Being raised alone by my parents, their years of tutoring, tales, and descriptions of other races, species, religions and civilizations, nothing could have prepared me for this. Knowing just did not compare to experiencing. My family had been the sole inhabitants on a remote planet, other than the plentiful species of animals, fish, and birds, insects big and small. Being born there, I had never been off or met another person, until today.

My father had been a soldier for the Galactic Empire. One of the last true machinists on the planet of Naboo, he had been called to fight with no option of refusal. Meeting my mother on the Force, she was an agricultural scientist but had been assigned to the Imperial Army in the field of research, working on some hushed bio-warfare program.

When my mother became pregnant with me, they made a run for it, taking a well stocked ship, and hiding on the little known planet Ithor. It had been a good life and reflecting on it now, I realized how hard they had worked, every day, preparing me for my future alone. They passed away within months of each other. Mom developed a sickness that caused great pain in her lungs and her blood to thin. When dad fell ill from a simple infection, he held on as long as he could for my sake. When he did finally succumb, it was devastating but a relief.

The first year had been manageable, passing the days, months by compulsively planting, preparing tinctures and restocking stores. By the third year alone, I wondered what the point of living was at all. Unfortunately for me, I had never learned to fly and the ship hadn't been operational since my parent’s arrival twenty-six years earlier. The thought of triggering the ship’s alert beacon consumed my mind for weeks. Part of me knows I flipped that switch just to catch a break from thinking about it any longer. It was the ultimate roll of the dice, not knowing who or what would respond.

“Watch yourself!” a man’s voice called from further down on the bar.

Snapping my head in that direction, I saw an armored man, face hidden by a helmet, his gloved hand pointing beyond me to my far side. Looking over, I jumped seeing a sharp, insectoid-like arm extending toward my side from the hard-shelled body of that same guy with the dark red eyes, sitting two stools away.

“Hey!” I barked, yanking my bag away from him and into my lap.

The thing’s claw-like arm contracted back, and he turned toward me, the jagged pincers on his face oscillating, making a disgusting clicking sound. Why had I sounded that beacon?

Sliding off my stool, I backed away, glaring at the creature and rounded the half-moon shaped bar, taking a seat one over from the helmeted man.

“Thanks,” I uttered as I shifted onto the stool but he gave no response.

The droid tending the bar noticed the commotion and glided over, swiveling his bucket head in my direction, waiting.

“Do you have Lomin?” I asked, knowing I would be more welcome to wait if there was a drink in front of me.

“Credits first,” he blurted back and I assumed that was because of the type of patrons that frequented the place.

Pulling a black sack out of the top of my duffel bag, I shook two five-credit chits into my hand, holding them out to the droid.

“On the bar,” the droid ordered.

Placing them down, I slid them forward.

“Only one,” the helmeted man spoke out, his voice crackling through some type of voice box. Still, he did not look in my direction.

Glancing at the droid, I picked up one of the chits and returned it to my sack. Collecting the payment, the android glided away, returning quickly with a large cup of frothy amber-colored drink. Bringing it to my nose, I sniffed, my face twisting with revulsion. Taking a small sip, the taste was even worse. This was not the same ale we made at home.

“Not what you expected?” the man asked, his head now titled down as if he was checking something on the floor.

“Ahh, no. It's sweet. Different recipe, perhaps. I’m not from here.”

“No shit,” he said in an even voice and I thought his sarcasm could use some work.

Looking over at him, I didn’t attempt to hide my unimpressed reaction.

“Just being in here, you don’t know, what you don’t even know.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

“I’m waiting for someone, so….”

Saying nothing further, the man sat as still as stone. He, too, seemed to be waiting. It hadn’t been a smoking hot day but warm enough that I imagined his heavy, dark metal armor must have been uncomfortable. With no beverage in front of him, I wondered why he wasn’t drinking something like everyone else in the place. What could that mean?

“Are you Greef Karga?”

That got his attention. Helmet swiveling in my direction, he looked like one of those droids with the spinning heads.

“That is who you are here for?”

“So, you are not him,” bringing my drink to my lips, I took a sip, hoping the second taste wouldn’t be as bad. No luck, it was still vile.

“What is your business with Karga?”

“Not your concern,” I replied, steadying my face, realizing I truly had no idea where I was or how much danger I was in.

“You're right,” he said quietly. Placing his gloved hands onto the bar, he slid back off the stool, flicking his cape as to not get it caught. Passing behind me, he halted to a stop, “Keep that sack of credits hidden…carry a few in your pocket… in case.” Without another word, he carried on, walking stiffly out the door.

A quarter of the drink was all I could manage but I was dehydrated after the long day of travel. Patrons had come and gone but from where I sat, it was hard to keep watch without blatantly turning around. No one else had attempted to talk to me and for that I was grateful. Still, there was no relaxing. Every time I thought about leaving the bar and heading out into the streets, I gripped my bag a little tighter.

A loud yelp cut through the low chatter and without thinking I turned to look. The sound of tin cups tumbling to the ground was followed by a thud as a dark-skinned man with a black mustache slammed the head of a guy sitting across the booth from him down onto the table. The young guy’s cheek was pinned and he held his hands up as if to signal surrender. Scanning the room, the others ignored the display, telling me that people getting roughed up was either a regular occurrence or the man doing the roughing was too dangerous to get caught looking at.

“Please!” the guy cried, his hands trembling, the older man gazing down, expressionless, as if used to inflicting this kind of torment. “Please Greef! I’ll get the payment, I swear!”

Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, I was out of there. Hugging my bag like a blankie, I pushed off the stool, leaving my putrid drink and headed for the exit. Keeping a calm pace, the last thing I needed was to draw attention. If that was Greef Karga, I was not taking my chances that he would listen to the story of a twenty-something-year-old orphan, looking for transport to a place where she might find work on a farm. I had heard about human trafficking and forced servitude, the sex trade and I was not sticking around, regardless if that guy had one ship or a hundred.

Out into the dusty street, I re-positioned my bag over my shoulder and walked further into the industrial shit hole. Despite blending into the crowded street, my vulnerability felt glaring and my fear was taking hold.

The cargo pilot had told me about a place that offered space to those passing through. Trudging on, I looked for the large structure built with blue containers with a black circle painted on the door. I could feel the eyes of those around me, tracking my movements, even stepping into my path to perhaps test my response. Biting the tip of my tongue, I scowled and filled my lungs with air, grateful, I was wearing black pants and a long-sleeved top.

There it was! The blue rusty building that stood a little higher than the metal and stone shacks on either side. The place looked like it had suffered a thousand sand storms but the black blotch on the hatch style door did make my feet move a little faster.

“Whatever you are looking for, it’s not in there.” A man’s voice came from behind. Not wanting to mix further with the locals, I ignored it and kept walking.”

“Stop,” it called out with authority and my elbow was tugged back. Snatching my arm away, I spun, ready to plant my knee into a groin.

Lowering his hand to his side, the helmeted man stood before me like he had been dropped out of the sky. Had he been following me this whole time? Had he waited outside the bar?

“What do you want?”

“I tried minding my own business but….you shouldn’t go in there.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not for lodging.”

Saying nothing, I tightened my grip on my bag.

“Why?”

“There are beds but…they’re not for sleeping.”

“Oh,” my head shot back. “Okay.” Glancing down at the ground between us, I bit the end of my tongue, fearing my chin might start to tremble. This was bad. Clearing my throat, I looked back up, picking the black cross at the center of his helmet to focus on. “Where would one go if they were looking for transport?”

“Transport? Is that why you were looking for Karga?”

Nodding, I cleared my throat again, realizing I was the quintessential babe in the woods.

The man said nothing, but he seemed to look beyond my shoulder, his large helmet subtly shaking as if answering my question was a hassle. He may have only been the second person I had ever met but I could tell he was cursing himself for stopping me.

“Do you have a ship?” I asked, not giving him the chance to blow me off. “I need to get somewhere that I can find work.”

Looking back down at me, he seemed to just stare. What was taking him so long to answer? It was painful! I hadn’t pestered him, he was the one who stopped me, followed me through the streets. Despite that and the large weapon on his back, I wasn’t afraid of him. Yes, I was the last person to be able to accurately gauge one’s character by their appearance or body language but his warnings, his reluctant advice, none of it felt like a ploy.

“Look, I am a farmer. I’m fairly handy and I’m quiet. I have a little money and I can sleep in a ball on the floor. Do you have a ship with room for me? I’m hoping to make it to Dantoonie or somewhere there are colonies that grow food.”

“Two hundred and fifty credits and I’ll take you anywhere you want.”

“Two hundred and fifty?” my brows shot high with surprise. “Okay.” What choice did I have?

Swiftly turning, he began to walk away; springing forward, I rushed to keep up.

“Can I ask a question?”

As if I hadn’t spoken, he carried on, stalking through the streets, a couple of side allies, arriving at a fenced yard filled with, what I could see, was a dozen or so ships.

“Listen,” he spun around, standing still as a wall and I lurched to a stop to avoid running into him. “You just agreed to pay double what anyone would pay for travel. I don’t know who you are, or where you are from, but you are going to bring heat down on yourself and me. We will leave in a couple of hours. Until then, get in and stay quiet. Keep your money hidden. No talking to anyone or walking around looking like...” lifting his gloved hand, he flicked his orange-tipped fingers at me…“that.”

Eyes flashing wide, I froze, watching him turn and duck through a cut out in the wire fence, dipping carefully to clear the handle of his gun. Following behind, I stopped myself from asking any one of the dozen questions bouncing around in my head. From what I could tell, this conversation alliterate, gun-toting, armored, stiff walking, helmet-wearing man was my only hope. I was not going to piss him off any more than I apparently already had.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #mando fic #mandalorian love story #mando and oc #mando love #mando smut #din djarin love #din djarin smut

53 notes · View notes

lbibliophile-mcu · 3 years

Text

Star Spangled Bingo 2020 masterpost

The @star-spangled-bingo for 2020 is complete!

I was hoping to get a blackout, but a combination of being side-tracked by ATLA fandom and misreading the closing date made me just miss it - I’ll just have to ssav those ideas for the next round!. But I’m still impressed by the number of Cap fills I managed (although none Sam-centric this time).

Fill details and links are below the cut (all fills are gen/teen).

Sleeping Bucky Prompt: Rescue Mission Fill type: moodboard and drabble Characters: Steve Rogers / Bucky Barnes Tags: fairytale au, cryofreeze, amnesia Summary: They say that true love’s kiss can break a curse. But love is too vast and complex an emotion to be encompassed by a single kiss.

Armed and Ready (Winter Soldier braid] Prompt: Losing Control of Powers Fill type: fancraft and drabble Characters: Bucky Barnes Tags: tablet weaving, Bucky Barnes’ metal arm, Infinity War Summary: He looks at the open case; at the dark limb with its bright tracery. He should have known this was coming. He had known.

Conduction Prompt: Cuddling Fill type: fanfic (970 words) Characters: Bucky Barnes & Tony Stark Tags: touch-starved, Bucky Barnes needs a hug Summary: Conduction n, the transfer of heat energy via contact. It is a small thing that makes him notice. A simple clap on the shoulder, emphasis for whatever point he is making. But when he moves to take his hand away, Bucky follows, just for a moment, prolonging the contact.

Wounds Unhealing Prompt: Home Alone Fill type: poem (440 words) Characters: Steve Rogers Tags: canonical character death, grief/mourning, Steve Rogers has PTSD, Endgame Summary: They say time heals all wounds. But how can he heal when every memory tears away the slow-forming scab?

How Many Times? Prompt: “Where’s the fight?” Fill type: moodboard and poem (160 words) Characters: Steve Rogers Tags: grief/mourning, Steve Rogers has PTSD, Captain America as a role, suicidal ideation - potential interpretation Summary: When Steve agreed to become Captain America, he pledged his life in service to his country. And he gave his life, crashing a plane full of bombs into icy water. But then he wakes. He wakes, and they ask for Captain America once more. Again and again... He never thought about what it might mean that his contract had no end date.

Fri on the Wall Prompt: Friday Fill type: Drabble sequence (600 word) Characters: Friday, Bucky Barnes / Tony Stark Tags: mutual pining, supportive Friday, 5+1 things, dialogue-only Summary: Friday watches her idiot, pining boys. Or, five times Friday tried to support their relationship, and one time she decided to take more drastic measures.

Ice Bound - pt 1 Prompt: Soulmate AU Fill type: fanfic (620 words) Characters: Steve Rogers / Bucky Barnes Tags: assumed character death, soulmate AU, cryofreeze, CA:TFA Summary: Steve and Bucky are Bonded. From the day they first meet they are inseparable – best friends and brothers – hardly a day goes past without the other’s company. People say they are lucky, finding each other so young, so close, never having to search and wonder; they say that it is a sign of the strength of their bond. They will need that strength

Workout Prompt: “I need a new set of lungs” Fill type: moodboard Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Tags: animal AU, dog!Steve Rogers and dog!Bucky Barnes, human!Tony Stark Summary: If there were such a thing as supersoldiers in dog form, Bucky and Steve would be it. Tony loves them, but their energy will be the death of him someday.

Trauma Bingo Prompt: PTSD Fill type: fanfic (1120 words) Characters: Bucky Barnes & Avengers Team Tags: PTSD, therapy, crack, many traumatic topics touched on briefly and non-graphically - full list in AO3 tags Summary: SHIELD remembers that trauma therapy exists, and their sights are set on the Avengers. Aka. How many issues can you fit in one team, and can you also get them all in the same person. Succeeding at trauma bingo is not actually winning…

Decorating Bucky’s Arm Prompt: Avengers Tower Fill type: moodboard/graphic Characters: Bucky Barnes & Avengers Team Tags: Bucky Barnes’ metal arm, Avengers family, joke gifts Summary: “I’m noticing a trend with these gifts…”

Captain America braid Prompt: Free Space Fill type: fancraft Characters: na Tags: tablet weaving, Captain America’s shield Summary: na

Visions of Xmas Past, Present, Future Prompt: Time Travel Fill type: moodboard and drabble Characters: Bucky Barnes / Sam Wilson Tags: A Christmas Carol remix, blood, future relationship Summary: Christmas Eve in his shity little apartment in in Bucharest, a recovering Bucky Barnes is granted a gift: a reminder of how far he has come, and how much more he still has to gain.

Subject SS2 Prompt: Crying Themself to Sleep Fill type: fanfic (540 words) Characters: Steve Rogers Tags: Hydra, imprisonment, implied torture, implied medical experimentation, supersoldier serum, hurt no comfort Summary: Hydra has finally managed to achieve something they have been dreaming of since WWII: the capture of Captain America. But what to do with him? The science division calls dibs. After all, there's only so much you can learn from a historical sample size of one.

Cleaning up the Evidence Prompt: Giving the Kids a Bath Fill type: moodboard and drabble Characters: Bucky Barnes / Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Tags: deaged!Steve Rogers, fluff, dialogue-only Summary: Tony discovers the unexpected pitfalls of an artistic toddler

Hunters and Haunted Prompt: Chance Encounter Fill type: moodboard (and pre-published drabble) Characters: Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanoff Tags: nightmares, blood, guns Summary: Not all monsters can be fought with guns and steel. But a friend to guard your back is always invaluable.

Preventative Measures Prompt: Losing a sense Fill type: moodboard/graphic Characters: Bucky Barnes Tags: self-mutilation, ear trauma, blood, Winter Soldier trigger words, CA:CW Summary: ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones...’ but words turn me into a mindless killing machine. So Bucky takes matters into his own hands.

Heat-sensitive SHIELDRA Mug - Buy Now! Prompt: Mistaken Identity Fill type: graphic Characters: na Tags: Hydra, crack, merchandise Summary: Do you want to show off your loyalty to your organisation? Frustrated that undercover operation cramps your style? Worry no more!

BUCK-E’s Problem Prompt: No-One Believes Them Fill type: fanart and drabble Characters: Bucky Barnes & Tony Stark Tags: DUM-E’s Drawings, Bucky Barnes’ metal arm, cats, mechanical repairs Summary: Hanging out in TON-E’s workshop, DUM-E collects the best stories. BUCK-E is not amused.

A Dead Man’s Face Prompt: “I thought you were smaller.” Fill type: fanfic (530 words) Characters: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Tags: Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, partial amnesia, brainwashing, CA:TWS Summary: The Winter Soldier knows that he was once called Bucky Barnes, and had a childhood friend called Steve Rogers. The Winter Soldier knows that Captain America is his enemy and the enemy of everything Hydra stands for. The Winter Soldier now knows that Captain America is the type of man - monster - who would use the face of Bucky’s dead friend as a weapon against him. But he will not falter; he has a mission.

Collage Prompt: Mental Illness Fill type: fanfic (400 words) Characters: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Tags: PTSD, therapy, self-identity, Steve Rogers has issues, Bucky Barnes has issues but is dealing with them Summary: “You really think you don’t have anything you need to talk about? Because my therapist doesn’t just help with the Winter Soldier shit, y’know. I’m learning how to be a person again, and that means dealing with everything that makes me who I am. “In your case, there’s Captain-America-who-fights-aliens, Captain-Rogers-who-fights-Nazis, Steve-from-the-40s-who-fights-bullies, and Stevie-who-became-a-big-buff-supersoldier-to-hopefully-win-some-of-said-fights. And that’s just the obvious. No wonder you’re a mess.”

#ssb2020 #masterpost #captain america #steve rogers #bucky barnes #fanfic #drabble #moodboard #graphic #image edit #bingo fill

2 notes · View notes

whore4pedro · 4 years

Text

Albatross Chapter 1

A/N - I just started this blog last night so let me know if you’d like to be tagged.

Pairing - Mando x OC Words - 2,400

Warnings - fluff, explicit love scenes, canon divergent