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fatallyfalling · 5 months

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Secrets & Sugarcubes ~ ♆

“ Sugarcube ? “

warnings: hurt/comfort, typical Hunger Games violence/trauma, mention/insinuation of forced prostitution, ptsd, soft reassurances, possible slight ooc?? Finnick fears physical touch, end is very fluffy with some slight cuddling, etc.

{{ word count }} 4.0 k

{{ Prompt }} The two of you had a game, a way of trading secrets when the world felt too big and a simple touch felt like a burn on Finnick’s skin. You always made sure to keep a tin of sugarcubes in your kitchen just in case.

{{ a/n }} I swear i know how to write happy things guys i promise akfkakkdka the next one will be tooth rottingly sweet i promise please bear with me >< ! I hope the length of this one makes up for it being a day late as well. This also might seem a bit ooc for Finnick? Not sure - but here is my full headcanon, I'd suggest reading it before this to better understand why Finnick is behaving the way he is as it's explained a bit more in-depth. Reader and Finnick are also rather affectionate with one another but there isn’t an established relationship yet between them. Please enjoy <3

Tip, Tap, Tip-Tip, Tap

Your door creaked under the coded knock, a beat of silence following before it was repeated on the old wood. Your nose scrunched in a perplexed manner, groggily padding down the stairs in your night clothes to your front door, a glimpse at the mahogany grandfather clock in the entryway tells you it’s well past midnight. Your confusion pooled into a sense of concern as cold fingers gripped the metal door handle and gave a firm tug. You knew the knock and who was behind the door as you started speaking before even meeting his gaze, the scent of almonds and honey tainted by a sickly layer of Capital roses filling your senses.

“What’s going on? It’s late. You should be asle-“

Your sentence was cut short as your gaze met a pair of bleary sea-green eyes. You knew the look too well as a frown settled on your lips, your shoulders sinking with your heart as you took in the male before you. “Oh, Finn..” You mutter as you open the door further to let him inside. He hesitates in the doorway, looking lost, but you give a flickering nod of encouragement, convincing him to cross the threshold.

“Come on, I’ll make some tea..”

Nodding towards the kitchen, he wordlessly treks after you. Finnick’s steel-colored dress shirt was well wrinkled, unbuttoned to his clavicle, and sleeves pushed past his elbows. His face didn’t look much better than his suit. His bronze waves were messy, brows sewn in with a tight jaw, and hunched shoulders added to an unsteady demeanor. You could only assume what had occurred earlier in the night while attending the latest Capital party before the famed “Capital’s Darling” appeared on your doorstep. The growing pit in your stomach churned at the thought, and a muscle fluttered in your jaw as you led the victor deeper into your home.

Settling into what sometimes felt like a nightly routine, you get to work on the tea. You also place a small tin on the counter before Finnick, his gaze dancing between your fingers and the tin as you do so. His hands were trembling.

“I think the sweater you left the other day is upstairs. I can get it if you’d like,” You offer while setting the kettle to simmer on the stove. Finnick shakes his head with a soft, tight-lipped hum. He was distracted, flicking his thumbs against the pads of his index fingers over and over again.

“I thought it might help to change...” You allow while stumbling over an apology. You round the counter in a retreat to hunt down the knit item. But you misjudge the distance. Your shoulder accidentally brushes his in a fleeting move that instantly causes recoil and a sharp inhale on Finnick’s part as if he’d been singed by a flame.

“Please,”

The word was strained in his throat as anguish flooded his tanned features. Your eyes widened at your misstep, immediately backtracking to provide more physical space between you. But your frown only deepens as you stare at one another for a fleeting moment before Finnick all but crumples in on himself, descending to the hardwood floor.

Heartbreak splinters through your chest like a knife, bringing yourself down with him as knees meet the polished wood with a thud. Taking further notice of his trembling, it spread up his arms and across his torso now, fists bunching the fabric of his sleeves. The victor wet his lips as his eyes screwed shut, visibly trying to push back whatever threatened to plague his mind.

“I'm so sorry Finnick. Hey, hey- it’s okay, it’s just me, I'm here. I’m sorry, you’re safe with me. You’re going to be okay,” Apologetic pleas pour out in whispers, your head tilting to see beneath the bronze waves blocking his eyes. “You’re safe here,"

He doesn’t respond, only wetting his lips again with a thick swallow that moves his throat up and down. Your lips press to a thin line as you scan around you for anything that might help break the darkness obscuring his senses. Your own thoughts swim with curses for your mistake before your vision finally connects with the small forgotten tin on the counter. Cautiously you rise to retrieve it, your movements are slow, ensuring your hands remain within view, and keeping a safe distance between Finnick and yourself. Once the cool metal touches your skin you wrap your fingers around it, returning to kneel before the distressed Darling on your floor.

“Hey, do you remember our game ?”

A small ‘click’ chirps out as you open the tin. Dozens of small white sugarcubes sparkle inside, gently shifting to let the tin rest between you two. Finnick’s eyes peek out in a squint, dragging his gaze down to the tin and then back up to fixate on your face. He gives a tiny nod to indicate he’s listening, the trembling doesn’t stop.

“Okay,” you manage a small, warm smile briefly as you dip your head to peer into the tin. Plucking four cubes out, simultaneously sweeping your calves out from under you for a more relaxed sitting position, you gently place two near his knee while keeping the other two in your hand.

“One for yes, two for no,”

Gesturing to show the two options, gaining another nod from the trembling victor. At least his attention is focused on the sugar now. Sometimes it took much longer to bring him back enough just to open his eyes.

This was what Finnick Odair hid behind showboating grins and that “Golden Boy” Capital mask. The poltergeists of sticky, unwanted Capital fingers and lips left dozens of invisible burns engraved on his skin. You’d caught the bronze-haired male regularly picking an invisible piece of lint off his shirt or whichever shiny garment the stylists forced him to wear. Soon enough you managed to decipher the minute gesture as a tell to when the discomfort the tanned male felt on his skin too often was starting to eat away at his thoughts.

Never quite free of the forces from previous nights.

It tore open your heart to see him like this. Thrown to the mutts of the Capital under President Snow’s threat of his loved ones being tortured or worse killed if he didn’t comply, there really was no escape from the taloned clutches of winning the annual Hunger Games.

Nobody escapes The Games, and nobody ever wins.

As much as you desperately wanted to whisk the 65th victor away from his position he wouldn’t let you even if you tried, claiming he couldn’t bear to see you come into harm's way and that he’d rather endure the torture just to keep you safe. The seeping guilt you felt was immeasurable.

“I’ll begin, you just answer with the sugar okay ?”

Another small nod earns a second weak smile tugging at the corners of your mouth to reassure him.

“Are you okay ?”

There’s a pause as Finnick thinks, eyelids squeeze shut again but soon open as a shaky hand gently moves the tiny pieces of sugar forward.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Are you hurt outside ?”

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Are you hurt inside ?”

Another pause, and then he gently scoots one of the cubes backward.

One cube, ‘yes’

“Can you tell me what hurts inside ?”

Finnick hesitates, his brow twitches with a small crinkle of his nose. You wouldn’t pry if he wasn’t ready, you’re patience was strong and you’d spend all night passing sugar on the floor if it meant he could find peace of mind. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to,”

Finnick didn’t have many choices or say in life due to his position in the capital, so you found providing clear options to be rather grounding for the Bronze-haired male. It gave him a sense of stability and control over himself and what was occurring around him. Keeping the questions of your game simple and to the point in turn made his responses quick, a distraction technique you had picked up a while back to combat your own struggles post-games.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“That’s okay,” your small smile strengthens as you give him a tender look, not of pity but empathy. “Can I help?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Please…”

The repeated word is barely above a whisper. If you hadn’t been hyper-fixated on him you might not have caught the parting of his lips that dripped the morsel of sound. His gaze has moved up from the floor to meet yours, wide sea-green irises soft in a pleading expression. You simply nod, assuring him you’re staying right where you are. The tension in his body visibly releases as the reassurances seem to sink in. Gingerly, he releases his biceps, picking at an invisible speck of dust on his sleeve. He drags a hand through his tousled hair before taking it down his face to rub his eyelids. He inhales a deep, shaky breath. You let him take his time to recuperate. Once his hand returns to his lap and he meets your eyesight you resume the verbal questionnaire.

“Do you want your sweater ?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Okay, just a second,” you smile warmly, he nods, and you slowly stand, making your way upstairs, finding the ivory knit sweater on your bedroom dresser right where he’d left it. Turning around, you retrace your steps back to the kitchen, making sure to avoid the steps that creak louder than others on your way. “Here you go,”

Placing the sweater down as you return to sit with the Darling, he waits for your hands to leave the fabric before picking up the thick material and tugging it over his head. It takes a minute to adjust the layers and his sitting position so they’re comfortable but when he’s done the steel grey button-up collar peeks out from under the angled neckline of the ivory sweater along with the tails of the neutral fabric sticking out under the bottom hem. The ends of the sleeves are stretched around his fingers to mimic mittens. “Better ?” You offer while he takes a moment to breathe in the familiar scent. The smell of Capital roses is quickly suffocated in his familiar warm almond and honey cologne mixing with your scent clinging to the sweater. A sweet smile softens your cheeks as he allows a small lopsided smile with a nod and a hum, the corners of his mouth twitching up at the comfort.

“Very much so.”

“Good,” you nod, “Do you want the citrus tea you like so much? The one with the cinnamon?” Quirking a brow with a small tilt of your head.

“mhm,”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Very well,” you smile sweetly, rising again to move back into the kitchen. You gently open a cupboard, plucking a viridian mug off the shelf for the Darling along with your usual mug. A delicate clink echos in the otherwise quiet space as you set the ceramics on the counter. Finnick has turned to peek up and watch.

His sea-green eyes were still big and pleading, not really ready to stand but also not wanting to be away from you. With the counter cutting off just below his irises and his bronze hair tossed around and fluffy like that you couldn’t help being reminded of a small puppy. You mouth another reassurance with a wink as your cheeks warm, pulling open a drawer to pick up two small objects. They’re burnished silver spheres of metal, split in half but held by a tiny latch and speckled in countless minuscule holes for the nectar of the teas to slip through.

Reaching for two narrow jars on your counter you slide them towards your workspace and unstick each lid with an odd “pop”. Whisps of warm cinnamon, citrus, cloves, and black tea mix with the scent of herbs and spices more aligned with your tastes. The teas were a luxury gift from Mags on your birthday a year or two ago. You only use them on special occasions or nights like these.

You take a small spoon and gingerly press the correct amount of leaves in each steeper, adding a few extra to Finnick’s as he preferred a more prominent flavor. Afterward, you lower the metal orbs into their respective mug and quietly clean your workspace. Once the items are back in place you turn and just about jump out of your skin with a yelp of surprise as the tea kettle’s shrill whistle sings loud and clear.

Quickly you fumble for a cloth on a hook beside the wide farmhouse sink. Wrapping it around the heated handle of the kettle you remove it from the flames and onto an unused burner before shutting off the stove. Your heart pounds as adrenaline courses through your veins like lightning. A curse dances off your tongue but your embarrassment is short-lived as a coy chuckle fills your ears, wrapping around your senses like a soft blanket. A relieving warmth weaves its way through your ribs and melts the icy heartache as you hear Finnick laugh again. Turning towards the sound you spot the bronze-haired male now standing at the counter, his forearms leaning on the cool stone. His hands are barely trembling now although his eyes seem far away but his demeanor has seemed to regain its footing, a flickering of his naturally charismatic aura passes through his pointed-to-white teeth in the form of a lopsided smile. Color has started to ebb its way back into his tanned cheeks. That warmth in your ribcage spreads up your neck but you try to shove it back down. The components of your game; all four sugarcubes and the tin are sitting beside his elbow on the counter. You cross your arms over your chest loosely, narrowing your eyes at him in a playful manner.

“It’s not funny,”

“You’re right it’s hilarious,” Finnick drawls, his tone cocky.

An exasperated huff puffs out your chest followed by a sarcastic roll of our eyes. “There’s the Finnick Odair I know and Love,” You sigh, mischief flickers in those sea-green eyes. Carefully bringing the kettle over after it has a moment to cool you pour the boiling water as evenly as you can before returning it to the stove. A comforting quiet falls over the two of you while watching the liquid within the mugs change color. Eventually, your gaze shifts to watching Finnick slowly build a tiny pyramid out of the sugarcubes. The pristine wall of white crystals stands for all but ten seconds (not even) before the victor’s gentle tap sends it crumbling.

The joy from moments ago dissipates into something melancholic.

“Are you okay…?” You ask again, a crease forming between your brows as you search his sea-green eyes for any signs. Finnick gives you another tight-lipped hum, his smile has slipped away and you notice the set in his jaw returns. His gaze shifts from his folded hands to the sugar close by and hesitantly plucks up two of the four pieces.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Still inside…?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Still no touching?” Your voice is tender in a reassuring manner.

Two cubes, ‘yes’

Finnick understands that he’s safe. You’ll respect any boundary he chooses. You’re one of his few ‘safe’ individuals that he allows to fully trust besides Johanna, Mags, and Annie. Unfortunately, Annie was always rather emotionally distraught, meaning Finnick couldn’t be around her for long periods due to her tendency to claw at people during her episodes. It broke his heart to see the fire-haired victor he mentored through an awful arena be left so broken and afraid with limited ability to help her. But you did your best to pick up the slack in her care.

You were all damaged people just trying to survive the best you could with the hand you’d been dealt. No matter the cruelty of the dealer.

While caught up in your thoughts, the tea finished steeping. Gently, you slide the viridian mug of citrusy spices towards Finnick, who allows a small thanks and his “compliments to the chef” while plucking two sugarcubes from his fallen stack and dropping them into the burnt orange liquid.

“My pleasure,” you hum, fixing your tea how you like it and stirring the small steeper around the mug before lifting it from the drink and setting it off to the side. Finnick’s steeper soon follows. You’ll clean the sticky residue later.

Hot ceramic warms your fingertips as they curl around the mug, lifting it to your lips and parting them to give a gentle blow. Ripples of tea bounce around the rim, causing the curls of steam to dance around your cheeks. You inhale the Herbs deeply, and a calm feeling washes over your shoulders. The first sip immediately warms your insides as it goes down, observing the same reaction on Finnick as he takes a long swig of the tea followed by a hum of pleasure.

“Don’t burn your tongue it's still hot,” you murmur into your drink, the emitted sound coming out a bit warped. A ghost of a smile crosses the Darling’s face at your words, though he doesn’t reply, preferring another sip of the luxurious tea.

You already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of his dislike for the stinging on his tongue tomorrow from the burn.

You wish to reach out to him, brush your knuckles against his, or cup his stupidly handsome face in your hands, holding him close till all is better, but you can’t. You won’t. His safety and comfort is your priority right now, and you’ll always give him space when asked. You knew all too well what violation of space felt like.

“Are you feeling any better?”

You question the Darling while searching those sea-green eyes for any signs of pain.

Finnick offers a slight nod, casting a glance in your direction while adjusting the sugar.

One cube, ‘yes’

You nod in understanding. Even though the ache inside his chest still hurt you at least managed to help him start to move past it. The two of you stay at the counter for a long while. Secrets pass back and forth via sugarcube and Finnick has another cup of tea. You move in quiet tandem with one another as he preps the tea and you clean up your steeper and mug in the sink. Softly you hum a small rhyming tune from your childhood as you scrub along the inside of your mug, there’s a sense of domesticity in the air and you can’t help feeling more at ease.

Once everything is clean and put away except the sugarcubes you find yourself on your living room sofa, there’s a space between where your knees are tucked up against you and where Finnick sits. The tin of white crystals sits in that space, the Darling victor plucking up cubes every once in a while to suck on. He could eat all of them and you wouldn’t have minded.

The room is dimly lit, just the light from a lantern on the unused desk beside the fireplace. A soft glow is painted across Finnick’s features that makes his eyes sparkle and spread warmth up your cheeks, the tips of your ears surely going red. You try to suffocate the warmth as it threatens to bubble up past your grasp.

As time passes Finnick eventually speaks of what happened. You listen with full attention and offer much sympathy and reassurance once he’s finished. You thank the charming male for allowing himself to be open with you and he admits, “It’s easy to be an open book when it’s you,” and those sea-green irises seem to light up even more. That warmth twists your insides as your stomach does what feels like a backflip. “Thank you…for letting me in tonight,” he murmurs with that perfect smile, the outer corners of his eyes crinkle, and dimples press into his cheeks. The smile you return is equally as wide and sweet.

“Always. I’ll always be here Finn, and you’re welcome to stay here if you want tonight. There’s plenty of space,” You breathe through a slight laugh. The big house you were gifted in Victor’s Village was far too big to have just yourself anyway and this wouldn’t be the first time the Darling spent the night.

With a nod and a pat to the space between you, you nod towards the stairs before moving to snuff out the lantern. Finnick follows, closing the sugarcube tin and placing it on the coffee table. Quietly you two head upstairs, small giggles peppering the air as the stairs creak.

When you enter your bedroom you rummage in a drawer for a pair of sweats you had ‘borrowed’ from the Darling a while ago when it had been your turn to appear at his doorstep with tears in your eyes. “Here,” you speak gently while holding them out. A cheshire smirk creeps over Finnick’s face as he takes the pants.

“So that’s where these went~”

You shush him with a sarcastic wave of your hand, letting him go into the bathroom to change while you move to sit cross-legged on the plush mattress. You preferred sleeping with many soft blankets and pillows like your own nest. It helped you feel safe when alone - though most would end up kicked off or stolen by the furnace of a man you often shared the bed with. Your revenge usually came in the morning as your icy fingers assaulted the warmth of his lower back with a fit of laughter.

You smile tenderly at the thought as Finnick reappears.

“What?” He asks.

That coy smirk is still plastered on his lips as he comes over to sit beside you. “Hm? Oh - nothing. Lay down, I’m tired." You offer with a hum. He nods before joining you under the covers. You face one another, looking into each other's eyes. Slowly, you feel his hand creep over to yours and interlace your pinkie fingers.

“Is this okay?” Those heart-melting puppy dog eyes return. You can’t help the sweet smile on your face and the warmth on your cheeks.

“Always.”

@justtrying2getby

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rippersz · 20 days

Text

𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Zombie Apocalypse AU w/ Gwendoline Christie characters; (~9.2K words)

(Featuring: Larissa Weems, Brienne of Tarth, Jane Murdstone, Anna from WTM, Lucifer Morningstar, Miranda Hilmarson, Captain Phasma, and Jan Stevens) x Reader

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It started about two months ago. Russia went down first, then Mongolia. China. India. And in the midst, Finland, Sweden, Norway, the United Kingdom, down to the very southern tip of Africa. The Ocean is no killer of disease, frozen or not, and encouraged it to ravage South and North America, then Canada and Greenland. Until every place was overrun by dead freaks. Stinking corpses and moving gore.

They traveled in herds, packs, whatever it was that people wanted to call them—murders, perhaps—and shuffled aimlessly across any land they could find. Eager for food, for sustenance, to fill the empty bellies that would never be full. Gorging themselves on creatures like you.

Officially ‘the other’. Officially ‘the enemy’. The sole survivor of a good group that was attacked some days ago because an idiot forgot to shoot one of the creatures in the head. And by sunrise, it was over. Screams echoed into the silence and you soon found yourself alone… running for your life with a duffle bag over your shoulder (slowing you down) and a gun in your hand (low on ammo). Trekking through thick woods in a heavily-infested Vermont town was not a good idea, but you had no choice. The house you were camping in was left behind, ravaged by bullets that you put into your friend’s heads, and every other spot nearby had been looted. You couldn’t move all of those bodies yourself. You couldn’t do much yourself. There was no army background attached to your name, no conspiracy theorist survival-obsessed gene in your body, and not much training in fighting either. All you could do was run. Run and run and run until you were miles away and your lungs started to burn. Not the most useful skill considering most people could run, but if you were quick enough to speed past the shuffling bastards, you were quick enough to make it to safety.

—

Safety…what a joke. A shit joke. A joke that was, quite honestly, the worst joke to ever exist. There was no safety. No place, nowhere. You’d been walking for a few hours, hearing nothing but the forest’s silence, and stumbling over leaves and branches. They ravaged the animals, took them into their mouths like they were people, and ate until there was nothing left. Not even a squirrel, or a fox, and the birds had grown weary of the vast number of hunters (both dead and undead) that found themselves in the woods looking for food. So no birds either. And no houses. And you were pretty sure, as you paused to catch your breath, that you were doomed.

Only a few bullets left and your aim was never perfect. One knife tucked into your waistband but it was getting uncomfortable, digging into your skin, and caked in blood. Creature blood. Everything smelled horrible. Like burning flesh or dirty meat, raw and soiled. You probably didn’t smell too good either. It wasn’t like the world still worked without the people; only a few places had running water and you couldn’t trust the creeks and rivers. The undead enjoyed walking through shallow water, knowing somehow that there’d probably be prey nearby.

But you hadn’t seen anything in a while. A long while. A suspiciously long while...

Everything was green and brown around you, whisked by wind and soil, and you stood out like blood against snow. The last thing you saw was yesterday. Ever since? Not a single flash of undead flesh.

You swallowed, throat embarrassingly dry, and tapped your fingers against your thigh.

It wasn’t good when everything was still. You were vulnerable, out in the open, and without a good few rounds of bullets to spare. Every muscle and organ in your body screamed for mercy, crying with the effort it took to keep surviving even when you didn’t want to.

You thought about it a few times; gave the gun in your hand a long look on several occasions, but ultimately decided that ‘opting out’ was only a last resort. Somehow, even amidst the chaos and hatred and swill of humanity’s nature, you managed to hold hope. And often wondered where it would get you. How it would get you. While you were sleeping? While you were already wounded? Fighting off the hands of a loved one? The twist of hope’s rope… would you feel it closing in around your neck? A literal metaphor for the eventual death you’d experience?

Thinking about it gave you a headache.

For where was the point in wondering?

You had no one else. Whatever form of death awaited, it would end up being your fault. Probably because you couldn’t run fast enough. Probably because-

Because-

Wait.

Somewhere behind you, on the right, was a low sound. A hum. The smooth whoosh of something quick. The parting of wind… the low growl of…

“Fuck.”

You shot off in that direction, bag smacking against your shoulder blades, and instantly felt the exhaustion pull at your body again. It lingered like a plague, like the undead disease, and you yearned to fall to your knees - to give in - but it wasn’t the time for that. You had to at least try. You had to at least make it over the hill. Right over the hill. So close but so far. You leaned forward, threw yourself at the ground, and grasped onto gnarled tree roots. The Earth smelled wet with decay, sweet with promise - you huffed against dry leaves. They crunched and scratched at your fingers, eventually crinkling into nothing when your arms worked to drag you up. You probably looked a little mad, scrambling up a steep hill to reach something that probably won’t save you, but there was no other option. The hum grew louder, the quiet was broken, and you only had a few moments to get this right.

“Help!” Your lungs caved around your scream, but the forest swallowed it instantly. Greedy trees with their greedy barks, wanting to keep you hidden from salvation. The hum grew louder. Your fingers grew clammy, sweating and slipping against rough wood.

You’d be bruised to high heaven later, and probably exhausted, but the hum and the growl of an engine meant a road and a road meant civilization and goddammit you just needed to get over the stupid fucking hill.

There was a loud ringing in your ears, nearly deafening, and making your voice sound fuzzy.

“Help! Help!”

Was that you? Were you the one screaming like that? Why couldn’t you be quiet? Those things could have been lurking… wandering nearby… coming up behind you, eager to grasp at your ankles and drag you back down to Hell.

A glance back over your shoulder, aching from the duffle bag, found nothing but blurred terrain and darkened leaves–a symptom of the setting sun. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. If the light went out, you’d be screwed. You couldn’t use the last of your matches and the world went black when evening struck. So there really was no choice. As the growl turned into a roar… there was no choice. Just a little higher- a little more. Your arms pushed, biceps straining against the cotton of your shirt, and your pants threatened to get caught on wayward sticks and tear into rags. The boots on your feet pressed hard against loose rocks, kicking them out of place, and gained just enough ground to push you up - over the ridge. The final stretch. Your chest pushed to the hard dirt and forced a grunt of effort from your tired body; the sound echoed through the woods, through the ground, and through the air that sat above the concrete road in front of you. Hard and vast, grey and long… you looked at it as though it were the holiest of grails, lying just beside it with your arms outstretched, your fingers still pulling at dirtied grass. Soil covered your skin, masked your features, caked beneath your fingernails, and when the roar of the speeding vehicle grew so close you had to close your eyes and wince, you knew raising a hand for help would not be enough. In the shade of the forest’s edge, half draped over the peak of the hill, you were inhuman to other survivors. Your dry mouth opened, your throat croaked, and your legs moved to push you up–closer–just short of the wind that caressed your hair when the car, the truck, ran past you with no second glance. You looked after it, watched it pass, and felt the burn in your heart grow into its own inferno. It licked at your insides, at your desperation, and had you hauling the duffle bag off of your shoulder and out onto the road. It rolled, a shuffling sound, and you followed after it with deep growls of effort and dwindling strength.

“Please,” you wheezed, panting for breath as soon as you staggered up to your feet.

In the distance, the car turned into a disappearing black spec. It drove and drove, out of sight, and you stood there, putting your arms in the air to wave it down and bring it back. To beckon it back. To beg and plead.

“Please please no-,” your voice was soft, weakened by days of rugged survival, “no…” rough and lost to the wind, it dissipated into nothing and you were forced to swallow again.

The thick smell of car exhaust settled against the steaming road. You watched the horizon, tracking the space in the atmosphere where the gold traced into a deep blue, and felt your bones quake beneath your skin. Their final cry. The last hurrah as you watched your future, the tatters of it, drive away from you.

Too late.

You were too late.

And you’d die there, on that road, and they may never come back and find you again in the morning. And your corpse would be chewed upon by undead bastards who would never give you a proper burial. And you’d be just another stupid human that found themselves trampled beneath the stinking feet of the walking dead.

Tears teased your eyes, burning the dry lands of your irises, and you felt the heart in your chest lurch against its cage.

Too late.

You were too late.

You had a duffle bag, a handgun somewhere off to the side, and the clothing on your back. One lasting water bottle, the knife you felt poking your side, and small bags of food that wouldn’t last you long at all. The tent, too, was destroyed by animals the night before. The most you could go was perhaps one more day, but your feet were aching so terribly that each step was a journey within itself. And you couldn’t push yourself to go further. There was no further. There was nothing in the woods and there was nothing beyond the road and you were running on fumes that no longer existed.

But you couldn’t just lie there and take it. You were about to reach over, bending at the waist, to grab your bag. To pull it up over your shoulder and trek on, even though it was pointless. But something stopped you.

Something–a sound–made you freeze.

It was faint. It didn’t sound like the undead, with their discordant groans and disgusting squelches, no… it was far. Getting closer. Closer. The hum and the growl. The purr of a motor. The hiss of pavement.

Your head snapped up, eyes bulging wide as you looked over the horizon to see…. Yes. Yes! Yes, it’s them! The car! A grin pulled at your lips. Halle-fucking-lujah! You felt the anxiety ebb, slowly falling away from your body, as they got closer. The black spec turned into a black blob, then a figure that took shape, and finally you could make out a Vermont license plate and the dirt that stuck to big wheels. Up close, it was a sleek thing, tall and well-built. Midnight black and aside from the splatter on the rubbered wheels, it was polished and clean. The dark paint reflected the bright world around you, turning it into weird warped versions of a faux-paradise. You swallowed at the feel of warmth against your legs, the exhaust from the truck flooding over the smallest sliver of skin around your ankles. Suddenly fearing a changed mind and bad intentions, you stumbled back until your heels pushed against your bag.

Tinted windows stared down at you, menacing and opaque. Not a thing to see behind them, even if you squinted. Nothing moved, nothing jumped, and you watched with bated breath for a window to roll down - until finally, it did.

The driver’s side. It went whirr-ing down, sliding for the shortest period of time in the world until only a shadow met you - and then a flicker of movement. And then-

“Oh my god! Jesus! Okay okay!” You flinched, not even hesitating to raise your hands above your head. You spread your fingers out, desperate to prove your innocence to the stranger in the car. And the gun they were holding, pointing at you, through the gap.

“Were you bit?” A rough voice, muted and deep, broke the atmosphere.

You shook your head.

“Words. Use them.”

“No,” you licked your lips, instantly deciding to turn around in a slow circle. “Not bitten. Not scratched.” You tried to ignore the way your hands shook, even as you shifted all the way back to face the gun’s muzzle.

“Ask where…” a voice, soft and feminine, came from somewhere beyond the driver’s seat. It was saying something, telling something, but faded into a whisper so quiet you couldn’t hear a thing. Your eyes shifted to the dark backseat windows, trying to see something- anything- and found no surprise in the lack of life.

“Any weapons?” The driver seemed to ignore the other person, and instead held the gun steady. You watched it with weary eyes.

“Yes.” And before they could ask, you tugged the knife out of your belt and the gun out of your pants pocket. They were held up in the air, another white flag, and you twitched the hand that held the firearm. “At least three bullets left, but that’s it.”

“And the others?”

You blinked. “Others? What oth-”

“Where is the rest of your ammunition? In the skull of a human or scum?” The stranger spat, and you detected the hints of an accent.

Scum… you’d never heard them referred to as that before. Your last group called them walkers, and some others claimed flesh-eaters. You were tempted to use ‘zombies’, but it felt rather silly. The world took that term too lightly, and the undead were nothing if not a very serious problem. But scum? Like they were beneath humanity and not its current destroyer? You’d ask about it later, you decided, if they deemed you well enough to take in.

“Both,” you breathed honestly, dropping your weapons to your sides with a heavy sigh. “They um- weren’t quite there yet. Got ambushed overnight.”

The gun still didn’t move.

“They don’t ambush. What really happened?”

Hm. They weren’t wrong. Animated corpses didn’t ‘ambush’, but when a herd of them went lurking about, it certainly felt that way. You didn’t think logistics were entirely necessary, but you understood the need for specifics. Trust among men was eviscerated in the face of danger, especially against those once living. You’d seen paranoia before, in others. Humans simply didn’t take each other in anymore… not without some level of severe mistrust. The second thought after seeing the truck drive off was that you probably wouldn’t be accepted anyway - you’d killed without technical reason. Could have just left. Run away.

But you didn’t.

You didn’t want to see them turn into those… creatures.

So what else was there to say? You stared at the gun, willing a click and the shot of a bullet, as you opened your mouth.

“A herd. A lot of them. Just… descended upon the place. Someone might’ve been walking around in the woods or something, and there was just not enough protection,” you paused, licking your lips, “...I was the last one alive. Had to shoot them and go.”

“How long since?”

“Few days, give or take,” you shrugged. The exhaustion only built as you stood there, trying not to sway and collapse in your spot. The truck was still running, hissing hot exhaust; it was the first genuinely warm thing you’d felt in so many days that you wanted to crawl underneath and take a nap. The world, turning to autumn, was growing chilly. There was no chance you could survive winter on your own.

“...Give or take,” you heard the driver scoff and laugh, bitter and mean. You frowned.

Then the window started going up, and you couldn’t help yourself. With a hard thunk, you pushed your shoulder hard against the car, and knocked on the thick glass with the butt of the knife. A look of utter desperation crossed your features, heavy and thick. Urgency, anxiety, fear forced any sense from your mind. There was no chance. There was no survival at all.

“No please- please I can’t be out here alone please- I’m smart and- and I can run fast and be an asset. Please,” you shook your head, searching with worried eyes, “please, please you can’t do this to me-”

Something dark spliced through the corner of your vision, dragging a shadow with it, and you just barely dodged the sudden swing of the truck’s backseat door. It bounced with force and you glanced back at the driver’s window once before stepping back and hastily swinging your bag over your shoulder. The knife and gun were slipped back into your clothing, concealed, and you held yourself strong as the black leathered interior bore itself to the world.

“-we can’t just leave them-”

“-on’t be stupid. They could be a liability-”

“-not stupid. We need more people-”

Voices, at least two, were rushed and tangled in an argument. You didn’t pay much attention to what you could hear, though the growing irritation was hard to ignore. It would be a hassle to be accepted, you knew, but you’d deal. There was no choice. The backseat door was open and there was a figure hustled back against the other window.

“The offer won’t last,” the stranger murmured, somehow louder than the two people in the front seats, and you decided not to take any chances in the world alone.

With a grunt, a push, and a final slam of the door, you found yourself in the truck. Your bag was pushed down by your feet, you tugged your knife out to rest it on your thigh, and you turned to say thank you- but was cut off by a cold blade at your throat. It grazed the soft dirty skin, less than a centimeter away from pushing, and you felt saliva pool in the back of your throat. Swallowing would have pressed you closer, so you fought the urge and only stared.

“Woah-”

“Try anything and you die. I don’t want a peep, not a shuffle. Do I make myself clear?”

The driver’s voice, clearer in such close quarters, was deep and mean. Accent, as you had clocked, from somewhere in the United Kingdom. It held a natural growl, a gruffness from years of smoking, perhaps, and you couldn’t help but sense the intimidation. It wasn’t fake confidence, you noticed, as you looked up and met the cool sharp grey gaze of a woman. Her hair, a deep blonde, was slicked back and short, ruffled slightly by the nape of her neck. A long neck… that led to strong looking shoulders. They were half covered by a jacket, but you could see the strength in the chords of her muscle. A force to be reckoned with. A leader, perhaps. She was pale, with a defined nose and lips twisted into a permanent sneer, and you probably would have thought she had some potential for post-apocalyptic modeling, if it weren’t for the scar that covered one half of her face. Slashed across the left eye, the wound was jagged and rough - it dragged from a point close to the exact middle of her forehead, right to the corner of her jaw. Thicker at parts and thinner at others, it split through a pale eyebrow and seemed to have permanently rendered her blind. The lid didn’t even move when one stormy eye shifted, and you suddenly felt extremely creeped out. Something about her was undeniably cold. Almost reckless, but her hand was so steady with control you knew not to make a move. She’d probably kill without hesitation, dump you back into the road, and drive off with the duffel. There was no choice but to answer, answer quickly, and do as told.

“Yes, clear.” Your head shifted half an inch up and half an inch down, still cautious of the blade.

But she didn’t move.

It was a battle of wills for just a moment, with your hands in your lap, empty and docile. You weren’t looking for a fight, or a staring contest, but the stranger didn’t let up until the figure to your right decided to sit up and speak.

“Ah they do not seem so bad. Look at them. Tired and scared, like sad city mouse,” another woman, one with a Russian accent and a voice a hint too loud, cooed.

Silence followed, persisted, for only a minute- and then the blade was tugged back so quickly you swear it nearly cut the air in two. The driver tsked as she twisted herself around, murmuring as she went.

“More like a rat.”

And then you were thrown to the side with a heavy wheeze as the truck lurched and began moving, working into a turn so you could go back the way they’d come.

You glared at the back of the headrest, not feeling above a little bit of irritation for some poor handling, but eventually grew bored. With some apprehension, your eyes flicked over to the person in the passenger seat. Their profile was strong, feminine, and you noted the unbelievably well-kept head of snowy hair. She looked clean, just like the driver, and a spark of hope welled up in your tired heart. Running water and food existed where they came from, wherever they were camped out, and if you played your cards right, you could finally indulge in some good hygiene. Unless the woman in the passenger seat was stingy with her water… god her skin was so clear, and she seemed to be wearing makeup. No one wore makeup anymore. Not the people in your old group and not the few stragglers you’d stumbled across. It simply wasn’t a necessary luxury anymore, but the woman sitting across from you, back straight and hands in her lap, seemed to think it was of the utmost importance. You wanted to speak, wanted to ask her name, but found yourself turning to your right - and catching the gaze of the person that opened the door for you.

“Anna,” your savior spoke, tilting her head to the left and regarding you with curious eyes. A pale hand, big and long-fingered, shot out and hovered above your lap. You glanced down at it, at the clean skin and the perfect fingernails, and knew that you hit the survivalist jackpot.

With a nod and a quick clasp of her hand, you whispered your name in reply. She nodded before leaning back against the door and crossing her arms; she seemed quite comfortable there, with a rather large gun resting across her lap. Her hair, blonde as well, fell in gentle waves to her shoulders. She saw with deep blue eyes - a contrast to the cold steel of the driver - and didn’t hesitate to flick them over your body in some sort of analytical search. Weapons, you figured, is what she was looking for. And the knife in your lap, which she eyed with some interest.

You wanted to say something, wanted to thank them, but it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough those days. Asking something of someone was a risk every single time. And you’d asked—begged—them to take you in. You needed to pull your weight, no questions asked.

“Um- thank you for-”

“Shoot them.”

“What?!” You straightened up, eyes going wide as, in your peripherals, you saw Anna’s hand inch toward her gun. Through the rear-view mirror, you caught the way the driver’s brow twitched.

“You heard me. Shoot them.”

“Pha-”

“I said no talking,” the stranger growled, not even bothering to address the woman in the passenger seat. The white-haired woman looked frustrated, her red lips tugging into a frown, as she watched the driver double down on her focus. “Didn’t I say that?”

“But I-,” you wanted to plead your case, wanted to defend yourself, but were cut off.

“I am not going to shoot,” Anna said before you could speak. “Why do you expect her to be quiet hah, Phasma? We just saved her жопa. No need for fighting.”

You glanced at her, picking up on the Native tongue. Fresh off the boat, or perhaps visiting, with the way she said it so easily. Zhopa? Given the context, it wasn’t hard to tell what she meant. Yes, they had just saved your ass. And yes, you wanted to say thank you. Even if that Phasma person wasn’t too keen on a bit of gratitude.

“I hardly think thanking us for a kind deed is worthy of execution, no matter how much silence you require,” the fair-haired woman across from you said smoothly, throwing a slight glare to the woman on her right. And finally, she took that moment to turn around in the seat and make eye contact.

Something that proved to be far more difficult than you thought it would. Good lord, she was gorgeous. Pale skin, deep admiral blue eyes, and lips redder than blood. Not even a scratch on her face, not even a single spec of dirt - as if the apocalypse never happened and there weren’t dead people roaming every street in the world. In fact, she didn’t seem incredibly worried about the predicament the human species found itself in, and was looking at you with kind eyes, a furrowed brow, and a smile that she hoped was welcoming.

“My name is Larissa,” her hand, gloved in white fabric as soft as silk, reached out as an olive branch. You wanted to take it, wanted to feel something so lovely for the first time in a long time and create some sort of bond, but your hands were very dirty. A part of you guessed that Larissa hadn’t put them on earlier that day with the hope to return to camp holding soft fabric smudged with dirt and dried blood, so you only looked down at your palm and then back at hers.

“Oh uh- I don’t wanna get your gloves dirty-”

“Oh,” she glanced down, realizing that she was, in fact, wearing hand-coverings. “Later, then,” a warm smile shone back at you - and you were helpless, instantly offering her a nod in return.

“Finished?” The driver piped up, eyes cold as she stared at you in the rear-view.

As if on cue, Larissa turned back around in her seat, rolling her eyes as she went, and you could only fall quiet. Introductions were over, you were warming up to the easy heat in the car, and Phasma–if you dared address her by name in your head–had a good handle of the wheel. You were safe. For now. And with one last suspended look at the gun on Anna’s lap, you reached over for the seatbelt, tucked yourself in with a click, and leaned back in the seat. It was so suddenly comfortable, such a huge contrast to the shit you’d dealt with recently, that you couldn’t help but close your eyes and revel. Even for a moment. Even for a second.

—

“Get up,” a mean grunt, paired with a quick rush of piercingly cold air, tugged you from the depths of sleep.

Before you could even open your eyes properly, a shiver set itself into your bones. Eager to escape it, and the confines of the car, you jolted and scrambled for your seatbelt. Leaning against the open door, watching you grab your things, was the driver. Phasma? Weird name, but there was no time to dwell - especially not when she was looking at you like that. Eyes sharper than the knife on your lap, holding a polished chrome pistol in one hand, and waiting with some tension for you to hurry up. The duffel was pulled up onto your shoulder, the knife was tucked into your belt, and your hands scratched at the leather as you looked around wildly for your gun.

“We took it. You’ll get it back when you prove you’re not a complete imbecile,” she spat, peering down her nose at you. Disgust danced in her expression, sparking flames of unwanted insecurity, and you felt compelled to look away. Her nostrils were flared, her pink lips curled into something disdainful and mean, and you couldn’t help but watch the way her jaw shifted as she tensed, watching you watch her. The hatred seemed a bit out of place, too strong for normal trust issues, and you briefly wondered if perhaps she’d always been that way - even before the end of civilization. She was clearly a bitch, and not interested in showing you kindness any time soon, so you decided to forgo a response, ignored her glaring, and slipped out of the car without a word.

Before your feet were completely on the ground, and your bag was out of the way, the door slammed closed behind you, quick and sharp. The speed of it nearly clipped your shirt, and you whirled around to face the stranger’s irritation. She seemed to have lost interest in you and side-stepped your figure without another glance. One finger on the trigger, a shit-ton of audacity-filled swagger in her walk, and a back broad and strong. She looked like an outlaw, tall, mean, wearing grey with a belt around her strong hips and a leather jacket over her shoulders. You wanted to throw your gun at her and watch it hit the back of her head, but there was no way in Hell you’d be able to run away faster than she could catch you.

“Come,” you heard Anna speak, interrupting your train of thought as she trudged up to your left. You turned, seeing the way she cocked her head. “I’ll introduce you.” The gun swayed in her grasp as she turned, making little shuffling sounds in the grass.

The grass.

You went to go forward, but stopped. The grass. It was… terribly neat. Very well maintained. Not like apocalypse grass, which was flat and bloodied and mudded and dusted, but like rich person grass. Striking green grass, healthy, it bounced back behind you when you stepped on it. And the air… you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. It was fresh. Pure. Free of the smell of death and free of gunpowder and spraying blood. Just where on Earth were y-

oh.

Oh.

You looked up, finally, and found yourself in a courtyard. On all sides was a wall, sections of it made of brick, others of stone, and the rest of wrought iron fence, bolted hard into the ground; and across the way, piercing the sky, was a manor. Or what looked like a manor. No - what was definitely a manor. Dark, illuminated slightly by the deep blue of the atmosphere and the torches that littered the ground in neat paths, splitting off into cobblestone sections. You swallowed. It was gorgeous. Untouched. A world that seemed to run on and on while the rest of the globe went to shit.

How fucking lucky were you?

“Come! I must say twice?!” Anna called, giving you an exasperated beckon as she started disappearing behind the dark stone brick of the main entrance.

Sparing a quick glance behind you, you found a fortified gate and short stone walls - reinforced and built upon with barbed wire, wood, and sheets of metal. It must have opened up for the truck when you were still asleep, but was very much firmly shut and impenetrable once closed. You wanted to explore it more, wanted to study the mechanism and the layout and come to understand just how they managed to get the place so protected, but you didn’t want to leave Anna waiting. And a low rumble of thunder, far but rolling quick, told you that rain was eager to make her appearance - and you did not want to get caught in that.

After adjusting your bag and patting the knife in your belt for reassurance, you set off after the Russian stranger.

—

“So I am Anna, this you know already,” she pointed to herself, tapped her chest twice, then rolled her hand over to gesture to the clearing ahead.

It was beautiful, outlined against a dark wood. Rocky paths led to a big circle in the middle, and the ruins of stone benches and statues littered the camp. You could definitely see what it used to be - a beautiful place for the elite to sit, to bask, to enjoy the nice air and the wind. But the end of the world had gotten to it, not with the bearings of total destruction, but with the promise of change. A big spruce shelter had been built to the far left, reinforced with four beams and no walls - clearly just meant to keep the rain at bay while they worked outside. Beneath it, there were wooden benches and designated spots for farming equipment, guns, and even a water purifying system from the looks of it. If you assumed that sleeping quarters and showers existed in the castle, then they seemed to be in the best shape anyone could be in.

Even the people, who were busy going about their evening and tending to their duties, while you watched by Anna’s side and felt your excitement grow.

“Phasma was woman driving. Not so kind,” she tsked, giving you a knowing look, and you found yourself unable to ask about the strange name. You figured she wouldn’t have known the answer anyway. Then her hand moved, stealing your attention. “That is Jane,” she pointed to a pale woman sitting on one of the large stone benches.

Her back was turned, but you could see the severity of her expression in the reflection of a hand mirror. She was handsome, free of makeup, with jet-black hair. The strands fell from between her fingertips, spilling like water, as she threaded them into a braid around her head. Her movements were slow, methodic, and you watched, sort of hypnotized, as the long sleeves of her hooded dress stretched across her slim back. Tight along her arms and resting over the black pants covering her thighs, leading down to knee-high leather boots. Fit for an apocalypse, but somehow still chic. You watched her hands for a moment more, and turned slightly to her right when Anna gestured to the woman beside her.

“Miranda. Good girl, but way too skinskie,” she nodded to herself while crossing her arms.

The stranger in question–Miranda–was holding up an antique hand mirror for Jane to look into while doing her hair. They seemed to be the same height, though Miranda’s build was lankier and toned. The sleeves of her white top had to have been torn off, leaving freckled shoulders free to the air, and around one wrist was a black watch. It nearly matched the same leather as her belt, which held an attached holster and a sleeve for a walkie-talkie. Its antenna stood out against the baby blue of her uniform pants; tight by the hips but baggier toward the ankles, tucked into dark laced boots. Her hair was styled into a fair blonde bob, probably recently cut by the sight of such clean edges. It looked unbearably soft kissing the back of her neck.

“She was policewoman. Strong.” Anna commented, gazing at her from your spot by the castle wall.

You nodded absentmindedly, looking over the two strangers and the chess board that sat between them on the bench. Jane had black and Miranda white. The latter seemed to be focusing quite hard on the game, holding a pawn loosely in one hand, as the dark-haired beauty tsked and adjusted the hand mirror that slowly slipped to the side. You watched Miranda jump and offer what you assumed was a sheepish apology, as she tried to multitask. Her small smile was pink and soft, warm and welcoming. A friend, perhaps.

“Very…domestic,” came your soft murmur, sparked by the surprise of such a peaceful camp. In the past group, everyone was too busy trying to sleep, find food, or talk themselves through panic attacks. Maintaining sanity with comfort was not a priority.

“Da. Comfortable,” your companion nodded. “Jan is there, washing.” And you turned, yet again, to find a figure standing in front of a clothesline.

The combat boots made her seem tall, though they were a bit out of place—not really matching the long white sleeved shirt and full red skirt combo. Immaculate and clean, you noticed, though that was to be expected from a woman trying her hardest to get blood out of a white blouse. Her hands were covered by blue rubber gloves, with one clutched around a sponge and the other around the neck of a bottle of white wine vinegar. On the ground by her feet was a large pale jug of hydrogen peroxide and a bucket of what you assumed was water. And the blouse in front of her, held up by wooden clothespins, rippled from the breeze. It seemed to get colder and windier the longer the night went on, probably bringing the rain with it at some point. With any luck, it would clear up the light splotches of pink that covered most of the shirt’s chest up to the collar, but ‘Jan’ didn’t seem too patient and satisfied with that. She got back to her scrubbing a moment later, the strict waves of her blonde hair bumping gently against her neck.

“Jan is very chic. You go to her for fashion advice, no?” Anna tilted her head at you, dragging dark blue eyes over your face. The lawn lamps stabbed into the grass lit everything up with a sweet warm glow, bringing out the flames in her expression as she peered at you curiously. Very handsome, in her own sharp-featured sort of way. You couldn’t help the snort that bubbled up.

“Respectfully, I think fashion is the least of my concerns right now, Anna.”

“Hm. Maybe,” she hummed, shrugged, and gave you a once-over that set your heart racing before turning her attention back to the group.

“Brienne!” You jumped, flinching away as Anna’s loud voice carried into your ear. In the distance, a hulking figure shifted and unfolded, moving to look up at the call. They were sitting on a big pile of cut logs, holding a stone cylindrical sharpener in one hand and a… sword… in the other. Anna waved, talking to you gently as you both watched the figure’s expression change into one of suspicion. She was handsome. Pale, with the lightest blonde lashes and brows, and eyes that sparkled even from that distance. They squinted, drawing frown lines across her face, as she straightened up in her spot. You tried desperately not to stare at her figure, but it was impossible. The deep blue ribbed shirt clung to her torso like a second skin, wrapping tightly around strong biceps and broad shoulders. It was tucked into muddy green cargo pants, offsetting the brightness of the steel that covered the toes of her dark boots. You tilted your head and watched as she glanced between you and Anna before she finally decided to shoot the woman a firm nod. Anna’s lips quirked up into a smile. “She was once soldier. Good woman - she will protect you if you’re in trouble. Saved me many many times.” Her blonde curls swished as she nodded to herself.

That was good to know, you reasoned. Everyone seemed quite strong. Tall, too. And pale. The camp was gorgeous, the people seemed mundane enough, and the company was… well. Your eyes drifted over to Anna’s side profile, a silhouette of soft dips and curves, and you couldn’t hide the attraction you felt even if you tried.

“Larissa, you know too. She is leader, xорошо?” You didn’t really know what ‘harasho’ meant, but the light intonation of her voice had you saying ‘Yeah’ anyway.

Then an arm was winding itself around yours, jostling the bag on your shoulder and the gun slung around Anna’s body. It rested against her back, hitting her thighs, and you were suddenly powerless to the way she steered you further down the gravel path. Toward the right, there was a makeshift driveway; a patch of land ripped up from the grass and replaced with gravel, soil, and rocks. The black truck made an appearance again, probably having been driven up from around the back, and you watched with curious eyes as Phasma busied herself with a few bags and boxes from the trunk. Jesus, she was fit… tall and lethal. A small grunt left her lips when she hauled two boxes up into her arms, never faltering or pausing. Damn. You found yourself getting lost in the sight of her legs in those cargo pants, filling them out, until Anna clicked her tongue.

“Lucifer is strange, but ultimately harmless. Do not worry, they are not naked under the robe.”

Lucifer? Naked under the what?

You were going to take a quick glance around, to find whatever the hell Anna was talking about, but there was no need. Some feet in front of you, lounging on a red and gold velvet chase, was a lithe figure. They were almost glowing in the reflection of the walkway lamps, with the deep crimson of a flowing silk robe offsetting the smooth pale planes of soft skin. One elbow was propped up on the arm of the chair, and you traced the folds of flowing sleeves up to a slim forearm, wrist, and a delicate hand. Slender fingers were curled under the curve of a pale cheek, and you felt your heartbeat speed up at the sight of soft features and crystal eyes. And their hair, curled so perfectly into handsome shining ringlets of spun golden-web… goodness, they were…

“Luxurious,” you murmured, tilting your head as you watched the stranger chat with Larissa. She was standing over them, in front of the chase, and even at that height, you had a feeling that the one laying down was somehow a little bit taller. “Is Lucifer their real name?”

“Da,” Anna nodded, “little strange, no?”

“Yeah,” you gave her an odd look. “Strange as fuck.”

“Don’t get comfortable,” a voice growled from behind you, making you slip away from Anna’s hold and turn around. Phasma was walking past, holding a big bag under each arm. Her muscle was impressive, but dear god she was an asshole. You had to sort out that situation as quick as possible.

“Hey what’s your problem, man?” You spread your hands out at your sides before letting them slap against your thighs. “You picked me up, and while I’m grateful for that, I am, you didn’t have to-”

“Exactly,” she bit out as she whirled around and marched right back to you. Her breath was cool, washing lightly over your face, and she stood so close that your foreheads nearly touched. From that angle, looking up, you could reach out and trace the jagged line of her scar. It was quite attractive actually, even if her eyes narrowed as she watched you look at her. They were cold. Not an ounce of care.

“Don’t. Get. Comfortable.” Her lips twitched, carrying a silent threat.

“Okay,” Larissa’s voice, sing-songy and weary, cut into the conversation. “Why don’t we all take a moment to calm down, hm?” Her smile was blinding as she turned to you. One gloved hand hovered above Phasma’s right shoulder, but was instantly shrugged off the second it made contact. Her sneer didn’t fade even when she stepped back, eyes still flaming with anger. Larissa cleared her throat. “Y/n, you’re new here. Why don’t you and I have a little chat?”

Her expression, although kind, hid a sharpness that you didn’t think was wise to fuck around with. If Larissa was the leader, according to Anna, then it was her you had to charm. You didn’t really know why she was the top dog, especially because some of the other group members seemed more… abrasive… but clearly something about her was good enough to be the one in charge. And pissing her off, messing around with her people, was a one-way ticket to possibly turning into those fuckers lurking in the woods. So you didn’t really have a choice - and you didn’t really want one. No matter what, you’d stay. You’d be of some help. You’d stay on the soft grass, smelling the clean air. You’d become best friends with Larissa, the group would learn to like you, and you’d try not to combust when any of them looked your way.

Easier said than done though, of course. Especially when Larissa’s smile knocked down all of your reservations at once, in one big swing, and coaxed an obedient nod from your body.

“Okay. Yes. Sure.”

“Perfect,” Larissa’s grin, somehow, grew even wider.

“It’s getting late,” were Phasma’s parting words before she turned away and headed off toward two big wooden double doors.

You watched her strut without much thought, and found yourself on the other end of a staring Larissa. Her eyes were utterly striking in the evening light, and the outline of her face… a sight to be seen for a person as weary as you.

“So… is your group considered women only?” You murmured, peering up at her through your eyelashes.

Red lips twitched.

“Not intentionally. Though we have had the discussion before,” she contemplated her next words carefully, looking all over your face before resuming, “and we think it’s best if it’s just women. And Lucifer.”

“And Lucifer?” You still can’t get over that being their real name. Probably just picked out in a moment of edginess when they were a teen. Lucifer did sound cool, sort of bully-worthy. Like they were emo kid once upon a time.

“Lucifer is what many would refer to as non-binary. Not a man and not a woman. I hope that won’t be a problem?” Something flashed behind her eyes. Not a threat, but a warning. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Not at all. They and I are… one and the same,” you shrugged and adjusted the bag on your shoulder.

“How lucky I must be…,” someone purred from over your shoulder.

You tensed up, surprised by the closeness, and felt yourself grow a little weak at the tone. Like spiced honey, their voice was intense and smooth. You wanted to lap it up.

“Ah right on time for a proper introduction,” Larissa, ever the most efficient woman from what you could tell so far, found herself a golden opportunity. One hand shot out and gestured over to you, then to the person slinking around to your right. “Y/n this is Lucifer, one of the strongest members of our group. Lucifer and I make most of the big decisions, with the necessary input from everyone else. And Lucifer,” Larissa’s grin relaxed into a smile, “this is Y/n. Depending on our discussion of the rules, they may become a familiar face, so I suggest you play nice.”

You found that you couldn’t look to the side without short-circuiting. There was something.. something… about their aura that had you wanting to shy away and cower. It wasn’t the explosive intensity of Phasma or the consuming strangeness of Anna, or even the gentle but strong hand of Larissa… but instead a subtle sort of consumption. Utterly intriguing and fascinating - like they were put on the Earth to confuse humans. You didn’t even look at them and you could feel that. Didn’t even know them and you could feel that. Standing so close. So much body heat.

“It’s a pleasure,” they murmured, turning to you fully.

You swallowed, braced yourself, and looked up to your right.

Sweet holy Jesus. They were even more handsome up close. Just absolutely soft and glorious. And carrying the faint scent of… firewood? You cleared your throat.

“Um yeah- likewise. Hi.”

A flash of black, followed by measured footsteps in the grass, had all three of you shifting to see Jane walking past. Miranda was not too far behind, taking her time to cross the yard.

“Dinner is being prepared. Show face in the next 20 minutes or go to bed hungry.” Jane didn’t even spare you a glance before she disappeared behind the same doors Phasma had gone through.

“Thank you, Jane,” Larissa managed to call just before they closed behind her with a dull bang.

“Three moves…,” Miranda was muttering, holding the box for the chess set in one hand. “She beat me in three moves.”

“Oh it’s not hard. I would’ve beaten you in two,” another voice entered the fray, polite but amused. Jan, you recognized, as she sidled up between you and Larissa with a small smile on her deep red lips.

Miranda scoffed and turned to look at Anna, only to find that she was gone. One glance behind you revealed that she’d wandered over to Brienne, probably prompting her to go inside for dinner. You hummed, hiding the amusement of friendly banter. It had been so long since you felt even the smallest sense of normalcy. If they were so comfortable with each other, then it must have been a bit since they were all alone out in the world. You’d probably ask Larissa about that later - once everything was said and done.

“I would’ve beaten you in one,” Lucifer smirked as they pulled away and went walking inside. Had they been barefoot the entire time?

“That’s not even possible!” Miranda yelled, but the door was already shut. “...Is it?” She turned to Larissa, then to you, then back to Larissa.

“I don’t think so, Miranda,” Larissa smiled before looking at you. “Any chance you’re good at chess?”

Dear lord, having two sets of beautiful blue eyes on you was nerve-wracking, but you ignored the flush building up on your cheeks and nodded.

“Um yeah- it’s possible to beat someone in two moves. But it’s only black, I think.” You gave Miranda an apologetic smile and a shrug as she pouted.

“You will beat her next time Miranda,” Anna returned with Brienne in her wake. The sword she was sharpening earlier was still in her hands. “She cannot win forever.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Brienne cut in, her voice strong and deep. Her mouth was pulled into a light frown, and you noticed the scar that cut through the upper lip on the right. From the time before, you suspected. Otherwise she’d be turned. “She beat me and Phasma one after the other.”

Miranda sighed, tsking beneath her breath.

“Then there’s no hope…” Goodness, she looked like a sad puppy.

“Why not?” It slipped out of your mouth before you could grab it.

And of course, all of the attention then dragged itself over to you. Five sets of sea-blue eyes, all gorgeous in the glow of the evening lamps, traced lines over your tired body. In comparison to them, you looked a sight. Obviously having been picked up from the side of the road, unclean and awkward, somewhat detached from society. In your bag? Not enough clothing and not enough supplies. In your belt, peeking out from beneath your shirt? A knife, dirty and growing dull. And in your eyes? Lurking sadness and horror - the same which probably lived in the women that were observing you.

Larissa, thank goodness, finally broke the lull of silence.

“Brienne and Phasma were in the military,” she said gently.

“Oh. That makes sense.” And it did - Jane must have been an intellectual force if she beat people that used to be in the military before the world ended. Though that made you wonder… “What branch?” You turned to Brienne, not really surprised that you had to look up to meet her eyes. It seemed you’d been adopted into a camp of skyscrapers. Though the sharpness of her eyes had you swallowing. “I mean- if you don’t mind me asking.”

She seemed to consider it, sizing you up, before saying, rather shortly, “SAS. Then Delta Force.”

You couldn’t hide the way your eyes widened.

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” Larissa hummed. “But I think now would be a good time to head in, wouldn’t you say?” She spared her smile for everyone, meeting the gaze of each woman, before finally looking at you and raising her eyebrow.

It wasn’t really up to you, so you just shrugged and waited for Anna to say ‘Da, da, xорошо’ before heading in. Brienne followed after her, then Miranda, who was studying the back of the chess box, and Larissa, who started taking off her gloves. Jan, meanwhile, stayed where she was and kept her eyes on you. They were curious and deep, never-ending, and lined with mascara and eyeliner. Mascara and eyeliner that… well it suited her, but goodness it was certainly intense. Dark and shadowed, but beautiful nevertheless. You couldn’t look away.

“Jan Stevens,” she breathed and gave you her hand, elegant and admittedly quite charming. Her nails were painted a deep cherry red. Utterly flawless.

At the sight of it, you weren’t entirely sure what to do. Your palms were still dirty, and sort of calloused, and you didn’t want to… ruin her. So you hesitated, stared at it, looked back up at her, and found her kind smile to be unwavering.

“Go on,” Jan finally whispered, giving her hand a pointed look, and you fell prey in an instant.

Quickly, you shot out to gently cup her hand into your own, and gave it a gentle shake. You felt strangely compelled to bring it up to your lips, but you weren’t sure that meeting a stranger in an apocalypse really called for such formalities. Even though you yearned to feel her skin beneath your mouth. It wasn’t proper; though you did think that Jan’s expression fell just a little bit. Like she was excited. Like she wanted you to kiss her hand.

“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she purred, looking you up and down, before turning toward the door. “Come quickly now. If we’re late, Jane will send us off to bed without dinner. And we wouldn’t want that.”

It probably would have been wise to consider and contemplate the fact that you were in a stranger’s camp, with a stranger’s group… but the saucy little wink that Jan threw over her shoulder sent a deep blush crawling up your cheeks. And just like that, without fail, you were one of the flesh-eaters… caught in the pretty paws of eight different beasts.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Please let me know if my characterization is okay and if you'd like to see more. Be safe, darlings. - Rip x

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Far too many names to tag. Find it as you come.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

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argisthebulwark · 6 months

Text

Most Ardently

summary: Terms of endearment Skyrim men would use for you as your partner. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Vilkas, Cicero, Brynjolf, Farkas, Miraak, Erandur, Teldryn, Arnbjorn warnings: minor allusion to suggestive content, mention of blood. and some swears.

Darling Vilkas, who wields terms of endearment with both kindness and sarcasm. Who knows how to get under your skin or comfort you with just one word. "Oh darling, have you forgotten who trained you? More than anyone else, I know your limits." He would sneer, face flushed when he rounds on you after a disagreement. "My darling," Vilkas would whisper in the dead of night, when your hands are tangled in his hair and you can taste the wine on his breath. "My darling." He breathes just before kissing you, all worries melting away. Cicero is giddy at the idea of his Listener having special titles only he is permitted to use. Who spins you around the Sanctuary when your mood is low, showering you in kisses and praise until he sees the smile he loves so dearly. He would say it often, soft and full of love during a stolen moment alone or brashly in front of any new recruit whose eyes lingered a touch too long. "Oh, darling Listener." He would sigh, gazing at you with unabashed adoration. "Cicero loves you more than words can say."

Sweetheart Brynjolf, who says it with that crooked smile that never fails to melt your heart. Who murmurs the pet name when he finds you slumped behind the Guild Master's desk glaring at the rolls of parchment piled haphazardly before you. Brynjolf who scoops you into his arms, planting a kiss on your forehead and allowing you to grumble about your day. "Hold still, sweetheart." Brynjolf would breathe against your skin, clutching you to his chest as the manor's steward paces its hallways. Farkas, who cups your face so gently and speaks as if you are the only one in his world. Who calls you his sweetheart as he wipes the blood of fallen bandits from your cheeks and checks you for injuries. Who helps you out of your armor after a hard day, sinking into a warm bath and combing the hair away from your face. "You alright, sweetheart?" Farkas would call over the clashing of swords, needing an assurance that you haven't fallen.

My love/My beloved Miraak, whose voice drips with devotion when he calls out to you. That touch of reverence never fades from his tone, eyes softening when he stares at you. Miraak who attempts to cover the depth of his love with sarcasm but would fall to his knees for you if asked, who believes his unnaturally long life's only purpose is to adore you. "My beloved," that deep voice rumbles through his chest as he gazes up at you, ungloved hands twisted in your robes. "One whose soul speaks to mine." Erandur, who speaks tender words of love as a form of worship. Who sings your praises with every breath. Whether it's a retelling of his salvation to an enraptured crowd in some small tavern or against the skin of your thighs he devotes himself to you, the one he loves. "My love," he would murmur over and over, lavishing attention upon you. "My most beloved, you must take better care of yourself. I cannot imagine this world without you, my heart."

Fucker Teldryn, who slaps a hand on your thigh with his head thrown back in laughter. Your gut muscles ache and your voice is hoarse from hours of laughing at each other's stories but you never want such a night to end. Other patrons have stumbled off to bed and you're sure that Geldis is glaring daggers at the pair of you but Teldryn's easy laugh is far more intoxicating than the drinks forgotten on a nearby table. "Oh, you fucker." Teldryn would say, the affection clear in his voice. He drags your chair closer to his, allowing you a closer look at his flushed cheeks and sharp teeth. Arnbjorn, with his gruff exterior that you somehow cracked through. His tough heart that you wormed your way into, the softness he saves for the rare moment alone. He is not one for tenderness but conveys his feelings in a way you understand, a subtle love language you learned over time. "Why do I like you again?" He would grumble, forced annoyance coating the affection in his tone when you squirm closer to him. "Fucker." The word is harsh, a contrast to the soft way his calloused hands brush over your skin. "I didn't want to fall for you, y'know."

#skyrim #skyrim fanfic #x reader fanfic #writing #vilkas #cicero #brynjolf #farkas #miraak #erandur #teldryn sero #arnbjorn #skyrim x reader

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jamiewintons · 8 months

Text

Good Enough To Eat (OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji/F!Reader)

Summary: You and your boyfriend Sanji end up spending some time alone in the kitchen of Baratie.

Tags/Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY), public/semi public sex, praise kink, ‘good girl’ kink, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering.

A/N: Hey guys! My first non-Mat fic in literal years! This wasn’t meant to end up so long (not that 1400 words is that long) but I got a bit carried away. It’s really just all vibes. Please know that I’ve never seen the One Piece anime or read the manga, so this is based purely on the live action series. Hope you enjoy!! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated :)

Word Count: 1402

Sanji Tag List: No one yet! (Fill out this form to join!)

~~~

"You look good enough to eat, darling," Sanji told you as he ran his hands up and down your legs, giving you that easy, confident smile that always made your heart melt. The feeling of his strong, talented hands against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs made you shudder, and Sanji’s smile only grew as he sensed your arousal.

You were seated on the counter in the kitchen of Baratie, with Sanji kneeling on the floor between your legs. You knew that the two of you shouldn’t have been doing this here — you couldn’t count the amount of times that you got told off by Zeff for making out in the pantry, and you weren’t exactly looking for a repeat of that — but once Sanji kissed you and ever so gently pushed you against the counter, your bodies pressed together and his hands holding your hips, you knew that there was no way you were going to say no.

And now here you were, a complete flustered mess, although Sanji had barely even touched you yet. He was just like that; he could drive you insane with desire with just a simple touch, or even a look, and the worst part was, he knew what he did to you. Sanji laughed quietly as he felt your body quiver while his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "Oh, darling, you’re so needy," he teased, closing his eyes as he savoured the feeling of your soft skin against his lips. At a snail’s pace he moved further up your leg, until he was mere inches away from the place you needed him most. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

"Please," you sighed, and Sanji laughed once again, though this time it sounded more like a mere exhalation. "Sanji… please."

"Patience," he told you, before moving to your other thigh and repeating the same routine of peppering kisses all over it until you were whimpering beneath his ministrations. "Let me worship your beautiful body the way you deserve."

You closed your eyes, your entire body tingling as your arousal grew to levels you never knew you were even capable of feeling. Though you couldn’t see them, you just knew that beneath your dress your panties were already completely soaked through. You wanted Sanji to just get to the point and give you what you needed already, but you knew that he was right, and that the anticipation, the build-up would ensure the end result was even more wonderful. Just like with food, Sanji would tell you.

When you felt Sanji’s hands slip beneath the hem of your dress, that was when your eyes shot back open. He slowly pushed it up, revealing your cotton panties. "You’re absolutely soaked for me, darling." Even if you weren’t looking at him, you’d be able to tell that he was smirking by the tone in his voice - a mix of smugness and reverence. He brought his thumb to the front of your panties, gently teasing the wet patch on the fabric and making you whimper. "So sensitive, sweetheart. You must be really worked up."

"Well, you have been at this for at least an hour," you complained, trying to sound firm but your voice came out shaky and desperate. Sanji pressed a little harder, and you let out another soft noise.

"It’s not been quite that long, but I’ll forgive you. I’m sure you’re having a hard time concentrating," Sanji said with a self-satisfied grin, before hooking his fingers into the waist of your panties and slowly pulling them down your legs. Without the pesky fabric in the way, your arousal was even more obvious, and Sanji’s eyes lit up as he saw the physical proof of how much he affected you. "Remember when I said you looked good enough to eat?"

With that, Sanji pulled you a little closer to the edge of the counter you were perched on. He leaned in and ran his tongue between your swollen lower lips, a slow lick from your entrance up to your aching clit that made your entire body shudder. The sound that came out of your mouth was somewhere between a moan and a sigh of relief, and it made Sanji let out yet another breathless laugh.

He focused on your clit, alternating between quick licks with the tip of his tongue and slow, languid strokes using the entire organ. Your fingers came to rest on top of Sanji’s head as he pleasured you, threading through the soft blond strands and tugging lightly. This only encouraged him to double down his efforts, following your moans and whimpers to find the best way to please you.

"You taste incredible, darling. Better than anything I’ve ever tasted," Sanji whispered, his words sounding like warm honey, as he pulled his mouth away from your pussy. But he wasn’t idle for long, because only a few seconds later he grabbed your legs and put them over his shoulders before diving back in to eat you out with even more enthusiasm.

"O-oh fuck, Sanji… feels so good," you gasped out, your thighs shaking as Sanji vigorously devoured you like he was a starved man and you were the first food he’d encountered in weeks. You’d never felt as good in your life as you did with Sanji, he was as much of a talented lover as he was a chef, and you thanked your lucky stars every day that you got to be with him.

"That’s it, good girl," Sanji praised gently, those simple words making your pleasure intensify and your hips buck against his face. You then felt his fingers teasing at your entrance, and let out a gasp as he pushed two inside your fluttering walls. "Just sit back and let me take care of you."

Your breathing was getting heavier, you quiet moans becoming louder and more desperate as Sanji worked magic on you with his tongue and fingers. He crooked his digits to stimulate your g-spot, and you knew that it wouldn’t be long until you fell apart for him. "S-Sanji, I’m… I’m close…"

Sanji would have known that you were on the brink, even if you hadn’t said anything, but fuck, did he love to hear you say it. To hear your voice so desperate for him, all because of him. Honestly, it turned him on more than anything possible could. His cock throbbed within his trousers with the thought of being inside of you again, but right now was about you, not about him, and he wanted to give you everything that you needed.

When he felt your pussy beginning to tighten around his fingers, he looked up at you, seeing your beautiful face contorted in pleasure. But more than anything, he wanted to see your eyes, to see how they widened as he brought you to complete ecstasy. "Look at me, darling. I want you to look at me when I make you cum," he told you in a tone that was both gentle and firm, one that you couldn’t help but listen to.

When you looked down at Sanji’s face, the sight of his blue-green eyes darkened with lust — along with how he massaged your sweet spot with his fingers and sucked on your swollen clit — was enough to push you over the edge into an earth shattering orgasm. You cried out his name, your hips bucking and your velvety walls contracting around his fingers. Sanji guided you through your high, not stopping until you went completely limp, and he made sure he was standing to catch you when you did.

"You did so well for me, darling," he praised, one of his hands threading though your hair as he pressed gentle kisses to your flushed face. Once he was sure you could keep yourself upright, he took the fingers of his other hand — the one that he had been using to pleasure you — into his mouth, licking off your essence and moaning as if he had just eaten a delicious meal. "Let’s go back to my room, sweetheart. I’m not quite finished enjoying you tonight."

You allowed Sanji to lead you out of the kitchen and towards his bedroom, his hand firmly held in yours, feeling your heart fluttering with excitement. You already knew that you were going to struggle to walk tomorrow, and you couldn’t wait.

#sanji x reader #opla sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #opla x reader #one piece x reader #opla imagine #opla fanfiction #mari's stuff #nsft text #x reader smut #x reader fanfiction #x reader fanfic #I hope you guys like this 🙈

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minnophee-writes · 6 months

Text

Right Where You Were Meant To Be

Fandom: Avengers [Marvel]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size Reader

Summary: The reader has a crush on Bucky the second she looked at him but she also has feelings of self-consciousness about her body and doubts she’d ever end up with Bucky or any guy like Bucky. That all changes one night at one of Tony’s parties.

Word Count: 2,760 words

A/N: This is a cute little one-shot idea I had and just wanted to write out. I feel there aren’t many plus-size!reader stories so I wanted to make my own. I’m a chubby girl and felt like I needed some love, lmao. Any mistakes I take responsibility for, this story wasn’t beta read, so I apologize for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!! <3 <3 <3 [edit: this is an old fanfic lol]

It all started when you looked at him for the first time. He had just moved into the Tower, and you had just gotten the job as Tony's new assistant since Pepper had become CEO of Stark Industries. Because you worked in an environment with superheroes who were very fit and healthy, you had become self-conscious of yourself; whether it would be what you wore, the things you ate, or just how your body looked in general.

Being a bigger girl, it often took a toll on your mental health when you would notice the glances, the whispering, the judgmental stares, and how shopping for clothes in your size was difficult, and it made you feel like you had to lose weight to fit in and belong. You felt alone and isolated.

You didn't have any friends; you didn't even talk to many of your co-workers, and just kept to yourself a majority of the time. When Bucky moved in, you noticed he did the same. He didn't speak much to the rest of the team, he mostly stayed in his room, and only hung around Steve. Bucky was very fit, and his muscular body showed it whenever he wore tight-fitted clothing. You would never wear tight-fitted clothing for fear of having your plumpness accentuated.

After five months working for Tony and having a more friendly relationship with the rest of the team, you had built a few close bonds with some of the heroes. Wanda and Natasha were your closest girlfriends and would regularly have 'Lady's Nights' every Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Tony, Clint, Sam, and Steve were like your older brothers and would look out for you.

You and Steve made it a routine to do small exercise and yoga in the afternoons just after 4 o'clock. How this all started was because you wanted to accomplish small goals for yourself, as Sam told you to do to help with your mental health.

"Steve," You called out as you stepped into the Tower's gym, the one place you knew where to find Steve if he wasn't in the common room.

"Oh, hey (Y/N)! What's up?" Steve turned to face you as he held the punching bag still while he watched you walk closer to him, noticing you fidgeting with your fingers nervously.

"I just... I wanted to start doing light exercises, you know, to boost my endorphins, and so I have something to do in the afternoons when I've finished with work." It wasn't a complete lie, but it just sugar-coated the fact that you just wanted to lose weight to gain confidence in yourself.

Steve had agreed to help you; he wouldn't push you too much either because he didn't want you to strain anything and not push you out of your comfort zone too much. Both of you would exercise for an hour each day in the afternoons. This routine had been going on for six weeks, and you were enjoying it. You felt better about yourself each week when you would check your progress and write down how much you lost during the week; you were more confident than you were all those weeks ago before asking Steve for help.

During one of those afternoon exercises, you and Steve were both in the Adho Mukha pose with Steve wearing his usual tight t-shirt, that you swore was a size too small, and shorts while you wore a loose, black tank top, and tight-fitted leggings that complemented the shape of your plump ass. You were so in the zone that you hadn't heard the gym doors open and the sound of footsteps coming closer to you. Bucky stood behind you and Steve, him getting an eyeful of your butt while he cleared his throat to catch his best friend's attention.

"Hey, Bucky! I didn't notice you were there. (Y/N) and I were doing some yoga, would you like to join us?"

You. Were. Mortified. You quickly stood up beside Steve and looked down at your feet, trying to avoid looking at Bucky after having your ass practically in his face.

"Uh, I kinda have to get ready for 'Girl's Night' tonight, but I think Bucky can keep you company." You nervously spoke, having your words jumble out quickly due to your inner-embarrassment. "I'll see you later, Steve!"

You bolted out of the gym as fast as your legs could go and made it up into your room without another incident. When you flopped onto your bed, you let out a loud, exhausted sigh before closing your eyes shut tightly. 'Why did I have to act like a nervous wreck? You didn't even let him talk for Christ's sake!' After beating yourself up over the little incident, you started to get ready for 'Girl's Night' with Nat and Wanda.

~~~~~~

It was two hours into 'Girl's Night' and you, Nat and Wanda had, at least, drank four glasses of Kraken Rum and about three shots of Vodka. You were more relaxed and carefree, enjoying your time with your best friends while gossiping about an episode of Criminal Minds you all saw the other day together.

"Not gonna lie, I would love to have a man like Morgan. Have you seen his muscles? And how he kicks down doors like a badass?" You gushed.

"That is true, and I fully believe Morgan and Garcia should be together. They have chemistry and look so cute!" Wanda loved her Morgan and Garcia ship.

"Eh, I like to have a super cute genius but that's just my opinion" Nat took a sip of her fruity vodka drink while shrugging her shoulders.

"Of course you would, you're with Bruce and that's a little bias, Nat." You gently shoved your red-haired friend playfully.

You and Wanda giggled like school girls when Natasha scoffed before she pointed an accusing finger at you.

"Well, says you, (Y/N)! You practically drool whenever you see Barnes."

That shut you up quickly. 'How does she know?! Play it off...'

"That's very funny Nat, but I don't know what you mean."

"Don't bullshit me, (Y/N). I've seen the way your cheeks get all pink and how your eyes are glued to him whenever he walks by. You're so smitten it's grossly cute." Then Wanda turned to you with a small smirk on her face.

"Maybe you should ask him to work out with you and Steve!"

Flashbacks of your embarrassment earlier that day made your face go pale. 'Absolutely not'. You shook your head furiously, staring at your two friends with fear. There was no way you'd have the guts to do such a thing, not after how you acted around him before. Plus, you didn't want him to look at you with disgust when he looks at you working out. You shake off all the negative thoughts before finishing off your last bits of rum.

"I think I'm going to head off to bed now, gotta wake up early tomorrow. Tony wants me to help him organize and plan a gala party to celebrate his newest project. And when I say to 'help him' I mean I'll be doing most of the work while he hides away in his lab with Bruce." You said before walking off and waving the girls goodbye.

2 weeks later...

You had most of the gala planned out. You had booked a cute catering company to organize some food dishes for everyone and even hired a group of people to decorate one of the large common rooms that would fit all the guests on Tony's guest-list. You had even bought a cute new dress to wear for the party. The party was starting that night at 7:30 and you would hopefully get everything done while having an hour and a half to spare to get ready.

When the decorating and planning finished, you quickly made your way to your room and got showered and changed. You stood in front of your mirror for quite some time, nitpicking every flaw you could see, judging your appearance because you knew how the other women at the party were going to look flawless and have every man swooping in for them. A sudden knock on your door snapped you out of your negative thoughts.

"(Y/n), you ready?" Wanda's voice called from the other side.

"Y-yeah! I'm coming now." You dashed for the door to get away from the mirror so you can't put yourself down even more. Once opening the door, Wanda linked your arm with hers, and both of you walked toward the elevator.

Telling FRIDAY which floor, you both arrived just as a few of the guests were mingling around; drinking, eating, and chatting. You glanced around, hoping to see the familiar faces of your friends, spotting Sam, Nat, and Clint near the bar where Natasha was serving the drinks. Tony was standing next to Pepper and being an absolute flirt as always while Steve and Bucky were standing near a corner with drinks in hand. Before you could make your way over to the bar, Wanda told you to wait where you were while she goes to quickly touch up her make-up, disappearing before you could say a word. You stood there awkwardly and looked around, making sure everything was going swimmingly until you felt a presence behind you. A tap on your confirmed that someone was indeed behind you.

You turned around to see a group of two slender women and three muscular men staring at you with smug and cocky smiles on their faces.

"Can we get some more drinks? And make them with a little more alcohol this time." One of the men quirked an eyebrow, waiting for you to scurry off to grab their drinks.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not part of catering. I'm-"

"You certainly look it though, I mean, you're not dressed like you're here as a guest. The dress you're wearing looks like the other catering staff." A woman spat, her eyes narrowed at you. You started to feel self-conscious about your outfit now, realizing the color-scheme looked very similar to the catering staff.

"Plus, the dress isn't that flattering for your body hun. We can practically see your muffin top and panty lines with how tight that dress is on you." The other woman commented while she leaned to the side to glance at more of your plush figure.

A stinging sensation began to appear behind your eyes, feelings of doubt, and an anxiety attack began to make themselves known. So looked away from the group and quickly made for the elevator, shooting Wanda a quick text saying you weren't feeling too well. 'How stupid of me to think I even looked good or that I could fit in at the party.' By the time the elevator doors reached your floor and the doors opened, hot tears were falling down your cheeks as you tried to furiously wipe them away with zero results. The tears kept flowing down as you began to walk down the hallway to your room; quiet footsteps barely making noise as they followed you. Just as your hand settled on the door handle, a warm hand clasped onto your shoulder gently. With a yelp, you spun around with a jump to look at your "attacker", only to find a pair of stormy blue eyes staring at your teary eyes intensely.

Bucky's eyes held hints of concern and worry, but it was hard to see because he was good at hiding his emotions, and the fact that your eyes were blurry from crying.

"You okay, (Y/n)? I saw you leave the party quickly and noticed how fast your breathing was." Bucky had to look down at you because he was so tall, or was it because you were just very short?

"I'm fine, Bucky. I just don't do well in crowded places or with so many strangers. I got a bit overwhelmed but it's fine now." You weakly smiled but he could see right through it, he always did.

"You had a panic attack after speaking to a group of people and judging by the looks they gave you while talking to them, I can only believe it wasn't a pleasant conversation." Bucky then brought both his flesh and metal hands to cup your face while he peered into your eyes more. "Tell me what happened, doll."

You sighed, you knew he wasn't going to let this go. Even though you both barely spoke to each other, he still cared for you like the both of you knew each other for years. Something about his calm voice and caring nature helped your nerves settle.

"They thought I was part of catering and asked if I could get them more drinks. I told them I wasn't catering, only for them to make snarky comments about my outfit and body. But it's fine, I'm used to having those comments made to me, I've dealt with those types of people all my life." Your hands gently held his and tried to move them away from your face but Bucky didn't budge.

"You don't believe them, right? I mean, I think the dress looks good on you. It shows off your curves and any man who doesn't get blown away is blind."

You gave a humorless laugh and shook your head at Bucky, looking down at the floor.

"You're just saying that to be nice to me, Buck. We both know girls like me don't belong in a place like this, or a party like that. You can go back to the party, I don't want to waste more of your time." You went to turn away when Bucky held your upper arms tightly.

"Not a chance, doll. I'm not a fan of crowds myself and was about to leave the party myself until I saw you run away. I'd rather spend my time with you and making sure you don't ever think that you don't belong."

You both stared at each other for a few seconds, his stare was intense with adoration and love while you stared at him in shock that he'd want to spend time with you. Before you could blink, Bucky leaned down and you felt his soft lips on yours, his arms wrapping around you and caging you into a warm and gentle embrace. Your hands rested onto his firm chest while his hands rested on your lower back, just above your butt. At first, you were in shock but then you gave in to the kiss and snaked your arms around his neck, your fingers embedded into his long hair.

The kiss was full of passion, and so much love that you didn't think it was possible. When the need for air was too much, you both separated and looked into each other's eyes once again.

"H-how? Why me? We barely know each other!"

"Because, (Y/n), I've been smitten for you since I first laid eyes on you but didn't have the guts to tell you. Steve's been a punk and trying to get me to join your work out sessions for weeks but I was too nervous to do it." Bucky's cheeks tinted red as he chuckled.

"And why's that? I was scared that if saw me working out, that you'd be grossed out by my body." You explained, chewing on your bottom lip.

"I could never be grossed out, sweetheart. I love a woman with curves and plumpness to her. I was nervous that if I watched you work out, I would try to make a move on you too fast and scare you away. I didn't want that to happen." Bucky grabbed your chin and leaned in again, his lips almost touching yours. "And you looked downright sexy in those tights, they shape your ass well."

You gasped and lightly smacked his shoulder while he smirked at you. His playfulness coming through. You made the first move this time and got onto your tippy toes to kiss him. It was quicker than the first but still held the same emotions. With so much strength you underestimated he had, Bucky lifted you up - your legs wrapped around his waist - as he opened your door and carried you over to your bedroom. Both of you watched a bunch of movies in your room; many kisses were shared before you both passed out, cuddled up under your fluffy blankets, safe in Bucky's arms.

Right where you were meant to be all along.

#minnophee writes #fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #plus size reader #plus size girl #curvy #chubby #marvel #marvel fanfic #avengers #fluffy fanfic #x reader #x reader fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fanfic #bucky barnes x reader

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korebringerofded · 7 months

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Storms and Coffee, Choso Kama X Reader

Description- Imagine being his reason for smiling, being the one to bring him comfort, touching him like no one had touched him before. Imagine being the only one who can clear his cloudy mind with your sunshine smile. Words- 2k Warnings- Unedited as fuck yall, I hate my writing so much rn, breaks suck, smut at the end, self indulgent angst, sad Choso is sad, praise kink, unprotected sex, pining, choso being adorably in love with you, oral (F! receiving)

A/N-I ask that you read my rules before going any further on my page. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated and keep me going All requests are open and you can find my entire masterlist here.

The first time that the half-curse, Choso Kama laid his eyes on you he was sure that his heart was going to stop. At the time, he had very little care for anything beyond his mission with Geto. His two younger brothers were dead and he was honestly just tired, the most tired he had ever been.

Choso had no idea where he was or how he ended up at this place. He had just been wandering the streets for a few hours and was currently taking shelter from the pouring rain. When he looked up into the dark storming sky and he saw the building was an apartment complex with a flickering sign.

Useless, useless, useless. He thought to himself, his eyes slipping shut as he let out an audible groan.

Choso just felt so lost. His vision was blurred from the rain that fell around him, it soaked his robe and his messy black hair but he didn’t really mind any of that.

It was only when a soft and shy voice broke through the thundering storm, both in the gray clouds, and in Choso’s mind that he looked up to see…you.

He had never seen someone…as beautiful as you before.

“Are you okay?” You asked, head tilted to the side.

His sharp and serious purple eyes met with your big and glossy ones. You had a raincoat on and a pink umbrella in your hand. You searched the tall strangers' faces with a look of concern.

Choso was a tall and rather intimidating man, even as he leaned against the brick wall of the building. He had a sharp look in his dark purple eyes that started to fade as he looked over your features. He seemed almost impressed that you were talking to him at all.

So small…so cute. He thought to himself.

Most people would be terrified of such a man, but you seemed rather unphased by his towering size and intimidating appearance, so you leaned forward to hold your umbrella over both Choso and yourself.

“I…” Choso started, realizing she was waiting on him to answer. His eyes wide as he looked down at the small human before him and he was rather caught off guard by her.

Because why would someone like you even talk to a disgraceful half-cure like him.

“You must be freezing, would you like to come in for some coffee?” You asked, all the while you held your umbrella over Choso and yourself to try and protect you both from the rain.

Choso stared down at her, he must have looked like a huge mess, his eyeshadow was rubbed across his cheek and his two buns were soaked and dripping down his face. After a moment, he nodded sheepishly.

“Yes…thank you.”

That one interaction was enough, enough for you to steal Choso’s entire half-cursed heart. Your sweetness and your warmth were intoxicating to him and he found himself returning to your apartment day after day, week after week.

Eventually, Choso was a part of your everyday life, he knocked on your door every morning with a blank expression and an absolutely love-sick heart. You wouldn’t have known he felt anything for you at all if not for the way he kept coming back. It was actually adorable, the way he would shyly rub the back of his neck as he stood in your doorway.

You ask him to go to the store with you? He immediately nods and carries the bags for you without a complaint. Want to spend the day baking? He is the perfect taste tester and would help you wash every dish afterwards. Wanna watch a bad movie? He will watch it all without a single complaint. (He is just looking at you the entire time)

The first time Choso knew he would be in trouble was the first time you touched him, the way your soft hands brushed against his arm. It made every single hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and his cheeks turn a soft pink. He found so much comfort in your touch, it was like a warm summer day he could just bask in forever.

When you walked together, he would stare at your small fingers intertwined with his because if he looked at your face he was sure that his heart would just explode. It all just made him fall that much harder for you.

He would wait an excruciatingly long time before he made a move or admitted his feelings for you but…he was head over heels for you from that very first day, your kindness and the softness of your hand when he held it, he honestly didn’t believe he deserved it. All Choso wanted was to keep you just how you were, perfect and innocent. He wouldn’t ever forgive himself for making you upset or uncomfortable.

He wanted to tell you so badly, how you were on his mind every moment of every day, how your sweet scent was intoxicating, how he wanted to hear you scream his name but…he didn’t want to be like that. You deserved respect and he was trying damn hard to give it to you but each day was more and more of a challenge for him to control himself. It was easy before, before, he saw you as adorable and sweet, his little angel. But now…

He couldn’t stop staring at your thighs and ass, every time you turned away from him it was like his eyes were magnets and your ass and thighs were the north pole(idk guys) Choso was almost slack-jawed every time he saw you, his head tilted to the side as he looked at you with a soft blush spreading over his face…he wanted to kiss every inch of your skin.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up.

When he would finally get up the courage to tell you how he feels (after lots of hyping up from his newly discovered brother Yujii) he would become obsessed with making it all absolutely perfect. He wore a black t-shirt and some jeans, he also wore his hair down. He was pacing outside of your apartment door, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“This is so stupid…this is a terrible idea” Choso thought to himself, running a hand through his long black hair as he debated leaving before he truly embarrassed himself.

Before he got the chance, the door opened and it was as if all of his worries just disappeared when he saw your beautiful face.

Choso took a step forward with a furious blush on his face and his hand was trembling just a little. He was noticeably nervous.This was your first time seeing him look so…casual, with his hair down and it made your heart echo like a drum, you knew he was handsome before but….damn.

You didn’t get a chance to react or say anything when Choso walked in, closing the door behind him as he backed you up against the wall, his huge arms pinning you as he leaned down to press his face into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t…say anything. I need to do something.” His voice sounded soft and trembling, his face was hot and his breath ran down the side of your neck.

You simply nodded, your face heating up as your heart echoed rapidly in your chest.

Choso was not particularly good with words, he fumbled and blushed and got so nervous he would completely freeze up but…he was definitely a man of action.

He pulled his face up from your neck and his hands moved from the wall behind you to cupping your precious face like you were his greatest treasure. His touch was gentle and soothing, you couldn’t help but lean into it. Choso would brush his thumb along your soft cheeks with a soft chuckle.

“You…are all that I think about.” He mumbled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he went back to caressing your face. “Can I kiss you? Please?” He asked, sounding significantly more desperate than he meant to before he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

His gentleness and sweetness were making you lightheaded. You were too breathless to speak, your chest was rising and falling rapidly and you slowly nodded, your face hot to the touch from how flustered you were.

“Yes..kiss me.”

His lips collided with yours before the words properly left your mouth, he was desperate and sweet, his mouth molding to yours as you melted into each other’s arms. His lips were soft and sweet, smooth against your own as his tongue gently nudged against your lip until he was exploring your entire mouth, his hands moving from your face to your hips as he pressed you further against the wall. You let out a soft moan as you kissed, all of your senses on fire as Choso’s hands ran up and down your hips like he was memorizing your shape, your softness.

After a moment, Choso pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours and he had a bright blush spread over his pale face. You were both panting, a string saliva between your lips as Choso held you against the wall with a sheepish grin on his face. His purple eyes scanned over you with a softness you had never seen before.

“You are in such trouble now…” He said lovingly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear with a grin.

“Why is that?” You asked with a soft giggle, but you had a feeling you already knew.

‘Because now you’re mine.” He mumbled, moving to press soft and delicate kisses down your neck. “And I need you.” He said with a shaky sigh as he pulled his dark eyes to meet with yours.

“Cho-.” You started to say, your voice trembling but he cut you off with his finger pressed to your lips.

“Do I need to beg?” He whispered, his eyes big and filled with desperation. “Because I will, I will beg for you.”

After that, Choso made it his mission to fuck you each and every chance he got and in everyway he could. He just wanted to please you so badly it almost hurt.

“F-fuck, Choso…d-don’t stop. S’good.” You slurred, a soft pant leaving your lips as Choso’s adjusts his grip on your hips so he can go back to fucking into your soaked pussy from behind, his eyes locked on the jiggle of your ass and it made his mouth water with want and desire.

“You look so good on my cock, princess, fuck, you squeeze me so good.” Choso moaned, his face hot as his fingers dug into your hips and he continued to thrust deep in you, the fat tip of his dick hitting against your gummy walls that sucked around him desperately.

“Please…yes…yes, right there.” You whimpered, your back arching as Choso fucked you into the freshly made bed, his head falling back as you tightened around him, he knew you were getting close and he wasn’t sure how much longer he would last either.

Your moans and desperate cries only pushed him further along, his hands twitching around your hips before he pulled out which made your hot dripping pussy clench and throb with want.

Before you could complain, your boyfriend had you pinned down on your back, your knees spread so he could run his lips down your knee and across your ankle before he started to kiss back up your leg, his large hands wrapped around your thighs as he pressed soft and wet kisses to your plush thighs.

“Mmm…you look so pretty like this..my pretty little princess.” Choso cooed, nuzzling his face into your thigh before he poked his tongue out of his glossy lips and looked up at you with half-lidded and dark eyes

Choso just loved how you tasted, he probably enjoyed it about as much as you did, he savored the taste and the smell and the feel of your flesh in his mouth, on his tongue. He nudged his nose against your clit as his tongue traced your already slick-soaked folds with a grin.

You were already trembling, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. He had been toying with you like this for hours and you had cum more times than you could remember, you were a panting and whimpering mess.

Choso seemed like he hadn’t even broken a sweat as he lapped up your sweet nectar like it was all he survived on, and he probably could have. Your thighs were trembling around his face as his tongue explored each and every part of you, his thumb lazily brushing your clit back and forth as his hand rested on your belly.

“S-so close.” You moaned desperately, white hot stars blocking your vision as your fingers dug into his dark hair.

Your back arched and your whole body trembled as you let out a cry, your thighs soaked in your own slick as Choso licked your thighs and pussy completely clean with an almost adorable desperation.

After he was done, he leaned his head against your knee and looked up at you with a somewhat bashful grin.

“Did I…do good?” He asked with a soft blush.

Please do not copy, use my work, or put it through AI without my permission or I'll be really sad about it!

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abbonation · 7 months

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Kinktober Day #9, Din Djarin

WOOOOOO!!!! The largely uninspired Abbo returns with a 2.3k cockwarming fic 😍😍 literally unheard of! Any whoosies, yeah. It's hot, it's explicit, what else do we want from Kinktober, anyway?

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY!!! Cockwarming, AFAB!Fem!Reader with little (Or a lot ;) of chub <3) the crest DIDN'T DIE,

He had tried to restrain himself, he really had, but when he watched your eyes as you lowered your robes down your shoulders and onto the cold floor of his ship, he knew this wouldn’t last long.

You’d traveled in the Crest with him while he was without Grogu and then became somewhat of a caretaker to him when he returned from training with Luke. You had seen the very near destruction of Crest on Tython and, now, you were all back together again; living and traveling through space on the never-ending journey that was his life.

Through the nearly two years of close proximity, you had grown close. He knew your quirks and you had grown accustomed to his- and, despite his best efforts, he had developed rather intense feelings for you. Never acted upon, never spoken of but you had to know. By the way your look lingered on him both in and out of battle. By the way your head turned when he talked with others, it felt like you were two magnets hovering against the others’ pull, never close enough to click together.

Then, you encountered a beast that the local planet-dwellers later told you was called a Boma. He knew you shouldn’t have gone separately but he really needed some time to be alone and splitting up under the guise of catching your quarry faster would allow him time to do what he needed to keep his sanity. You agreed to meet back at the Crest before sundown and use the comms only when necessary to conserve their power- however, when he hadn’t heard from you and started to notice the darkening sky, he worried.

“Hey- you okay? On your way to the Crest yet?”

"—"

After a few moments of silence, he tries again, “Are you there? It’s gonna be really dark here really soon.”

A shrill scratching sound chirps through the speaker on the comm and, instantly, he knows he needs to find you. When he does though, after racing back to the Crest and turning around to follow your trail instead of his, it’s been nearly an hour and he finds you walking towards him, pulling behind you a creature nearly the size of yourself.

He jogs over shouting, “What the hell happened to you?”

“Well, I guess I can tell you the whole tale. If you’ll carry this thing the rest of the way,” You smile and shrug up at him and he feels his stomach clench as he realizes just how anxious he’d been to find you, and how much better he feels now that you’re here.

“So it just ran up to your legs, smelled your cape, and started attacking?”

“That’s what I said, right?” You deadpan.

“Why would it wait to attack you until it could smell you?”

“Mando, I don’t know, can we just get some food and get back to the ship, my ankle fucking hurts from where I fell.”

In the small town is where you learned of the nature of these “Boma” . They were just your run of the mill beast, but apparently they had a real liking for eating Mandalorians.

“Well, at least I know it wasn’t my stench that he didn’t like,” you joked to him over your dinner.

“We’d better get back though, I’m… really tired.” You had this look in your eye though. One like you weren’t very tired at all. One like how you look right after battle.

So you thanked the bartender and made your way back to the Crest, confirming Grogu’s safety in his pram and fixing a couple glasses of Ne'tra gal for you and your Mando. He swallowed and tried to shove down the one thought in his brain since dinner. You smelled like him.

“Thanks for trying to save me. Even if I didn’t need your help.” You hand over his glass and sit on a crate across from him in the hold.

“I just didn’t hear you respond to my comm, I was worried,” He looks at the bottom of his cup.

“Yeah well, this bad boy here had my back,” You lightly tap your thigh a couple times where your knife sheath lies and his eyes zero in on the spot as he moves up his helm slightly to sip.

“I- know you can handle yourself. I just-” He trails off.

“You just what?”

“.. I just want you to be- protected.. From everything.”

You smile gently at his visor and he can feel his cheeks heating at your stare.

“You know that’s not possible, Din.”

He wishes he could show you the power you hold over him. He has to look away from your eyes when you say his name.

“Have I,” You swallow and steel yourself, “Have I ever shown you any of my scars, Mando?”

He looks up again, your face looks different now. You look more.. hungry?

The ale in your blood and food in your belly fuels your courage and you stand from your crate, walking over to stand in front of the Mandalorian. You place your hands on his shoulders and bend your knee up and place your foot on the ledge of the crate he sits on, inches from where his dick is imprinted into the fabric of his flight suit.

He says your name and looks up at your face, “I- what are you-”

“Do you want to see, Din?”

He realizes then, you feel it too. He’s been so blind and his head swims at the confirmation of this.

“Yes, show me.. please,” He places a gloved hand at your ankle under the hem of your robe and begins moving it up your calf.

You press on his shoulder to stop his hand and raise the hem of your robes up to right above your knee, down the skin right in front of his visor runs a jagged line of skin thicker than the rest.

“This one I received when I killed a man who was trying to stop me from leaving his bed.” Din swallows and looks at your face, he’s speechless.

You move your hands to pull the hem higher and stop again, right above your knife sheath, so that the fabric is caught in the crux where your thigh meets your hip and is tucked under your belly.

“These are from a cat on my home planet,” What looks like little claw marks blossom from the side of your thigh. He moves his thumb up to brush over them, and you smile at the memory of your friend from home.

“And, Din,” You step down from the crate and stand between his open legs. He’s aching to touch you now. Running his palms up and down his thighs to avoid doing something he’d regret. You move your fingers up to the buttons at your neck that fasten the robe to your body and unbutton each one carefully, taking deep breaths, “These will be a different type of scar. Ones on the inside, ones I won’t soon forget.” You drop your robe to reveal your body to him, your underwear the only remaining coverage. Din sucks in an audible breath from the vocoder and stands from his spot.

He chokes out your name, backing you over to the wall next to his sleeping quarters. “Do you know what you’re doing? Do you want this? If we do this, things will be different.”

“I know that- I want them to be,” You lean up to whisper into his ear. “You think I can’t hear you in your bed nearly every night. Rubbing yourself raw at the thought of me- of this?” You place your hand where his thighs join and he buckles, dropping his helmet down to your own shoulder and thrusting his hips into your palm. You reach your other hand from where it toys with the curls that peek out from under his helmet to cup his ass, pushing his hips forward into you.

“Please,” He moans.

You turn to his bed and pull yourself inside, moving backward into the dark space. “You liked that the creature smelled you on me, huh?” You chide him. He stands at the threshold as if deciding whether to make the leap. To change his life forever.

“You wanted to come save me from it yourself so something would know I belong to you, right?” He leans forward into his room, hands resting on the top wall, tent in his pants more than obvious now.

“Or were you just too busy jacking that cock in the forest to notice anything?”

The choice is out of his hands now, he’s not acting of his own volition. He kicks off his boots and crawls in above you, quickly closing the door and locking you both into silent darkness.

When he continues to say nothing even as you hear the ruffling of clothes and sheets as he arranges himself you whisper out, “Din?”

From mere inches above you, you feel his breath fan down on your face and realize he’s removed his helmet, his hand moves over your belly, between the space where your breasts splay out and up to cup your throat. “Yes?”

You shudder at his unfiltered speech. “Do you- are you-” Suddenly you’re the one at a loss for words when he leans his forehead to rest on yours, and runs the hand that was holding you down your side to your thigh.

“I did like that you smelled like me. I really liked it.” He punctuates his words with a thrust into your belly.

“I want to lay you in this bed and fuck you every day so that you never stop smelling like me.” Another thrust. “Would you like that, sweet girl? Would you like to lay here and be my cock sleeve? Just for me to use whenever I want?” You’ve never heard someone speak to you like this, much less the ever-reserved Mandalorian, you’re shocked into silence by his tongue and he continues.

He moves your legs to open for him and you reach down to stroke over his thighs where he kneels above you. He groans at your touch, “So sensitive, Din. C’mere.” He moves down to lay his lips on yours, he gets more comfortable the longer you lick and nip at each other, and he keens when you run your hands up over his scalp and give his hair a very light tug,

“Oh, please, do that again, mesh’la,” You continue running your fingers through his hair and move to lick up the column up his throat. His noises are free-flowing now, heavy breathing floating through the air in his bunk.

He lifts his head to make room between you and presses his crotch into your clothed pussy. You can feel your arousal making your underwear slick against your entrance, and clench to thrust up against his stiff dick.

“Fuck, that's- that’s perfect, sweet girl.” He does it again, setting you into a rhythm of humping while he rubs over your tits, rubbing your nipples between his fingers when you show him that’s what you like.

“Fuck Din, you feel so good,” You moan out to him and his hips stutter, “I’ll cum if we don’t stop, I- want you to feel good too-” So you slow your movements and move to push down your underwear, “Take off your pants Din, we’re gonna start slow, okay?”

You maneuver to be on top and line his cock up at your puffy entrance. “Do you feel that, Din? How, mmm, how wet you’ve made me?”

“Y-yes, I’m so hard for you,” He moans out.

You rub your clit with his tip a few times and notch his head just inside “I don’t wanna come yet-” he huffs into your ear.

“You won’t, I’m gonna slip down and then we’re gonna get you used to me, okay?”

A deep rumble leaves him when you start to slide down his thick length, stopping when your clit rubs into his pubic hair. “Jesus, Din- you’re.. fuckin’ big” You flutter around him unintentionally and he thrusts against you, holding onto your lush hips.

You lay down over him and he roves his hands over your back, resting one against the back of your head and the other ghosting over your ass.

“Can we just stay like this for a minute?” He asks.

“We can do this as long as you need,” You tell him, reveling in the way his pubic bone bumps against the hood of your clit. He stretches your walls deep, which you can’t say you didn’t expect- but to know you were right feels good. You sit up some when he pulls his feet up the cot, giving you room to lean back against the top of his thighs, and, with him still inside you ghost your fingers down over your breasts and belly to tease over your cunt.

“Are you touching yourself?” Din questions.

You clench at his voice, “Yes, Din. I’m– gonna rub my clit until I come around your cock and then you’re gonna come too, okay?” Your voice is much more high pitched and your usual level-headedness has obviously gone.

“Fuck, I wish I could see you, your tits bouncing in my face,” you feel his cock twitch inside you and rub two fingers around your clit, working up speed.

“You wanna watch my face when I cum, huh, Din? Wanna see me give in to your pleasure?”

“Ngh fuck yes, that's all I want, my sweet girl, my mesh’la.” He’s grasping at the sheets of his cot now, desperately thrusting up into your cunt.

“Mm, fuck, are you ready?” You whine out as you feel your walls start to flutter from the stimulation, “Are you ready to come for me, sweet boy?”

“Oh fuuuck, yes I’m gonna- I’m-” And he does. He pushes your hips down onto his cock to keep you still as he empties inside you, limply thrusting for another few seconds as you come down.

You move to get off his cock and he holds you still again, so you opt to just lay back down on his chest resting your face next to his.

“Can we just.. stay like this for a while?” You can hear the smile in his question.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x reader smut #din djarin one shot #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandaloria/reader #one shot #kinktober #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #x reader fanfic #reader insert #plus size reader #chubby reader #spankbank

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ink-and-blood-goddess · 9 months

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The Gentle Giant (Bane x Reader) Part I

Requested by Anonymous- Hi could I request for Bane 😀. Something Angsty and smutty as you can. We're reader is a quiet meek person and stuck in the chaos of banes gothem. Bane sees her getting attacked and helps her, to her surprise. Bane is still mean and scary though and when he has to protect her a 2nd time he decides to keep her with him she is terrified but even though he is rough and mean he starts showing is soft spot for her and things get hot from there.♥️♥️ What ever you can come up with I'm sure will be great no pressure if your not feeling it.

A/N-First off, I like to say I’M SO SORRY to the person who requested this over a year ago. I got around to writing this and using most of my time off to get this done. Originally, I was going to post this as a preview of the story, but instead post part 1 of this fanfic. I also went absolutely overboard when got towards the middle part of it. So, for right now I’m going to post this as two-part fanfics and later on when I finish the whole thing, I’m going to post the whole entire fanfic in post as I originally intended for.

Part two may take much longer to write since I need to catch up on other requested fanfic, so that I don’t fall behind much further that I’m already am.

So, please enjoy reading part 1 of this and I’m so sorry again for taking this long for this to written.

Warnings: Choking, hair pulling, lots of language, and violence

Citrus Scale: 🍑

W.C+: 11.2K

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Gotham City. A place you called home. Or it was until a mysterious figure by the name of Bane took over. You weren’t born in Gotham, but moved to the city for your job and a fresh start in your life.

When growing up, you were very quiet and only spoke at appropriate times. Your parents weren’t bothered by how you kept to yourself and never pressured you about it either. This became very useful when the city went to shit.

Winter came after a month when Batman went missing. You’ve never caught a glimpse of who this Bane was or what he looked like. All you have to do was survive this fucking chaos. But this was very difficult with all of Gotham’s criminals running around the entire city. The only time you went out for supplies was at night. Sure it was dangerous doing it, but during the daytime hours, it was even more dangerous. So nighttime it was.

As the winter sun began to set, white flurries of snow started to fall upon Gotham. The snow never seemed to stop day or night. Covering the empty and silent streets. It felt completely dead and desolate once Bane’s reign began over the city.

All the rumors you’ve heard of this mysterious man prosecuting and judging those who’ve done wrong to the city and then showing no mercy towards them. It’s true that the justice system of Gotham was fucked up and a miscarriage to society of the people of Gotham. You don’t give a shit towards the justice system at all, since this whole thing began and Batman being out of the picture.

Besides that, you didn’t know who to trust during this time and never will if you can’t survive with another person going against your throat. However, you’ve managed to get a message to your parents, telling them that you’re alright making it out on your own and doing what you need to survive. That was the last time you spoke to them, before communication to the outside world was cut off from the city.

Now you were on your own. It’s been two and a half weeks since your last supply run and your stash is getting really low. Due to winter coming in, you’ve been going through your food and drink rations faster so that they don’t go to waste. You were well stocked on other supplies for another two to three more months, but food and drinks (mainly water) were the most important things to get.

Once the sun finally set for the night, you began to gather your belongings before going out. You always wear your heavy winter coat, long knitted scarf, gloves, and boots during the winter time to keep warm and safe during your nightly supply runs. Before you swung your backpack onto your shoulders, you double checked to make sure that you’ve got everything for tonight.

Flashlight (with extra batteries of course), three bottles of water, two boxes of granola bars, some extra pairs of clothes, and a fully stocked first aid kit. You then double checked yourself to make sure that you’re all bundled up before going out into the cold, snowing weather. The last two things you needed to take with you were your can of pepper spray and baseball bat.

Those were the only weapons you’ve carried around with you since who didn’t know how to use a gun and never will.

You don’t usually use your pepper spray when you go out, but kept it on hand just in case. Your baseball bat was of more use for you, because it was aluminum metal instead of wood. Does all lot more damage than with the pepper spray can on full blast.

Now that you’ve got everything ready for tonight, you checked one last time before heading over towards the door. As you reached the door, you couldn’t help but look at yourself in the mirror. You were all bundled up in your winter coat that went down to your knees, all zipped up with the faux trimmed hood resting behind your head. The neon striped black knitted scarf neatly wrapped around your neck to protect from the cold weather. Black winter gloves protecting your hands from getting frostbite from the snow. Finally, heavy black leather snow boots tied safely around your feet and ankles.

Normally, you would go out like this during the winter time either to your workplace or when you go out into Gotham City itself. But now, things have changed for everybody including yourself.

Now you have to carry at least two objects with you, in order to defend yourself from the fucked up criminals that are walking freely on the city streets and underbelly of Gotham. Still looking through the reflection, you saw yourself holding an aluminum metal baseball bat in your hands and a XL can of pepper spray peeking out from the right side of your coat pocket.

Everything is completely different now. It affected you the most when it all started. All you have to do is survive and fight for yourself. That’s all that matters now.

After several seconds of looking at yourself in the mirror, you turned back towards the door. Your apartment’s door was heavily locked up. Three deadbolt chains rested tightly in between the wooden door frame and the wall.

Originally you had one deadbolt chain when you moved in, but after a couple of break ins you asked your landlord to add two more so no more break ins would happen again. Two deadbolt locks and one standard locking door knob. The two deadbolt locks were already there when you moved into the apartment.

Lifting your hand up to the top chain, you felt your heart begin to pound inside of your chest. It always does this whenever you have to go out for supplies at night. Then you started to calm yourself down, as you finally placed your hand upon the top chain. Slowly you began to undo the chain from the sliding lock and then let go after it was out of the sliding lock. It swung back and forth for a moment until it stopped. Then you went down to the next deadbolt chain and undid it. After that you went to the last one. You were hesitant at first at removing it, letting your thoughts run wild. Shaking them away, you placed your hand onto the final deadbolt chain and slowly pulled it away from the door.

Once it was removed, you then went to the two deadbolt locks and twisted them open to the side. Finally, you slowly unlocked the door knob. Placing your hand onto the knob, your heart began to race again, but it calmed straight down.

It’s just a supply run. Nothing else. Just get what you need and you won't get hurt or killed tonight, you told yourself in thought. You then slowly turned the door knob and began to open the door at a slow place. The hinges creaked open against the wooden door frame. Thankfully it wasn’t loud enough to be heard from down the hallway.

Poking your head out of the doorway, you looked down both hallways twice to make sure that the coast is clear. All clear, you told yourself. Slowly, you pulled your head back in and then stepped out quietly, placing one foot in front of the other. After you were finally out of the doorway, you turned around to close the door slowly and steadily. It quietly creaked against the door frame and gave a silent locking noise after it was fully closed.

Once you removed your hand from the doorknob, you tucked your hand into your coat pocket for a moment, until you found the keys for the door. Grabbing a hold of them tightly with the palm of your hand, you made sure that they didn’t make any noise. One by one, you picked out the keys for the two deadbolts and the door knob and twisted the keys into each lock. After locking the door knob, you placed the keys back into your coat pocket and padded it down. The keys made a muffled jingle sound inside of the pocket.

Placing your hand back onto the door knob, you tugged on it hard and pushed it a little at the door. It was all locked up tightly now. Nobody was going to break into your place at all. Looking down the hallways one more time, you head down the right side of your floor towards where both the elevators and stairwell are located.

Ever since this whole chaotic justice system started over a month ago, about half of your apartment complex and most of the other residents on your floor became very skittish and violent with one another, even towards you. You did your very best to avoid them at all costs. The only person you still trusted was your landlord. Mr. Asher helped you out when you moved in on your first day in Gotham City. He was always there for you whenever you had a problem inside or outside of the complex. You completely trusted him with every fiber of your being, when this whole fucking chaos started, with everybody on your floor going after you and trying yo break in to kill you. He warned if anybody either on the floor or the entire building comes after you or goes near, he’ll kick their sorry asses out into the cold.

And after that, nobody else on your floor and the entire building ever threatened you again. It was dead silent as you walked down the hallway, except for some muffled talking either from the people inside or from their TV sets. You couldn’t really tell if it was one or the other. The muffled talking got more quiet as you walked away, the elevators came into view.

Not many of them weren’t working anymore after several fires broke out from the floors below and inside the shafts themselves. They were tapped off and had scorch marks melted into the steel work. The only one left working on your floor was the middle left.

You made your way over to the only working elevator and pushed the down button arrow on the panel. From behind the steel doors, you heard the mechanism start up. Since it was the only elevator left working in the building, you and the other residents have to be careful using it.

The elevator finally stopped as it reached up to your floor. The small ding sounded and the sliding doors opened up in front of you. Before stepping in, you looked over your shoulder one more time to make sure that you were all alone and nobody was following you out. Looks like it was clear to go now.

As you’ve entered onto it, it slightly moved but stayed in place. Once you were inside, you quickly turned around, reaching out with your hand, and pressing the Lobby button on the control panel. The button lit up as the elevator dinged again and the doors closed. Then after a few seconds, it began to move downward in the elevator shaft.

Why did this ever happen, you kept asking yourself over and over a thousand times by now after a month that everything went to shit. Bane or whoever he was, taking over the whole city in just one night. Prosecuting those who go up against the new justice system of Gotham. You always knew that the whole justice system was totally fucked up once you moved here.

Without any word or sightings of Batman, who was going to take down this Bane guy anyway? Not you of course. You’ve only heard rumors and talk, but never really seen him up close in person. You are quite small, but average height for yourself.

However you taught yourself self defense. It was the only thing to do since Batman wasn’t here anymore to save everybody in Gotham.

You snapped back to reality when you noticed that the elevator stopped. The light screen above the button panel for the floors said L on it. It meant that you finally arrived at the ground floor or the lobby area of your apartment building. The doors opened for you.

Taking another deep breath, you stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby area. After you got off, the doors closed right behind you.

The whole lobby was completely trashed. Every piece of furniture was either destroyed or turned over onto their sides. Trash cans turned over and bags were scattered everywhere in each corner. There was also graffiti sprayed on every wall and window. Several of the lobby windows were blown out. Thousands of shattered pieces of glass were littered all over the lobby. Half of the lobby lights that were still working, lit up the shattered glass pieces on the floor. Making them look like dozens of tiny fallen stars.

Looking outside through the broken windows, the snow started to come down harder and the wind began to pick up. Feeling a shiver go down your spine, you moved yourself forward so that you don’t waste time tonight. You could hear the shattered glass crunch underneath your winter boots.

Rather than going through the front doors, you instead go out one of the blown out windows. Once you’ve stepped outside onto the lightly snow covered sidewalk, the cold night wind blew through again.

Another shiver went down your spine, as you felt the cold night air touch your half covered face. You felt the snowflakes land upon your half covered face. Melting one by one as they touch your cold skin.

Instead of just standing around, you had to continue on with your task to get more supplies. Looking around the empty streets and roadway, you headed down the left side of the street you were on. Usually you went the other way to get your supplies for the next week or so when this whole thing started, but after a whole month went by you had to result in other measures given the situation.

Originally you had gone down to the supermarket around the corner several dozen blocks on the other side of your apartment building complex. The manager and several of the store employees started to hand out needed supplies such as buckets of food, cases of either bottled water or gallon jugs, and other such needed things.

That’s until looters and the freed criminals took advantage of it and started to take/loot everything from the store shelves. All of them completely cleared out every single item from the whole store and other places around that area.

There was nothing left in that store or anywhere else in the other stores in that area. You never went down there again after they took everything out. You yourself were doing fine with the supplies that you had already. Unfortunately you went through your food and drink stash faster than originally anticipated.

It was supposed to last for another week or two, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Word had gotten out from a few people that live on the same floor you’re on, that there was another supermarket down the other way that hadn't been looted at all. Fully stocked up.

Hoping it was still untouched by looters, you decided to go there anyway to get what you needed to last the next two to three weeks if possible. Looking around while walking, you couldn’t help but feel displaced by everything here.

You were at work the day it happened. Just sitting there at your desk in your shared office space at the computer when the building began to shake violently. The only thing to do was to take shelter underneath your desk, until everything stopped shaking.

Later, you and everyone else found out there was an explosion at the Gotham City football stadium. The whole field was gone in a matter of seconds. That’s how it started. There was a live TV broadcast coming in from the stadium on every single channel. An announcement came through loud and clear when the silence finally broke.

It was about true justice being served at last and prosecuting those who don’t follow along with the justice system. You didn’t know what the fuck was going on and who was talking during the speech. He announced himself as Bane. All that you can remember from that day forth was that deep raspy voice. The very first time you heard that voice sent chills all over your body. Then it all went to shit.

Bane’s soldiers raided almost every single building in the city. Looking for those who didn’t serve the justice system the right way and got away with it. Most of the buildings including your apartment complex were spared from the ordered raid.

After that, you took matters in order to survive this new world of justice, but you have to be careful in doing so. As you continued to walk down with the snow still falling, there were distance gunshots going off followed by a car engine roaring. Echoing off of the buildings and dying off seconds later.

The wind picked up and a cold blast came at you. The cold air made you stop in your tracks and lowered your head down. Feeling it blow past your half covered face and making your skin turn ice cold. Once it died down again, you continued walking on the half snow covered sidewalk.

It was rather tricky walking upon an ice covered surface and you walked at a slow and steady pace. You hated the winter time, even in the city now. All you had to do was bundle up, keep yourself warm, and not stay out too long in the fucking cold. Always trying to be very careful during the winter season, even now with everything going on.

After finally stopping at the last curb, you looked all around the area and at last landed your eyes upon what you were looking for. The safehaven you needed your supplies from: the supermarket that one person talked about.

It looked untouched from looters and criminals. No broken windows, no missing shopping carts, no graffiti sprayed on every single piece of the building, and of course nobody else around to stop you.

You couldn’t help but smile a bit that you made it here by yourself and nobody else got in your way. This is your one chance to get in, take what you can carry out, and get the fuck out of there before something bad happens or something much worse: Death.

You became afraid of dying either in your apartment from an intruder or on the city streets when this whole thing began. You didn’t want your parents to grieve over your body and make them suffer for the rest of their lives.

Since it was still dark out and the snow was still falling down, you had to act fast and get what you came here for. Looking around to make sure that nobody else was there hiding in the dark shadows or going to be attacked, you dashed off the curb and ran across the street as fast as you could

Your heart began to race, as you ran straight towards the glass sliding doors of the market building. Your backpack bouncing against your back. As you were getting closer and closer to the store doors, you began to slow down to a speed walk.

You were out of breath by the time you got to the closed doors and had to stand there for a few seconds before you could do anything else. Your heart went back to a normal pace, as you were catching your breath.

Placing your one gloved hand onto the freezing glass, you squinted and looked through the door into the store. Completely pitch black darkness. Not very visible from either side of the glass, because you were fogging up half of the glass with your covered mouth, temporarily blocking your vision from your hot breath.

Time to act now and fast. You quickly shrugged off your backpack with ease. You still held onto the bat just in case. With a quiet, crunchy thump onto the half snow covered sidewalk, you quickly opened the zipper, dove your free hand into it, and felt around the bottom to find the heavy duty flashlight.

After a few seconds of feeling around, you’ve finally found it and pulled it out. Closing it up now, you lifted the backpack up and slung your arms back through the shoulder straps. Now it was time to go inside.

The only way to go in was through the front, since you don’t have time to check other places to get into the store through such as back or side doors or even windows you can get through. So front doors it is.

You crouched down to where the lock was located on the metal door frame. With some help of the still working light above you, it illuminated the crack for you to see a bit better.

From the looks of it, the security deadbolt lock wasn’t engaged into the slot. This made it much better for you since you didn’t want to break in through the doors.

You quickly and quietly placed both the bat and flashlight onto the ground, placed each of your fingers into the door crack, and began to pull it open. You yourself didn’t have much strength when it comes to pulling or moving heavy items around. With doors it was more work to do, even with just yourself doing it.

As you keep on pulling and pulling, you feel the door start to slide open. It was a huge struggle at first to pull the doors open with your small, meek frame. It felt like they were stuck into place because of the cold weather coming in.

Until you felt a small jolt as you continued on pulling the doors and they started to glide open more easily. A sigh of relief washed over you and the heavy pressure from pulling open the metal framing lifted off of your shoulders.

The doors settled into place for right now. You then picked both the bat and flashlight as quickly as possible and headed inside through the now opened entrance. Making your way inside, you walked very slowly and softly so as to not create any echoing footprints on the floor.

You couldn’t believe your own eyes as you held the flashlight out in front of you. Aisles upon aisles of everything you can find in a store. Each of the shelves you saw in front of you were completely left untouched.

Nothing was out of place and nothing wasn’t missing either. You felt your heart flutter like a bird locked in a cage, by looking at all this unlimited supplies. But you have to act quickly now and take as much as you need with you back.

Looking around with your flashlight beaming brightly in the nearly darkened space, you spotted a row of stacked shopping carts near one of the emergency exit doors in the far corner of the building. You quickly walked over to where they are and grabbed one that was closest to you. Moving it back and forth for a few moments to check to see if it was in good working condition.

None of the four wheels were squeaking or going in another direction. Grabbing a hold of the handle, you began to push it towards the aisle where the bottles of water were kept. You placed the bat inside so that you can one hand free, while your other one held onto the flashlight.

You then turned a sharp right down the aisle and found where the water was. There were single served regular to XL bottles all across the top to middle shelves in the aisle. The only ones that you really needed the most were the 2.5 gallon jugs. You only used them for cooking, washing the dishes, and drinking as much as you needed to. About half of the residents in your complex have a tendency to overuse the water heaters, they have a tendency to shut off on their own if they hit their breaking point. The only time you need to use the water in your apartment is for the shower only. Saves you a lot of trouble so that you don’t have to overuse the water all the time.

On the bottom shelf towards the floor, you spotted the water jugs that you needed the most. The bright side is that they came in a pack of four instead of two. Halting the cart to a full stop, you got down onto your knees and grabbed the pack towards the front of the bottom shelf. The two handles on the pack made it a lot easier to grab ahold of and lift it up.

But it wasn’t quite easy when you were lifting it up from the floor. With the weight of the water including the four 2.5 gallon jugs made it feel like you were hoisting up a fucking boulder from a mountain side of all things. At least your small frame of a body could handle this sort of thing for only a few moments.

You had to place your foot on top of the under rack of the cart to keep it from moving as you were loading the four pack onto it. The pack slightly shifted the weight of the cart now, but you’ll manage to push it as long as you can.

After it was loaded into the cart, you bent down again to grab another four pack of water from the bottom shelf and then placed that one on top of the other pack. Now you were all set for water for the next several weeks to another month or two. There was other supplies you needed to get and you had to act fast.

Grabbing a hold of the cart again, you pushed with all your strength you had and turned a sharp left at the end of the aisle. The remaining supplies that you needed to get were batteries, toothpaste, sanitary pads, canned food, candles, matches, a couple of flashlights, pain meds, snacks, and a new radio.

Your heart was at a steady beat as you wheeled around the empty aisles of the store, grabbing what you needed. The more you filled up the cart, the more it became difficult to push around. Besides, you were going to take it with you anyway since you needed a way to get the supplies back to your apartment. There was a service elevator towards the back of the lobby where the parking garage is located, because it had more room to fit into than the regular elevators themselves.

The only thing left to get was a new radio. The one that your parents had given you when you were moving out, shorted out on you when you were trying to tune into any of the radio stations that were still on the air. It was very unexpected the way it had happened when it sparked and started to smoke. Besides it was old anyway and there was now way of replacing any of the parts now since they’ve melted together in one pile.

Electronics were located towards the back of the store and you made your way over as quickly as you could. The sooner you grab one, the sooner you can get out of here. Once you’ve turned the corner of the electronics aisle, you went straight down until you’ve found the boxes of radios. Halting the bugging into place, you shifted the flashlight forward to look at what radios they’ve got on the shelves.

Towards the top of the shelves, you’ve found one that looked useful enough for you. Reaching up on the tips of your boots, you managed to grab one of the boxes that was closest to the edge of the shelf. As you wrapped your fingers onto the top of the box, a sudden noise caught you off guard.

Without warning, the box slipped from your grasp and fell on the floor with a soft thud. Oh fuck. Somebody or something was coming. No time to act in self defense. You needed to find a place to hide in the store, until what or who leaves. You grabbed the bat from the cart and within seconds your flashlight was shut off.

Quickly and quietly, you made your way through the aisle and straight towards the back of the store. The only place that you could hide in was behind the pharmacy counter. It was tall enough to hide you until it was safe to come back out.

You pushed through the doubled hinged swinging door and then ducked behind the counter. Tucking your knees against your body and resting your head upon them, you hold onto your breath so that you don’t give away your hiding place. Both your flashlight and bat rested at each of your sides.

Then the sound of footsteps came into view, followed by the sound of voices. “Man, look at this fucking place. It’s jammed packed with all these goodies. Just for us.”

The first voice sounded male that was almost older than you. You listened carefully to what was happening right now. You thought that nobody else knew about this store other than the few residents on your floor talking about it.

“Once we take everything on this side of the city, we’re going to own this place and everything in it.” The sound of laughter soon came after, echoing off of the ceiling everywhere. “Fuck yeah. The boss’s going to be over the moon about this. No more scrounging around for rations.”

A second male voice, but sounded a bit younger. There were only two of them. No chance of sneaking out. Just to sit tight and wait until they both leave so that you can get out of here with your much needed supplies.

“Hey, let’s check around and make sure that EVERYTHING is here and report back to the boss about our search,” the older one chuckled a bit. This is not good. You left your supply cart out in the open, with the radio box still on the floor. They’re going to notice that you were going to take those supplies with you.

No way you were going to sneak past them. You’ll get caught within a second if they ever spot you. All you have to do right now is just to sit tight and wait for both of them to leave. It wasn’t going to be easy though since you have to hold your breath, not to make any noise that’ll alert them.

You heard their footsteps echoing off of the high ceiling of the store, making you feel like you were trapped between a rock and a hard place. It sounded like they were going through each of the aisles, checking to see what was still there on the shelves. Sooner or later, they’re going to notice several items missing from their spots and inside of the cart you were using just now. Hopefully they don’t see it and the stuff inside.

“Hey, come over here quickly. Found something” Too late. The running of footsteps soon came after. “What is it? What did you find,” the second male voice sounded out of breath. “Looks like somebody came in and tried to take this stuff with them,” you heard the shuffle of the items you were taking being moved around in the cart.

“Oh yeah. Then why’s this shit still doing here in the store if it never made it far enough to the front doors,” the second male sounded agitated now. “If they wanted these so badly, why didn’t they take it all with them.” His voice is getting more aggressive with his tone. “I mean come on man. All this fucking shit in this place is all ours for the taking and nobody elses’ for them to take.”

The first male sort of laughed at him and his laugh echoed. “Because you fucking idiot. They didn’t make a run for it at all. Instead they’re hiding out somewhere in here” You heard the rattling of the box that the radio you dropped is in and being tossed to the other male. The second male scoffed at the first.

“Whoever they are, they can’t hide any longer. Not even from us.” You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach and a lump form in your throat. You didn’t know what to do now. Your whole body began to shake badly. The last thing on your mind was being caught red handed.

“Come on. They couldn’t have gotten far,” their footsteps resumed and both started to walk back around the aisles. Now instead of leaving, they were looking for you. Why did it have to happen tonight? You started to blame yourself for leaving the comfort of your completely safe and warm place. But you can’t blame yourself right now. You’ve made it all this way out here just to get supplies and you weren’t going to take any chances. Giving up is not an option for you now. It’s time to get out of here.

After coming out of your thoughts, the sound of their footsteps suddenly stopped. Complete silence, but something didn’t feel right about it. You took a deep and quiet breath in. Exhaling through your nose a couple of times, you lowered your knees back to the floor. They felt sore from the way you sat on the floor.

Rather than standing back up to look, you instead decided to crawl. Lowering yourself onto your side, you made sure that you didn’t bump anything that was behind you. Grabbing both your bat and flashlight once again, you started to crawl very slowly towards the swinging door. You held a steady breath as you crawled along the carpet floor. Your heart was at a steady beat, but felt like it was beating faster.

As you neared the corner of the swinging door, you made sure to tuck both the bat and flashlight beside you just in case something goes down. With a slow and steady breath, you looked through the large opening underneath the swinging door. Nothing much to see, except the streetlights outside the store faintly bleeding through the front windows.

Looks like the coast is clear now for you to come out of your hiding place. Quickly, you scooted back a bit to lift yourself back up from the floor. As you were grabbing your flashlight, something felt very off. Like the whole atmosphere in the entire room changed. Holding onto your breath yet again, another lump formed in your throat. You began to crawl much slowly now, not making any sort of startling noise. As you neared the corner of the swinging door again, you felt a mysterious dark shadow looming over your crawling form.

“Well looky looky here Charlie. It looks like we have a mouse in our house.” All of a sudden, you’ve felt a large hand grab ahold of your hood with a fucking strong grip and pulling you out of your hiding hiding spot. The only thing that escaped from your throat was a high pitched scream. It echoed off of the high ceiling as you were being dragged out of your hiding place.

It felt like you were being tossed like a rag doll across the store floor as you were being pulled out. You slammed into a shelf that was near and got the wind knocked out of you. Crouching over with your arms hugging your padded sides, you knew that you were totally fucked now. You were grabbed again, but this time your hood was pulled back from hiding your pale face.

You had no other choice, but to look up at who caught you. The one that was holding you by your hood had a medium build, that almost reminded you of an MMA fighter. He had on military type gear such as the vest, camo pants, and combat boots. Underneath the vest was an olive green pullover hoodie. On his hands were a pair of black winter gloves where the fingers on the gloves were cut off.

The other one stood across from you, leaning up against the front of the pharmacy counter. He had the same gear on, except he had on a black pullover hoodie that looked bigger than him. He had a smaller build than the other one. Both his arms were crossed and had one leg crossed over the other.

Both had dark hair with undercuts. You couldn’t really see either of their faces since they were halfway covered with some face coverings they use to keep cool out in the deserts. Their skin looks pale, but it was hard to tell from the faint light coming in from outside. The most disturbing part was their dark eyes. So dark they almost looked possessed.

Your whole body froze as you looked into their eyes. Fear began to fill you with awful dread creeping its way into your heart. There’s no escaping now.

“So. What do you think you’re doing?” The one that was holding onto you by your hood sounded agitated when he asked you. You had no other choice but to answer his question. “I was,” those were the first two words that popped out of your mouth. Your voice was low, almost like a whisper.

“I was getting supplies,” you spoke up more so that both of them heard you loud and clear. It felt like holes were being bored into you from their stares. “For who then,” he asked again, but it sounded like he was gritting his teeth together.

“Are you stealing our shit to give to other people or taking it all for yourself,” he spat, lowering his face to yours. You could almost feel his hot breath on your cold skin through his face covering.

You swallowed hard. The fact he’s much closer to you, it was making you more afraid of him. More and more fear began to flood your entire body. Still, you have to answer him or else you’ll be killed.

“The supplies are for me. I was running low and needed to replenish my stash.” His hot breath ghosting your cold skin. You could feel that he was getting more angry with every second. With a sudden jolt, he grabbed you by your hair that was held up in a ponytail in a tight grip. You let out a painful gasp, with your mouth gaping open. You can feel his thick fingers digging into your scalp.

“Then why are you fucking stealing from us then,” he hiss straight into your ear as he got much closer now, “this is our territory you little bitch.Why did you ever come here? There are other places in the whole fucking city you can raid.” You felt him dig his finger nails deeper into your scalp.

The pain started to increase more and more when he was digging in. “Most of the other places were emptied out,” you gasped, as you tried not to move much while he held your ponytail in a tightass grip, “this was the only place that had the supplies that I really needed. That’s all I’m here for.”

“Please,” you started to beg now, which was the only thing to do, “just let leave with my stuff and I’ll never come back here ever. I’ll leave you two alone and I won’t ever talk about this at all either. Please just let me go.” You said with a shaky breath.

With a sharp, deep breath, he pulled your head back with a sharp jolt and dug much deeper into the roots of your (H/C) hair. You let out a painful cry as you could feel him pull your hair out almost.

“I don’t think so, little princess. You’re coming back with us,” he said as he got much closer to your face. His hot breath fanned more of your skin, making it feel like it is about to melt. Tears began to well up in the corners of your eyes. Fear began to fill your whole body.

“Terry,” the younger one spoke up at last, clearing his throat out, “do you think that’s a good idea man? What if she’s lying about what she said and probably in a group with other people? They’ll know if she doesn’t come back and they’ll come looking at the last place she was at. Eventually they’ll come looking for us if anything happens to her.”

Terry? That’s the name of the fucking brute that’s holding onto you by your hair in a tight grip. Then Charlie must be the younger one when his name was called out earlier. They could be related to each other or just comrades in their group. Either way you have to get out of here now and fast.

You could feel his breath getting hotter and hotter as his breathing increased rapidly. “She’s not with anybody else,” he hissed as he turned his head towards Charlie and away from you. His hot breath left your skin quickly and it grew cold once again.

With quick thinking, you had to move your hands slowly into your coat pockets to find the XL can of pepper spray. You remembered that it was in the pocket on the right side of your coat.

Without making any sudden movements, you very slowly reached into the pocket with your one hand, while the other one held it open a bit. Your fingers touched the tip of the can at last and then your palm snaked its way down onto the canister itself. Grabbing a hold of it now, you slowly pulled it out of the pocket and moved it to the other hand.

It took only a second or two to find the spray trigger on the cap and place two fingers on top of it. Now all you have to do is wait to push it.

“If she was with somebody else, we would’ve known when we got here. Either way, she’s coming back with us and the Commander would know what to do with her.” He sounded very serious. Whoever this Commander person is, they’ll kill you for stealing their stuff from their now claimed territory.

“She needs to know not to fuck around with us at all and get away with our goodies. We just can’t let her go. She needs to be taught a very big lesson.” That was your que to get ready to run as soon as you push the trigger on the pepper spray can. You ready yourself.

“Okay sweetheart, you’re-” as he turned his head back towards you, you quickly lifted the canister up, pressed the trigger, and sprayed it directly into his eyes.

He let out a long yell once it hit him straight in the face, lifting his tight grip from your ponytail, and went to cover his face with both hands. The spray would temporarily blind him, making your escape much easier to get out of this fucking place.

Quickly, you shrugged off your backpack, sprang up from the floor, and ran like a bat out of hell as fast as you could. You could hear the asshole that grabbed you crying out very loudly in pain from the pepper spray that was making his eyes burn. “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, IT BURNS. I CAN’T FUCKING SEE. MY EYES WON’T OPEN,” his voice echoing off of the ceiling, making it bounce everywhere.

“GO AND GET THAT FUCKING BITCH, BEFORE SHE ESCAPES!” Shit. You have to get out of here faster before you get caught and won’t be able to get away from them again.

Thinking very fast, you decided to run in a zigzag line through the aisles, in order to confuse the other one. Your heart started to race again in your chest, as you made your way through the aisles. Both of your feet picked up more speed as you made sharp turns towards the end of each aisle, making your way back to the front entrance of the store.

Passing the last aisle, you’ve found your way back to the front. You felt relieved now, knowing that you were going to get out of here alive. Knowing that you had to leave behind both your backpack and supplies behind, but the only thing you care for the most is your own life.

As you drew closer to the front doors and were about to run through them, something grabbed ahold of your scarf from behind and tugged on it with a very powerful grip. You were once again thrown across the floor and collided with one of the shelves that was near the front.

When your back slammed straight into them, you felt a sharp pain build up like a raging fire and it spread across your body, making you cry out in pain. Then you felt your throat grabbed ahold of, as your scarf was pulled away to expose your pale neck. Slender fingers wrapped around your throat and began to put pressure upon it.

“Do you think that we’re going to let you escape from us? Guess again little bitch, you’re coming back with us either way,” as the pressure on your throat began to increase more, you looked up to see it was the younger one, Charlie, holding you by the throat this time. The street lights casting upon him made him more menacing looking in the darkness of the store. His dark eyes looked like two black coals searing in complete anger.

You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach, knowing that you’re totally fucked now. “Besides, I’m going to have so much fun with you after what you did to my older brother and making you pay for it.” He said, with the utmost glee in his voice.

Older brother? Shit, you’re doubled fucked now. Nothing comes out good when messing with either older or younger siblings, especially the asshole types. Besides you can still take him on, since you still had the pepper spray can in your hand and it was still full too.

Slowly you lifted your arm up, with your fingers ready at the trigger. Before you could press the trigger and spray him straight into his eyes, he grabbed ahold of your wrist with his other hand. He tightly squeezed his fingers around it with painful pressure. He narrowed his eyes at you, looking more menacing.

“You think you can do that to me, like you did to my brother? Guess again princess. You don’t get away with shit like that and think you could forget all about it.” His grasp around your neck started to get tighter and tighter, making it more difficult to breathe. You felt your airway starting to close up and began to gasp for air like a fish out of water.

Your chest heaving up and down at a rapid pace, making your heart beat faster and faster like a rabbit. You began to wheeze as the air disappeared from your lungs.

“It’s time for you to fucking pay up princess,” he loosened his grip around your wrist and grabbed the pepper spray from your hand.

“Eye for an eye,” he said as he pointed the cap towards your eyes, ready to pull the trigger. Tears began to flood your eyes again and fell down your cheeks. You tried gasping for more air, but your airway was completely blocked off.

Your vision was blurring away as it got difficult to breathe anymore. This is how you were going to die.

“Well well, what do we have here,” asked a heavy, raspy voice. You felt your heart skip a beat or two when you heard it. The voice sounded menacing, but in a calm way. So calm in fact it was more gentle than rough when it spoke.

Your captor’s eyes went from aggressive to complete fear when he heard the voice too. He widened his eyes, almost to the point of bugging out of his skull. It was almost like he knew who that voice belonged to. Quickly, he spun around to face the hulking figure that stood there in the shadows.

“BANE,” he said with a shriek once he turned around. In the process, the canister slipped out of his hand and dropped to the floor with a metallic thud. His other hand left your throat in a hurry, relieving the pressure from it at last.

You bent over, hacking and coughing air into your lungs. Even when his hand left you, you could still feel its harsh warmth on your bare skin. Almost choking a couple of times, you started to breathe normally again.

Looking up with tears still streaming down your face, you see your capture dropping to his knees and starting to crawl over towards this ‘Bane’ figure. “B-b-b-b Bane, wh-wh-what are y-y-y-you doing i-i-i-in this district,” he stuttered out. You could tell that fear filled every inch of his body.

The figure let out a long, raspy sigh as he looked down upon your capture crawling towards his feet. It looked like he was going to beg for forgiveness from this hulking being.

“I was taking a nice stroll through the snowy weather. Patrolling through the streets of my new domain, until I heard a great commotion coming from here,” he cocked his head to the side. From the sound in his voice, it sounded like he was somewhat agitated. “So do pray tell. Why are you doing here?”

There was great silence for a moment, until you could hear stammering coming from the person that held you by your throat. “W-w-w-we were ch-ch-checking out th-th-the place,” he swallowed hard, while trying to make eye contact.

“We?” He asked in a calm tone. “M-m-m-my older brother an-an-and I,” he continued on stammering, “our leading commander told both of us to go check out our new piece of territory. We came in here to check on the goods, to see that everything was still in place before taking over.”

Then your captor looked over his shoulder towards where you still were, “then the both of us caught this little bitch hiding out in here and tried to take what’s actually ours.” Afterwards he turned back towards the figure.

The figure sighed another raspy breath, almost sounding like he was disappointed. “Caught her? Then why did she escape from you,” he asked another question, but getting more agitated with his words.

You could tell now that your captor is shaking like a leaf in the wind. Becoming more afraid of this Bane figure. “We did have her. My brother was holding onto her by her hair and talking about the consequences of trespassing into our territory and not to steal our shit. Apparently, she had a can of pepper spray hidden somewhere on her and sprayed my brother with it in his eyes. He couldn’t see anything and was defenseless. He told me to go and get her. That’s what I did. I caught her before she could escape through the doors. I was going to teach her a valuable lesson about what she did to my brother.”

It sounded like he was making himself and his older brother sound like victims rather than criminals and making you look like the bad guy from his perspective. No. Only you were the victim here and both of them were the actual criminals.

A sudden loud noise caught you off guard, making your heart jump a bit. You turned to look over your shoulder to see what was happening, until you saw an arm coming around the corner of the shelf, with the fingers wrapping underneath it. Coming into view, it was the older brother/your other captor. It looked like he got some of the spray out of his eyes, but not all of it. Pepper spray is very powerful shit for self defense.

“Fuck Charlie, what’s taking you so fucking long? We have to-” He stopped dead center in his tracks as he noticed the hulking figure too. The figure moved his head upward and turned towards where your other captor was standing. He inhaled a very sharp breath when the figure looked over to him now.

“Ah, you must be this gentleman’s older brother then.” He said, as he shifted in his place a bit. “Bane,” he said as he stepped an inch or two to get a closer look, “what are you doing here in our territory?” He asked with a hint of fear in his voice.

“Territory?” He asked in a more curious tone this time. Your other captor nodded his head. “Yes. Since everybody who stayed in this part of Gotham City abandoned it, our whole crew decided to take it all for themselves, including my little brother and me.”

You could feel there was tension in the air now, as the hulking figure standing in front of all three of you shifted his shoulders and crossed his arms. “What makes you think that this is yours,” he doesn’t sound amused now.

“There’s nobody else here anymore. This is all ours now for the taking. We deserve all of this.” He said with much glee in his voice. He wasn’t wrong about any of that. Ever since the city was taken over, most of the residents of Gotham have either fled the city or gone someplace else to take shelter, because of the criminals that Batman have put away are loose once again.

“Deserve this?” Bane asked as he tilted his head to the other side. He was getting more agitated with his raspy breathing and starting to lose some of his patience little by little. “No. You don’t deserve any of this. You’re nothing but rats infesting wherever you go and where you shouldn’t be.”

“We are not rats,” he said through his gritted teeth. “We belong up here, not in the fucking sewers hiding out like there’s no tomorrow for us. I am done hiding in the fucking shadows and so is my little brother. Both of us don’t want any more of this.” At this point, you could almost feel his blood boil through his skin.

“Done hiding?” Bane asked as he began to move forward with heavy footsteps, “I have hidden in the darkness for the longest time myself. I was born into it and molded by it. The darkness may be a cruel, twisted, and unforgiving place. But for myself, I find it very peaceful,” he said as he gave out a raspy chuckle.

As Bane got closer and closer with his heavy footsteps, you could feel your back to tense up, just by looking at him. You could barely see what he looked like since there wasn’t enough light coming in through the outside.

He stopped in front of your captor, overtowering him with his tall build. You could hear his breathing increasing rapidly, as Bane stood inches in front of him. Craning his head upward just to look at him. Even after being sprayed in the eyes, fear filled them as tears fell down his face. His whole body trembling were he stood.

As you kept on breathing in more air into your lungs, Bane turned his head over slowly and looked down where you were on the floor. Even though you couldn’t see his eyes through the half lit entryway, they looked more calm than menacing.

“Dear one, did these two hurt you in an ungrateful manner,” he rasped, asking you in a very polite voice. You felt tears begin to prick the corners of your eyes again and a wincing sob escaping through your lips, as you took a deep, painful gasp of air into your lungs.

“Yes,” you squeaked out like a little mouse and felt your heart drop a bit in your stomach. Bane gave out another raspy sigh, but this time sounded more angry and disappointed. He then turned his head back towards your captor and gave him an angry glare. Your captor swallowed very hard and could hear his breath shaking through his lips.

“I’m very disappointed with you,” Bane said, as he placed a large hand upon his throat. Your captor shuddered when Bane placed his hand upon his throat, as more fear filled his entire body. It was trembling completely at this point.

A slow crunching noise began as Bane started to squeeze his hand upon your captor’s throat and within seconds it started to increase more and more with each squeeze.

Your captor began to gasp as pain started to shoot through his whole body. Both of his hands shot up to where Bane’s is and tried to pry it off of him, but with no such luck. He gasped more and more in pain as the sound of bones crunching got louder.

The sound almost made your stomach turn, wanting to vomit just hearing it. The younger brother started to scramble at the distressed sound of his older sibling being hurt.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO MY BROTHER,” he shouted at the tops of his lungs as he charged towards the hulking being chocking the life the out of his own flesh and blood. He leapt onto Bane’s back and wrapped his arms around his neck.

Not wanting to watch any of this unfold before you, you mustered the courage and what’s left of your strength to run back to the other side of the store. At first you had difficulty getting up off of your own feet, but eventually made the effort from going to a crawl and into a full on sprint. The blood flow rushed back into your legs, giving you back into feeling them once again.

Instead of zigzagging through the aisles like you did the last time, you ran in a straight line all the way back towards the pharmacy where you hid before being found and caught earlier.

The rush made your heart beat faster again as you reached the back of the store. You dov back behind the counter of the pharmacy and found your flashlight still laying on the ground where you left it. After you quickly grabbed it off the floor, you crouched back down into a sitting position with you hugging your knees again with flashlight in hand. It felt like your lungs were on fire, as it was still painful to breathe in air after being nearly choked to death and were about to be sprayed in the eyes with your own self defense weapon.

Farther away, you could hear the comotian of the two brothers and this Bane person. It was very hard to tell if this person is the real Bane or an imposter of him since you don’t know what he really looks like in person. Then the sound of crashing made you break from your thoughts, as you could hear shouting.

“LET GO OF MY BROTHER YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE,” the younger one screamed at the top of his lungs. Another crashing sound made your racing heart jump against your ribcage. It was louder than the last one. You decided to cover your ears, to muffle out the noise of the fighting.

With your hands over your ears, you could hear your rapid heartbeat rushing to them. You could also hear a slight ringing inside them. Properly from being thrown around a couple of times in the last fifteen minutes.

More shouting and crashing sounds, making you more jumpy than normal. You closed your eyes tightly and tried to block everything out of your mind. Your breathing became more rapid as the fighting increased more and more between the two brothers and the hulking figure Bane.

Another crashing noise came, followed by some more shouting. The shouting was too muffled to hear, with your hands still covering your ears. Besides, you didn’t want to know or find out. Then you heard the sound of running footsteps, disappearing into the distance. Complete silence now.

After a couple of seconds, you slowly opened your eyes back up and then removed both your hands from your ears with a shaky breath. Mustering what’s left of your strength, you lowered your legs back to the floors and slowly lifted yourself back up.

At first you were a bit wobbly, but managed to stand up straight. Your breathing was turning back to normal, but your lungs still hurt a bit.

With your flashlight in hand once again, you slowly walked back to the entrance of the pharmacy and peeked around the corner. Nothing. Looks like you’re all clear.

Quickly, you dashed through the double hinged swinging door and went straight for your backpack you left behind before getting caught again.

As you were about to grab the handle of your backpack, the sound of heavy footsteps made you stop in your tracks as they made their way towards where you were. You scrambled backwards, accidentally tripping over your own feet and fell backwards towards the floor. A white, hot sharp pain surged through you again after landing onto your backside.

Lifting your head up, your eyes widen in prue terror to see the hulking figure coming straight towards you.

You started to crawl backwards at a fast pace and slid across the smooth floor without slipping. You felt your back arch up when you backed into the counter, pressing up against the smooth surface.

At last, the figure’s heavy footsteps stopped several feet in front of you. A lump formed inside of your throat, as your eyes laid upon this large being standing in the darkness.

“Ah, there you are, little mouse.” He said with a small, raspy laugh, “you are in no danger anymore. Those two ungrateful gentlemen are now gone”

It was quite difficult to see what he actually looks like through the shadows. With your flashlight still in hand, you decided to flip the switch on to illuminate the figure in front of you. Pressing your thumb against the switch, you flicked it up and the flashlight came on once again. As the bright light illuminated the darkness at last, your jaw dropped as your eyes widened more at the sight of the hulking figure.

He was tall. Quite tall in fact that he practically overtowers your own height. You were roughly in-between 5’4” to 5’5” in height. From his stature he looks almost six feet tall. He wore what to be military or military type gear such as the vest, but no weapons were on him. A long, winter coat covered his broad shoulders down to his knees. His pale skin glowed within the light, giving off a warm feeling. The one thing that caught you off guard, was his mask.

The mask covered most of his face, wrapping around his clean shaven head. A long leather strap tied around his bald scalp, pressing against the skin tightly. It almost looks like those muzzles for dogs, but this one is designed very differently.Whatever the situation was, it looks like it was especially designed for him.

The one and only thing that made him look so normal looking were his eyes. Bright and beautiful blue eyes. They looked so calm and collected, as they shined very brightly in the light. It was like there was no darkness inside of them, making you feel almost safe.

You felt your heart flutter like a bird inside of your chest, as you continued to look at him. His large chest raised and fell slowly as he looked down upon you.

“It’s quite all right now. You have nothing to fear little mouse,” as he began to move slowly towards you, you felt your body tense up again as your back arched up against the smooth, wooden counter.

He stopped dead in his tracks just several feet in front of you. Still looking down, he lifted his hands, wrapped them around the shoulder straps of his vest, and tilted his head to the side.

“You still don’t trust me, little mouse?” He asked in a calm manner. You shook your head. Trust him? After what you’ve been through tonight, he wants you to trust him. Though he did save your life, but still, you don’t completely trust him after what he did to the two assholes.

He sighed heavily and slowly closed his eyes. After a moment or two, he opened his eyes back up, removed his hands from the shoulder straps of the vest, and then lowered his hulking body down into a crouching position.

You backed up a little more, with the back of your head nearly pressing up against the counter. Though he was just several feet away from you, it felt like he was much closer. Even with the light still trained upon him, you got a more detailed look of his face.

“Then you better listen, little mouse. Don’t go wandering about this place all by yourself. Many unknown dangers lurk everywhere, even in the darkest corners of the world. Best not to do it again. You may never know who or what may find you.”

The way he said that was somewhat true. Walking by yourself around Gotham city was dangerous enough even before the city got overtaken during the purge. You were always very careful when you were all alone, while walking the streets at night. Still, you could almost feel yourself trembling before this massive human being, even when holding up a flashlight just to look at him.

“Well then, it’s time to be off,” he said as he began to stand back up. He dusted himself off, turned his back towards you, and started to walk away. “Oh and one more thing,” he stopped to look over his shoulder back at you, “it’s best not to meet like this again, because what I’ll do will be very unpleasant. Is that understood, little mouse?”

“Yes,” you said in a quiet voice and nodded your head. “Good. Best to get out of here while you still can and take what you need. Safe travels home” He turned his head back and continued on walking. The sound of his heavy footsteps faded as he walked away from you. Soon after, the footsteps were gone and so was he.

At last you breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed yourself. You sat there for a moment, thinking about what just happened this night. You were afraid at first that you were going to be killed and never see your parents’ faces again.

But if it weren’t for Bane, you wouldn't be alive right now. You thought more of what he just said to you before disappearing, about him doing something very unpleasant if the two of you ever met like this again. You may never know. Not until the next time the two of you crossed paths.

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To be continued in part 2

#bane #the dark knigth rises #bane x reader #Character x Reader #x reader fanfiction #x reader fanfic #fanfiction blog #fanfic blog #requested fanfiction #Requested Fanfic #fanfiction part 1 #fanfic part 1 #part 1 fanfiction #part 1 fanfic

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sydsaint · 1 month

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Summary: Bron finds himself out a hotel room after a late-night mix-up with the receptionist. Luckily for him, the reader is an old friend who is also getting into town late.

It's well past midnight when Bron's Uber from the airport finally pulls into the hotel parking lot. "Thanks, man." Bron mumbles a quick thanks to his driver before collecting his bags and heading inside the lobby.

Dragging his bags behind him, Bron heads for the check-in desk where there is a blonde woman watching something on her phone to occupy her time.

"Evening, sir." The woman perks up when Bron approaches the desk. "What can I do for you?" She asks him with a polite smile.

"Yeah, room reserved for Bronson Steiner?" Bron answers the blonde.

The blonde nods and starts typing at the keyboard in front of her. Bron watches her eyebrows furrow in confusion for a brief moment before goes back to her keyboard.

"Is there a problem?" Bron speaks up after a few moment of silence.

"Yes, I'm afraid so." The blonde frowns and mumbles something under her breath. "Mr. Steiner, I'm afraid that there was an issue with our booking system. We gave your room away earlier today." She bites the inside of her cheek, embarrassed by the mix-up.

Bron frowns but tries not to take his frustration out on the poor receptionist in front of him. "Are there any other rooms available? Even just for the night?" He asks her.

"No, I'm sorry." The blonde shakes her head sheepishly. "We're booked up fully for that Wrestling show going on in the arena across the way." She explains.

"Damn." Bron grits his teeth. "Okay, do you know if anyone else around has a room available?" He tries his best to remain calm and civil about the whole situation.

The receptionist clicks her mouse a few times in silence and Bron watches her in silence.

Out in the parking lot, you finally arrive at the hotel after a painstaking flight. You collect your bags from the back of your Uber and thank him before heading inside. When you step into the quiet hotel lobby, you spot Bron talking with the receptionist at the front desk.

"Bron!" You walk over to Breakker with a smile.

The two of you knew each other in NXT and were friends. You got moved up to Smackdown about a year ago and lost touch with Bron due to always being on the road. But recently Bron has joined the Smackdown roster. So the two of you have been catching up.

"I thought I was the only one crazy enough to be getting in this late." You joke with a laugh and walk over to Bron at the front desk.

"YN, hey." Bron turns toward you with a surprised but friendly smile. But you can tell something is bothering him.

You glance at the receptionist who is feverishly clicking away at her computer then turn back to Bron. "What's going on? Sign in not working or something?" You ask Bron.

"They accidently gave my room away earlier today." Bron explains. "And now they're all booked up for the show. So she's trying to find me a new hotel." He gestures to the receptionist.

"Oh, I hate when that happens." You frown. "When the show was in Ontario a few months ago they accidently gave my room away. I ended up having to share a room with Waller since we had that storyline going." You explain. "And my god can that man snore. Ugh, it was hell."

The receptionist continues trying to fix Bron's problem when an idea pops into your head. You turn toward her with a friendly smile. "Miss? Can I get checked in real fast?" You ask her. "It's a room for YN LN?"

The receptionist nods and quickly checks you in with no problems. You take your keycard and turn toward Bron. "You can bunk with me for the night, Bron." You offer. "Then you can see about getting a different room tomorrow when it's not like 2am and more places are open." You suggest.

"Oh, I don't want to intrude, YN." Bron shakes his head.

"You aren't!" You insist. "Come on. I've got a room with a king bed, Plenty of room for you and those broad shoulders for the night." You tease with a small laugh. "Really, it's no trouble."

Bron reluctantly nods and you ask the receptionist for a spare keycard. She hands one over to Bron and the two of you head up to your room.

You reach your floor and head for your room. You unlock the door and head inside. The room is nothing special. Just a standard room with a tv, table, two chairs, and a king bed.

"Alright, well I'm going to grab a shower before I head to sleep." You set your bags down and dig around for your sleep-wear. "Make yourself at home."

Bron nods and watches you disappear into the bathroom. He sits down at the edge of the bed and sets his head in his hands followed by a deep sigh.

"What the hell am I doing?" Bron groans to himself once he hears the shower turn on in the bathroom.

A little over a month ago when Bron joined Smackdown you were the first person to congratulate him on his promotion. It had been almost a year since you and Bron had last seen each other, but you acted like no time had passed. And that exact moment was when Bron realized that he doesn't just want to be your friend anymore. No. The man has a hopeless crush on you. And now he's about to sleep in the same bed as you.

Around half and hour later you emerge from the bathroom dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear while toweling your hair off. Bron chokes on air from his spot on the edge of the bed as you approach him.

"That the side you want, Bron?" You ask absentmindedly and walk around to the other side of the bed.

"Y-yeah." Bron nods, gaze following you all the way around the bed.

You toss your damp towel toward the bathroom door and hop up onto the bed. "Cool with me." You settle into the mattress and reach for your phone to plug it in. "I'll see you in the morning, Bron." You switch your side-table lamp off and snuggle into your pillow.

Bron remains in a sitting position for a while, his nerves paralyzing him. But after a while he finally calms himself enough to strip his shirt off and lay down.

You lay on the other side of the bed fast asleep on your back with your head turned toward Bron. Breakker lays in silence and watches the rise and fall of your chest, silently scoffing at the Tony D'Angelo shirt you're wearing.

Eventually Breakker does manage to fall asleep for a while. He's woken up a couple hours later when he suddenly feels a weight shift in the bed followed by a warm body right up against him. Bron's eyes shoot open and he finds you snuggled up into his side and still sleeping like a baby.

"Shit." Bron mumbles to himself as he stares down at your sleeping form.

Light is starting to stream in through the window, so it's got to be at least six by now. A part of Bron wants to flee back down to the lobby and get his room situation figured out. And he probably would if you weren't using him as a body pillow right now.

Bron's heart thumps in his chest and the noise is enough to make you stir in your sleep. "God you're warm." You sigh half-asleep and adjust your body a bit before snuggling back into Bron. "And cuddly, Bron." You add with a yawn.

Bron lays awake for around another hour before you eventually roll off of him and fully wake up for the morning.

"Morning, Bron." You yawn and sit up in bed.

"Morning." Bron replies and does the same.

You take a moment to stretch your arms over your head before you let yourself fall back down into bed. "Sleep well?" You ask Bron.

"Yeah, fine." Bron nods.

"Liar." You reply with a sly grin. "You slept for like two hours max last night." You laugh. "You were to busy having a crisis over being in the same bed as me, dork." You giggle and poke Bron in the back.

Your claim makes Bron turn around to face you. "How'd you know that?" He asks you.

"I'm a pretty light sleeper." You shrug. "Plus when I rolled over to your side of the bed I could her your heart about to burst out of your chest." You giggle and poke Bron's bare chest. "So. How long were you planning on pining over me like a lost puppy?" You ask him.

"I-I-I was not pining." Bron huffs in embarrassment.

You smirk and rise into a sitting position again. "Sure you weren't." You tease him. "That's why you're blushing right now. Because you aren't dying to see me naked." You wink at Bron.

Bron runs a frustrated hand over his face and you giggle at him. "What's so funny?" Bron asks you, clearly about to die from embarrassment.

"You are." You continue with your fit of giggles and sit back up in bed. "And criminally adorable when you're all flustered and embarrassed." You add. "So. Whadduya say, Bronson? You ready to admit you've got a thing for me? Or do I have to go shower alone?"

You watch Bron's eyes widen in surprise and you can't help but laugh again at his flustered expression. "So adorable." You tease. "Come on, big boy. Don't get all choir-boy-eques on me now." You scoot to the edge of the bed and grab Bron's hand.

"Well I'd be stupid to say no." Bron finally replies after a few seconds of contemplation.

"Atta boy!" You grin and continue on your journey to the bathroom, Bron trailing close behind you.

You are going to eat this poor awkward man alive. And you can't wait to see what he's got in store for you.

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lbcreations-blog · 2 months

Note

Hello! I love your writing! It is so goood!! Could you perhaps do an Emily X reader but the reader is a newbie to heaven?

OMG, im so happy you love my writing. i try to make it the best as i can. Anyways enjoy

This is not proofread and use of y/n

Masterlist

Welcome to heaven

You died a gruesome death, so once you realize you were in heaven, you started crying tears of relief that the pain was finally gone. Once you were done crying, you went up to the gates, and you saw a man at a podium asleep. So you shouted hey to get the man's attention and for him to wake up.

Once he woke up, he said hello and welcomed you to the gates of heaven and asked for your name.

"Well, my name is Y/N L/N sir," you told him. "Well, let's see here, Y/N Afton, Y/N Bakinberg, Y/N Beckett, Y/N Shingchin, Y/N Xavier, Ah! Here you are, Y/N L/N!" He said happily that someone new has arrived to heaven.

Suddenly, wings and a halo appeared on you as the gates opened, and he started. Singing? It was a song about welcoming one to heaven, it was. Interesting, to say the least.

While that was happening, Sera and Emily were flying by and saw you the new winner in heaven. Emily flew down fast to greet you after St. Peter was singing.

"Hello," a woman said next to you, you then turned towards her. "Uh hi!" You said to her awkwardly. "Hi, ehe, im a Seraphim. My name is Emily, but you can call me Em, Eme, Liy, or E. Anyway, I'm rambling. What's your name, newbie?" The girl named Emily asked.

"My name is Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you, Emily," you told the girl while you brought up your hand for her to shake. Emily claspes her hand with yours and shakes it. "Nice to meet you too, Y/N." She said, smiling brightly.

"Emily!" Another what you assumed Seraphim came up to you two. "Don't just go off like that you could hurt, please." The Seraphim told Emily. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sera, I wanted to talk to the new winner." Emily told Sera.

Sera sighs. "Just please be careful, Emily," Sera now turns to you. "Welcome to heaven. I hope you enjoy it here, St. Peter will help you to your apartment and other essentials." Sera told you. You then thanked her, and then Sera and Emily left due to Seraphim work. Which led to St. Peter taking you to your apartment.

OK so that's how you two met now for the headcanons

Emily x newbie reader headcanons

Once she's done with her work, she's on her way to your apartment to get to know you. For some reason, she just wanted to get to know you.

It was like you were two magnets getting pulled toward each other

Emily would show you around heaven joycephilly, taking you to the zoo and many more places

When confessing her feelings to you, she was nervous but had confidence

Now let me tell you, when you said yes to you two becoming a couple, she was ECSTATIC she was bouncing around and hugging you

She was so happy she might have even cried happy tears

OK imma add what I think Seras reaction is

She was shocked Sera was not expecting it even if Emily talked about you in a crushing way

Sera just hopes you won't distract Emily. Otherwise, I think she would be fine with you dating her sister

Well, that's it. I hope you enjoyed it, Anon

Taglist: @fatherlesschild2 @whitewingsh @iheartpieck

Go here to request to be on the taglist

-L.B Creations

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #emily hazbin hotel #emily x reader #emily x reader hazbin #x reader #fanfic #x reader fanfic #hazbin fanfic #sera hazbin hotel #st peter hazbin hotel

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cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

Text

What Can I Do For You? (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Prompt: what if the deal restricting Alastor's powers is with you? haha, unless....

Warnings: THIS IS NOT SMUT. However, there will be some abusive/unhealthy relationship things obvi. One (1) bad word (I think).

Word count: 1,855

Master lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N this is just a reminder that I do accept requests if anyone is interested!

She was waiting there for him when he got back. Of course she was. Sitting in the chair of his recording studio, leaned back and casual. She acted like she owned the place.

It had been a few weeks since she'd sent him to the Hazbin Hotel. Alastor still didn't know the reasons but, him confirming the success of his appointment of the place had been the last time they'd spoken, it had been the last time he had seen her.

Quietly, Alastor pulled himself from the door way, his heart pounding frantically, halfway between anger and something akin to joy. He walked up to her, his hands placidly clasped behind his back. Stopping a few feet away, she turned to face him.

There it was, that sickly smile. Part of what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. There was a reason Alastor had avoided intimacy, love, complex feelings like that for so long and it was because he knew they made him weak. If he cared, he always thought, his enemies could use the object of his care against him. Simple as that.

Never in his wildest dreams did he think that it was the hypothetical person he might care for who would use his affections to their advantage. He had been naïve. He had been a fool.

The red light from the night sky crashed against her face, throwing her features into sharp contrast. She crossed her legs, the length of her skirt revealing her thighs just the slightest bit above her laced combat boots. She tilted her head slightly to the side. She was beautiful, just as beautiful as the day he'd met her.

That had all been part of the act as well, being small and afraid under the grips of that man. Alastor had heard her scream and found them in the ally. He had killed the man, reaching a hand out to the trembling demon. Hesitantly, she had taken it.

"I've been waiting." she hummed, her voice warm and inviting but with a cold sharp under-layer.

It was the voice someone had when they held a knife behind their back, knew they had the trump card, knew they couldn't loose. When he had first met the woman twelve years before, it had pulled him in. There was a curious depth to it he just couldn't help but want to uncover, need to uncover.

"My apologies." he softly replied, "If I had known, I would have come sooner."

Her smile widened, matching his own in its wildness. Sharp teeth, sharp eyes, sharp heart. Every fiber of his being told him to pick an option, fight or flight. He kept it all at bay, there was no other option. Not any more.

"I know." she hummed, taunting him, "You're quiet domesticated now."

There had been a time when her saying something like that might have made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. There had been a time where the word, domesticated, would have meant in love and together, not bound to her side for all eternity.

Now it just made Alastor feel sick to his stomach. Shame rose within him, making his cheeks glow pink. She chuckled at the sight.

"Now that's a sight that never gets old."

"What?"

"The feared Radio Demon, one of the most powerful overlords in all of Hell -- ashamed."

Alastor didn't reply. After a moment, she sighed, pulling herself to her feet. She circled him like a mad dog, like she was stalking prey. He didn't watch her, but his ears twitched, following the sound of her footsteps. She came to a stop behind him.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, clearing his throat.

She reached up, grabbing his shoulders gently in her hands. Even after all this time, all these years, all that had happened, he melted at her touch. That's what five years of building trust, forging love, did. Even if the seven after were hell, even if she had tricked him, betrayed him, time and time again, Alastor couldn't help it. He was weak and pliant beneath her skilled touch.

"What, I can't just check in on my favorite pet?" she asked innocently, rubbing his shoulders gently.

"Y/n..." Alastor sighed, letting his hands fall to his sides, "please, just tell me what you want."

She abruptly stopped in her movements at the sound of her name. It was a rare gift to hear it from someone's lips other than her own. Hell's Hunter Demon didn't share her true name, didn't reveal her face to anyone. It had been part of the trust building, the day she had finally given both to him.

When he had first met her, he had recognized her immediately from the stories. Alastor was on the verge of killing her, adding her voice to the broadcast to prove his power but, seeing the way she shook stopped him. He had smiled to himself, he had thought he had learned a secret about one of the most feared overlords in Hell besides himself. He had thought he had the upper hand.

"Say it again."

"Y/n."

She had been so sweet at first, so docile. He was set on getting her soul, making her subservient. The longer he had lain in wait to enact his little plan, the more he had gotten to know her. Y/n had a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue, she was clever and had a kind side to her that she hid well. It hadn't taken much for him to realize he was falling in love.

That had been terrifying, the first truly scary thing the Radio Demon had encountered since arriving in Hell. It had tortured him for months and he'd consulted every one he knew and trusted on the matter. Finally, Rosie was the one who had convinced him to just tell her, had told him she might feel the same way too. As much as he wanted to blame Rosie for that, Alastor couldn't bring himself to. She hadn't known, they'd both been in the dark, captivated by her sweet austere brilliance.

They had gotten a few happy moments together, a few blissful years. There had been time before she had revealed her true colors and what a lovely time it had been.

A shiver trickled down both their spines in the silence, the sound of his tongue forming the syllables of her name bringing back memories of brighter times. She took her hands from his shoulders, coming to stand before him once again.

Y/n was a book in a language he didn't know, an undeciphered code. Mouth drawn into a thin line, hands daintily placed on her hips, he watched her as she watched him. Unbidden thoughts, unbidden memories, the same ones as always, filtered into his mind. He couldn't help but wonder now, as he had a hundred times before, if it had all truly been a lie. If it had all been some ruse to get what she wanted.

Alastor had to admit, she had gotten him fair and square. Y/n had had him so absolutely wrapped-around-her-pinky-finger in love that she hadn't even been the one to bring up the deal. He had thought he was being sweet, romantic even. It was unfamiliar territory for the man and it had been important. He had fretted over the right way to ask her for weeks.

When he finally had, she was ecstatic at the idea of them joining souls, of giving themselves so fully and completely over to one another. A contract for each of them, an equal exchange.

As a sign of good faith, a mistake he would never be making again, Alastor had offered to go first. When the green smoke had lifted from their clasped hands and he had first caught sight of her face, of her wicked grin, he knew he had fucked up.

Y/n stepped up to him. With a gentle hand, she wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye. Alastor hadn't even realized it had been there, so preoccupied with his own pity. He held his smile strong as she examined the little drop of salt water on her finger, smiling ruefully.

"What do I want from you." she mused softly to herself, "Well, I think I already have everything, wouldn't you agree?"

A green chain materialized in her hand as she spoke, the tear hitting it, melding with the metal as it became solid and she grasped it firmly. With a tug, she sent Alastor to the floor. He fell to his knees harshly, the impact reverberating through his bones.

He had loved her once. Now, looking up at her, he loved her still. He was a fool, through and through. Not because of his persisting love but because of his persisting hope, the fact that he had trusted her. The fact that he still trusted her. The fact that after everything, it somehow still made him the slightest bit joyful to see Y/n smiling and know he was the cause.

More than anything, he wanted to ask her if she regretted what had happened, what she had done. Alastor held his tongue. Even if she was, it was too late. There was no point in asking.

"I can't keep doing this." was what he chose to say instead, his voice was barley more than a whisper.

Y/n's smile fell, her eye brows raised as she crouched down in front of him, pulling the chain tight between them. She delicately placed a finger beneath his chin, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

"It doesn't matter. You will."

He knew she was right. Curse or no curse, he would come when she called.

"What can I do for you?" he asked again, his tone resolute.

"You can burn."

And burn he did.

There was a reason Alastor had avoided intimacy, it was because he had been afraid of it. A secret part of him had always yearned, a secret part that even now still felt fulfilled at her gentle touch. All along, he had been right that love would destroy him. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that it would have happened in this way or, that after everything, he would still care for the woman in question, his captor.

"Ask me again." she commanded.

"What can I do for you?"

He had been naïve, a fool.

"You can rot for all I care. Ask me again."

He was a fool still. A fool in love, a fool destroyed.

"What can I do for you?"

His breaths were labored, his heart open and bloodied. Y/n held it in the palms of her hands, given willingly. She radiated power crouched before him, holding his head close to hers with the chain.

"You can obey. Will you?"

"Yes."

The metal, cold and heavy, tugged against his neck, bruising the bone of his spine.

"For how long?"

"Forever."

There was no hesitation in his voice. A smile split her face in two, wicked and hungry.

"Good."

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fatallyfalling · 4 months

Text

Bitter Water 0.05 ~ ♆

“ Fuck you, Odair ”

warnings: typical Hunger Games violence/trauma/themes, language, blood, injury, insinuation of forced prostitution, enemies to lovers, slow burn, death, nightmares, reader throws up whoops, alcohol/tipsy! reader, Finnick is still an ass, etc

{{ word count }} 2.8 k

{{ prompt }} Readjusting to life outside the arena is a challenge. You’re barely able to cope with the blood staining your hands and the new terrors that arise before you’re whisked away back home.

{{ a/n }} happy holidays ! we’re finally going to be getting somewhere in reader and Finnick’s relationship this time around !! there will still be a lot more build up from here don’t fear <3

Finnick had to adjust his grip to keep your buckling knees from bringing both of you to the linoleum tile below. You had gone all but limp in the boy’s arms as choked sobs escaped your lips. You broke down right there in his arms, eventually taking the two of you to your knees regardless of the boy’s strength nor his futile attempts to keep you either standing or to guide you back to your cot. Wires connected sticky monitors to a wailing device and tangled themselves around your arms and chest. A small trickle of blood dribbled down your forearm from where your IV tube had been ripped out in your scuffle away from the medics.

Finnick’s brows knit together in a tight crease as your fingertips pressed hard into his honey-tanned skin. A muscle in the boy’s jaw fluttered as your sobs and burning touch tugged that thread in his chest hard. Your claim from the train ride had been ripped from your grasp without so much as a goodbye, all in the name of survival.

“I’d rather choose death than a life with blood on my hands.”

He didn’t really know why you were gripping him so tight, as if he’d disappear should your grip be released, considering you’d almost taken him out with a medical tool upon his entrance to the small medical bay. The device had cracked the small window next to the doorway, and broken glass now speckled the floor beneath the shattered pane. Your broken, hiccuped cries continued on, ragged breaths barely bringing air into your lungs, while Finnick shot warning glares back towards the doctors who tried to enter the room. The medical professionals slowly backed out upon meeting the deadly daggers within the Darling’s sea-green gaze. You were in hysterics, to say the least. The reality of your survival and the invisible crimson caked into your skin slammed into every fiber of your being and brought bile rising into your already constricted throat. But nothing heaved itself from your empty stomach. Finnick sat cautiously still, the linoleum tile cold beneath his knees, as his gaze turned away from the open door back to your crumpled form. He didn’t say anything nor make any moves to comfort or touch you, only providing space to allow you to get everything out. To be frank, Finnick didn’t know how to react besides sitting still. You hadn’t expressed kindness to him since meeting one another, nor had he you, but the thought of your fear and the pain tearing apart your chest being intensified by the poking and prodding of medics and nurses tugged that thread again painfully as if the tension was pulled so tight on a guitar sting that one more twist would cause it to snap and fly back in a heated slice across his heart.

So the Darling stayed.

He sat with you till exhaustion ebbed into your shoulders, and your tears slowly dried. He sat still as a rock until reality came back into focus, and your fingernails left small, purple crescent moons on his tanned forearms as you released your grip. Your breaths were shaky, and your voice was shot as your bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks flushed with color dragged up to meet calm sea-green oceans. “I-I’m.. sorry…” You struggle to gasp out before your chin dips, and a trembling arm comes up to cough viciously into your elbow. Finnick simply shook his head, rubbing sweaty palms on his tear-stained trousers before combing a hand through the bronze waves thrown atop his head.

“It’s fine,”

The small room fell silent, aside from the bustling commotion outside the bay and your gasping breaths as air still struggled to fill your lungs. “I should go get a nurse. You’re bleeding again.” Finnick huffs after a beat before moving to stand. You don’t say anything as your arms curl around yourself in a tight hug. A thick swallow goes down the boy’s throat as he forces himself away from the room and into the bright, sterile hallway. That thread tugged his shoulders back as if trying to push him backward into that room towards the corner you’d curled into, but he willed himself to move forward. You were just a scared victor. You had gripped the first familiar thing to you after being trapped in a cruel Game for a month. Your actions were instinct-driven and nothing more. You’d only met for two days. There was no point or reason for his chest to be this tight or his skin to hunger after your touch. His jaw sets as he rubs the crescent indents on his skin, searching for a nurse down the hall.

That thread snaps tight in his chest again with each brush of his thumbs over the purple marks.

You’re kept in the medical bay of the Capital’s Tribute Center for a fortnight. The lengthy stay was mostly for observation purposes following a psyche evaluation alongside the closing ceremonies of the 67th Games and another sugarcoated interview full of bright lights and flashing cameras with Caesar Flickerman. You’d thrown up at least once before or after every public appearance. You despised the spotlight, gargling a minted mouthwash between your teeth to coat your tongue and rid the sour taste of bile from your lips. Hyacinth returned to plaster you in garish flourishes and flounces along with an opaque concealer to cover the deep-set smudges of purple beneath your eyes from lack of sleep. The Capital had been gracious enough to mend your wounds well, but makeup was still needed to cover bruises in various stages of healing. You did your best to plaster on that faux, practiced smile before performing once again for the entertainment of millions of Panem citizens.

Your stomach painfully churned upon your realization that the performance would never end. You’d always be forced to perform from this moment forward.

You’d only seen your mentor, Mags, consistently after your breakdown, besides various medical personnel needing to check on you. Finnick was only seen in passing. The two of you hadn’t spoken since your outburst, nor had the two of you stood in the same room long enough to converse with one another, let alone stand beside one another. Only fleeting glances were shared across crowds, and the bronze-haired boy was constantly moving, constantly changing. Each night, he would appear strapped to the hip of a new Capital elitist in progressively more revealing tunics and netting that unfortunately left less and less to the imagination. Your nose crinkled at the aura he put out, cocky and self-absorbed while flashing showboating smirks and suggestive comments back to back. At least the rumors concerning the two of you harboring some kind of “star-crossed lovers” spectacle had died out upon your announced victory and the Darling’s consistent appearances with new presumed partners, earning him the term playboy in the gossip strips of Capital newspapers. You tried to avoid the victor and his attitude at all costs, forcing yourself to forget the moment shared in a forgotten hospital room corner and move on.

Mags was sweet as ever, doting on you like a worried mother hen and doing her best to ensure your comfort, considering your unstable circumstances. She visited you daily, sometimes more than once. The two of you would share a meal or cup of tea, conversing in your own signals and whispered words, discussing anything and everything to help you get through the day. On the hard days, the two of you would sit in a calm silence, simply absorbing the pleasant company of one another.

Tonight, you would finally board the train back to District 4. Back home. You didn't sleep at all the night before. Whether it was nerves, excitement, or the haunting phantoms behind your eyes whenever they closed? You're not sure. It could be all three, honestly. Thatcher was busy lecturing your procession as bright flashes blinded your vision, and loud hollers of the Capital upper-class bludgeoned your ears. However, all you wanted was to be out of the spotlight and locked inside your personal quarters for the next two days before finally seeing your lovely younger brothers again. A gloved hand grips your shoulder and urges you to keep moving. The stark-white uniforms of peacekeepers cloud your peripherals, sending your skin crawling. The grip feels like a brand on your skin.

Moments after the train car doors shut, the industrial machinery surges to life, and the train sets into motion. An ascending chug roars as the metal car picks up speed. “Come, come! Just like our last journey, there is much to be discussed!” Your escort queries while ushering everyone towards a too-familiar dark wood dining table. Your group was small, but Thatcher, Hyacinth, Mags, Yourself, and surprisingly, Finnick gathered at the long table, taking seats behind cursive name cards and crystal wine glasses. You couldn’t help your sweeping gaze across the silk tablecloth toward the 65th victor. The boy was lounged across his armchair, weight pressing into his left elbow on the armrest as his free arm dangled the wine glass, dark wine slowly swirling inside the goblet. His position appeared comfortable but exuded pride. You forced your gaze down to your glass of wine after sea-green oceans caught wind of your unintentional staring. A cheshire smirk pressed dimples into his tanned cheeks, but no words were exchanged between you two.

“Now, we have two days before arriving back on the sunshine sands of District 4. For our dear victor,”

Your name sounds foreign in such a cheerful tone.

“Your family has already been transferred to your lovely new home in Victor’s Village! Our Darling, Finnick here, will be just across from your new home with Mags beside him. Your fellow victors will be around you in the rest of the village for support and companionship!” You wince at the escort’s last words. You didn’t want their feigned “companionship” You just wanted to go home. A dark chuckle resonated across the table, and even Thatcher goes quiet for once.

“Yes of course, we have weekly parties to discuss our methods from the arena, and sit in circles and sing koombaya.”

Your nose scrunches in discomfort at the bronze-haired victor’s blatant sarcasm. Mags shifts uncomfortably in her seat at the end of the table between the two of you while shooting the boy a pointed look. A beat passes before Thatcher clears their throat and tries to continue their speech. “Uhm, yes… I suppose. Ahem. When we arrive at the station, cameras will be ready, so I expect nothing more than big smiles! We are happy to be home and to see our beloved District again. No more, no less. There will be a meeting with the Mayor, then a procession through the District to Victor’s Village, and then another meeting to discuss the terms of the next six months before beginning your Victory tour through all of the districts, ending with a grand celebration in the Capital city with our Honored President Snow.” Thatcher continues. Their voice regains its usual lilt and confidence, almost as if they’re convincing themself of the festivities ahead. They gives another speech on rules and expectations, Hyacinth flutters on about her ideas of possible designs for the tour, among other details, and you feel like you’re about to be sick.

You quickly down about two and a half glasses of wine before you’re buzzed and floaty enough to settle in your seat. You’d drowned out the conversation long before, finding the dozens of tiny rainbow light fractals sparkling in your crystal goblet far more intriguing. The dark wine was dry and bitter-tasting. Through slow-blinking eyes, you finish what’s left in your goblet and excuse yourself from the nonsensical conversation. Amidst your hazy stumble from the table, you didn’t bother or care to notice the sea-green eyes fixating on your retreating form.

You just wanted to lay down, possibly throw up; you couldn’t decide which quite yet. You’d never bothered with alcohol before. Seeing what the fermented liquid had done to your father made the idea unpleasant. But after experiencing the hazy warmth the drink brought to your core and the ease of a clouded mind, you began to see why he had taken up the habit. The Capital didn’t seem to care if minors drank anyway. You told yourself over and over you wouldn’t let this get bad. You refused to be like him. You just needed to get home and see the sweet faces of your brothers.

Your personal quarters were the same as before, sleek and industrial with shades of grey and royal blue velvet followed by dark wooden accents. Your clothes were comfortable linen, the same ones you’d worn off the train before the Games, but this time, your top was an inky black, and your lightweight pants a cool, forest-toned green. Face planting into the plush bedding, you curled in on your side. Your hair had been left in its natural texture since the games, only maneuvered when Hyacinth needed you to appear publicly in her newest design. Your knees hugged close to your chest, and your arms curled in close, making for a tightly coiled fetal position. The back of your skull felt fuzzy as if a hand was leaving ghostly pinpricks up along the nape of your neck to the crown of your head. The feeling was peculiar yet welcome, adding to the fuzziness behind your eyes and the warmth wrapping around your torso.

Your sleep was light and thankfully, dreamless.

Sleep held you hostage for several hours before jolting you awake in a cold sweat, as the fervent need to expel your stomach sent you scrambled to the black porcelain latrine and heaved bile and wine. You were lucky you’d made it to the small washroom at all, with how quickly the intoxicated need took hold of your consciousness.

“Well now, haven’t we been here before?”

You could hear the smirk on Finnick’s face before you’d even finished wiping your mouth on a strip of bath tissue.

“Get out.”

Your tone was cold, glare laced with irritation, as you shifted to clean yourself up and shakily stood after gripping the onyx rim of the washroom sink. You weren’t in the mood for idle chatter nor the taunts that glinted in the sea-green irises behind you. “If you’re just here to gloat or say, “I told you so,” you can shove it. I’ve had enough false charm and teasing, Peacock.”

“Peacock? Is that a new pet name, hm? What was it you told Caesar? Oh, yes - that you would never fall for a stuck-up Peacock like me in mm…say, a thousand years? Maybe Mr. Flickerman was on to something."

"Fuck you, Odair."

Venom spits from your lips as you finally turn, only to be caught off guard by meeting that insufferable smirk mere inches from your face. The two of you were on a fairly level height, but the slight slouch in the boy's stance hinted that he was taller. Your palms connect with honey-tanned skin as you shove the vain Darling back to get around him. "Get out of my room." You quip, blood simmering in your veins as you thrust a pointed finger toward the open door. The swagger in the boy's walk almost had your eye twitching as the various reasons you'd disliked the boy before became crystal clear in the front of your mind. Whatever regret for your previous outburst, or feelings that had flickered between you two in the medical bay were gone, replaced by whatever Golden Boy persona had infected Finnick and twisted calm concern in his eyes to an unreadable cruelty. You hated the boy standing in your doorway.

"Get. Out."

Finnick simply shook his head, before sauntering out of the room, not bothering to mention you’d slept through breakfast. Again.

As the industrial door slid shut behind the boy, that thread snapped tight in his chest again. Swallowing thickly, Finnick shoved his hands deep into his pockets and tried to shrug off the tightness in his chest. The words had tumbled from his lips quicker and harsher than intended and he felt like kicking himself in the ass for his actions. The phantom touch of your hands pressing into his chest made the pink crescents on his forearms sting, and he had to reach up and pick an invisible piece of lint from his tunic for any sense of relief. Maybe he should let you hate him, keep up the act, and remain at arm's length instead of nursing that tight string in his chest linking back to you. You were frightened, traumatized beyond belief, and you just wanted to go home.

Mags was sure to chew him out for a good hour on his behavior well into the late afternoon.

@emerald-09 @reader-bookling123 @finnickodaddy @thehairington86 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @avoxrising @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @whens-naptime @violettbae @the-lonely-abyss @secretsicanthideanymore @nexxus13 @takanparadiae @yourdailymemedelivery @wowzabowza69

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