I've been wondering what material the marionettes are made of. It seems too pretty to be wood. Maybe they're made of porcelain with internal mechanisms that make them "automatons"?
[T] scientist!yn / eldritch alien!DCA
word count: 2,177
they are yucky... enjoy :o)
Your breathing stutters when a plethora of hands reach out to gently cup your helmet in their array of palms.
They had tried this many times before, already. An inquisitive action. Asking to be closer, to tear down physical barriers piece by piece.
As much as you could, you have kept the suit on. To protect your flesh, and your mind.
What passes as a finger feels along the bottom seam where the helmet locks into the rest of the suit. Then pauses once they touch the latch mechanism.
You keep your eyes squeezed shut. Allowing the webbing of viscera to ripple around you like a sensory deprivation chamber. Or the calming sway of the ocean, a simulation impossible to your time.
When you keep your eyes closed like this, you can almost envision the depths: The cold, all-encompassing pressure. Flittering visions from a planet you had never visited, could never visit, but that had been home to the creatures that envelop you. Adore you. The vastness of the adoration weighs down on you, an ethereal force that cocoons your consciousness into a swaddle of astral affection.
Go ahead.
You aren't sure if you said it aloud, but your mouth moves regardless as you open your eyes at last.
The one that forms in front of you reminds you of flowers and fauna and ferns and all the beautiful, horrific signs of nature and life your existence has lacked. One of the writhing appendages that circle around its face in a halo opens up to reveal sharp teeth in a muted hiss.
It shoves its face against the glass of your helmet. You can feel the rattle from its face tendrils that wriggle with what you have learned to interpret as joy. From the inside of your chest, happiness blooms out. Sharing in the abstract emotions. An endless feedback loop, born from your otherworldly connection.
Heat from its type of breath, more releasing energy than co2, fogs up the helmet’s glass plane. The too-many mouths lash, and yet by now, the unnatural, jerky motions don’t unsettle you.
With your permission, the latch is undone.
All of the tendrils — petals — framing its face rustle in a nonexistent breeze. Subduing its zealous nature to curious reverence.
Orbs of magenta — its true eyes, not the false ones that look like markings on a moth's wings, squint into gleeful crescents.
You dip your head to assist the being in taking off your helmet. The equipment slips off, exposing your face after weeks, months, of hiding away. Beneath protective barriers.
You shiver at the cold of the space station seeping in all at once. The air is frigid.
The abomination senses your discomfort long before your nervous system alerts you. Wrapping you in dense tendrils that flicker and fan out. Sharing their unnatural warmth through layers of protective fabric.
Then your head is tilted up by coarse, yet smooth, hands. The pads on its palms are soft with a strange give. Goosebumps prickle on your arms from the unearthly texture. All your survival instincts kicking in that the being in front of you is unnatural beyond comprehension.
You ignore the instincts, and push the side of your face into its palms instead. Encouraging the tentative touch.
All at once, the being fills your vision. False eyes peering into yours, the material and colors flickering and reforming to express the same joy of its true eyes.
With a firm hold on your face, it mashes flesh to flesh in the mimicry of a kiss. The affectionate gesture catches you off guard, not unpleasant but not quite right, infinite rows of teeth clacking against your front row in an audible sound.
You let out a quiet, ow, which seems to encourage the being to readjust its strategy. All the magenta eyes pulse in even waves. A call. The corners of your mind feel like they are being held with a gentle, insistent pressure.
The second being forms, twisting out of the tentacle netting of their main body with the sort of stretch one does when freshly awoken. The spinal fins layering its neck flitter open. The large mouth-tail that drapes from its false head flops down with immense weight.
The curve of its closed false eyes peeks open, leering at you.
The being is atop the other, applying pressure that seeps through their conjoined, inexplicable form. Melting. Melding. Communicating without the slightest indication. One existence with two outward expressions. Although on a scientific level you vaguely understand they are no more than organs, functioning in tandem to keep one living organism whole, you can’t help but get endeared to the quirks that set their personalities apart.
Sun, for the brighter half. Brimming with energy and a desire to sate its curiosity. To invade, inspect, and grow. The first to root, to take hold. Pushy.
Moon, for the darker half. Subdued, quiet, and yet the carrier of most of their psychic abilities. Cautious. Crafty.
You didn’t notice when they had both gotten so close to your face. Looking at you expectantly, like you had called out their names – oh, you realize. Thinking about them, letting your mind wander, commands their attention immediately.
Moon’s body cycles through colors; deep violets, dark navy blue. Displaying infinite cosmos and galaxies faster than your eyes can comprehend. Splotches of swirling crimson that glow brighter than the vast expanse of stars right outside your window.
Sun shifts back to make room for the other parasite celestial. Twisting off to the side, flexible body bending to mime lying beside you mid-air. The being busies itself with intertwining its fingers with yours, fascinated by counting each finger you have.
The darker half wins the stalemate of staring you down. Creeping closer. Gingerly nudging the smooth plane of its ‘face’ against yours. Overlaying your lips with its incomprehensible pressure. Softer. Mindful of human fragility, to a degree.
You dare to press back.
There is nothing there but its form. The subtle ripple of teeth beneath the surface. Taut like a reinforced wall of stitched together sinew, snaking underneath. Never staying still, like the rushing, winding currents of the cosmic depths they belong to. The pressure is nice, but it’s not quite–
The quieter of the two seems to notice. Not quite right, either.
Twisting its head around. The thinness of its neck wraps around itself several times. Reminding you that the endearing facade is just that: A facade. Contorting to bring its true mouth closer. Jagged teeth larger than your hands. A maw that opens up, fangs and what you liken to saliva stringing between the roof and bottom. The same jaws that you saw chomping down on–
A tongue slithers out to lick across your cheek. Disrupting and dispelling the negative memories that feel like centuries ago despite your short, human lifespan.
Tasting. A slow, testing drag with the lightest of pressure.
The gesture elicits a full body shudder from you. A mix of disgust and wonder.
All their pupils track your reactions with unending curiosity. Beneath the microscope of glowing white gazes, a solar system of observers, a flush at last colors your face as you let off a small laugh.
The chimera mimics the color shift immediately. Sharing in your sheepish, sweet embarrassment. Pink, ruby, rose– a swath of reddish hues cascades down their ‘bodies’ in sheer delight. You feel their joy bubbling up in your chest again, swirling in your mind like starbursts and blazing comets.
Sun tugs at the gloves you wear. Not to pull them off, but to bring attention to your (rather empty) hands. Another part of the suit to unfasten. Another barrier to tear down, to actually touch them–
You nod. The gloves require more of your assistance, your participation, than the helmet. You pull your arms, one by one, into the suit with a shift of your shoulders. From the inside, you take apart the velcro seams and unhook the safety latches.
You slip your arms back through the safety suit’s sleeves. Letting the brighter half carefully peel off the rest of the dense, rubber gloves.
The being is instantly intrigued. Rushing to feel the smooth flesh of your palms against theirs. Indexing the sensation and deciding that it is as wonderful as the rest of you. Mere glimpses that are opening up to full windows of experience. Letting them in.
As always, Sun pushes to the forefront. Demanding your attention, curiosity, and affection. Moon’s false torso twines together with Sun’s. Encompasses the right half of your body, while Sun cradles the left.
An urge to touch them surges through your body like a tidal wave crashing down. You reach out, hesitating as your knuckles brush against the sides of Sun’s neck frills. The spines feel as hard as stone, but the umbrella-like underside of the frills is soft. Velvety. Your fingers uncurl to feel along the underside. The frills flutter. The earnest reaction draws a soft laugh from you, the noise popping like bubbles. Cute.
Moon continues to curiously prod at your hands. Sharp fingertips dip underneath the cuff lining of your sleeves. Pulsing eyes with infinite pupils swivel closer to inspect the exposed flesh down to the molecular level. A tendril curls under and around your side, the wrap of it like a wide, flat blanket. One of their larger eyes nudges underneath your arm. Watchful.
With your urging, Sun dips its head down. Pressing the smoothness of its false face to your chest, languid and cuddly. Nuzzling close to the lullaby of your heart beat. Completely relaxed. At ease in this hazy, dreamlike moment.
Its gaze peeks up at you. Nudges its face forward until it’s resting in the crook of your neck, bending it at an odd angle. Soundless encouragement to keep going. The mouth splitting apart its false face ripples open, revealing another magenta orb that regards you with limitless affection. Then snaps shut, holding together the tethers of their corporeal form.
You comply, reaching around to delicately feel up the slenderness of their spinal column. The thickest roots twine together underneath the tough surface. Bone-like spines protrude outward, flexing unnaturally when your fingers brush against them. The smooth, marble texture of their form is broken up by patches of scorched scars.
A network interconnected of the areas that had been burnt in an effort to kill the multiplying cells that construct their mass. A frown crosses your face at the memory. In time, you hope the worst of the scars will fade to distant memories for all three of you.
Moon grows curious, pressing the side of its face to your cheek. Aware of your distress, fluttering its eyes closed to send signals along the neural pathways in your brain to soften and blur the edges into a blissful fuzziness. The bright glow of its true eyes strains the corner of your vision. Your fingers reflexively dig into the form you hold onto.
The chimera reacts to the tightened hold like a viper. All of the tendrils wrapping you up grip down harder in turn, enough so that you let out a weak cry. Their grip slackens as your fingers dig into their form further, seeking an anchor for the surge of panic and flicker of pain.
Sun and Moon lower their heads, crowding in, folding in on each other, to check in on your expressions. Learning that it shouldn’t mimic the change of pressure. Watching as the furrow to your brows fades away, as you give them a tentative smile to reassure their panic. It’s alright, your mind supplies.
You lean forward, enough so to gently cup Moon’s face first. You flicker your eyes closed, indulging in the expanse of darkness and cosmos that dance beneath your eyelids in the presence of a cosmic being. Your lips touch against your target; a light peck to the center of its forehead. Where the split in their face becomes more than an illusion, an additional mouth that peels apart at the corners. The curves of spinal teeth press back against you. You can’t help but smile.
The energetic half grows impatient. Rays rustling in an echoing rattle that chases down the barren hallways of the station. You laugh once more, moving to wrap your arms around the warmer enigma. You place a little kiss on each of the wriggling tendrils looping around its face, the being morphing to make the process easier as Moon busies itself with repeating the action. Bumping the center of its mouth down your sleeve, nestling its face to the center of your palm.
You stop when the needier half seems temporarily appeased, wriggling with boundless energy beneath your hold on its face. You stare awhile into the vastness of magenta eyes, allowing yourself to be lulled into infinity.
Warm tinted arms wrap you in a light hug, favoring to rest against the right side of your body.
Cold tinted arms follow suit, resting against the left side of your body. Content to wrap around you, ensnared in the web of their unearthly affection. Home.
Until I finish the game update, I’ll be posting the AMA answers and updates! I’m really focused on this final part, so you’ll see me online a lot less than before! It’s so close to the end, and I’m super excited to see and test everything working!
This time there’s an important piece of information about their age order! A lot of people ask me this, so here it is.
Hi, I hope you’re healthy and happy rn! This is my first time sending a request lol so sorry if I’m a bit awkward, but could I please request a TFC story? (Pierrot please)
I’m craving a cute and fluffy comforting story/head canons (maybe with some funny moments) and I have an idea for a platonic story with a child reader and how you think Pierrot would act around a younger orphan reader who somehow got into the circus? Like, the reader was throw out by their parents and was looking for food or something and bumped into him at his tent? Idk whatever you’d like to do story wise I’m happy with.
Maybe he’s a bit parental and everyone is shocked by reader running up to him and hugging his leg while calling him dad, or maybe he’s more of a big brother figure! Whatever you’d like to do, I just like the idea of some more platonic headcanons or story’s <3
no pressure if you don’t want to do it btw! I just thought I’d ask, have an amazing day and remember to eat and drink lots of water xx
Pierrot x Orphan!Child!Reader
Small oneshot (?)
WC :: 900+
Warnings :: Mention of abandonment, Pierrot is a PLATONIC Yandere, Mention of Violence (?)/turn into Fools
🍊 Let's say you were abandoned at the Circus by your parents because they didn't wanna take care of you anymore due to their inability to house a child.
🍊 You were scared by this of course, and a young child. So your first instinct was to look for your parents in this crowded space, not fully aware of the situation you're In.
🍊 You saw people after people, but no familiar faces. Everyone seemed new and so dull, They didn't have the shine that you saw your parents with.
🍊 But there was one person who stood out from the crowd, they were tall and were dressed in red and black with beautiful white silky hair. HE stood out from the rest.
🍊 His height scared you, you never seen someone this tall and intimidating.
🍊 And to your surprise, Pierrot was scared too. Why was a child here is that he thought, Where are your parents? You're near his Tent afterall! you shouldn't be in the Circus!
🍊 Something inside Pierrot was bubbling, Something almost Parental that screamed at him to keep you to himself and Be there for you.
🍊 While he was contemplating what to do with you, You slowly walked towards him and grabbed on his pants leg and looked up at him with sparkly big eyes ready to shed a tear.
"Papa?..Is it you?.."
🍊 Your little voice was as sweet and sugary as Honey, Full of innocence and fear of abandonment. You thought the big clown was your Papa.
🍊 Those golden eyes behind his white mask dilated and became bigger, staring down right back at you with the same shimmer yours are displaying.
🍊 Those clawed hands that threw daggers was now picking you up with so much gentleness as if you were made out of the finest porcelain, scared to hurt you in the slightest.
🍊 His fingers find their way to your scalp, gently brushing your hair and tracing the non sharp pats along your hairline in a gentle manner, Like a relaxing massage.
🍊 Oh sweet pierrot was smiling so brightly at you, like you were what was missing so long ago when Columbina died..Like another part of his monsterous heart was back.
🍊 Your little eyelids were slowly getting heavier, sleep was creeping up your spine trying to lull you into a comfortable slumber in the clowns arms, safe at last.
🍊 Pierrot watched you fall asleep in his arms, so cozy and all snug as if he were some big teddy bear where you can let your guard down.
🍊 He was your new father now, He will take care of you and won't let Harlequin take another thing away from him, he'd rather die first than let you fall into the poisonous hands.
🍊 You were so tired, you didn't even notice Pierrot slowly walking towards his tent to get you a cozy blanket and a dark place to sleep as he watches over you.
🍊 He was a Father now, if only Columbina could see him now. She would've been a good mother to you, a happy beautiful family.
🍊 Pierrot knows he's going to look out for your parents and add them as an addition to the circus later on for abandoning you.
🍊 What can he say, The Freak Circus never lacks Fools so why not make a new stock? They won't last long anyways..He needs new targets for his show.
🍊 He slowly lays down next to your sleeping form, looking at the ceiling of his tent and sighs. This is going to be exhausting, But he's going to be happier.
🍊 It's been a few months now since you've become part of Pierrots life.
🍊 Most of your time you spend inside Pierrots tent, but he does take you outside sometimes to grab something to eat and watch him perform just for you.
🍊 He taught you how to juggle and some safe circus tricks that won't cause you any harm, even performs with you together sometimes!
🍊 He became a father that can barely say No to you, he wants his child to have all their needs met. He just loves you so much!
🍊 The other members of the Cast were honestly VERY surprised to see him announcing that he has a child now.
🍊 Well...Kind of announced.
🍊 Pierrots whole point is he cannot talk due to the incident, So at first the Cast thought he brought some new food home and he was quick to break that rule much to Ticket Takers dismay
🍊 Doctor found you quite interesting, Ticket Taker made sure you had enough clothes around, Harlequin was thrown into a corner by Pierrot anytime he came close, And Jester was watching it all unfold with amusement.
🍊 Jester allowed Pierrot to keep you aslong as you don't bring any trouble to the Circus and that he has control over you.
🍊 Needless to say, You're part of their monster family now. Human or not, Pierrot will always be there for you.
🍊 Enjoy the big scary dog privileges you now have, because noone is gonna let you get hurt by anybody. Even Harlequin is dead set on that.
🍊 You now have 5 big Caretakers, Who all tolerate you while Pierrot loves you. Life is gonna be good.
Tysm for requesting! i tried to put my own spin on it, mixed with what you requested!!! i hope you enjoy! <3
Request: papa quin oneshot. Preferably her(Lizette) first day at home(in his tent ig?) after birth(fem reader)(Doctor delivered bc half monster?) or first words/steps(i wanna read abt him ugly crying for the little cutie). Or anything with papa quin in general. Little shit has infected my brain and ive been obsessed for weeks
Hi hi! I get the papa-quin brainworms, I do lol. This was really fun to write despite being my first oneshot to write in Lord knows how long. I hope you like it!
Notes/tags: fem!reader. Reader is refered to as "she" and "mama". Descriptions of pregnancy and birth. Fluff, lots of happy tears. Harlequin might be a little out of character as I've written little outside of headcanons for him, but I tried to keep it close! 1.7 words.
Having a baby is difficult, to say the least, but having a baby that is part monster is beyond just difficult. The pregnancy went by about as smoothly as it could –thank God– though it did not go without its painful amount of worry. Harlequin did his best to comfort you, and the other circus members promised their help, but the concern still persisted.
In a world so unalike the one you’ve grown in, how could you navigate a child born on the border of it? Half human, half monster… What if the mix caused the baby to be unhealthy? What if they would have a hard life with their anatomy? What if they couldn’t find belonging while being so different? Sure, the little one would have Juni to grow up with, but one companion isn’t always enough. Worry after agonizing worry picked at your head, much to Harlequin’s distaste.
“There’s nothing to fret over,” he’d tell you on nights when your head felt heavy. “Whatever happens, we will be okay. Our child will be okay. You will do just fine.”
When the day came for the baby to arrive, the pain almost felt like a small mercy. After all, who could ruminate when baring new life felt like you were dying? Every comfort possible was given to you by the others when the contractions started, and when Doctor helped you onto the bed for delivery, Harlequin stayed by your side while the others gave you your privacy. His hands held yours firmly, never loosening even as you cried and squeezed his palms in a death grip.
When things quieted down and you were tended to, Doctor left to stay with the others while you recovered and met your new child. Of course, he didn’t leave without handing the little one over to you with quiet, proud words of encouragement.
“Good job, very good. It’s a girl, a healthy one at that.”
The blanket was wrapped around an impossibly small baby. Her little skin was still flushed since she was exposed to cold air, and her small face was scrunched up with small cries. Tears blurred your vision as you held her close and hushed her, gently rocking her as Harlequin leaned closer. His usual smile was gone, replaced by wide eyes and the slight part of his lips. He watched for a long moment in silent awe, just watching. His hands gripped the edge of your blanket before leaning closer to see his daughters face against yours, now calm and soft after hearing your voice. Harlequin swallows and hesitates, still processing all that is in front of him.
“… She is so beautiful.”
The words were warm on his lips, breathless and light. A clawed hand reached closer to her before stopping, resting instead on your hand. His mouth closed as he simply watched her, though the slight tremble in his hands showed how overwhelmed he was. After drying your eyes, you smile up to Harlequin and offer the warm bundle. He reels back and stiffens, suddenly all too aware of his sharp nails and strength. She felt safe in your softness, would she feel safe in his? Would she cry the moment she was handed over? Oh, his heart just couldn’t take it if his touch made her cry. No, no, he can’t do this. He can’t be what this little one needs him to be. This sweet little life needs you and your warmth, not his icy words, not his stained hands, not his hunger…
And yet, how can he refuse when you encourage him so sweetly to hold his baby?
With a shaking breath and still wide eyes, Harlequin gingerly take his child into his arms. His arm raises to cradle her head as you instruct, and he can’t believe just how tiny she is compared to him. Her tiny face was framed by tuffs of fine hair, hair that was the same shade as his, only a bit warmer. A tiny grunt rose from her closed mouth as she opened her eyes for the first time at him, showing the prettiest little eyes. They’re your color, almost a complete replica –he should know, he’s stared into that same shade for hours–, though they quickly become blurry in his vision. You watch from over the rim of your water glass as Harlequin’s face screws up and his eyes become glassy, brimming with tears you’ve rarely seen. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth as he lowers his head closer to his daughters face, breathing her in for a few seconds.
“Hello, little lady. It’s me, your dad. D-Do you recognize my voice? I hope you do, with how much I talked to you. I…”
His voice cracks as his throat tightens painfully, and when he feels your hand press gently against his arm, he lets the tears run down around his scrunched up face and wobbly, trembling lips.
“You’re so pretty, do you know that? So pretty, so perfect. My perfect little monster. My perfect l-little girl–”
Harlequin’s words breaks once again as he moves to sit beside you on your bed, needing to be close to your side as he holds his entire world. His chest heaves as he tucks his head against yours, not caring in the least about how his shirt is now stained with his tears. How could he care about looking like a blubbering fool when you’ve given him something he could never dream of?
…
The months following your delivery was almost dreamlike for the both of you. The new addition to the family, now named Lizette, occupied every shred of your attention. She was indeed healthy and had a good appetite, though she had trouble sleeping for a few weeks. Funnily enough, sleeping through the night was surprisingly easy for her, but naps? Nearly impossible unless you or Harlequin was there to talk to her. It’s gotten to the point that a frequent solution was to play recordings of you two talking. Harlequin’s recordings were all stories that he’d tell in his shows, but altered for a much younger audience. Sure, Lizette wouldn’t know the difference, but Harlequin insisted that he change them for her.
Outside of troublesome naps, sweet young Lizette was a little ball of energy. The moment she could lift her head on her own and learned to roll onto her tummy, Harlequin made it his mission to keep her moving. He’d sit her up and gently move her stubby arms and legs, cooing over how her tiny tendrils that she got from his clung to his fingers. She was quick to crawl around thanks to Harlequin’s persistence, though she still preferred to be held and rocked in your arms. The weight of her body on your chest as you tidied the kitchen was enough to make your heart swell, and when mixed with her babbling to her father over your shoulder, you weren’t sure how your heart could fit in your chest.
“Is mama keeping you nice and comfy up there? She is, isn’t she? Oh, there is that sweet smile! You love being with mama, hum? I can’t blame you.”
Chatter was almost constant in Harlequin’s tent and your apartment now, and it was mostly between him and Lizette. Her little sounds and giggles were responded to by her father in kind, with topics often including you or Lizette’s beauty. Though Harlequin was not the only one she’d babble to. Much to his and Pierrot’s confusion and irritation, Lizette was already showing signs of being attached to Juni, Pierrot’s toddler. How funny, you thought, considering you have rarely seen the fathers tolerate each other.
While you have had endless joyous moments with your lover and baby girl, one of the most memorable one besides her birth was when she surprised Harlequin. After a few good months of her growing, crawling, and cuddling up with you and Harlequin, you were hard a work trying to teach her how to take her first steps. You wanted it to be a surprise since Harlequin has been so tired lately with doing back to back shows, plus helping care for Lizette, all on top of having to deal with a recurring group of rather ornery guests. He’s tired, and often comes home frustrated. Of course, the sight of you holding his darling girl is an almost instant balm to his anger. Knowing that, you decided to surprise him.
After a particularly troubling day, Harlequin walks into the back of his tent in a huff. His muscles were tense, his jaw and head ached from clenching his teeth, and his fingers twitched for something to tear apart. He knew that seeing you once again would be soothing, but he was self-aware enough of his feelings to know that this anger would take a bit longer to calm. Because of this, he didn’t expect anything grand to change his mood, not until he walked into your shared room after following your voice. The curtain pulled back to show you sitting on the floor, holding Lizette’s arms up as she stood alone. Her little head perked up at the sight of Harlequin stepping closer, and her squeal of delight brought a begrudging smile to his face.
“Ah, darling girls. There you–”
The words died on his tongue in an instant when Lizette took a clumsy step towards her father. Then another, then another with her little arms reaching out for him. Harlequin stoops down in a hurry, already feeling the back of his eyes burn as he reaches forward with a wide grin.
“That’s it! Come here, come on! Walk to papa, walk to me!”
Lizette giggles with joy as she speeds up a little, almost toppling over in the process. After a moment of regaining her balance, she manages to reach Harlequin’s waiting arms before getting scooped up. With a proud grin, you watch Harlequin straighten up with a loud laugh, spinning Lizette around. Tears shine in his eyes again as he holds her close, pressing kisses to her chubby cheeks between shaky words.
“Oh, my sweet girl, you did it! Look at you, so strong! So good, so incredibly good.”
His lips are trembling again as he steps to you to press a tear-stained kiss to your lips, pulling away only to laugh again.
“Are those her first steps? I didn’t miss it? Oh, please tell me you got a photo, a video! Let’s have her do it again, I need to keep this moment forever.”
A/n: the order in which I release the endings is wack. Sorry. At least that's 3 done now:)
Enjoy:)
Summary: this is a continuation to one of my previous posts, linked here: tfc X reader hide and seek
Warning: this work is based on an 18+ game, even though my work itself is not explicit
Tw: mentions of blood, heartbeat, kissing? Is that even a tw? lmk if I missed something
★★☆★★☆★★☆★★
The street was quiet. Too quiet for your liking. The kind of quiet that always preceded something... Usually a predator pouncing on an unsuspecting prey...
Something in your peripheral vision sent you sprinting. It was almost the end of the game and you were much more jumpy and paranoid than ever.
It may have been just a mouse or an empty tin can knocked over by the chilly wind... But you were not taking your chances.
You sprinted down the alleyways and parking lots. But after running and evading all night... You were completely exhausted. It was no surprise that your leg gave out under you in the most inconvenient moment.
You winced as your knees hit the ground and you skidded to a stop. Clenching your teeth you rolled over to your side.
Great. Just your luck to land full speed into a patch of glass. You sucked in a breath, inspecting the damage. Your knees were massacred and bloodied. And a particularly sharp piece of glass embedded itself into your right leg.
Ouch.
You tried getting up, but even the slightest movement sent a sharp impulse of pain all the way through your leg.
With trembling hands you pulled out your phone and dialed Doctor's number.
He picks up on the third ring
"Hypothetically," you start, skipping the greeting.
"Sweetheart, you know how I love when you start your questions like that"
"If someone had bloodied knees and a piece of glass stuck in their knee... What would you advise they do?"
"It is not a hypothetical situation, is it, Y/n?"
"...No... I guess it isn't," you wince.
"In such a situation, it would be best to go to a doctor, but I think you already know that"
"Oh" you blink, "Can- can you come help me?"
"Of course, doll"
★☆★
Not much later his massive figure emerged from the shadows. All clad in black with red accents, it was uncanny. There was a small med kit in his hand.
He stood before you surveying the damage. His eyes glowing crimson in the dark. It sends a cold shiver down your spine.
"You got hurt. Perhaps letting you run off was a mistake"
"It was an accident," you frown.
"You are remarkably prone to them, dear patient," he counters, readjusting his gloves, "Perhaps I should permanently keep you in my medical tent strapped to the chair to prevent further accidents"
You violently shake your head.
"I don't think there's a need for that"
"I'm not so sure. As a doctor I must do what's best for my patient"
"I'll be more careful," is the best you can offer, but it's enough to make his eyes fade back to cyan. You let out a breath quietly, hoping he wouldn't notice you held it - knowing, he likely did.
His hands are gentle as he lifts you up and carries you to a bench nearby. His body is warm and you can't help but lean into him.
"You will have to let go, sweetheart, I can't work on your wound if you cling to me like this," he whispers right into your ear.
"Oh, sorry," you reply sheepishly, letting go off him and stumbling over to the bench.
"Though I must admit it is rather enjoyable," he muses quietly under his breath. If you had somehow managed to contain your blushing before, this comment did it for you. You had to turn away and hope he didn't notice. His content chuckling indicated he probably did.
He settled you onto the bench, before kneeling infront of you. His massive hand easily picked up your thigh to inspect the damage to your knee closer. He hummed in disaprooval.
"This will sting just a little, doll," he muttered picking up a bottle of disinfectant, "but if you behave I might give you a treat after"
"I'm not so small that you need to bribe me with treats, you know?"
The Doctor hums in acknowledgement, "Whatever you say, sweetie"
"But... If you're offering so generously... Who am I to say no to candy?" you grin.
You don't hear him laugh, but from how his shoulders are shaking you can guess it.
"But perhaps the treat I'm offering you is not of that kind"
"O-oh?" You scramble for a more coherent and witty response, but before you can figure it out, he says:
"All done, sweetheart"
The Doctor was truly a master of keeping you distracted while he performed his medical procedures, be it disinfecting the wound or something more... gorey.
He tied the bandage around your knee into a tight bow, but did not hurry to move away. Instead, he remained crouched in front of you and caressed your knee through the bandage.
Finally, he bent down and placed a small kiss on the flesh above the bandaged wound, before straightening back up.
"You should not put stress on your leg," he utters in his deep voice before getting up to sit on the bench next to you.
"Doctor's orders?" You confirm with a grin.
"Doctor's orders," he repeats back at you, before picking you up and pulling you into his lap.
"Looks like I won, sweetheart"
"Oh, I guess... So what are you going to do to me?"
"I have a few tests I'd need a willing participant for. And you would be just the perfect subject"
"O-oh" you can't help but feel a surge of disappointment, but it is soon enough replaced by fear when you recall the kinds of tests the Doctor is inclined to conduct.
His head tilts to the side as he surveys and commits to memory every micro expression you make.
"But don't worry, it won't hurt. You might even come to enjoy it"
"And... What kind of tests will you conduct? I have a right to know what I am consenting to"
"Circulatory and cardiovascular systems' reactions to outward stimulants and manipulation of your immediate surroundings"
"So... How my blood and heart react when something... Happens"
He smiles, the way he always does when you discern something in his medical terminology.
"Precisely, my precious test subject," his thumb traces your jawline.
"My hypothesis is that when I talk to you like this," he leaned in intimately close, his breath fanning your ear, "your heartbeat speeds up. "
His fingers glide to your pulse point. And for a moment you both stay utterly still, just the sounds of your elevated heartbeat between the both of you.
He smiles in satisfaction.
"And if I kiss you, it might even reach a critical value"
You held your breath.
He did not close the mere millimetres separating you.
"Won't you test your hypothesis?"
"I'm afraid your little delicate human heart will not take such a strain. I prefer to keep such a willing test subject alive," his fingers still kept on your pulse point.
You frown.
"I'm resilient. Besides, hypotheses are meant to be tested. Is that not the foundation of science?"
He smiles.
"Very well, my dearest patient, your insistence is very amusing"
He tilts his mask to the side and leans in. Your breath catches in your throat. And for a second you're afraid his theory might come true.
But when his lips are on yours... Somehow all those thoughts melt into the background.
The kiss is slow
A comfortable warmth descends through you, piercing your very core, making you melt in his arms.
Having ascertained that your heart is not nearing it's critical condition, the Doctor smiled in satisfaction and deepened the kiss.
You hide your hands in the warmth under his massive cloak, tracing patterns against the muscles of his back.
When you finally separate for breath, the Doctor hums,
"What a perfect subject you are. Always so willing to test out my theories..."
You can't help but say
"Hm... Allow me to propose my own theory then"
"Of course, sweetie, I'd love to hear what your fascinating brain meant to be studied in a lab can come up with"
You giggle at his words.
"My theory, is that you're not really interested in studying me. You just use that as an excuse to get close to me. And to try to fluster me" you shoot him a challenging smirk.
"Unfortunately you are very mistaken, dear patient. I love studying your every single reaction." His fingers gently trace along your collarbone and down your arm, grabbing your wrist and positioning his fingers on your pulse there, "The way your heart rate spikes up. And how you breath hitches. How your brows furrow and your pupils dilate... But why would that exclude the possibility of me wanting to be close to you?"
"I suppose it doesn't..."
"After all, knowing all the ways I make your body react makes you taste so much sweeter"
He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his lips right above your pulse point. His claws run through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. You lean into his touch. Into him. You're surrounded, practically engulfed by his form.
And if you were honest, you wouldn't mind staying like this as long as the cover of the night allows you.
★★☆★★☆★★☆★★
A/n: aight... Three done... Yay, lmk how you like this one:)
You thought it was a game, especially because you found a promo ticket with a QR code in a random bag of chips. You scanned the code and got taken to a website. At first, you thought it was a scam, but it looked interesting so against your better judgment, you continued to poke around. It's some kind of tournament, and you can spend points betting on different monsters, and win points or lose points if your monster wins or not. The announcer in the strange, grainy videos calls them death matches. The videos are shot like security camera footage and that's weird, but before every match, you get the option to bet on a monster of your choosing. You keep choosing the cool, flaming rock creature.
You have no idea what kind of monster that is, but he fights like a well-balanced video game character, so you keep choosing him and racking up a ridiculous amount of points. After the last match, you get a pop-up that asks if you'd like to claim the winner. Thinking you're going to get a cool toy statue or something, you put your address in and log out. You have a terrible time at work the next day and completely forget about your prize, until you receive a huge box that evening. You open it and get a faceful of confetti that pops out of nowhere. Something steps out of the box, too big to have actually fit in there.
"Every goddamn time," a familiar-looking creature grumbles, rolling their shoulders. "Sorry about that, I'll vacuum it up for you."
You can only stand there holding a scrap of cardboard from the top of the box, staring at the rock creature. The flames are little more than a glow in the cracks of his body, but you can feel the heat coming off of him.
"Um," you finally find your voice. "You're a little too big to go on my shelf."
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theartofmadeline
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