Bad blood elder yautja who cares in his own way
Sort of yandere.
You hated him, doubted he could have any emotional feelings for anything or anyone.
It’d been a few months since you’ve been taken, maybe longer considering it’s hard to keep track of time in a different galaxy.
The elder had you near him at all times, perched on his lap, his arm, or just holding his hand. He never let you get away or leave his field of view.
It had only happened once, he had dragged you to a foreign planet (though they were all foreign) for a dinner party with another clan of bad bloods who desperately wanted to start a treaty.
Maybe you finally slipped away, the elder too caught up in conversation and his unnaturally warm hand finally slipped off your knee; giving you the opportunity.
Wondering the long hallways a Youngblood came out of nowhere. Clearly the younger yautja had too much to drink as he slurred and poked at your fleshy cheek, his claw sharp and leaving a slight scratch.
There was a distant clatter but you paid no mind, instead trying to now get away from the youngbloods iron grip he had on your wrist with the promise of a good lay though it was to himself he spoke.
You yelped slightly as he yanked you along just then his grip loosened greatly and he fell to the ground, green pooling at his head.
You didn’t get a chance to react before you were enveloped in a pair of arms, turned around to face the elder you slipped away from moments ago.
He never kneeled for anyone and yet he kneeled for you. It was a small noticeable thing. Kneeled to fix your lopsided necklace he gifted you. Kneeled to give you a skull of a beast that had taken him weeks to slay. Kneeled to check if your arm was okay after you fell on it and nearly gave him a heart attack. (He almost broke through the ships window when he seen it. Was the only and last time he let you go out by yourself.) Yet now once again he kneeled to you.
He didn’t say anything, he just pressed you close to him and rubbed your back as if you were the one needing comforting.
From that day forward he had changed.?
He no longer held your hand or arm as if you were gonna run but now as if you were gonna disappear.
His claws that used to always be sharp were now dull as if he’d filled them down.
At night, when he forced you to share a bed with him you’d never see him sleep. Before he’d just stare but now he always stare at you with a longing look he never used to do. It was as if he was slowly baring his heart to you.
One time you had woken up in the middle of the night randomly and as you glanced over he was finally asleep. His hand on your back still absentmindedly drew circles as if it had a mind of its own.
Maybe deep down, all this time he had cared for you.
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WIP just because
Ondolemar lovers? Got a teaser for the next chapter (14) of The Best-Laid Plans.
@skyrim-forever @thequeenofthewinter @mareenavee @dirty-bosmer @thechaosdragoness @gwilin-stay-winnin
The sun was down and the torches and braziers were lit all about town, sending up oily plumes of smoke into the misty mountain air. Glancing down toward the main street that ran parallel to the fast-running stream, she was surprised to see Erik taking a walk with the pretty young woman from the inn. She shrank back away from the railing before they could notice her, and hurried on, the amulet growing heavier in her pocket.
She asked a guard where to find the justiciar’s quarters; he asked with suspicion what her purpose was for seeing him.
“I’ve found something that I believe belongs to him.” The lie burned on her tongue. It was a half-truth, really; she had found something he’d asked for, it just didn’t belong to him.
“And you want to give it to him at this time of night?”
“It’s not that late; the inn is still full of customers.”
The guard, whose eyes she couldn’t see, seemed to be evaluating the veracity of her claim, regarding her silently for a moment that stretched out uncomfortably. Finally, he gave her directions and a warning to mind her figurative pints and quarts and stay away from the jarl’s quarters.
She had to deal with a couple more guards along the way, especially when she passed the Legate’s quarters. Of all the places she’d visited in Skyrim so far, Markarth was the most suspicious of outsiders. Even Windhelm didn’t have such an air of hidden secrets, and Windhelm had had a serial killer!
She knocked quietly on Ondolemar’s door and waited with pounding heart for him to open it. All evening she had only been focused on doing what he’d asked and having the chance to have him inside her again and get the satisfaction he had promised. Only now did she ask herself why she wanted it so badly that she was willing to incriminate an innocent man for it. Gods, was she really such a selfish bitch, thinking solely with her crotch? And what if he didn’t honor his word? What if he gave her more of the same torment he’d given her this afternoon? What if he was just taking advantage of her outrageous libido to make her a willing tool for his dirty Thalmor persecution of Talos-worshippers? What a fool she’d been… Now her heart was pounding for a different reason and she was disgusted with herself for what she’d done.
She turned to make a hasty retreat, but she’d only gotten a few steps when her shadow boldly appeared before her in the sudden spreading light from behind her as Ondolemar opened the door.
“Going somewhere, Dragonborn?” The gloating in his voice made her stomach clench.
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Hear me out. It’s just a dream, yeah?
You all know those dreams? The ones where you dream of the perfect life, perfect s/o; but their face is blurred out?
Imagine this happening with a yautja and you are the blurred face but he’s never met you? Idk just bear with me!
Maybe he wakes up every morning with that longing feeling, always reaching for the other side of the bed to be met with nothing.
Maybe he’s a bad blood? Outcast? It’s kind of hard for him to get a mate so in these dreams when you visit him and show him affection and tenderness he can’t help but want to hold on.
It’d be his son that would notice, questioning him on his dazed behavior; they’d have a close relationship so of course the elder would tell his son his problems. On how he is plagued by a lover who he’ll never meet.
His son a little perplexed its human but doesn’t say anything until he mentions it’s possible you are real.
He would take note of it, taking more frequent trips to Earth. All the while still having the dreams.
Maybe one day he does find you; catches a glance. Your face was always blurred out but he knew it was you. He recognized you. Your hands that had cupped his face, your legs that would run through foreign planet fields he’d take you to, and of course your beautiful hair; he’d always run his fingers through it, marvel at how soft it always was.
Now you were there, right in front of him. Only now he could see your face and it was just as he had imagined.
He’d stay with you a few days, seeing if you had a mate. If you hadn’t, he’d begin to terrorize you the way you did him. It’d start out as brief touches, maybe he felt of the shirt you wore or let his hand pass across your back.
Though as time passed his touches became more bold, his hand becoming more prominent on your back, you’d wake up to your hair braided at night, socks now on your cold feet.
He’d take care of you, in a silent way. In a way you had somewhat taken care of him, thought you hadn’t even known/did it.
You on the other hand were thinking you were crazy, itching your head everytime something on your person changed.
Eventually he’d just take you; at night he’d pick you up as if you were newly weds, his mandibles nudging at your cheek as he carried you off into the night.
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