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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Make It Even

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reaer Summary: Part 2 to Out Of Commission (but can be read separately) - After about a month of recovering from an injury, Reader can finally have sex again, and Spencer has an idea. Category: Smut 18+ (female masturbation, use of a vibrator, dirty talk - degradation with mentions of fingering, hair pulling, and rough sex) Warnings: Sex, language, brief mentions of injury (As always, if there’s anything that I missed, please let me know what I should include in warnings! I always want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3.3k

***EDITED: 7/25/2021***

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLSIT

***

Being seriously hurt by a serial killer was definitely not fun in any capacity, but the whole thing had been a major learning experience.

For one thing, Y/N learned that she hated hospital checkups. Once a week she had to go, to make sure everything was healing properly. Having Spencer there to make sure everything was going smoothly was extra comforting, though it didn't make constant doctor visits any less tedious.

Secondly, she hated menstruation. Which was a natural, obvious disdain that she'd harbored since the ripe age of eleven, but while being severely injured like she'd been recently, it sucked extra. Not only did she have to deal with menstrual pain and having to be careful not to rip or irritate her stitches every time she cleaned up, but she was also extra horny with no outlet for it.

That one week was probably the worst of it. Spencer wanted to stay with her of course, to bring her the extra comfort, but it was less comforting and more torturous unfortunately. She insisted that he stay at his apartment or at least sleep on the couch, because she didn't know how many more cold showers she could take.

Finally, she learned that her ability to marathon movies was probably one of her strongest assets. Not only did she manage to watch every single Lord of the Rings, Twilight, Harry Potter, Star Wars, and Fast and the Furious movie, but she stayed awake and alert through every one. She tried getting Spencer to pay attention to Twilight, but he did fall asleep, though somehow managed to make it through every Fast and the Furious film. She'd make him re-watch them in time, but right now she was just glad that she could get up and move around like a normal person again.

Speaking of, she was currently waiting for her boyfriend to come back from the store. She'd wanted to go with, but he insisted on getting some surprises, so he went alone.

Y/N was cleaning up her kitchen when the door opened and Spencer walked in, struggling to carry more than four large grocery bags.

"Geez, what did you get? I thought we were just making a pizza..." Y/N laughed, running over to help him carry some of the bags. He handed her the lighter ones, still taking caution of her injuries, and she smiled fondly for it.

"I know," he said, slightly out of breath from the walk. "And I got stuff to make pizza, but there were some other things I wanted to get you."

She was about to open one of the bags to help unload everything, but he stopped her. "No! Don't look at anything. Surprises, remember?"

With a sigh and a small laugh, Y/N stepped away from the bags as Spencer set down the ones he was carrying. "Fine. Where do you want me?"

"Bedroom. I'll come in when I'm done." He walked to her and gave her a big, deep kiss before practically pushing her to the bedroom. "Won't take long, promise."

As she heard him unload the bags in the kitchen through the closed door, Y/N wondered what he could possibly have gotten. Knowing Spencer, it could have been about a million different things. Since they'd started dating, he was always so creative and thoughtful with his 'surprises', and each one had been different every time. And since he knew her so well, probably more than she knew herself, she was certain she was going to love it.

That being said, it was taking way longer than she thought it would.

"Hey, you said it wasn't going to take long!" she called out, crossing her legs and swinging them off the bed after closing Twitter from her phone and setting it on the nightstand. "You didn't get lost in there, did you?"

"No!" Spencer called back. "Almost done!"

She smiled to herself, tapping her fingers against her knees and tilting her head to the side in wait.

About a minute passed when she heard him at the door. "Okay, close your eyes!"

She rolled them affectionately before doing so. "They're closed!"

As she heard the door open, she couldn't help the smile that adorned her face, only growing wider when she felt Spencer pepper sweet kisses along her cheeks before she felt him kneel in front of her on the floor. He took her knees and spread them apart, and she raised her eyebrows, eyes still closed. "What are you doing?"

"Getting in position. Open your eyes."

By the amused tone in his voice alone, Y/N thought she had a pretty good idea of what she might find when she regained sight. Sure enough, when she opened her eyes, she looked down and noticed Spencer kneeling on the floor, head tilted upward to look at her, his hands in his lap and his eyes searching hers with the most adoring gleam she'd ever seen.

She laughed, bringing her hands out to run through his hair. When they cradled his cheeks, he smiled, bringing his hands up from his lap and revealing... A vibrator. She'd never seen it before. He must have bought and sanitized it before coming in the room, which would be why it had taken so long.

"You.. You bought me a vibrator?"

"Mhm," he answered with the giddiest tone she'd ever heard from him. "I really appreciated what you did for me while you were... out of commission... a few weeks ago, so I wanted to return the favor. Kind of. I, uh... I have an idea..."

Y/N took the vibrator from him and turned it over in her hands as he explained himself.

"I know we could start having sex again, but I thought this would be a fun way to ease you into it, plus I get to make it even."

She looked down at him, amused with an eyebrow raised and a small smirk forming on her mouth. "You want to watch me fuck myself with a vibrator?"

Spencer nodded, placing his hands on her knees again. "And we don't even have to have sex afterwards if you don't want. I have extra clothes here, and I'm more than prepared to take a cold shower when you're done."

Laughing, she leaned down and kissed his forehead, right before leaning her own against it. "You're sure?"

"Mhm. Only if you want to, I mean, I thought it would be fun..."

Y/N pulled away and ran a hand through his hair, nodding. "It does sound fun. You gonna talk me through it?"

He nodded and leaned up on his knees a little to reach her lips, kissing her just as deeply as he had in the kitchen earlier. She kissed him back fervently, reveling in the feeling of his tongue against hers and the soft hums he let out whenever their lips slightly parted to kiss each other deeper.

Eventually she pushed his shoulders down and moved her head back, looking down at him with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth briefly before speaking. "Will you take my pants off for me, please?" she inquired sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

If she kept up this sweet act, this was going to be way harder for him than anticipated, and they both knew it. Regardless, he was more than happy to reach up and unbutton her jeans, looking up at her adoringly while he shimmied them down over her thighs and eventually her ankles.

The second he went back to his position on the floor, Y/N flipped the vibrator over in her hands. "What would you like me to do, baby?"

"Put your legs up on my shoulders?"

She draped her ankles over his shoulders and pulled him closer with them, a small smile forming as his eyes practically widened, being so close to her, where he hadn't been in so long. "Don't turn the vibrator on yet," he said softly, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. He turned his head a little and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her calf before he continued. "I want you to touch it to yourself, just lightly over your panties, okay?"

With a nod, Y/N leaned back on one arm and used the other to bring the toy to her clothed pussy, running it softly over herself as instructed. She sighed, biting her lip as she looked down at Spencer, who was mesmerized by her hand movements. She could feel herself getting visibly wetter as he watched, a soft whine escaping her throat before he looked up at her.

"You feeling it already, baby?" he murmured softly, bringing his arms up to wrap around the underside of her legs and resting his hands on the insides of her thighs. As his fingers drifted softly in lazy circles, she mimicked their movements with the vibrator on her clit, longing desperately for more friction.

"Please," she breathed, so lightly that she was unsure he'd even heard her, even as she looked him dead in the eye as she said it.

For a moment she thought about sliding the vibrator under the fabric anyway, taking the chance that he wouldn't do anything to chastise her for it. Thankfully it didn't have to go that far, because Spencer removed himself completely from her and stood up.

"Lay back against the headboard?" he asked more than demanded.

Y/N didn't even have to think, scooting back and into position. As she did so, he climbed on the bed himself and sat across from her, making himself as comfortable as he could be.

Probably because she was excited to start having sex again, but also because it was just fun to see her boyfriend's reactions to her boldness, she smirked a little, looking him straight in the eye as she slipped her panties off and threw them in his direction. They landed on his shoulder, and he didn't move them, his own giddy grin making an appearance. To give him more of a show, she ran her hands slowly up her legs, spreading them wider with each passing second until they were completely open, revealing everything to him.

The second Spencer's eyes glanced down, she started to move, using her middle finger to run through pussy. She continued this for almost a minute, her boyfriend completely focused on what she was doing, speechless, before almost jolting him with her words.

"You gonna help me out, Doc, or are you just gonna stare?"

He looked back up at her face, and she could see him visibly swallow, his enchantment with her completely endearing. Then he replied.

"God, you're beautiful..." The sweetness in his words, just barely laced with desire made her move a little faster, though not by much. He still seemed to notice, though, because he flashed a grin that disappeared as quickly as it came, right before shifting in his place and continuing with his words. "You have no idea how much I've missed seeing your pretty little pussy..."

She sighed, leaning her head back and circling her clit. She loved hearing him talk, about anything, really, but when he was like this? She couldn't get enough.

"So many nights this past month, it's taken so much out of me, resisting the urge to just sneak my hand up your shorts when we were in bed, watching movies together. To feel you squirm under my touch. I thought about how much I wanted to play with your pussy, sort of like you're doing now..."

Her fingers moved a little faster as she recalled a similar dream she'd had one of those nights. She'd been thinking about sex all day and ended up dreaming about just that—Spencer crawling over her and fingering her, bringing her to the edge over and over again until she finally woke up feeling sore. She'd been moving in her sleep, and it wasn't fun. At all.

But now she could move all she wanted. Listening to her boyfriend talk about doing to her exactly what she'd experienced and dreamed about many times before filled her with the most joy she'd felt in the longest month of her life.

So she reached for the vibrator that she'd set beside her, and replaced her fingers with it, opening her eyes to meet him. He watched her intently with his hands clenching the sheets beneath him. It made her smile, knowing he couldn't do anything about it, and that spurred her on. She hesitated to turn it on, wanting to wait until he started speaking again, maybe when he was in the middle of a sentence, to see if he'd pause or stumble over his words.

As she ran the toy along her clit, she tilted her head to the side and sighed. "Your fingers always feel so good inside me, baby," she said, slipping the vibrator lower and slowly plunging it inside of her. "They're so long and perfect. And you use them so well."

He exhaled, still completely entranced with everything she was saying and doing. Because just as long as she hadn't had any sexual stimulation, he hadn't seen her experience it either, and this was just as exhilarating for him as it was for her.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he asked softly, briefly meeting her eyes.

She laughed a little, giving him the most mischievous look before clicking the vibrator on and slowly moving it in and out of herself. "If you want to call it quits and just fuck me, all you have to do is say so... I don't mind, believe me..."

He genuinely looked like he was contemplating it before shaking his head softly, a hint of sadness flashing in his eyes. "No, I-I promised I'd make it even. I want to watch you."

With that sentiment, Y/N worked the vibrator a little faster, sighing out as she did so. "So... When you do finally fuck me, do you still want to take me from behind?"

"Mhm," Spencer sighed, shifting his position again. "You feel so good that way. So nice and tight. And it's even better when I have your hair in my fingers, hearing you moan for me while I tug on it."

As her one hand worked the vibrator inside and out of her, Y/N moved her other to circle her clit, both of them working together to build up the orgasm that was already starting to come to the surface. After all this time not having any sexual release, she knew this wouldn't take long, even if she tried to take it slow.

She moaned out softly like Spencer described, barely keeping her eyes open enough to see him grip the sheets tighter. His eyes were trained on her movements, barely blinking.

Since she was closer to orgasm than she'd been in months, she closed her eyes before speaking again, hoping that he'd continue talking and knowing that when he did it would finally give her the release she'd so desperately wanted to feel.

"Fuck, baby, yes... I love when you fuck me from behind and pull my hair. It makes me feel like such a bad girl..."

"Oh? So you'd rather I fuck you like a dirty whore than my girlfriend, is that it?"

Her words seemed to have flipped a switch in him, because every one of his was dripping with a deep seduction she'd only ever heard from him a few times. It sent a jolt of electricity through her body as her hands picked up speed, and she brought herself closer to the edge.

"Ohhh, yes," she sighed, her eyes squeezing shut harder as she felt that telltale tension in her lower stomach. She was going to cum any second now. "Please, baby, I want it so bad..."

He spoke loud and clear, knowing exactly what would get her there. "Aw, my poor little slut hasn't been fucked in so long she's desperate to be degraded? Is that what you want? You wanna be fucked so dumb you can't even think?"

Every sensation she was feeling right now really did send her into a state of speechlessness. It was truly magical the way Spencer knew how to control her like that. He knew every trick in the book, every single thing that would make her numb in the best ways possible, and it never got old. All she could manage were sharp breaths and the occasional whimper as she started to experience the first orgasm she'd had in just over a month.

All it took was one word. One demand. One forceful step on the gas pedal that sent her flying off the cliff and into the pool of pleasure below.

"Come."

With a long, drawn-out moan, Y/N held the vibrator as far inside her as she could take it, her other hand working her clit through one of the most blinding orgasms she'd ever experienced by herself. Her head stayed planted firmly against the headboard as her back arched and her toes curled, every muscle in her body tensing. Her vision went white, sparkling like tv static behind closed eyelids as she lit up with pleasure. God, she missed that feeling. Everything was so heavy and light at the same time, even as she came down, her back slumping against the headboard once again and her eyes fluttering open.

Spencer looked at her like she was the only thing he'd ever known, ever had the pleasure to see with his own two eyes.

Seeing how obvious it was that he was trying very hard not to do anything about his own arousal, Y/N clicked the vibrator off and slid it out of herself, smiling weakly at him and trying to catch her breath. "You want a taste?"

She'd never seen him move faster in her life. She laughed softly as he climbed over to her and brought the toy to his lips, looking her deep in the eyes as he took it in his mouth and sucked on it. The pure guttural groan that left his throat sent a chill down her spine, made even more profound when his hand came up to run his fingers through her pussy softly. She jolted forward at the contact, sending the vibrator further into his mouth, to which he groaned again and fluttered his eyes closed.

His fingers gathered more of her arousal as he pulled off the vibrator and opened his eyes again, sitting back just a little. He then brought his fingers away and to his lips, coating them in her arousal like lip balm. He sucked them off quickly before climbing forward and kissing her on the mouth.

Tasting herself on him was almost as intoxicating as the orgasm itself, Y/N leaning into him and bringing her hands up to comb through his hair after tossing the vibrator to the side. The two of them stayed like that for a long time, making out with each other before they eventually came up for air.

Spencer smiled, leaning his forehead against hers. "You're fucking incredible, you know that?"

She laughed, brushing her nose against his. "You're the one who bought me a vibrator, And helped me get through this injury... I love you, you know."

He sighed into her, pressing another small, sweet kiss to her lips before shifting seemingly rather uncomfortably. "I love you, too. But as much as I love you, I really need to take that cold shower now."

"I'll get our pizza started while you do that," Y/N said with a laugh. "And then, maybe I can finally convince you to watch Twilight with me without falling asleep? At least the first movie?"

Spencer got off the bed and kissed the top of her head with the most doting smile. "Anything you want."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer read smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x y/n smut #criminal minds fanfiction

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ejlovespie · 3 years

Text

You Give Me Strength

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: EJ (@ejlovespie)

Summary: A hunt gone wrong puts Dean and the reader in danger. When the reader gets severely injured, Dean is there to help her recover. (angst & fluff)

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1860

Warnings: Angst/Cursing/Torture/Near Death Experience

Reader’s Request: Can I pleaaase request a dean x reader angst/fluff/near death one shot where the reader and dean gets captured by vampires or demons during a hunt gone wrong and the reader keeps talking back to them to piss them off so she can distract them from hurting dean which results in her getting beaten up in front of him and severely injured while he gets all protective and worried.

A/N: This was my first reader’s request and I am stoked about it! Thank you Anon! This was so much fun to write so I hope you like it! Any feedback is greatly appreciated and any mistakes are mine. Thank you for reading! :)

As far as you could tell, you were in the basement of an abandoned building. The smell of mildew filled your nose and occasionally you would see something skitter across the grimy floor. Gross. About a yard away, there was a crack in the ceiling that was slowly dripping water into a little puddle. The drip drip sound was driving you crazy so you re-directed your attention to the room around you. The only light came from a few candles on a table where a knife and a bowl sat. You and Dean were both handcuffed to beams in the middle of the room, far enough a part where you couldn’t reach each other. You were also too far away from the table or anything else that you could grab to use as a weapon. You sighed. This was supposed to be a routine hunt; nothing that you and Dean couldn’t handle. Unfortunately, the demons you had been tracking had got the drop on you. One minute you were both walking down the street and the next, you felt a pinch on your neck and you had lost consciousness within minutes.

Dean still hadn’t woken from being drugged. You had called his name a few times, trying to wake him but he didn’t stir, just continued to breathe in and out in a steady rhythm. You sat there for what felt like hours before the sound of a door slamming behind you made you jump. You heard footsteps as someone walked into the room and you tried squinting into the dark to see. After a moment, a man walked over to Dean’s slumped form. You yelled at him when his foot came out and he kicked Dean’s leg. Ignoring you, he bent over and stuck a needle into Dean’s neck. You cursed and yelled again but were cut off when Dean suddenly startled awake. He sat up in a panic, his eyes wild and angry, and growled when he saw you. The man had walked over to the table in the center of the room and was picking up the knife. Shit. You could his eyes now; they were pitch black. Demon. You tugged at your handcuffs again, trying to figure out a way out of this situation.

The demon noticed you struggling and laughed as he walked over to Dean, who was glaring at him. His black eyes turned to you and he smiled before he took the knife and slowly started to dig it into Dean’s collarbone. You screamed as Dean groaned in pain and the demon laughed. In this situation, you had no way to help Dean except to distract the threat. You had to make him focus on you instead. You didn’t think before you started cursing and yelling at him, trying to goad him into walking away from Dean.

“Hey! Leave him alone you black eyed bastard!”

The demon ignored you and you started to panic when he brought the knife up to Dean’s face. You kept yelling, more desperate now.

“Why don’t you bring that over here bitch! Better yet, how about you let me out of these cuffs so I can kick your ass?”

The demon straightened and turned to face you, a huge, evil smile on his face. He sauntered toward you as Dean hollered at him to leave you alone. Hearing the worry in Dean’s voice, you sent him an apology in your mind. You gritted your teeth and braced yourself when the demon crouched in front of you. You watched as he blinked and blue eyes looked you over. You weren’t expecting the soft touch of his hand on your cheek. You flinched and turned your head away from him as he laughed again.

“Well, aren’t you a feisty thing. You can’t be patient and wait your turn? That’s fine. I will just torture you and let your boytoy over there watch.”

You heard Dean yelling again as the demon smiled and brought the hand on your cheek down to your chin. His thumb rubbed at your dry lips for a moment before he leaned toward you, close enough to kiss you. You reacted. In a sharp movement, you crashed your forehead to his, and kicked out with your legs. You were hoping he would drop the knife and you could grab it or kick it to Dean somehow but the demon just reared back and slapped you hard across the face. Your cheek burned and you were seeing stars but a laugh tore from your throat. The surprised look on his face made you laugh even harder. You stopped laughing when the demon’s eyes turned black and fury contorted his face. He snarled at you,

“You’re going to pay for that you little bitch.”

In a rage, the demon slapped you across the face again and then stood and kicked you hard in the ribs. You cried out in pain as he continued to kick you three more times. On the third blow you felt a rib crack. You could hear Dean screaming and fighting against his restraints. You also heard the drip drip, dripping from the ceiling. You tried to keep your breathing even and deep but you were struggling to breathe through the pain from your rib. The demon crouched back down at eye level with you. Looking back at him, you smiled and taunted him further.

"You hit like a bitch."

Once again, the demon slapped you across the face so hard that your lip split. You could feel the blood trickle down your chin. The demon pulled the knife out and held it in front of you to see. With a taunting expression he said,

"You should have kept your mouth shut. Now, I'm going to have fun carving you up real slow before I cut your throat and bleed you like a pig."

Drip Drip

He plunged the knife into your leg and you screamed in pain. With a twisted smile, the demon pulled the blade out of your leg, causing you to scream again. He repeated the move with your other leg. The pain was making you dizzy and you tried to focus and stay conscious. You heard Dean now begging the demon to leave you alone and it broke your heart to hear it. Be strong Dean, you thought to yourself.

Drip

Looking down, you saw blood everywhere but it didn't look like the demon had severed an artery. You gritted your teeth and focused on his face, internally chanting to yourself to not pass out. He smiled at you again before bringing the knife close to your throat. The knife tip touched your skin and the demon made a shallow cut across it. You weren't sure if it was the blood loss or if you were going into shock but you didn't feel pain. You just felt the blood running down your neck and over your chest. You heard a loud crash behind you accompanied by a new voice. Sam? Your vision was starting to blur, blackness creeping in the corners of your vision. You tried to turn your head, to see what was happening but you couldn’t focus anymore. You heard gunshots and the sounds of a fight going on behind you when suddenly everything was quiet and Dean was by your side. He was taking your handcuffs off and telling you to hold on, to stay with him. He was gingerly lifting you into his arms. You tried to stay awake; to tell Dean that you were sorry but darkness pulled you under.

When you woke, you were lying in a hospital bed. Your head was fuzzy and every part of your body felt numb. You squinted at the window where bright sunlight shone through. Dean was sitting there under the window, sleeping with his head on his arms. His large, calloused hand resting on yours on the bed. You weren’t sure how long you lay there, watching him sleep, but eventually you joined him, drifting off peacefully.

You were only in the hospital for a few days. Although you had lost a lot of blood, you didn’t have any permanent damage. You had a cracked rib, possible nerve damage in your legs, and some scarring on your throat. The doctor said you were lucky; you could have bled out and died if you hadn’t made it to the hospital as fast as you did. You were finally home, back in the bunker, and lying in your own bed. Dean had been mad for the first few days, telling you off for what you did and threatening you if you ever pulled a stunt like that again. You had just smiled sweetly and batting your eyes said,

“I couldn’t let him touch your pretty face Dean. That would be a crime against humanity and women everywhere would have mourned the loss.”

Neither he nor Sam found that as funny as you did. Regardless, Dean’s anger had faded and now he was constantly fussing over you. He hadn’t left your side since the hospital. He had carried you, helped you bathe, wrapped your ribs, and changed your bandages on your legs and neck. He sat with you in bed all day, everyday, watching movies, reading, and playing cards. He was so focused on you and your comfort that you had started to worry about him. You told him you would be fine on your own but Dean had refused to leave; he insisted on taking care of you. It was sweet. This big man, a badass hunter, being so gentle with you made your insides all warm and gooey.

You were both lying in bed now and the wounds on your legs itched like crazy. In the healing process they had started to scab over and no lotion or creams helped. Scratching at your bandages, Dean scolded you before gently grabbing your wrists to keep you from scratching. You groaned in response and he chuckled. Your wrists were still in his hands and he brought them to his lips. Placing kisses on your knuckles, he said,

“You know you can’t scratch at them baby...Maybe I could distract you though.”

You giggled when he leaned into your neck and kissed you, the contrast of his scruffy face and soft lips giving you goosebumps. Dean kissed your neck before moving on to kiss your chin and then placed a longer, warm kiss on your lips. Kissing him back, you sighed feeling happy and content. After a few minutes, he pulled away from you and grabbed your hand. With a serious look, he turned to face you and asked,

“Promise me you won't do that again. Never put yourself in harm's way to protect me. I...I can’t lose you Y/N. I love you.”

His words tugged at your heart but you argued, “I can’t promise that Dean. I will always fight for you. The way I feel..I don’t know. It’s like you give me strength. I would do anything to protect you.”

Dean placed a soft kiss on your temple before murmuring, “Then I will just have to keep you here where we’re both safe.”

Dean Tags:

@akshi8278

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #supernatural #supernatural angst #supernatural fluff #spn #spn fanfiction #spn requests #spn angst #spn fluff

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miracleonice87 · 3 years

Note

69 with Tyler

“So… what are your plans for New Year’s?” ✨with Tyler Seguin, our mutual love

quick note: I took this in a way different direction than I’d originally planned. I blame my withdrawals from hockey for my need to write about the actual game in a holiday piece. (remember when we had NHL hockey around the holidays? le sigh.) also Jamie and Katie are still together in this one, as they always are in my head, except when I’m writing about him as the MC. she’s my idol — sue me.

quick warnings: hockey injury involving blood, swearing

_____

No matter how many times it happened, you still felt ill each time. You’d never get used to seeing the love of your life get injured before your very eyes.

The same sensations of the blood draining from your face, your pulse becoming unsteady, bile rising in your throat. They happened every time.

The next thing you felt after the initial physical reaction was Meg Dowling’s hand gathering your hair at the nape of your neck, stroking it slowly in an attempt to soothe you from the seat behind yours. Katie, ever by your side during Stars games — your left side, per the request of both your boyfriends, after they found out that she had been on your left during most of their best games — immediately took your hand in hers. You swore that Andrea Bishop must have jumped across the bar between where she stood and the seats at the front of the suite where you were, as you felt her hands come to squeeze your shoulders, the only one speaking around you as she coached, “Baby, breathe. He’s okay. He’s gonna be okay.”

You finally found your voice when you saw Tyler move his shoulders after what felt like an eternity, though he was still splayed on the ice after a nasty late hit, with Jamie knelt beside him, Klinger hunched overtop. Rads, Esa, and Bish stood near the goal, wordless. The men at the bench all stood, waiting. Bones looked like he could either start screaming or pass out on the spot. The entire arena was hushed.

“He’s moving,” you squeaked shakily, the women surrounding you in the suite breathing a collective sigh.

He was moving, yes, but even from high above the ice, you could still see that his eyes were squinted, his hips and legs moving slowly from side to side as he writhed in pain. Terrified, you watched the trainer carefully extricate the helmet from Tyler’s head, and nausea struck when you noticed a significant pool of blood pouring from... where? Where? Where was it coming from? His nose? Ear? Mouth?

“Oh, god, I’m gonna be sick,” you moaned then, pressing a clammy hand to your forehead. Andrea cooed, “Okay, okay. Put your head between your knees. Just breathe — in through your nose.”

Katie rubbed your back as you followed your other friend’s instructions, the girls exchanging frightened looks once your eyes were no longer focused on them, nor on the scene below.

Once you felt that the imminent wave of sickness had passed, you slowly sat up once more, breathing through pursed lips. Upon seeing that Tyler was still lying on his back, the white towel pressed to his face already stained with blood, you turned helplessly to Katie, knowing she would be able to tell what you were thinking.

“You wanna go?” she asked, arranging your hair behind your shoulder. You offered a slight nod. “Okay, let’s go,” she agreed, standing with you as Meg hung your crossbody from your arm.

Alandra Dickinson, your best friend within the group besides Katie, met you at the top of the suite stairs, pressed a kiss to your cheek, and forced a cold bottle of water into your hand.

“Drink that,” she ordered as she pointed to the beverage. “Small sips.” She then pulled you in for a tight, brief hug, and urged you along, Sarah Pavelski squeezing your trembling hand with a sympathetic expression as you reached the door of the box.

As you turned the corner and approached the private elevator, the mechanical doors opened to reveal John, your favorite arena security guard.

He gave you a tight-lipped smile, one that didn’t meet his joyful eyes the way it normally did, and he tilted his head to the side, inviting you to join him in the elevator.

“I figured I might meet you here. Come on,” he spoke. You sighed with a thankful half-smile and, with Katie right on your heels, stepped into the elevator.

“Just heard on my radio that they got him up,” John told you quietly when the doors shut. “Needed help, but no stretcher.”

You nodded silently, your hands gripping the water like a vice.

“This was supposed to be a fun game,” you finally said in a strangled murmur. “New Year’s Eve, hang in the box, all go out after.”

Katie placed a tender hand to your upper arm, covered with the denim jacket, yours embroidered with “Seguin 91,” that each of the WAGs had worn tonight to represent their significant other.

“I know, babe,” Katie concurred softly. “It sucks.”

You glanced at her anxiously as the doors opened to the tunnels. John led the way, the other security staff along the corridor nodding knowingly as you and Katie trailed behind him.

Finally, you reached the medical room, where John peeked into the window. One of the medical staff spotted him and nodded, so John opened the door a crack.

“I’ve got Mr. Seguin’s better half here,” John announced. You heard a worried “ah, fuck,” leave Tyler’s lips, which actually left you feeling relieved. “Think she could come in?” John asked. The team doctor, without taking his eyes from Tyler, encouraged, “Yep, send her in.”

You whispered a “thank you” to both Katie and John as you rushed past them into the room. The first thing you saw was Tyler’s arm outstretched from where he sat propped against the exam table, his back to you.

“I’m okay,” he insisted the moment he heard your footsteps.

A choked exhale fell from your mouth, and you closed both your hands tightly around Tyler’s, careful not to jostle him as the doctor flashed a pen light at his eyes, testing his pupillary reaction, while an assistant held a fresh towel to the right side of his face. You noticed the first towel, now nearly soaked in red, lying on the counter, tossed aside. You shifted your eyes away from it and toward your boyfriend, who, despite his condition, currently had a smirk on his pink lips.

You couldn’t help but smile yourself. “What in god’s name are you smirking about, Seguin?” you asked incredulously.

“Were you sitting on Katie’s left side instead of right today?” Tyler asked hoarsely, the only brow that was visible quirking upward. “Just wondering if I have you to thank for this too or just Neal.”

You sighed, ghosting your hand along the bare skin of his forearm, and your eyes flickered to Katie, a smile slowly spreading across her face from where she stood in the doorway.

“Just Nealer, baby,” you informed him as you turned your attention back toward him, the doctor turning to prepare what looked like a suture kit. “Katie and I know better than to pull that shit.”

Tyler smiled, turning his head to face you as the medical assistant stepped away to help the doctor get prepped. Only then did you lay eyes on the enormous gash on Tyler’s upper cheek, dangerously close to his eye.

Tyler’s expression shifted as he watched you assessing the damage.

“What... is it bad?” he asked innocently.

“What tipped you off?” the assistant joked, glancing at the two of you briefly.

You tried to shake yourself out of it, but struggled to find your words.

“What, am I that ugly?” Tyler joked, attempting to lighten your mood. You opened your dry mouth, shaking your head.

“Uh, no, no,” you replied. “It’s just, um, it looks... um...”

“It’s big,” the doctor supplied as you trailed off. “It’s significant, Tyler. We’re gonna stitch you up, but we’re gonna have to bring in the optometrist to check you out before you leave. He should be here very soon. I don’t think it will affect your vision long-term, but we just want to be sure. And, to no one’s surprise, you do have a concussion as well.”

Tyler rested his head against the cushion behind him, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Great,” he grumbled.

“Hey,” you warned. “None of that. You’re lucky it wasn’t any worse. It looked... it looked like it would be.”

As the doctor wheeled his stool back in front of the table, Tyler gave you a pained look. “I’m sorry I scared you, baby,” he told you softly, lifting your hand to his lips.

You shook your head, pushing back some of his chestnut brown curls from the unmarred side of his face to brush a kiss across his temple.

“Don’t be sorry,” you said. “Wasn’t your fault. It was that little shit James Neal.”

Chuckles erupted from everyone in the room, and the doctor shook his head in amusement as he approached Tyler with a syringe.

“Alright, 91,” he began as he uncapped the large needle, making you feel woozy all over again. “You know the drill. Gonna numb you now. This is gonna hurt.”

Tyler took a breath and you felt his grip on your hand tighten as the doctor inserted the needle. You focused on Tyler’s wincing eyes instead of the object being poked into his face. He hissed and swore, then, a grimace still on his face, quipped, “So... what’s everybody doing for New Year’s?”

You snickered sadly at his attempt to deflect, hanging your shaking head, and squeezed his hand a couple of times. He gave you his best smile.

“I’ll tell you what you’re not gonna be doing is going out gallivanting tonight,” the doctor told him as he finished the injection. “So it looks like your New Year’s plans just got a lot less exciting.”

Tyler scoffed. “C’mon, doc,” he tried to reason. “Do you see this girl standing beside me? She’s an absolute smokeshow, and I know she’s got some pretty dress picked out for tonight, and you’re telling me I can’t take her out?” he argued, motioning toward you dramatically.

You felt yourself blush, and the doctor threw you an understanding smirk.

“Unfortunately, Tyler, yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you,” he said. “You’ve still got a long season ahead of you, and if you want to recover quickly, you need to go home, lay low, and get as much rest as possible. Now, hold still.”

Tyler huffed as the doctor began suturing his cheek, and you cupped the near side of his neck soothingly. He shifted his eyes toward you and gave you an appreciative, if disappointed, smile.

“So much for those big, fancy New Year’s Eve plans with everyone,” he muttered as he laced his fingers with yours. “I’m sorry, love.”

“Whaddya mean?” you teased. “I’m gonna have a great New Year’s. My boyfriend and I are gonna have a nice, quiet, relaxing evening by the fire with the dogs. After he gets his face sewn back together.”

Tyler breathed a laugh, bringing your hand close to his chest. “Well, the fire part sounds like fun, at least.”

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wanderingchocolateeclair · 3 years

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For the asks, 11, 18, 19 for Edgeshot and the soggy noodle (Jeanist) please?

Oohhhh, thank you for sending one in!! I actually did number 11 for these two way back when I reblogged this for the first time in this post (one of your asks actually aha) but I’m going to write out some more/re-write what I’ve written slightly different most probably lmao

Warning: will be mentions of bad coping mechanisms, depression, death and self destructive tendencies and thoughts. Please read with caution. I’ve put number 19 under the cut for this reason.

11. Bad or petty habits.

Okay well, they’re both incredibly bad at dealing with stress and tend to have a habit of overworking themselves.

Jeans gets incredibly fidgety when nervous, however always tends to pick and scratch at his hands. So he’ll always have something with him that he can fiddle with, such as a ring or charm or just the hem of his clothes.

He also is really bad at taking care of himself for some reason, mainly with things like injuries and stuff like that, but still.

Also. Petty habits? His puns. Please, it’s his puns he just cannot stop himself.

Shinya overworks himself, as said earlier, but it just has to be emphasised.

Sometimes (very rarely) he can tend to make a snarky remark relating to someone complaining about their family, with a response along the lines of “oh yeah same” or “ahaha yeah, it’s really annoying huh?” or literally just hitting them with the “yeah, they’re dead.”

He mostly does it to villains as a way to make them actually hesitate, when they say stuff like “oh I’ll kill your friends and family blah blah” he simply answers with a “too late” and he hates how spontaneous he says it.

Obviously, this doesn’t happen often because, well it’s kinda obvious and he has respect towards his family, but some days he just cannot help himself, he considers it a very bad habit.

18. Things they’ll never admit.

That they are tired. Or stressed. Or overworked. Or mildly injured.

They are so stubborn and they just will not admit it.

Also, when one is mad at the other, they don’t like admitting when there is something that they’re mad/wrong about.

They are just incredibly stubborn and will wait for ages. And eventually they feel bad but are still stubborn so don’t want to admit that they want to speak to the other.

Not that they need to admit when one of them feels lonely or sorry or just really bad about something when they aren’t speaking. Because it’s definitely plastered all over their body language.

(To those who don’t want to read number 19 because it does have some pretty heavy angsty stuff, please feel free to leave it here ❤️)

19. People they’ve hurt or indirectly killed, and how it affected them. (Read carefully, contains some sensitive stuff as specified in my warning ^^)

Okay, like I said, these are pretty heavy and contain quite sensitive stuff so please be careful. I’ve wanted to talk about these particular headcanons for a while, but didn’t know how to.

I have a headcanon that Tsunagu has killed someone in the past, and possibly more than just one person. It was all accidental, well, mostly.

When he was younger, about 12, I can’t remember what age I said in ‘When it Rains...’ but he was young. He couldn’t control his quirk and his quirk often would be way too powerful for him and his body to handle.

He found himself rushing to help some kids from a villain but his quirk ended up going haywire and he basically strangled the villain to death, whilst doing serious damage to himself and hurting his sister by doing so. He was just so angry and out of control, his mind was screaming at him.

This spirals him into a very very dark mindset, and he starts to blame himself for everything. The kids at school knew what happened and called him a “freak” and he had no friends.

As time went on, he often got told that “his quirk wasn’t suited for being a hero” and taunted that he should just stick to “making dresses and playing hairdressers” which had a really big effect on the way he saw himself.

He started to agree with them and when they told him that “you can’t be a hero now, you killed someone! Better to just start fresh, yeah?”...he also agreed...and well, I’m sure you can imagine what that leads him to, since I’d rather not go into the details of that too much at the moment...

His sister has to feel all of this pain that he goes through, and this makes him feel even worse.

He manages to get through this with the help of his sister, and a couple of friends that stuck with him throughout it all. And he goes to UA with his mind still clouded with doubts.

He knows he’s weak, he’s thin and not of a suitable fighting form. His quirk is too powerful for him to control and also not suitable for being a hero, but with the help of others and teachers and family he manages to pull through.

As he becomes a hero, he starts to feel better and more proud of himself, however there is still that little comment at the back of his mind telling him that he is weak.

Everytime he fails to rescue someone, or accidentally injured or goes too far with capturing a villain, it takes a huge toll on his self confidence and he starts spiralling again. Even if it wasn’t his fault he will still take the blame. It all brings him back to that moment when he was 12.

This often leads him to overworking himself to the point of passing out or collapsing, and often one of his friends or interns will have to usher him to somewhere he can recover. He lets his health deteriorate and lets any injuries go untreated.

He is the type of person to carry every failure, tiny mishap and any failed missions, completely on his own back. He converts it all to regret and this makes him feel weak, stupid and helpless. He could be on the other side of town and hear of a villain attack that got someone injured and he’d blame it on himself. These thoughts get carried with him until he finally just has to break down and let it all out.

This usually happens at home, where it’s obvious to anyone that he needs to talk about it, even if he doesn��t want to. Or at their usual top 5 meet ups, because they understand and they all listen to him and comfort him beca they know how much it affects him.

Often, in these mindsets, he will end up over using his quirk and injuring himself with his recklessness, however....this time it’s quite deliberate...he just lets it happen.

This carries on until he’s quite a bit older, and even then he still gets moments where his mind starts to slip.

When he meets Shinya, it helps a lot with his mental health, due to them having so much in common (and just being a couple of generally traumatised and depressed heroes who can barely look after themselves properly). They help each other get through the hardest parts and they understand when one feels the way they do.

(I’ve got many other little things that relate to this rather depressing headcanon, but it’s a heavy subject so I won’t write them out unless someone asks and actually would like me to, just for me to make sure you guys are comfortable and okay)

—————got to switch to Shinya now aha—————————

Okay so we have his backstory (which I am still working up the motivation to finish the whole thing)

Shinya ends up killing a large group of the villains that ambushed his village. He didn’t know how it happened, how he did it, or anything like that. But in a moment of rage and adrenaline and pure unbridled emotion, he shot forwards and killed them instantly, brutally.

In the moment he didn’t care. He was scared and had just seen his family and friends die in front of him.

However, once he learnt exactly what he’d done, and how severe it actually was, that’s when he started to feel the regrets.

At first it was not much, but as he started to try to live a normal life again and interact with others, that’s when it became an issue.

He noticed how others glared at him. He noticed the fear in the other people’s faces as they walked past him. The looks on their faces as they acknowledged the broken, empty face of this child and how scared they were of his past.

Slowly this all made him very self conscious and worried about how others saw him. He started to feel more doubtful and less trusting than he was, even with barely any trust left in him.

He trained and trained, overworking himself and using his quirk way too much. This allowed him to gain experience, yes, but it also drained him of having any sense of what a childhood should be - draining his memory of living a normal life.

People were always intimidated by him, and over the years he got used to it, but there are always times where he felt that no one would see him how he really was. Just a lonely person, robbed of a happy childhood and innocence and someone who can’t find it in him to trust anyone ever again. The only person who would understand was his sister, since she wen through the exact same experience and was with him through it all.

When he meets Tsunagu, he finds himself starting to trust again, and found that he was one of the only people that he felt safe with.

Then he started meeting other pro heroes, some with tough backstories themselves, and it just made him feel less alone.

Of course, there will be days where his past haunts him, and he feels the blood of all the lives he’s taken and failed to save on his hands and it terrifies him. It drags him down. These days he ends up shutting himself away.

He doesn’t take care of himself properly and ends up collapsing and becoming ill and rundown.

However, these moments happen. And being with those who he finally trusts and those who are there to help him feel safe...that’s what allows him to recover

That’s what allows them both to feel human once again, despite their pasts and doubts. Despite their flaws and failures. They seek happiness in each other and they find safety in their friends...and that’s what keeps them going.

Thank you for asking! Sorry for how morbid that end one was, but it really is one of my most prominent headcanons for these two, especially poor jeans, and I actually kinda feel a little better to have you guys know it now, so that when I sort of reference it in my writing, you know what I’m going on about.

Please send some in guys, I would love to give you some headcanons on whatever character you’d like to send in! Love you ❤️ This is the post for the questions!! I’m going to bed for now, but please feel free to send some in for me to answer tomorrow, I’ll get to them as soon as I can!!

#eclair responds?#eclair rambles a bit :)#bnha #edgeshot #best jeanist #hakamada tsunagu #kamihara shinya #edgejeanist #ajsjsd soggy noodle #yes.#yes he is #my headcanons #thankssss #I love doing these #send them in guys!#I’d love to give you some of these headcanons!#for any character!#could be someone that regularly gets posted about on my blog #or someone I’ve never even spoken about befor #just need to give you guys warnin #tw depression #tw self deprecation #tw death #tw self destructive behavior #hmm #sorry it’s quite sad and proper angst there #a bit heavy but #these are some of my headcanons that I haven’t really had the opportunity to talk about before #I know I put Shinya through a lot with his backstory and everything but Tsunagu’s my favourite character and I think it shows through how #much I put him through and well. let’s just say that he gets the majority of my seppressing headcanons because of that...sorry hon

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

Note

Hello! I was reading the « fic rec » question and i would be reeeeaaaallly glad to have a look at what you liked! Anything Anakin-related, and preferably AU or fix it (the nile ain’t just a river yada yada...) Thaaaaaanks

Anakin fix-its? You’ve come to the right place. These are all the stories in my bookmarks tagged as “fix it”! There are more but I do not have the patience to search for all of them rn. Not all of these are as Jedi positive as I like my fanfic, but they’re all 10/10 reads regardless.

Title: The Giver Summary: Anakin had pretty much adjusted to life at the Jedi temple. He went to class, he trained with his master, and he had begun to have strange dreams. A friendly figure would meet him at night when he closed his eyes and went to sleep. As they build up their friendship, Anakin begins to slowly confide in them, telling him about his worries, hopes, and dreams. They offer guidance and wisdom, watching Anakin grow to be a Jedi Knight, and trying to figure out where everything went wrong. Sometimes, the answers that you're looking for aren't ahead of you, they're behind. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/22790647

Title: If you could love the flame Summary: And Anakin knows suddenly and irrevocably that they will always be this: his two royals, his two diplomats, his two myths come to life Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100827

Title: Sabbatical Summary: Anakin decides to leave the Jedi as a child, and Obi-Wan goes with him. When Palpatine sends Dooku to find them, things don't go as planned. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/22801789

Title: where the light won’t find you Summary: Or maybe Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka do turn to the Dark Side after Mortis. And maybe they accidentally save the galaxy anyways? (But that doesn't mean they still don't cause a headache for the rest of the galaxy.) Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24460300

Title: Family is more than Blood Summary:Two souls go into a sandstorm to change their fates. They find each other instead.Or the slightly cracky AU where a bounty hunter is the one that gives the Chosen One a proper family. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/24469039

Title: Twin Sons Summary: “He…” Anakin took a breath, trying to force his heart to stop hammering into his ribs, and he looked back at the man kneeling behind him, trying to apologize with his eyes, “he’s like me, sir. He’s like me, he’s a slave! His Master made him do this, his Master caused him…don’t hurt him. Not when we have him here, not when…not when we can free him.” - On Slavery, Freedom, and bringing Balance to the Force. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449365

Title: Aay’han Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi sees what the Jedi Temple is doing to his Padawan, and he acts.This affects the galaxy in ways he never could have imagined. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280987

Title: if only i knew Summary:Newly knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi and his padawan, Anakin Skywalker, have been sent to Ryloth on a simple diplomatic envoy. While there, an unsettling incident causes Obi-Wan to look at Anakin in a new light and re-evaluate...everything.The Galaxy will never be the same.aka: "come for the obikin, stay for the tzai and deep emotional discussions that dismantle every single misunderstanding in the prequels." Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/24353887

Title: Ib'tuur Jatne Tuur Ash'ad Kyr'amur Summary: No one knows what the Council is hiding, but the effects ripple throughout the galaxy. Anakin knows he is loved. Former slaves are freed. A long-lost Master and his Padawan are returned to the Temple. No one understands how Obi-Wan Kenobi does these things, but they are grateful for it anyway. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/23581780

Coruscanti Regency The thing is, when Anakin figures it out, is that it all obviously has been there, if he’d only cared to look for it.And, admittedly, he is angry. Mostly at himself, which isn’t something that happens very often, so it’s an especially harrowing realization.All these years, he thinks, I’ve been so blind. I was so busy ignoring everything I didn’t want to think about and blaming everyone else for things not under their control that I didn’t stop to look at the bigger picture.He sighs and leans back in his chair to gaze at the ceiling.If only, he laments, true remorse coloring his thoughts, I had started watching period holodramas earlier.OR, how Plo Koon watching and subsequently introducing Ahsoka to Star Wars’ version of Downton Abbey changes Anakin's life path like nothing else could.

Reading Into Things When Ahsoka first meets the Supreme Chancellor, she gets a sense of his less than wholesome interest in her Master. Her intuition will go a long way.

Simple Steps Galaxy changing events don't just suddenly occur. They are the result of a series of small steps.

like someone bereft and lied to Anakin has a weird feeling in his stomach as he walks away from the Chancellor’s office.Who would have thought that Chancellor Palpatine would be a student of the Sith? Only to know how to keep the Republic safe from them, of course. All those priceless artifacts and holocrons that he’s collected to keep safe, hidden in his private rooms.It’s a good thing that he isn’t Force-sensitive, Anakin thinks with a small laugh, because the energy coming from all those things would have driven the poor man mad in a day. He only spent maybe twenty minutes in the room, just long enough to look at the piece the Chancellor thought might be of use to him, and his head was still spinning.

Deliver Us Jango Fett cannot save all his clones, but he can save five. He can save five, if he's willing to entrust them to the Jedi. Not just any Jedi, though. One who has already defied their Code for a child. One who knows Mandalorian culture. It is worth it, to save five innocent lives. He had no way of knowing it would change the galaxy and throw the proverbial spanner in one Sith Lord's plans.

we are all just trying to be holy There was something warm and gentle in Depa’s voice, the way there always was, the way that was starting to sound like home to Anakin, though it would be awhile now before he recognized it. “Let me tell you a secret, my young Padawan: every Jedi has attachments.” He blinked up at her, eyes wide and confused. “Even Master Windu?” She laughed, nodding. “Even Master Windu.” -- An AU where Depa Billaba takes Anakin Skywalker as her Padawan, Obi Wan Kenobi interferes just a little bit, and Mace Windu is very, very tired.

The Price of a Name Anakin isn't quite sure how to deal with the clones he now commands, especially given that they refuse any attempts to individualize themselves. The quest to help the clones is going to go further than Anakin ever imagined.

Pebble in a River He woke up. And everything changed, but of course, that's what life does. It changes. There are so many options, so many things that seem right. And yet each of those things also feels wrong. Failure isn't an option, not again. But there is no outline for success, and he's hardly the only one in the game. He's tired, and exhausted, and so very lonely. But force help him, he's going to save as many people as he can. Really, Force, he needs the help.

Entirely of the Light With Palpatine unveiled as Sidious, Anakin manages to defeat him but ends up severely injured. As he recovers, Obi-Wan finds himself helping Padmé raise her and Anakin's children while he struggles with his feelings for both Anakin and Padmé.

Aggressive Negotiations Everything about Skywalker was unorthodox. Even his parenting skills. A war meeting was the last place Rex expected to find a pair of toddlers, but there they were. But Rex is an officer, and a professional, and he will absolutely hold a child's hand if they ask. He's not a monster.

I had a vision! Mace Windu gets thrown back in time right to the point where Anakin is first presented to the Council. He remembers the horrors of the Clone Wars and he will do everything to change the oncoming future. "I had a vision" is becoming his most used phrase, he earns himself a Padawan with a penchant for trouble and Qui-Gon lives. All is going well, isn't it? No, there's still a republic to save, an army to deal with and most certainly a timeline to unfuck. Based on the tumblr posts by suzukiblu.

The Same Hope You will come to me sooner or later, Chosen One.Maybe once, when he was in the middle of a war that seemed like it would never end, a secret relationship dividing him between two of the people he loved most, juggling the guilt of failing his padawan. Maybe the Anakin back then had felt beholden to destiny, had had no choices, had felt like he would never have any choices.But the Anakin of now is a different person, because of his choices.He chose to leave the Order. He chose a new start.He chose acceptance, and understanding, and sometimes even forgiveness.He chose Obi-Wan. Always Obi-Wan.[[ The story of how we got here and everything that happens after. ]]

A Mind Always Free "Observe. Learn what you can. Keep everything secret. Don't be emotionless, but don't allow your emotions to show. And most importantly, take what you can get when you can get it, but let it go when it is taken away from you," Shmi Skywalker said softly, caressing the face of her son.(Anakin remembers what's like to be a slave and the Galaxy is better for it.)

Home Time travel fix-it story with a bit of a twist. After his death, Obi-Wan wakes up on Tatooine, in the body of his padawan self. But instead of trying to prevent Anakin from Falling, he decides to change the future by stopping Qui-Gon from ever meeting the little Ani. If Anakin lives like a civilian, away from the Temple and Palpatine, the world will be a better place... right?A story in which Obi-Wan learns that Anakin Skywalker will always be his home--and his ultimate weakness--regardless of his attempts to do the right thing and stay away.

You Shall Become (Me) The Guardian of the Sith Temple doesn’t particularly care for the new breed of Sith, for all that they’ve been around for 1,000 years. But they’re the only Sith the Guardian knows about. Until one day…Alternately, "How to accidentally join the Sith without really trying."

Elements The words “Yes, Master,” come out of Anakin’s mouth so naturally that Obi-Wan suspects they were his first words. The realization comes to him so suddenly: his Padawan still has the mindset of a slave. When he decides to fix that, everything changes.

The Chosen Anakin is found by Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan when he's a newborn. It changes things.

The Sun and the Ocean Five things that happened when the twins were born early.hint: threesomes happen and assholes die.

A Time For A Yes, a Time For A Hell No The Council comes to him with a stupid, asinine plan that will only work if Anakin is in on it. Only to tell them that Anakin isn't going to be in on it.That's the moment Obi-wan decides he's had enough.[Prequel to my story "Go on, Go! Walk out that door" or 'The Scene' that started it all]

Magic Blankets C-3PO accidentally saves the galaxy by teaching a young Ani Skywalker how to crochet.Or in which the power of love and crafts solve a lot of problems and the Jedi Creche is about two inches away from kidnapping Anakin at any given moment.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #fanfic recs #ask #anon

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strangeinternetwasteland · 3 years

Text

Dina- Chapter 1

Left. Right. Left. Duck. Counter. Attack. Breathe. It was the same with every training since her recovery from her injury. The only thing that Dina disliked more than not being able to spar and work on her martial arts was the predictability of her sparring partner, Tenten. Tenten was strong, and one of the few people who could challenge her. Lately, though it seemed as if Tenten was patronizing her instead of building her up.

Dina was gifted with martial arts from a young age. She’d advanced quickly in the ranks and by the age of ten, she was already mastering adult lessons. This lead to a plateau in learning which led to the desire of Dina to move and settle in Konoha. She had heard of Kakashi Hatake. His martial art skills were impeccable, and from what else Dina had heard, he wasn’t bad looking either. She wanted to spar with him to see if the rumors of his greatness were true.

For months, she had trained and sparred with anyone she could. Until she had met Tenten. Tenten had been valuable as a partner. Every time the pair sparred it was different, and Tenten pushed Dina harder and farther. That was until three months ago.

Dina had been participating in a martial arts contest with the top athletes from all of the villages. It was during her final showdown with her opponent when she injured her leg. It was the swift kick she aimed toward her foe when she felt the pop of her muscle. The excruciating pain that followed and the stunned silence of the stadium were all she could hear. The commotion afterward of being rushed to the Village hospital blurred together.

The utter defeat and frustration Dina felt when she was told she’d torn her adductor muscle. The news that she’d be down for at least six weeks, which to many didn’t seem as much time for recovery for a tear. The tears that burned at her cheeks after the news only fueled her desire to try to recover faster.

For two weeks, her group of friends worked tirelessly to ensure her recovery. She was determined to not be a burden to any of them. She had felt useless, and like a responsibility to them all. It was the second week into recovery when Lorelie decided that perhaps Dina could not only use some cheering up but maybe a nice chat from someone she respects. A knock at the door snapped Dina to attention.

“I’ll get it!” Lorelie called from the kitchen. Dina heard Lorelie’s footsteps from the kitchen to the front door of the apartment. Dina heard a deep male voice she didn’t recognize. She slowly sat up on the bed where she was resting to greet the stranger in her home.

“Dina, I thought because you were feeling so down about your injury that you’d like to talk to someone about how you’re feeling and who had been through this before,” Lorelie said as she walked into her room. “Would you prefer the living room or your room here?”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone. I need to get better faster.” Dina replied snippily.

Lorelie hummed, “I think you’ll want to talk to this one.”

With a huff of frustration, Dina said, “Fine. Whatever you want.” Lorelie left the room promptly. When she re-emerged in the room she had Kakashi Hatake in tow. The Kakashi Hatake, at up close she could tell the rumors of his beauty weren’t fallacies.

“Dina, this here is-” Lorelie started.

“Kakashi Hatake.” Dina finished for her.

“I thought you’d like to talk to him about recovery from an injury. He’s a great martial artist like you and has been exactly where you are now.” Lorelie explained. “I’ll leave you two it, but if there’s anything I can do for you, Kakashi, please let me know.” Lorelie continued. She walked out the door closing it enough to give the two privacy.

The two talked for hours about how painful it is to recover, not physically but mentally. They both spoke of their triumphs and trials to get where they were today. He talked openly about how he thought he didn’t need anyone’s help. How selfish he was and how it impacted him. Dina listened with interest and heeded his advice. They exchanged numbers, in case Dina needed to talk more.

“Dina, please take care of yourself. I look forward to the day that I can spar with you at your full potential.”Kakashi’s parting words to Dina just before he left. Dina, as did most people in her group of friends, wondered how Lorelie seemed to know everyone in the village after the exchange. This thought didn’t last long since she was invigorated to get better and hopefully it was speedy.

When Dina was at the doctor’s office for a follow-up appointment four weeks after the initial injury, the doctor’s deemed another two weeks of rest was needed. The displeasure that Dina faced was great, but she did think of the words Kakashi had said to her before. Hoping it would help with the last two weeks of recovery seem less dreadful.

She had called up Kakashi to update him on the situation. While he was sad to hear that she would need more time to recover, he was glad she was hopeful for the future and that it didn’t seem it would dampen her outlook on the end results.

She had told Alex all about the interaction with Kakashi almost every day she could. The words he spoke and the way he looked.

“It seems to me, that you Dina, maybe, a bit infatuated with Kakashi. How could you not be though? He’s very nice to look at.” Alex teased Dina. This made Dina blush, but she couldn’t help but know, Alex was right in this matter.

Her final follow up appointment was met with much hope and excitement as Dina would allow. If she got the all-clear she could continue getting better. She had thought of nothing but getting better, Alex’s words, and Kakashi’s voice during these last two weeks. The way he talked gently to her, the empathy he felt, the way his arms could easily hold her. She shook those intruding thoughts from her mind as she entered the doctor’s office.

After an hour of entering the office, she bounded out and ran straight to Tenten at the dojo. Every day after that for the last month like clockwork, Dina and Tenten had sparred.

Today had been met with resistance and frustration from the very stary for Dina.“Tenten, why aren’t you even trying to push me?” Dina yelled in frustration. “I just want to get better. I want to be better than I was before the injury.”

This elicited a deep chuckle from a pair of on-lookers who every so often came to watch. Dina looked up to see Gai and Kakashi. A blush formed on Dina’s face. She could no longer deny he wasn’t handsome.

“My former youthful student!” Gai yelled at Tenten. Tenten groaned at this. Gai always loved to challenge her and today was probably no exception, Dina thought.

“Hello! Gai- Sensei! Hello Kakashi-Sensei!” Tenten replied, and Dina waved. Tenten pulled Dina along as she walked to the two.

“Looks like your training is coming along nicely, Dina!” Gai exclaimed with boundless enthusiasm.

“Yes, I think I could be pushed a bit farther, and it seems to me that Tenten doesn’t feel the same sentiments. She’s holding back.” Dina spoke.

“Dina, I’ve been training with you for so long, you’re not where you once were before.” Tenten countered.

It was the act of Dina rolling her eyes and making an exasperated huff at Tenten. that made Kakashi laugh again.

“Dina, if it were alright with you, I’d love to spar with you to be an impartial judge?” Kakashi offered

Tenten took this chance for a break.

“Yes, please, that would be great,” Tenten replied for Dina. Tenten took Gai’s arm and brought him to sit down while they watched Dina and Kakashi get ready to fight. Tenten knew that Dina may have a slight crush on Kakashi. Whenever he’d come to watch she could see Dina’s body stiffen or push herself harder than when he wasn’t present.

“Let’s make this interesting, shall we?” Kakashi spoke suddenly.

“Okay? Interesting how?” Dina said confused.

“Lets...Make a bet.” Kakashi thought for a bit. “Winner gets to decide what the loser does?” He winked at Dina.

Dina relaxed her body and dropped her arms. Everything inside Dina stopped when her brain finally comprehended that Kakashi actually winked at her. She felt her face get hot with a blush of embarrassment and excitement.

“Can I just give up now? I know I won’t win.” Dina teased half-joking, half-serious.

With a hearty chuckle and easy grin, Kakashi said, “Come on, I’ll take it easy on you.”

There was one thing that Dina learned since the first meeting with Kakashi. Kakashi didn’t flirt, and he didn’t really even date from what she gathered from the rumors that were spoken about him.

The sound of his laugh and the teasing look in his eyes made it difficult to focus on the match that was about to happen. Dina tried hard to look anywhere but at Kakashi’s face.

Getting back into a fighting stance, Dina tried to gather her racing thoughts and focus. She noticed Kakashi ball his hands reading them for a punch, and her body adjusted for the incoming attack. They both nodded at one another to signal they were ready to begin the match.

In an instant Dina found herself staring up at the ceiling. “What-” she looked around confusedly. She glanced down and found a frowning Kakashi kneeling beside her. His large warm hand placed on the inside of her thigh, which seemed very intimate for this man.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt your leg?” He questioned cautiously.

Dina shook her head. “No, I was distracted was all. I’m good. Let’s go again.” She said to him.

Tenten rushed over to Dina with a frantic look on her face.

“I think it’s time to call it a day,” Kakashi slowly stood with a hint of unease in his voice.

“Dina, you alright? Kakashi came in with a leg sweep, I’ve never seen you go down so quickly.” Spoke tenten quickly.

Kakashi extended his arm down to Dina to help her stand up, which she happily accepted while blushing furiously.

“I’m fine, but I think Kakashi-sensei is correct. I think I may have overdone it for today.” Dina suggested. Tenten didn’t miss how red Dina’s face was but decided against mentioning it for now.

“Alright. ” Tenten said in agreement after a moment of watching Dina stand feeling the tension in the air. Tenten went to gather her things up giving the two a bit of privacy.

“I am sorry, Dina,” Kakashi said.

“No worries, honestly. I did just push myself a bit too much today, but I guess that means I lost the bet.” Dina said sheepishly, hoping that whatever her punishment for losing the bet was not too terrible.

Another chuckle slipped past Kakashi’s lips, he quipped, “I think I’ll have to make you spar me again in the future.”

That simple promise of sparring again with Kakashi made Dina’s heart pound in her chest. There was no denying that she wasn’t looking forward to the next time they met. As she finished gathering her items to head home she heard her phone chirp in her pocket.

Looking down she saw a message from Kakashi that read “Tomorrow, I’ll show you what real training looks like.” Yeah, she definitely was looking forward to what was to come.

#kakashi

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prongsisabadger · 3 years

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The Wolf Pack Chapter 12

The 104th battalion ended up being assigned to Master Plo after the heavy losses they suffered under Master Ki-Adi. The battalion had taken the name "The Wolf Pack" and given their commander the title of Wolffe. Which I found very cute. I told them so once we all arrived back at Coruscant, but they all started either mumbling, stuttering, blushing or aggressively dismissing my comment. It was very entertaining to watch grown men -who happened to be soldiers- blush like schoolgirls.

Master Plo and I returned to the Temple because he had to meet with the council and start organizing the war effort. Several different battalions had been deployed already, but that only made the need for a solid leadership more pressing. I took the two weeks at the temple as an excuse to recover. Even if the medic had done an incredible job of patching me up, I still had to re-train my arm slowly and get it back into shape. Ahsoka was in the final stages of her training so I didn't see her much with how busy she was. That's why, when Master Plo came looking for me, he found me outside in the gardens catching up with my Huttese.

"Kriari, child. We need to talk." He said as he sat next to me on the bench. "I have come to realize that with the war effort as it is, and my duties in the Council, I will not be able to complete your training."

I put my tablet down and turned towards him.

"Master, please, don't say what I think you are going to say." I pleaded.

He sighed.

"I am not letting you go, not entirely, my child. You will still be my Padawan, but you will be having another Master." He must have seen the confusion in my eyes, so he took a deep breath in and sighed.

"I cannot pull you back from the war effort, we have a pressing need for Jedi in the battlefront. But I also cannot be the one to get you there every time. For that reason, you will be assigned a second master." He explained. "Whenever I am deployed, you will come with me, and whenever I am held down by my duties in the council, you will be learning under another master."

I nodded along as he spoke. It did make sense, Jedi were lacking and the war would only escalate with time. Pulling even one Padawan back from the frontlines would compromise the entire war effort. It still didn't make it all any less painful. I liked Master Plo, he was my friend, and an incredible master. But as all things in life, everything comes to an end. Only in this case it wasn't permanent. Or so I hoped.

"I understand, Master. I will miss you and the 104th." I said honestly.

"You will still see us from time to time, Kriari. And the Master we are assigning you is an incredible Jedi, and a good person. You will learn much from him." He said patting my head softly in an attempt to comfort me.

"So, when will I meet my new Master?"

…

I could feel ahsoka vibrating in her seat next to me. She was giddy with excitement and couldn't get her knee to stop bouncing. She had never been outside Coruscant since she had arrived at the temple, and now, she was headed straight to the frontlines. To her new master.

"'Soka, pleas, you'll make a hole in the ship at this rate." I teased.

"Sorry I'm so excited I can't stay still." she smiled sheepishly.

"Just try not to kill your master with all that excitement, yeah? We are low on Jedi as it is" I jabbed, and laughed when she punched my arm.

"We are here, girls." Said the admiral, who had personally delivered us to the surface.

"Thank you, Admiral. Take care on the way up, the battle looks nasty."I said as the ramp started to open.

"Will do, Padawan Foreas. Good luck to you two."

That was all we heard, because once we excited the shuttle, it took off once again and returned to the command ship.

"Oh, great, we ask for reinforcements and they send two younglings?" Said a man approaching us.

"We are Jedi Padawan Ahsoka Tano and Kriari Foreas. We brought you a message from the council, It's urgent." I said, trying not to get annoyed at the guy's attitude.

"Let's hear it then, young one." Said the other.

"You two need to go on a rescue mission. Jabba the Hutt's son has been kidnapped. The council hopes that by rescuing him we can secure passage for the fleet through Jabba's territory." I informed.

The clever one chuckled dryly.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but we are in the middle of a battle and have absolutely no reinforcements except the two of you. We can't leave on a wild goose chase for a huttling halfway across the galaxy."

"The council had not heard from you and sent us with the message, if you have any complaints, sir, you can take them up to the council. Have the cruiser redirect a signal and make contact with Master Yoda." I answered cuttingly, getting pretty tired of his tone.

Had he never heard NOT to kill the messenger?

"We will, young one." said the older one. "What I don't understand is why the council sent two of you."

Ahsoka, a little tired of being left out of the conversation, decided to chime in.

"Kriari is your new Padawan, Master Kenobi. I am Anakin Skywalker's." She said excitedly.

Master Kenobi was my new master? I had wondered why Master Plo had decided to keep me in the dark about it, but I never thought it would be for dramatic effect. Master Kenobi was well known in the temple for being a little unconventional, maybe it was so I didn't object to the idea.

"I see, we will have to get acquainted later then, we need to solve this mess we are in first."

The council told both masters what we had, only that they promised to send reinforcements as soon as possible so that we could all get underway. Master Skywalker decided to be a little touchy about Ahsoka's lightheartedness and sent her with Captain Rex to get acquainted with the camp. He was not happy to have a Padawan to say the least, and complained to Master Kenobi about it. At length. I decided to stay quiet, it was not my business, Ahsoka would have to deal with her Master on her own. I couldn't always be there to protect her.

"So, you are my new Padawan? Kriari, was it?" Said Master Kenobi beside me.

"Yes, Master. I was initially assigned to Master Plo, but he is a little busy with council matters at the moment. You'll have to share me."

It was funny how this conversation seemed more about divorce and custody of children than actual Jedi matters.

"I have no quarrel with that. I hope we can get along, given the circumstances." He said. "You were present in the first assault on Geonosis, were you not?"

I watched the clones set up the defensive line and patrol the perimeter.

"I was."

"So you are not completely inexperienced. Good. Is there any suggestions you'd like to make before the battle begins?" He asked.

I looked at him confused. It wasn't often that masters asked for their Padawan's opinions, they usually gave orders and expected them to be followed.

"If I may," I said cautiously.

"Go ahead."

"I would choose a location behind the line of fire and establish a medical triage, so that if we get any casualties, they can be taken off the field and onto a safe area for treatment." I suggested.

Both there and on Geonosis, I'd noticed the lack of organisation when it came to caring for injured clones. Often they were left where they had fallen until the battle ended and taken to a medic if they were still alive by then.

"A sensible proposal, young one." He said stroking his beard. "I'll have it arranged right a-"

"Master, we have a problem!" Interrupted Skywalker.

"What is it, Anakin?" Asked Master Kenobi.

"The enemy, Master. They have a shield generator."

#TWP #clone wars fan fiction #star wars the clone wars #plo koon #commander wolffe #obi-wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #captain rex #padawan!oc

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lurkerwithcomputer · 3 years

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WIP Wednesday

Lately I've been putting lots of time into my BNHA/Bloodborne crossover, and it's technically Wednesday as of posting this, so this'll be my WIP Wednesday contribution.

Time to get to our unlikely allies, Yagi Toshinori and Hatsume Mei! (And I took Midoriya Inko being a Mama Bear in a somewhat... literal direction.)

He didn't expect the beast that had leaped over the barricade keeping the workshop crew safe in their labors.

Or perhaps, not so safe, as shouting, shrieking and gunfire echo from behind him.

He whirls, only to see flames leap into the sky. It's as if his heart plunges to somewhere around his knees. He stands, and although his hands have picked up a faint shake, he makes certain his gun is loaded, and grips his sword-cane in a gaunt fist he knows is white-knuckled beneath the glove. He makes to start running when he hears hobnailed boots clattering on the road.

He grips his gun tighter, lifts his sword cane - in case this is one of those hunters who've lost themselves and started attacking anything that moves, anything that bleeds.

Instead he's met with the dirty, blood-streaked face of one of the workshop's young inventors. He takes a minute to recall her name, while she takes a minute to catch her breath and gather herself. Hatsume Mei. That is who he's looking at - and she looks rather worse for wear. He begins retrieving bandages and a vial of healing blood.

"No. Treat me later. We need to run. The gunpowder store is all set to explode."

A sigh escapes him. She's as abrupt as ever, as she hefts what looks to be a double-barreled shotgun, with an impressive bayonet attached. There's a sturdy pack on her back, no doubt filled with ammunition, and likely more of her inventions. He only hopes she can keep a good pace with it on. The Long Night is an endurance run, not a sprint, after all.

Sprint they must, though. Away and forwards. Through smoky, dank and dirty streets, made strange by the cover of darkness.

Forwards, passing bloodied, malformed corpses, fanged and clawed, ridden with sores and open wounds.

Forwards, until the scabs re-open on Mei's arms and face, and his scarred side throbs and aches.

He leans on his sword-cane and pants for breath, once again this night, as young Mei unlocks a heavy iron gate. She urges him onward as the distant light of flames against the night sky grows brighter. Their next rush stops at a spiked wooden barricade erected in the streets. There's nobody manning it, and she merely wriggles her way through a gap at one side.

If she can fit with her pack on, I should be able to.

It costs him a bit of his dignity and almost his hat, but he's through. Just in time, no less.

There's a distant roar and rumble, the cobblestones quake under his boots and a wave of hot, dirty air sweeps over them. He grips the nearest wall with one hand, sword-cane braced against the ground in the other. Mei is crouched with one hand on the grimy pavement to keep herself steady. The other still holds her shotgun-bayonet, pointed forward. She looks at him, and their eyes meet. There's one moment where lantern light gleams wetly in her eyes.

They share one last look behind them, where embers drift upwards, and a hazy plume of dust and smoke catches the orange glow that lights the sky. He hears her breath hitch as she turns away.

"Tears later, tears later, tears later," she mutters.

She wipes her eyes with a rag of dubious cleanliness. She takes a deep breath as she shoves it back under her vest.

"Onward," she says, voice hoarse but steady now.

The lamps out here are broken or unlit, for the most part. He leads, sword-cane held ready. So far, quiet and empty streets, all around them. They break into a light jog as they get further from the barricades - as though there's an unspoken agreement that they'd rather not linger anywhere exposed. To be honest with himself, he still thinks they ought to stop and treat her injuries, as minor as those now appear to be - the blood on her is clearly not all hers, if she's lively enough to keep up.

At the next fork in the streets, his damned luck makes the choice for him.

His only warning is a snarl and the scratch of claws on cobblestones. A lupine creature that may or may not have been human once charges at him, out of the steam rising from the storm drains. Reactions honed by long years have his sword-cane snapping out, raising a line of red across the creature's gut. It's not enough - the beast barely recoils before it's lashing out with jagged, ripping claws that drip with filth and gore.

It's as though the air beside him explodes. A scattering of ragged crimson spots burst across the beast's body as it reels back. Toshinori lets experience guide him, twisting his body for a full slash that cleaves fanged maw and blank eyes from corded neck.

There's the click-clack of a gun behind him, to his left. Young Hatsume has almost as much surprise on her face as he's quite certain he does - but she reloads her double-barreled shotgun with a craftswoman's steady hands. It snaps back to readiness with a distinct mechanical click.

A quick-loading mechanism of some sort? How brilliant - though now's not the time for speculation.

"Old Man!" she shouts, raising her gun again.

He whirls in a practiced move, drawing his own gun - too slowly. A dark shape backhands his gun arm, knocking his weapon aside. He leaps aside as a hairy, taloned hand carves through the air where he had stood. He pushes down the ache in his chest and side. He's without his gun now, but he hefts his sword-cane and sets his stance.

Aiming for my gun? It has some level of cunning, then.

He circles his foe - a beast taller than the one before, wiry but broad in the shoulders and crowned with a ram's curled horns. He leads it further, in an attempt to keep Hatsume out of the creature's line of sight. It matches him, holding itself crouched to spring.

It's him who must spring, as a gout of flame leaps from its claws and sears past him.

Fire?! A true monster - and a worthy foe! Only the rarest beasts have forces of nature at their claw-tips.

There's a flash out of the corner of his eye. The roar of both barrels and the shriek of buckshot.

It stumbles but doesn't reel - still, he'll take the chance to strike. His blade drives out in the stop-thrust every swordsman knows, even as the creature recovers - too late. He skewers into its chest, just below the shoulder. He's certain that's at least an artery severed.

Brutal as the bleeding injuries are, it heaves itself at him. Though one arm dangles, the other reaches for his face with flame-licked claws. It pushes his blade deeper into itself - but that matters little if the beast can get to his head or neck.

He can only brace his sword cane with one hand and wrestle its talons away from his throat with the other.

His side throbs and burns. His breathing is short and shallow. In part to avoid inhaling the beast's rank, foul breath, despite the scarf tied over his face to ward of the stench of gore and death, in part because of the mask, snug and cloying over his face. He's trapped too close for Hatsume to fire again, though he hears her boots thudding heavily across the stones. She doesn't make it before the beast's jaws push closer, opening in a waft of hot, rancid air, countless fangs dripping spittle.

Someone else does.

A dark figure drops onto the creature's shoulders. A bone double-armblade gleams in the light of the single gaslamp. A weapon he knows, and knows well.

Inko! Oh, a hundred blessings of the Good Blood on this woman!

He swears he sees green eyes glow in the smoke and shadows. His rescuer swipes one hand across the beast's throat, even as she rips her armblade out of its shoulder and drives into its back - for he can see the ends erupt from the beast's gut. She withdraws the blade again, and turns the dying beast over, to hold its gushing neck wound above her head.

She opens her mouth as the blood rains down, and he swears she has a beast's pointed canines. It occurs to him that the hand that tore out the beast's throat was her unarmed hand - and he saw no knife, not even the glint of a concealed shiv. She gulps eagerly under the crimson flow, until it tapers to a trickle.

His heart sinks to about his knees for the second time tonight.

I'm not sure Inko's still... human. Time to find out.

"Inko?"

He tries to keep his voice level and calm, as he would with someone injured. She turns to look at him, dropping the beast's body. This time the green glow is unmistakable. As she steps closer, he can see how her eyes don't stay focused on him, darting around from shadow to shadow. She does lift her head and scent the air, and steps towards him much faster. There's a spike of panic - before she smiles and gives him a wide, welcoming gesture.

And now, with Inko standing in the pool of light the gaslamp casts, he can see her clearly. He's reminded of berserkers out of ancient tales - her leather and pelts stained and crusted with half-dried, gruesome mess, her hands and face drenched with blood, covering the scar he knows runs from the side of her forehead, down one pudgy cheek. Stray locks of her hair are plastered to her skin by a layer of fresh crimson, and a second layer of rust-red.

She's almost unpleasantly close, filling his nose with the stench of gore and wet animal pelts, before she speaks.

"Ah... Toshinori. I don't smell your blood. Good. That's good."

Her voice is husky and deeper than it should be, closer to a growl. The scent of blood is thick on her breath. He hears Inko inhale deeply. She lets out a satisfied huff of air. Her head turns as she sniffs the air again. She walks with silence and grace, to squat in front of a pale-faced Hatsume - who stops dead, crouching on the ground, presumably in the middle of searching for Toshinori's lost sidearm.

Young Hatsume is more thoughtful than others give her due for.

"You... Metal and oil and gunpowder. Ah, Mei. The cheery little inventor. Where's your smile?"

Inko leans even closer and scents the air again, like a hunting hound. Toshinori can't help but feel a little sorry for young Hatsume as she flinches away slightly. He walks closer despite how much he usually trusts Inko - with his life and soul. He's never seen her so... affected by the Long Night before.

"Well, I suppose you wouldn't be smiling while you're bleeding," Inko says, voice softly rasping.

Toshinori suspects it's the best attempt Inko can make at sounding tender in her current state. She murmurs reassuringly as she pulls a vial of healing blood from beneath her pelts. Despite the crimson making her hands slick, she has no trouble with the cap. She pops the wax seal off, revealing the needle.

"Arm or thigh, dear?" she rasps, close enough that Hatsume makes a face.

"Arm, thank you."

Hatsume is visibly attempting to avoid breathing in, as Inko leans close and pushes the blood vial into Hatsume's arm. Though it sounds rather rude, Toshinori has to agree with young Hatsume's actions. He still has in mind Inko's hot, metallic breath, and the pungent odor of blood and wet fur.

#lurker writes #bnha #bloodborne #blood #gore #yagi toshinori #hatsume mei #midoriya inko #crossover

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sablelab · 4 years

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Covert Operations - Chapter 121

SYNOPSIS: Jamie is worried about Claire and Fergus enables him to visit her without detection from Madeline and Operations’ ever watchful eye of surveillance cameras.

Chapter 120 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

My appreciative THANKS for reading, blogging and liking my story. I hope that you enjoy the next few chapters that are Jamie and Claire centred.

CHAPTER 121 What Jamie had previously imagined in his mind's eye about Claire had uncannily proved to be very close to the truth. He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest as she slept; her breathing was steady but to his ears it was still a little shallow. Walking around the bed, he leisurely trailed his hand along the starched white sheet covering Claire’s body. As he gazed down at her, the temptation of being so close to his love after not seeing or touching her for several days suddenly became too much. He longed to take away the hurt and pain and unable to stop himself, Jamie tenderly slid his fingers across her temple and down the side of Claire’s features re-familiarizing himself with her contours. When he traced the welts on her bruised face, he could feel the blood throbbing just below the surface. His fingers lingered ever so gently over the black and blue reminders of what she had suffered. Jamie felt a slight tear moisten his eyes and he drew back his hand a little. He knew her welts would heal in time but seeing how the bruises had intensified caught him unprepared for how he would react. He never wanted to see her suffer like this ever again.

“Oh, God, mo nighean donn,” he whispered softly. “Oh, Christ, yer lovely face.”

Jamie’s mouth tightened a little as his gaze moved slowly over her injured features, taking inventory. His eyes were soft and dark but the corners were tight with pain. He ached to kiss her better … to swathe her face with healing kisses that would erase the horrendous memories of the mission. His gaze caressed Claire’s face from her eyes closed in repose to the eyelashes that fluttered like butterfly wings and then across her cheeks until his eyes rested on her parted lips. His gaze triggered his heart to skip a beat until he could feel and hear his blood begin pumping away and pulsing in his veins. Every time he looked at his Sassenach, he felt another burst of love for this woman consume him. Desire gripped him and he capitulated. Bending his head, Jamie pressed his mouth tenderly to hers. Claire’s lips yielded a little under the pressure of his kiss, but he had to pull away before he surrendered completely … before he was totally lost to the overwhelming urge to gather his love up into his arms. Breaking the kiss, Jamie moved his lips to her ear whispering her name like a prayer as they softly brushed the outline of her ear.

“The sight of ye tears my heart Cl-aire …”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Immediately she shuddered recognising an all too familiar voice crooning soothingly near her ear and stirred in her sleep at the sound of her name. She could have sworn that she could hear Jamie’s voice and feel his touch. A soft, peaceful sigh of recognition echoed on her lips. “Mmmm … Ja-mie.” Fingers soothed her brow and lightly caressed her face with gentle tenderness and concern. His touch comforted her but it was all too brief … then … it was gone. She must be dreaming. Like Jamie, she would have moved heaven and earth to be near him, but she’d been unable to visit him this time because of her own injuries. Nevertheless, her images of James Fraser were as vivid as if she was there in his room right now beside him to comfort and support him. Her subconscious was willing him to be here … near to her … but she knew he was unable to leave ICU because he was badly injured as well. However, in her mind’s eye she could visualise him and a hundred times over she had done just that. Having visited Jamie in Medical on numerous occasions when he’d been injured on previous missions, she had a kaleidoscope of images to recall. He was dressed in the standard white undershirt that operatives wore in the infirmary. She’d stood by his bed and watched as Jamie had slept never knowing if he knew she was there or not. Somehow, she believed that he did know. Nevertheless, it was comforting for her to see him with her own eyes. Jamie always seemed so different in repose. The cold Section operative had gone and in his place she saw a vulnerable man, the man she loved ... the one who smiled in his sleep and her valiant knight in shining armour who had gone to great lengths to find and rescue her. Claire’s eyes fluttered as her mind remembered all that Jamie had done and all that he had endured in his effort to retrieve her. They had been to hell and back. Knowing what Jamie had risked and the consequences of his actions to save her was something she could never forget. They had a bond that was indomitable … a unique understanding that had grown from a mentor and material to so much more. It was a bond that Madeline and Operations could not understand. It worried them to the point where they placed obstacles in their way to try and fracture their relationship. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger was the adage and they lived that mantra every time they were on a dangerous mission and lived to return to Section One. Resilience also made you stronger … but she knew it was Jamie’s love that now really made the difference. The bonds that tie could not be broken. She wondered if Madeline and Operations would ever come to realise this. She never thought she would say it ... but to say that she was relieved that they were back in Section was an understatement. She was just happy that they were alive and got the chance to live another day ... even if it was here in Section One. Murtagh and Fergus had told her how Jamie’s recovery was coming, but hearing wasn’t seeing. Hearing merely visualised her fears and concerns about his welfare … seeing was the tangible component. It was what she needed to reassure herself that their words were true and not just pandering to her to waylay her anxiety. Murtagh had said that the bullet went right through Jamie’s chest and had caused some major damage. Tears welled in her eyes knowing that he must be in pain, although with James Fraser you just never knew. His threshold was phenomenal and he would never let it be known how much he was hurting. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Jamie saw a tiny tear trickle from Claire’s eye and slowly make its journey down her cheek. With the pad of his thumb, he brushed the tear away then placed a flutter of kisses to the path the tear had travelled. What was she dreaming about? Whatever it was it was obviously causing her distress. Tentatively he sat on her bed; he reached out his hand and held hers. Lost in his thoughts he unconsciously stroked the delicate skin of Claire’s hand with his fingers and waited for her to wake up. However, he suddenly had a sick feeling in his stomach. He was filled with a horrifying feeling of helplessness, for her and also for himself as well ... both of them had endured horrendous torture at the hands of the triad.

How long would the scars remain? Not the outward scars but those inside. He would recover but he wasn’t so sure about his brave and courageous Claire. His beautiful Sassenach had endured more than any operative should. This time had been far, far worse that when Red Cell had tortured her. Only time would tell if he could help her forget. Claire’s condition seemed to have stabilized, but that was of little comfort in the face of what she had endured at the hands of Jonathon Randall. She would need time to recover. He knew her personality inside and out. His Claire was different to other Section operatives … she had a kind heart and the one thing that Madeline and Operations wanted to drum out of her … compassion. This mission would have affected her to the core. He was sure that whatever was going on inside her head was going to affect her recovery unless he could do something about it. She needed to be away from this place and the horrible memories of their time at the Rising Dragons’ base. His Claire needed to be surrounded with love. She needed his love. How long would it be until they were in a position to capture the perpetrators and bring them to Section justice? They’d been in Medical for several days now. He knew that Madeline and Operations would be expecting a speedy recovery so that they could go back out into the field. The Rising Dragons’ triad members had escaped. In Operations’ eyes this meant that the mission was a failure and hence they were a failure too. Containment of the enemy was the ultimate goal and this was not achieved. Section was back at square one. A new mission scenario would have to be profiled when they were able to establish where Sun Yee Lok and the other triad members were. This could take time, but it was the one saving grace that he needed to see that both he and Claire recovered fully. It was the only way for them to see the Rising Dragons’ end game to its conclusion. Madeline and Operations knew this, however much they were in denial. He had an urgency to make sure that what Dr Foster had proposed to Madeline happened for the both of them. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “Mmmm.” The sound of Claire rousing brought him back to the present. When he heard her take a deep breath, Jamie opened his eyes and stood up next to the side of her bed. Without releasing her hand, he reached out his other to caress her forehead, his face close to hers. So close he could smell the scent of her warm skin. Claire felt the gentle hand stroke her temple. She roused a little more. “Mmmm.” Her quivering moan caused the blood to rush to Jamie’s face. His eyes travelled tenderly all over her features. "Ssshhh ... Sassenach ... It’s me.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Claire heard her name once more. No… It couldn’t be true … Jamie wasn’t here. Was he? She fluttered her eyes open without really focusing, sighed then closed them again. It was just wishful thinking. “Cl-aire.” This time, at the sound of Jamie’s voice washing over her, she blinked her eyes trying to focus on the lulling timbre of his voice. Although not fully awake she opened her eyes and looked around her to see his concerned face close to hers. She wasn’t dreaming after all … her Jamie really was here. He wasn’t an apparition; he was standing by her bed. Claire moved her head so that she could look up at him. When he smiled at her, a radiant smile bowed her mouth in return and his name echoed on her lips. “Jamie.” They searched each other’s faces for a long moment; the intensity of his gaze equally shocked and thrilled her. Claire couldn’t believe he was really here … that she could see him … touch him. Her hands started to shake with this need. She felt her face grow hot as he caught her stare. Jamie too felt the draw she had on him. He needed to gather her in his arms once more, to feel her closeness and reassure his love that they were going to be okay. Tenderly his eyes travelled all over her face. He longed to press gentle kisses to her temple and hold her lovingly until the nightmare of the mission dissipated. He ached to caress Claire back to good health with healing kisses. Jamie wanted to do all of that and more … much, much more. Suddenly she was nervous, but it was a nervousness borne from relief and desire. Jamie was okay. He was going to heal. He was alive. Her skin prickled cold then hot as she felt a shiver course through her body from head to toe at his nearness. He was the stimuli that she responded to. Just the sight of him made her toes curl. James Fraser did this to her every time … it was an involuntary reaction … one she could not control. Claire stared at him as his voice invaded her senses doing funny flip flops in her heart. But it was his smile that sent her emotions soaring. “Hi.” Oh my … I must look terrible, she thought subconsciously running a hand through her hair in an attempt to make herself more presentable. Wriggling in the bed, Claire tried to raise herself up but felt Jamie’s resistance to her movement as he held hand captured to his. To him she was beautiful in every way. His eyes lingered on Claire’s parted lips when her head fell back into the pillow. She was unable to break her gaze from his as Jamie leaned closer. The alluring scent of her skin filled his senses until desire grabbed him, and he surrendered to its pull. Bending his head, Jamie placed his mouth to hers. The kiss was gentle in its intensity … yet everything was in that kiss. Claire could barely breathe. His touch thrilled her to the bone. Her lips moved a little under the pressure of the kiss until breathlessly, they parted for him. Ever so gently, he slipped his tongue into the warm recess of her mouth. She sighed when Jamie deepened his caress, but he was careful not to apply too much pressure to her swollen, cut lip. His tongue retreated then teased the fullness of her lips once more before reluctantly releasing her from the kiss. He knew he had to pull away before he yielded more to the embrace and couldn’t stop the irresistible urge to gather her in his arms.

He continued to place tender kisses across Claire’s face to all of the blemishes on her porcelain skin one by one. Moving his lips up and down and across her face his caring kisses seemed to draw out the pain from each discoloration to her skin with his lips. James Fraser instinctively knew that this was the beginning of his Sassenach’s healing and if they could get out of this place soon, he would take her somewhere special as far away from Section as possible so that together they could heal properly.

Claire’s emotions were running wild. Each poignant caress seemed to penetrate deep inside that place where she was hurting. She closed her eyes momentarily feeling that Jamie’s words had somehow lifted some of the pain she had suffered. It had been too long since her face and lips had felt the pressure of her lover’s kisses. Her eyes widened as she recalled the things that he’d said to her on the mission. These kisses were a reconfirmation that the personal things they’d shared … the feelings he’d revealed … were true. Suddenly all the raw emotions in her heart burst free. “I love you.” She peered into Jamie’s eyes with the pure honesty of her words. Her statement was his undoing. The last time he’d heard those words from her lips was when they were preparing to die at the monastery. Jamie remembered the passion of Claire’s gaze then. This time it had multiplied. It continued to surprise him that this beautiful woman could love him … the man who had constantly manipulated, the one who had hurt her so many times in the past. He would never tire of hearing her say those three profound words. He loved Claire beyond all reasoning, beyond all common sense. His desire for her was greater than he’d ever had for any other woman in his life. Claire was the other half of his soul. She was the very air he breathed. Without her he was a shell of a man but together they soared. Claire Beauchamp was his everything. Reaching for her, his arms pulled her into his embrace. Then, inclining his face into the side of her neck, Jamie fought to keep his own resolve but to no avail. His voice was thick with emotion as he spoke into Claire’s ear. “I love you too mo nighean donn.”

He meant every word. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Claire closed her eyes, as did Jamie, and they were reluctant to pull apart. Just knowing that both of them had survived the atrocities at the monastery despite all the odds was miraculous. Jamie was grateful that Dr Foster was the physician that he was. He and the team of surgeons in Med Lab were responsible for putting them back together physically and now he had all the intentions of putting his Claire back mentally and emotionally once they were out of here in a day or so. Then their real healing could begin. Finally Jamie stepped back a little, but he kept his face close to his love as he explored her features. She felt his eyes take inventory of each bruise, each mark that Jonathon Randall had bestowed and that he had lovingly kissed. She knew Jamie was livid for she saw his eyes turn cold for a split second as he saw the evidence of her welts. Claire knew that look … he could neither forgive nor forget. He was filled with such rage that god help Jonathon Randall when they next met for nothing would save him from Jamie’s wrath. However, no sooner had she seen these thoughts cross his face than they were gone.

Their foreheads touched and Jamie’s finger lightly glided over the puckered edges of her split, bottom lip. Her lip tingled at the feel of the sensitive pads of his fingertips and Claire held onto the moment any way she could. But all of a sudden it dawned on her that the surveillance cameras would have caught every moment of their reunion. Worryingly she tore her gaze away from Jamie with a herculean effort, and tried to suck some air into her empty lungs. Her eyes darted upward to the closest surveillance camera. If Section had suspected something before … then Operations and Madeleine would know everything now. It was almost too much for her, she began to panic. “Jamie the cameras …” He pulled back, then smiled enigmatically, “They’re disabled Sassenach. Fergus has them on a feed.” “Oh … And they don't know?” “No. It’s all right.” Her breathing slowly returned to some normalcy at his explanation, but it was still difficult because Jamie was so close.

Raising her hand reassuringly, his lips kissed her knuckles with reverence. “Christ, ye were a brave wee thing.”

“Was I?” she responded not quite believing his compliment of her bravery under duress.

Bending toward her, Jamie took her words from her mouth and kissed her yet again brushing his lips upon hers as soft as a feather. “Aye, ye were Sassenach. How are ye feeling now?” Claire took a deep breath. “Okay, I guess.” “Good.” He brushed the hair off her face, his eyes caring and caressing. “Ye've been through a tough time. We both have. It will take time to heal.” “I’m so glad you came … I’ve been so worried.” Reaching up Claire timidly touched her mouth which Jamie had caressed. That kiss had instantly made her feel a 100% better. His kisses were the healing balm she needed, but that was out of the question unless they were able to leave Section One. Maybe this time would be different. “I’m fine …” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* “So what's going to happen now?” “We'll have to wait until Madeline and Operations debrief us further.” “When?” “Who knows?” They exchanged searching looks, then Jamie gazed back at her and whispered back, “Soon my love. Be patient.” Claire looked up at him then away. She swallowed and looked ahead.

She couldn’t bear the prospect of staying in the infirmary one day longer than necessary. She hated being in here. The sooner she was released the better it would be or she’d go stir crazy. Physically she felt fine … she just needed to get out of here and somewhere … anywhere on the outside with Jamie that would not remind her of the mission … the Rising Dragons or Section One. But their fate was in Madeline and Operations’ hands.

Would Section’s leaders allow them to recuperate together and without surveillance 24/7? Would they demand a debriefing of the mission or a psyche analysis first or would they be compassionate and give them downtime? By god they needed it. “I’ll try ... but it might be difficult.” Her reply amused Jamie as he fully understood where Claire was coming from. He too hated being in Med Lab any longer than necessary. Suddenly he could see his love’s eyes darken as her gaze roamed his face then locked on his eyes. There was something compelling in them that made him take note, but he was not prepared for the quietly whispered command she would say next. ~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* to be continued TUESDAY 19th May

#Jamieandclairefanfic #jamieandclairecrossover #outlander fanfic #LFNoutlander #covertoperations #the lallybroch library

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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 4 years

Text

To Grasp At Warmth (RK900 x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, swearing, Nines trying to grasp at human emotions whilst trying to comfort a human through hard times. LONG CHAPTER AHEAD, ALSO ON MY A03!

There wasn’t much to retain from what had happened. You had been assigned to a mission with the arrogant jackass Gavin Reed and his cold and distant android upgraded model, RK900 to go on a simple mission.

An abandoned apartment was in suspicions of holding deviant spottings and scoutings, the possibility of finding some were very high.

It had been normal, and you hadn’t thought anything different in crashing through that door, guns raised and raiding the small space.

It had been hell that had been raised as soon as you stepped into that apartment.

There was screaming, you don’t remember from who, gunshots going off in all directions, and you found yourself ducked behind an emptied cabinet, gun at the ready to take down a deviant who was in hopes of escaping.

You could recall it happening all-so-quickly: the rush of adrenaline pumping in your veins as you stood, too quick as your eyes scanned the area to shoot at the target, but you were too slow, and your body was reacting not fast enough to shoot or duck back down again.

You heard a shout of your name, a bark for you to take cover, and another sounding so demanding that you thought it couldn’t possibly be the RK900 model?

You had fired with hopes of getting the deviant, and you had been thrown back in shock: had your gun gone off accidentally too soon? You were strong enough to take the power of the small firearm, but now, you couldn’t believe you were really lying on the floor.

There was a haziness in your mind, eyes scanning frantically, Gavin swearing like usual as you tried to find your own voice - frantically trying to understand what was going on.

Had I gotten it? You were looking for blood, the familiar blue colour of the thirium that pumped in all android’s bodies to be splattered on the ground, a deviant’s body fallen, but no blue blood anywhere.

Just red, so much red.

You were crumpled on the ground, and that was when the searing pain came through your shoulder, a cry escaping your lips as your fingers were going up to hold your upper up in agony, but there was someone stopping you.

The smell of your blood in the air hit your nostrils once you were able to put two and two together, the wavering smell of it bringing your stomach to want to throw up its contents, a feeling of fatigue falling over you.

“She fucking got shot by that thing-” You could hear Gavin in the background, muttering furiously as he called in for backup, the deviants had escaped and the one you were going to shoot a shot at you before you could- that was all you could understand.

You understood the underlying factor that you had failed, you had failed your team and now you were disappointing them; letting them down just because you got injured. It was heard from Gavin’s aggravated tone, the same you had heard constantly when missions have failed.

It was only Nines who was extremely quiet beside you, checking over your vitals and system.

“Detective? Can you hear me?” You didn’t dare want to look up to meet the Cyberlife Android’s eyes; something about them always made you uneasy.

Like looking at an icy tundra; eyes that look so human but hold nothing for our kind.

You attempting to sit up, again, trying to touch for the wound underneath your jacket, but Nines was quickly behind you, holding you up as your head began spinning. “F-Fuck, you can still get it... if you run.”

“If we leave you, the blood you’ve lost will kill you in a matter of minutes,” Nines stated, pausing briefly as if frozen or in thought. “I sent our location for an ambulance, it will arrive in approximately 4 minutes and 29 seconds.”

There was a calmness in his voice like always, enough to keep you calm at the situation.

You didn’t speak, but you could feel yourself going in and out of consciousness, the feeling of your body wanting to sleep, but the reminders in your mind begging you not to.

Nines was one to keep reminding you not to close your eyes, telling you almost every second how close the ambulance was to reach you.

You felt the right side of your shoulder just above your armpit was on fire, a burning and numbing sensation making you feel as if you had survived to be in a fire than surviving a gunshot.

“Detective.”

“Shut up.” You croaked quietly as if caught in the middle of sleeping and was being disturbed. Part of you didn’t care anymore: you had survived this long and now, all you wanted was to not disappoint yourself or others.

“God, I have to die surrounded by idiots.”

Nines didn’t respond to your words, and your head rolled back, looking anywhere and everywhere. Your eyes were left unfocused, staring at the walls idly. Anything to distract you.

“What the fuck is happening now?” Gavin gruffly asked, but you never heard much of Nine’s answer.

“She’s going into hemorrhagic shock-- Keep your eyes open, Detective. Detective L/N?-- Y/N?”

You had thought you had died there and then: there was a fuzziness that distorted your mind and body from making you not understand where you were. The hazy side to you settled and went away, and you were blinking back the bright ceiling lights above you.

“I’m glad to see you awake, Detective L/N.” A voice pulled you from everything, calm, masculine. Uninterested. You glanced when you thought it had been all so familiar, green eyes instead of blue, a male nurse standing beside you with a smile on their face.

You looked at their features, instantly recognising the LED flashing blue on the side of their temple. “I’ll go get the doctor.” and with that and not much to say, they left you in your hospital bed.

You groaned, instinctively going to move your right arm to wipe your eyes when you sharply grunted, a pain residing in the side of you that you didn’t notice from the drips that were in your skin.

The top half of your arm was completely wrapped up, not even a single bit of skin remaining for you to see, a cast that reached your elbow, meaning you couldn’t bend it all that well.

“Miss L/N.” You gritted your teeth, trying to remain calm as you looked to the new person walking in, thankfully a human doctor who hadn’t resembled anything of an android.

For once, you were thinking you were never going to see another normal face again. “What the hell happened?”

“You have undergone surgery. The humerus was struck by the bullet that entered your shoulder, causing it to break.”

That explained the ungodly pain you were going through right now. Your brain trying recalling everything that happened for all of this to of occurred - the deviant, getting shot, Gavin and Nines-

“Hey, I know it’ll be a lot to take in, but you’re very lucky to be alive, you lot quite a lot of blood.” The doctor smiled sympathetically to you. “I’ll go and inform your partners that you’ve awakened.”

Yes, will they be pleased to hear that I’ve made it out to the other side? You thought drearily, your head falling back onto the pillows as you could only think really of work and how you were going to recover.

Recovery, unfortunately, wasn’t something that was going to be good for you. It would take around four to five months recovery time, with most of it in a sling; rendering you from using your arm for a while and relying on things that were so simple making your life a living hell.

It meant that you were left useless and given lots of time off work, and you were just as disappointed as Fowler was when you had called into his office that same day when you had been told the news.

After a week, you were allowed out, officer Tina Chen - a friend of yours and someone who could tolerate Gavin to befriend him - had picked you up from the hospital and driven you home.

For a couple of hours, she had stayed with you, chatting about the things you had missed whilst helping you with things you needed.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever heard Gavin ask about you so much, he got as talkative as Nines.”

You nearly spluttered on your green tea, gritting your teeth momentarily for the pain to subside. “Nines? Nines was asking for me?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak that often and so much. God, it sounded like they missed you a lot. A lot of relief was felt when they heard you made it out from the surgery.”

There was a feeling that bubbled inside of you, to make your heart feel light in your chest; Nines asked for you, and even worse, Gavin was not being rude about you for once?

Tina took in your surprised expression. “You seem surprised by this.”

You blinked, looking away as you sipped you tea slowly. “I guess... the two of them never really speak about me so kindly, or ask for me? You know what Reed is usually like?” You shook your head in denial. “But Nines? I didn’t think there’s anything in his system to make him be programmed to be so-- to be-”

“Empathetic?” Tina finished your sentence. You nodded at the right words. “For someone who goes on about not being a deviant, you would think the tin can was growing feelings, huh?” Laughed Tina in thought.

“Y-Yeah...” It was a lot to get you thinking about everything, and in those days that grew into weeks then months, you had lots of time for doing it.

With the pain medication and timely check-ups, you were seeing no hope in actually being able to get back to work; being stuck inside your apartment all day every day was making you believe you had lost your mind by the third day.

You were certain you had re-read every book on your shelf, watched every show on Netflix and maybe even started learning another language; just so you could kill time and get better.

You groaned in silent defeat, a rumbling in your stomach telling you it was best to get something for dinner. But there was nothing to eat. By the third month, you were sure you were a stone lighter and stronger in your left arm from carrying things with one hand.

You were sure to try and brag about it to Gavin when you came back to work.

Speaking of Gavin, you hadn’t heard from him, or Nines. They hadn’t even come to check on you once, instead, Reed sent one or two messages to your during the day, sometimes he had sent photos of his cats in the evenings to keep your spirits, but you believed the two of them were busy with work.

But for Nines, you knew that this human-looking android had no part in him to understand or feel sympathy for your cause.

He was built and programmed to be stronger, faster and better in everywhere to his previous model, and to help hunt deviants like they were infestations. He was there to not befriend humans, just use for helping them with investigations.

You knew it could never happen, but you did miss the RK900 android. And there was the knowledge that he would never want to see you outside of work.

A brief knock brought you to shake out of your thoughts, a pang of sadness and forlorn feeling fell on you that evening like most times did, as you rocked back and forth to stand and walk to the front door.

You don’t remember getting any messages about arrivals or post, nor certainly, anyone visiting at this hour, so why, when you did open that door and saw those familiar blue eyes, did you almost want to drop dead there and then?

Your good hand gripped at the doorknob tightly, to still the shakiness as you meet the androids avoidant stare. “Good evening, detective.”

“Nines, what are you doing here?” You knew that he was analysing you, from the utter mess you looked like, and yet, you were dressed in a pair of shorts, barefoot and a baggy Nirvana logo t-shirt, your hair looking like a rats nest.

There was a part of you that wanted to slam the door on his face, to go and hide in shame for your looks, for knowing he was assessing you in scrutinising way, but the other part didn’t care.

Nines stood as straight as a pin in front of your door, towering over your height, his cold blue eyes didn’t show much emotion for you, and you were having a hard time guessing what he could’ve been processing in thought.

“Detective Reed and I were discussing that you had been out of work for 3 months and 25 days, so I thought I would come over and check on you.”

“Geez, do I want to know how the hell you managed to find where I lived?” You blinked groggily, knowing full well it was late in the evening.

“Your records and information weren’t hard to find, Detective. I simply looked it up and drove to your apartment complex.” Nines spoke matter-of-factly, but you were certain there was an underlying hint of sarcasm in his tone.

“Right, would you like to come in instead of stand outside my door? Your bringing in a draft.” Nines didn’t need to be told twice, complying and stepping through to look around your small area.

It only dawned on you that this was the first time Nines was inside your place, and he was definitely going to judge you for your stuff. You left him to it, walking to your kitchen area to raid the cupboards, hearing him shuffle around from bit to bit of your apartment, looking at everything carefully that you owned.

Oh, he was going to know you know more than he was looking over every minor detail of you, but you tried to ignore him at best. Grabbing a tin of soup, you got the tin open with the hands-free tin opener.

“Your serotonin and endorphins are very low, and it seems that you have only been getting around 3-4 hours of sleep a night-”

“Lucky guess Nines, it’s because I’m feeling like shit.” You spun to look back on him, not meaning to be ticked off, but just feeling so down was making you want to take it out on him.

The LED on Nine’s temple spun blue to yellow, before returning back to complete blue, there were obvious questionings to why you were feeling like this. “It is recommended to get 7-9 hours of sleep and provide yourself with vitamin C and B12-”

“It’s not fucking like that, Nines!” You snapped, staring into his own eyes that bore into yours. You looked away, your eyes darting to look at the floor. “I’m depressed.”

Your eyes snapped up when you heard shuffling, looking to see him walk over to you. The RK900 was soon standing in front of you, hands folded in front of him as if he would fiddle with something for a distraction from keeping him bored.

“Why?” He asked, his tone a bit more demanding, and you had heard it from when he was extracting confessions out from deviants in interrogations. It put you far more on edge than you had realised.

Your back hit the kitchen counter, biting the inside of your cheek, neither one of you spoke for a second. “It's just... its... I’m lonely.”

“Lonely?” He questioned your choice of the word. “But you have the above-average number of friends.”

“I know that I just... it’s fucking weird and I know you will never understand, but I miss working.” He would never understand, no matter how much you tried to say it. “I just missed the interactions of everyone.”

“Everyone, including Gavin?” His musings made you almost roll your eyes. “Yes, even Gavin in a fucked up way. God, don’t tell him I said that.”

“What about me?” Nines asked.

You blinked owlishly up at him, his question brought you to feel nervous with your choice of an answer. You could tell the truth or lie, and either one, you didn’t know how he could react to your words.

“Nines-”

“Answer me,” he repeated it again lower, coming closer to you than you wanted to anticipate, so close you thought he knew he would be able to hear how fast your heart was beating, “did you miss me, Y/N?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on your breathing when you thought you had started panicking. Nines was not stopping when he witnessed how flustered you were getting; instead, he seemed to be relishing the moment.

“Look at me.” His demand wasn’t as harsh as you had imagined from his programming, a lot softer to make you look up at him in wonderment. Immediately, you could see how close he was now to you, practically towering over you.

He took his hand into your good one in a tentative manner, and you watched as the outer skin peeled back to show the synthetic layer beneath; the plastic feels to the lower layer that felt oddly cool in your hand. You stared at him in bewilderment, as Nines watched your reaction slowly, closing his own eyes briefly.

“They say that I was the latest made to be more resilient, a new prototype to be faster, stronger, the machine made just to help humans and nothing else.” He began, his voice was lower as he drew it out. “These... emotions are something I was not programmed into having, nor understanding.”

That part was back in the back of your head, telling you he was just a machine, nothing like the previous model, Connor; He could never deviate, could he?

“That being said, it doesn’t mean it’s ever too late to learn, to understand for myself better what makes humans... human.”

“Nines,” You breathed breathlessly, your fingers gripping his involuntarily. His own eyes opened once again, blinking down upon you. There was still that neutral cold look to his already cooler colour counterpart, but there was a softness, a fondness behind them now.

“I want to learn, from you.” His fingers hesitated momentarily, treading themselves through the back of your hair, slowly maybe even out of curiosity trailing across your jaw. “These fickle emotions that make me want to understand you better.”

“Nines, you’re not deviating, are you?” You met his eyes with a loopy smile.

“No, I’m not.” He rolled his blue eyes your way, a half-smile on his face. “But I’m certain, this is me saying this and not what I’ve been programmed to say.”

Neither one of you spoke, nor needed to really, but you were pulled back when your soup was announced ready, breaking eye contact from him first. “Come, we can discuss these feelings better on the couch, with a movie--- have you seen Blade Runner?”

“Y/N, I have millions of films to stream, I’m sure I have possibly heard of it.” Nines teased softly, his dry sarcasm was something you had missed from him.

“Good, it’ll be easier for you to understand when we watch it.” You smiled, taking him by the hand and dragging him to the couch to spend the evening doing exactly that.

It took most of the rest of the night speaking freely about these topics with Nines, but you were sure he was getting the hang of them when he finally plucked the courage to put his own lips to yours.

You couldn’t complain that you had missed him indeed.

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#detroit become human #Detroit: BH #gavin reed #dbh rk900 #dbh nines #dbh gavin #rk900 x reader #detroit become human rk900 #detroit become human gavin reed #hank anderson #dbh connor #dbh oneshot #detroit become human oneshot #oneshot #my writing #dbh fluff #rk900 x reader fluff #rk900 oneshot #nines is trying his best lol

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thesaltysocialworker · 4 years

Text

Black Magic 2/2

Part two/the conclusion of Black Magic is here. I can express how much I appreciate all the likes and reblogs for this story. You guys are wonderful, and I hope you enjoy the conclusion. <3

I am planning on updating this blog at least one or twice a week while working on my own side projects/orginial works. I also have a longer Loki story brewing in my brain. Stay tuned for more to come!

Warnings: Sex. Read at your own risk.

“I know who you are, Loki.”

Loki couldn’t help but notice how cold she had become, how tense her shoulders were. She didn’t move from her spot near the kitchen island. She wouldn’t look at him, maybe she couldn’t look at him. “What were you hoping to accomplish by doing this? Was this some sort of sick game to you?” Her voice was low and sad. Maybe it was because Loki came from such a dysfunctional family that her contained anger frightened him more than it would’ve if she had screamed at him outright.

“I owe you honesty, y/n. Initially I needed a safe place to recover from my injuries and to hide from the Avengers…” Her quiet rage boiled over, she cut him off. “So you used me to hide from your captors?! Then why stay for a month?! It would’ve been easier if you just left after you felt better! I could’ve gotten over that.” Loki was naturally perplexed by this, noticing tears rolling down her face. He suddenly had a feeling that weren’t just talking about a beloved pet anymore. His brows drew together as he watched her, the realization dawning on his face. “You knew. You knew I wasn’t just a cat the whole time.” He uttered, taking a few careful steps across the floor towards her. She didn’t flinch, didn’t draw away from him.

“It took me awhile to put together. Mostly I assumed something was wrong when I didn’t have to clean the liter box, like ever.” Even her sad laughter was better than nothing. “Then the collar, the glowing blue stone. We were re-watching some of the news footage at work and I noticed the stone in your scepter looked similar. I dismissed that, thinking maybe I was just having some sort of strange delusion or post-traumatic stress from everything I saw that day. But I couldn’t deny this.” Loki watched her pad across the floor, turn on her television and play back footage from her security camera’s showing him transform back into man to do things while she was gone.

For his part, Loki felt like an absolute fool. How had he never noticed the cameras? “They’re hidden, A few years ago some men broke into my home and cleaned me out. I had the technicians install the cameras in such a way that if anyone tried to find them they wouldn’t be so out in the open. You can imagine my surprise when I turned the camera on my phone on to check on Lucky, and found Loki sleeping on my couch and in my bed.”

“So you’ve known, and you didn’t ask me to leave or call the Avengers.” Loki actually smirked at this, he wasn’t the only one with secrets. Your face turned red, and your e/c eyes darted to the floor. “You’ve been sauntering around naked, or in your undergarments knowing that I’m here. I believe you have some explain to do, Pet.” He let the word ‘pet’ linger in the air, and it made y/n uncomfortable. He watched her press her thighs together. The silence between them felt unbearably long, and Loki let it linger, because he knew she would crack under that discomfort. “It was wrong. I didn’t know what I felt for you initially. Attraction, of course. You’re—a God.” She took a step closer and placed a hand over his well-defined abs. Even through the leather of his clothing feeling her hands on him was enough to drive him mad. “But it was more complicated than that. I needed you as much as you needed me. I was upset that when you left, I lost my opportunity to tell you that.”

Your shaking hands moved from his abs, sliding up his chest and to his shoulders. Loki’s eyes fell closed and he simply enjoyed the sensation of her hands on him. He was sure if he could purr in human form he would be, extremely loudly, and it brought a grin to his features. “You have nothing to fear from me, y/n.” He whispered, realizing how close they were. They were toe-to-toe, she met his eyes and he was entranced. He brought his index finger under her chin, tilting it and pulling it upwards so he could capture her beautiful lips in a kiss. It was very chaste at first, your lips moving against his and testing the waters carefully; afraid to completely let go. He knew she would take some coaxing.

“Allow me to repay you for the kindness you’ve shown me.” He whispered against your lips, the kiss growing in intensity as he nipped at your lower lip, hearing a small moan fall from your lips. You nodded, and he lifted you into his arms as a groom would his bride and carried you up the stairs to your bed. He set you down gingerly on the edge of the bed, as though he were afraid you’d break. Despite his confidence, he was nervous. He’d never been with a Midgardian and he knew he possessed the power to injure you. He slipped your tennis shoes and socks off, his hands slowly sliding up your legs to untie your scrubs, his fingers purposefully brushing the soft skin of your stomach under your scrub top. His eyes never left yours, he was entranced by your gaze on him.

Your eyes were fixated on him as he worked, managing to shuffle the scrub bottoms down your legs as his fingertips grace over your legs. He hovered over you, with one hand he helped you shed the scrub top. He worshipped your body with his lips, removing your bra and bringing his lips to your nipples, adding just enough teeth to get a gasp flying from your lips. His fingers danced over your stomach, and then slipped into your panties. You were embarrassed by how wet you were for him, but he chuckled. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart. Let go, just lay back and enjoy. You’re so guarded.” Your panties were gone, he tore them off your body with a loud ‘rip’ and although you wanted to be pissed, you were too turned-on to care.

Loki kissed his way back down your stomach, dragging one finger across your slit and collecting the juices forming there. He brought his fingers to his mouth, nearly throwing you over the edge. He sighed, his eyes closing as he tasted you. “Perfection.” He whispered, before bringing his mouth between your legs. He started with slow strokes of the tongue, collecting your juices on his tongue. But then he worked faster, he inserted two fingers inside of you and moving them in-time with the flicking of his tongue over your clit. It had been so long since you’d been with a man, and never one that had such skills as this. “Loki, please. Please. I need you.” You practically begged, hanging by a thread over a precipice that would send you hurtling into your own bliss. You wanted him inside you, no, you needed it. The most primal desire was fueling you on, driving you to madness.

All Loki had to do was snap his fingers and his clothing disappeared. He was hard, and he was perfect. He was slow to penetrate you, giving you time to adjust to his length but you could tell it was taking everything in him not to move inside you. Your hands snuck up and tangled in his long hair, bringing his lips to yours, and he knew it was time to move. He was slow in his movements, trying to draw this out not only for himself but for you. He didn’t want this to be over, he didn’t want you to be just a distant memory like every other good thing in his life. He switched positions, moving into a sitting position and gripping your hips tightly, as you moved together. Your forehead fell to his, your hands moving slowly down his back and feeling the movement of every taut muscle.

Your eyes met his. “Let go, my love.” He whispered, and you felt yourself tighten around him. Your head tilted towards the sky, releasing a strangled cry as your world seemed to explode. You tightened your grip around him, and he followed suit as he buried his face in your shoulder and cried out your name in sheer bliss. He fell back on the bed, and you laid with your head on his chest. Aside from you both gasping for breath, it was silent. “Where will you go?” you asked Loki, tilting your head up to look at him. He shook his head, placing an arm behind his head and making himself comfortable. “I have no idea. It’s not just the Avengers I have to fear now.”

“Stay here, Loki. I know you can’t stay forever but I can at least offer you some safety for a little while. No one would think to look here.” You weren’t entirely sure why you offered but you didn’t want him to leave, not yet. He looked down to meet your beautiful eyes, his hands brushing delicately across your face and he brought his thumbs over your kiss swollen lips. You were beautiful, and kind, and oh so perfect. Could he risk putting you in harms way like this? “You realize this puts you at risk, with the Avengers, and with SHIELD?” he asked you, his tone was serious. “Yes, I do. But—I don’t care.” He smiled ever so softly. “I’m not sure whether I should call you brave or foolish, my love.”

The two of you lay together in comfortable silence, until Loki turned to look at you with an amused grin on his features. “I don’t suppose you have any more of that tuna, do you? I’ve rather taken a liking to it.” You laughed, truly laughed for what felt like the first time in ages. His face had tinted red, he was a bit embarssed but you kissed him softly. You knew it that moment that life with the Trickster, for however long you would have him, would never be dull.

#loki imagines #loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #marvel #avengers #loki odison x reader #loki odinson #imagine #tom hiddleston

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cosmiceverafter · 4 years

Note

68, 77, 83

68. “You didn’t have to ask.”77. “Call me if you need anything.”83. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

Michael hadn’t seen the other truck coming. It was a flash of headlights, and the next thing he knew, he was waking upside down and feeling numb.

“Dammit…” he swore loudly as he tried to move slowly. He looked out his window to see if anyone was running over to help. They weren’t. It looked to him as if it were a hit-and-run.

He undid his seatbelt and braced his fall with his hands. The searing pain in his wrist told him that it was broken. But he had to get out of this truck. What if the gas was leaking?

Luckily, the window had been down because it was a nice night. He had been on his way to the cabin to grab something from the bunker. He and Alex had been working on everything for days, and there was a certain file on his mom that he needed to study. Tonight. They were getting close to something big.

Michael shimmied his body slowly out the truck and exhaled in pain when his ribs now cried out in pain. He knew his head was probably bleeding and could feel something wet sliding down his arm as well, so he had to get out fast and call for help.

When he was finally out, he crawled on the dirt road by a set of trees and all but collapsed. He looked at the damage of his beloved truck. It was a mess. The whole side was bent in; the metal was damaged too badly. He’d be fixing it for a month—but he wouldn’t give up on it.

Michael was surprised he wasn’t more injured after seeing it though. He was so pissed about the whole ordeal and made a vow to find whoever was responsible, and make them pay.

He reached inside his pocket and found his phone. Michael was thankful he didn’t need to re-enter the wreckage to find it.

Looking at the phone, he was deciding who to call. Kyle probably, because the good doctor could help with his injuries and he couldn’t exactly go to the hospital. But as he sat there, there was only one name that kept coming into his mind. Alex.

They were trying the just friends thing out, both single, and even still after everything… he was the one Michael wanted there.

He knew the number by heart, he was just hoping it wasn’t too late. “Guerin?” Alex said in a sleepy gruffly voice, “It’s really late. What’s up?”

Damn. It was late. Almost 3 am. Lately, Michael couldn’t sleep at all. His mind had been racing around the information on Caulfield and his mom. He wanted to find out every little detail. It was haunting him.

“Um… sorry to bug you,” Michael said quietly. He moved slightly and hissed out in pain.

Immediately he heard a rustle as if Alex were sitting up in bed, “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Not really, no,” Michael replied, shaking his head to no one. “There was a hit-and-run…and I got hit pretty badly.”

“Shit!”

“Yea, I didn’t know who else to call. I’m currently lying on the side of the road. I could call Isobel….”

He heard Alex moving around as if getting dressed, “No! Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

Michael smiled briefly as his heart filled with relief…and joy. Something he tried to beat down. Alex would always be there for him. The man was Mr. Reliable through-and-through.

He then explained the best he could where he was to Alex. Luckily, he was close to the cabin and Alex was already there instead of his house tonight most likely doing what Michael was doing, going over information.

Michael stayed on the phone with Alex the whole time, which was Alex’s idea, even when the phone started cutting out.

Finally, he arrived. Michael knew he had driven fast because he was there in no time even though it was in the middle of nowhere.

“Hey!” Alex called as he rushed over, his face a mask with worry. “Can you move?”

“Yea, I think I’m okay for the most part but my wrist is broken and the ribs don’t feel so great.”

“You’re bleeding, too. I should probably call Kyle when we get to the cabin.”

Michael raised an eyebrow, “You’re not taking me home?”

Alex shook his head, “No way. You need to heal and that airstream gets so cold at night.” He looked down at Michael, “I know from personal experience.”

Michael could feel his face flush in the darkness, “Okay. Yea, thanks. And probably yes about Kyle.

“I mean, he’s the only one that can know for certain the extent of the injuries.”

Michael nodded, “I figured. I just thought to call you first for some reason.” He knew the reason. “I know that this was a lot to ask though. For you to come out here and take care of me. And hell, I should’ve asked if it was okay to even reach out to you.”

“I’m glad you did,” Alex replied with a beautiful soft smile. “And for the record, you didn’t have to ask. I’ll always be here for you, Guerin.”

***

Alex was the best caregiver ever. That much was certain. He warmed a heating pad and did both heat and cold for his injuries. His arm had been bleeding pretty badly, and with Alex’s military training, he knew exactly how to deal with it. He also got super close to Michael as he took care of his head; Michael’s eyes had closed from the smell of Alex. It was so familiar and it left him aching to get even closer.

Kyle came over shortly after. He had just gotten off of his night shift at the hospital. He was able to tell that Michael’s wrist was broken, his ribs were in fact bruised if not slightly sprained, and he had a slight concussion. Michael was hoping his alien-healing would kick in shortly. Especially because Max wasn’t there to heal him with his powers. That son-of-a-bitch.

The good doctor had inquired about calling the police about the hit-and-run, but Michael didn’t want to get the police involved. He didn’t like them scoping him out too closely.

Michael was grateful for the two of them though, even if he didn’t care too much for Kyle. It was nice to know you had people when you needed them. Humans weren’t all that bad after all. Especially ones like Alex.

Even after Kyle had left, Alex never left his side. It warmed Michael’s heart so much. He couldn’t stop staring up at Alex. This man had taken him into the cabin, let him sleep in the bed, and was doing everything in his power to make sure he was okay.

Michael wanted to go and get his truck turned around, but Alex wouldn’t let him. The man could be both sweet but very in control of a situation when he needed to be. What he said, went. No questions asked.

It was hot as hell.

They talked for hours until the sun started to rise. They laughed about random things, which then Michael cursed at because his ribs hurt so badly he wanted to cry, and in return made Alex also curse and say sorry repeatedly. But Michael wasn’t sorry; there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

So Alex had changed the subject and told him about the injuries he had gotten during his time in the military. It had been pretty bad at times, and Michael wished he could go back in time to take care of Alex the way he was taking care of him right now. But Alex was strong. He didn’t need someone to take care of him.

Michael wanted to anyway.

As Alex talked, Michael took this opportunity to stare at him again.

They were so stupid. They would never be just friends. Michael was so in love with this human. He was falling more and more in love with him as the days went by. The more time they had spent together, the more in love he fell.

He didn’t even think it was possible. But clearly, it was.

Even though what they were working on got heavy sometimes, they still had the light moments between them. Moments Michael hadn’t felt with the guy in years.

The truth of the matter was this: They were both healing.

Michael saw a change in Alex as well. He seemed happier, confident, and more carefree. It was like seeing him with a different set of eyes, even though this Alex had been there all along.

He had worked on himself, too, in many ways. Michael wanted to stop the bullshit; he wanted to be nicer to others and work harder to be the best version of himself he could. He stopped blaming others for the past. Michael wanted to take the steps in moving forward.

And he wanted to move forward with Alex. The man inspired him every day.

The conversation was there hovering above them constantly, but he just didn’t know how to start it.

Being pulled back in the present moment, Alex said he could stay at the cabin for as long as he needed to recover. Alex finally went to sleep on the couch, and Michael had wanted to cuddle with him more than anything.

When they were both awake later on, Alex had to go get some files from their new bunker. The guy looked worried though. “Just go, Alex, I’ll be fine.” Michael reassured, “I promise. You’ve been better than the doctor himself. And yes, you can tell him I said that.”

Alex laughed, “Oh, I will. He’ll love that one.” He looked towards the door, “I won’t be long, okay? I need to check on Buffy, too.”

“Go, do what you need to do. But can I ask a favor?”

“Of course,” Alex said with a nod. “Anything.”

“Can you bring Buffy back with you?”

“Consider it done. I think she misses you anyway.”

Michael chuckled, “She should! I am her favorite alien.”

Alex shrugged with a sheepish grin, “Well, to be perfectly honest, Guerin… I didn’t want to tell you this, but Isobel is.”

“Hey!” Michael frowned with a pouty lip as Alex laughed, “Just go get her. I’ll show you otherwise.”

“Okay, okay,” Alex said making his way out the door with his hands up. He paused and looked back at Michael. The sunlight was hitting his face just right, and it took Michael’s breath away, “And hey, call me if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?” Michael nodded and smiled.

As Alex left, Michael wondered how he could tell Alex what he needed the most, was him?

He was going to find a way to do it. Maybe this wreck was a way of waking him up…both of them up. Tomorrow wasn’t always promised. So Michael was going to start fighting for what he wanted, and what he wanted, was Alex by his side forever.

#malex fic #malex #my fic #michael x alex #blood tw #car accident tw

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reynesofcastamere · 4 years

Text

I Know How To Twist Ya

(A/N: Okay, so this is about...5, 6? Years overdue. Basically @bifacialler asked me for a Butterfly Bog drabble back when I was still taking requests and I...er never got around to writing it. Sorry! This is definitely a lemon and very much not safe for work. My usual warnings for this pairing apply, as well as a bit of bondage, knifeplay, and blindfolding. Those weren’t requested, but they kind of...snuck their way in there. ORZ. Title comes from “I Get Off” by Halestorm. Unbeta’d.))

So she’d be willing to admit that her expectations had been a bit...skewed when they’d started doing the Wild Thing on a regular basis. Aside from clawing furrows in the nearest surface, lapsing into Goblin tongue, or insisting on eating her out at least once per ‘concert’, Bog seemed perfectly content with her being in charge. Which Marianne was completely fine with. Honestly, couldn’t ask for better, especially with the Love Potion fiasco out of the way.

At least, until she’d found out that it wasn’t so much that he was....er, really dedicated to backup vocals. She just hadn’t been giving him the right incentive to take centre stage. He thinks she’s beautiful no matter her appearance or what she does, but apparently her acting and looking like the Queen of the Dark Forest? Especially wearing something dark purple and easy-to-remove? Really brings something out in him. And by the gods if remembering that night of discovery didn’t fail to make her hot and bothered every. Single. Time. Hence her current position: Clothing reduced to gauzy shreds, two of which had been used to bind her wrists and cover her eyes, being bent over the dining room table while still recovering from round 1, their combined fluids slowly seeping out of her exposed core. Marianne has to choke back a sob as one of his fingers carefully dips inside her, his other hand spread over her lower back to keep her from thrashing. She’s still sensitive and it hurts a little but it’s so good. Her sore and thoroughly-bitten breasts rub against the hard and slightly uneven surface beneath her with every shift and squirm. The digit slips in all the way to the knuckle before he withdraws it and she can hear him sucking it clean with a low, satisfied hum. Her passage clenches down on nothing while she moans, suddenly in need of relief from the heat he’s re-ignited in her. Something cold and flat meanders its’ way up her spine as he leans over her, feeling the vibrations as Bog violently slams it into the table and readjusts the fabric on her wrists so that she’s secured to this...thing. Feels like...a handle? Oh. He’d taken one of the knives and buried it deep enough to prevent her from accidentally injuring herself. Or attempting an escape. The second one is way more likely, given their history.

“Don’t s’pose yer considering surrender?” The soft, purring taunt is right in her left ear, his tongue flicking out to trace the lobe. It’s endearing that he’s considerate enough to ask her if she wants a break or to stop entirely; But it is also entirely his fault that both of those options are the furthest thing from her mind right now. Marianne should have known he’d get her back for deliberately riling him up during a very long diplomatic meeting. It had been worth it, though. “Not a chance.” She growls, biting her lip when she feels the head of his cock rub against her entrance. “Hurry up already.” Her attempts to push her hips backward and take him inside again are met with failure, leaving the thwarted fairy muttering curses under her breath. “Much as Ah’m enjoyin’ your...creative suggestions, yeh ken tha’s not how it’s done, lass.” Bog reminds her, soft and rumbling, his mouth latching onto the semi-permanent bite mark where her neck and shoulder meet. She groans from a combination of the scrape of his teeth on her skin, his insistence on her doing this one thing, and how wet the prospect of it makes her. “I order you to fuck me.” Marianne begins through gritted teeth, a harsh pant escaping when the hand on her lower back curved down to grasp her hip. “Hard. Until the whole castle can hear me scream.” She’s drenched and absolutely throbbing and she needs him right now or she might go crazy. “As my queen commands.” There’s a brief nudge before he splits her open, thrusts deep and savage. She would honestly swear that she could feel him in the back of her throat, like this. Their current position leaves her partially immobilized, despite her efforts to try and match his frantic rhythm; his large, rough hands at her hip and now the back of her neck keeping her pinned while the table jolts and trembles from the force of it all. She has to take it whether she wants to or not. And she most certainly wants, keening sharply and deliberately squeezing so the ridges on him can scrape against the spot that makes stars burst behind her closed eyes. Bog isn’t silent or passive in his appreciation, grunts and growls slipping between the lips and teeth that are currently inflicting a line of fresh marks between her left shoulder and earlobe. She can feel him starting to swell and expand inside her in a very...particular fashion, grinning like the madwoman he sometimes accuses her of being when he gasps sharply in realization. “You planned this.” His shaft will lock them together for a time, and she knows from experience how fantastic that feels, even if it only happens when she’s at a fertile peak in her cycle. Which just started this morning, as a matter of fact. Something she’d had to work to hide from him until this very moment. “Ah’d wondered why yeh muddled up yer scent with perfumes and oils. ‘Specially your sweet quim.” He’d paused for a moment as he spoke, then drew out the time of his next few thrusts, pulling out a high-pitched, protestant whine from her. “You should -mm- know by now -ah!- I don’t do things by halves.” Marianne points out smugly, jumping a bit as the hand on her neck shifts next to her right ear, his claws dragging downwards ever so slowly, leaving what sound like long, shallow trenches in the wood. Well, give a Goblin’s instincts credit, he knows how to make a point even without talking. “One of these days, you’re going t’get in over your head, Tough Girl.” Bog rumbles, squeezing her hip hard enough to draw little crimson beads from her skin, before the other set of claws becomes embedded in the table as well. She turns her head just enough to give him a look at her challenging smile, a silent dare for him to ‘bring it’. And then there isn’t much room left for talking between them. Only fervent motion and noises that slide up and down the scale between pleasure and pain until they reach that final, tortured crescendo; her leading, him following a heartbeat after.

It’s intense enough that she blacks out for a few seconds, coming to with the blindfold and restraints removed, her lover gently kissing between her shoulderblades. She can feel his shaft pulsing lazily within her and hums in contentment. “Mm...I hope you didn’t have any plans for the rest of the day.” She teases, stretching out and feeling him chuckle. “Ah have a feeling yeh’ve somehow conspired to clear my schedule like the scheming wee fairy that y’are.” He answers, right before their lips meet in a soft carress. Bog’s right, of course, but Marianne isn’t about to tell him that. Their respective kingdoms won’t collapse if they take the afternoon off, and she hasn’t even shown him the full extent of her plans. Yet. She does so look forward to surprising him, though. (A/N: *coughs* Yeah, so. That happened. Hope you enjoy?)

#smutterfly bog #bifacialler #this is so so overdue and I am very sorry #this movie came out in 2015 and only NOW does the muse decide to bite me in the ass again ffs #NSlemonFW

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dawniebb · 4 years

Text

We Must Be Strong

I’ve never published a She-Ra fanfic here (even if I have 2 in Ao3) but, since it’s ending tomorrow, I thought it was...adequate. I’ve been in this fandom since the show’s first season came out and to think about it’s coming to an end it’s very bittersweet, at least to me. I remember watching the first season during the week I was finishing my first semester at university and I remember that semester as one of the best ones of my academic life, so I’m really grateful She-Ra came into my life in that period. This was a great experience even if each season gave me like four breakdowns per episode :’) <3

This was supposed to be a Catradora fic but I ended up writing about Adora and Bow because I love them and they’re brotp material :’3 kind angsty, but that’s how I feel about She-Ra right now, so :’).

Also, English is not my first language, but I hope you like it.

For the honor of Grayskull, y’all :’) thanks for making this fandom great.

Bow had been here many times before.

Many, many times before...and he was certain, very certain, that never had the Bright Moon’s castle felt so empty.

He also had been here without Glimmer many times before. Many, many times before, whether it was sneaking in by himself when she wasn’t available to help him, or he had been requested by the Queen (Long live the Queen) to help her take her stubborn child out of her room so she could be properly lectured; and that wasn’t it. Bow had been through the halls by himself very late at night, when Glimmer was out of power during slumber parties and one of the two had to sacrifice themself to go steal snacks from the kitchen; he had talked to the Queen by himself; he had walked through the gardens by himself when the stupid fight had gone too far and now they had to find a way to apologize.

He had been here without Glimmer many times before, but never had he doubted he would see her again.

The thought of never getting to see her best friend again had never crossed his mind, but right now it was all Bow could think about.

He was usually a patient and somewhat realistic person (at least that was how he liked to consider himself) but right now, even for someone like him, it was infuriating to see how while the world inside of his head was suspended in time, the one on the outside was still moving at its regular pace, even if it was in shambles.

Clocks ticked. Hours passed. The weather changed. The breeze turned too cold or too hot. The foreign stars shone up in a sky that appeared to be somewhere it wasn’t meant to be. People spoke. People asked. People stared.

People mourned Queen Angella, because she would’ve known...No, she would’ve done better than this.

People mourned Queen Glimmer, because oh, that poor negligent heir, whose crown was too big and heavy for her head.

People mourned She-Ra, because what was Etheria to do without her; because what is that child to do without her sword.

People, hesitantly, celebrated King Micah’s return because if it wasn’t Angella, and if it wasn’t Glimmer, then he was the one to fix the mess they had left behind. Or at least the one to take their place in that unfortunate throne.

Bow had been confused and disappointed the whole time. Confused and disappointed on how they seemed to care but at the same time they seemed to not be getting it at all; how they weren’t capable to look above their own pain and realize they were falling into pieces too; How Angella had been someone’s mother; how Glimmer had been someone’s best friend and someone’s daughter; how there was a normal girl inside of She-Ra and they were lucky she was still alive; How King Micah had returned home only to find his wife and daughter to be gone.

Bow felt confused and disappointed on them until he remembered they all were in the middle of a war.

A war that, at least today, they had lost. Of course, they had won some things and, at the end of the day, they were still here in one piece.

But they had also lost too many things they weren’t supposed to. One of them being Glimmer...And She-Ra’s sword. And Bow knew they would manage to keep fighting because that’s what they always did, but he wasn’t sure how.

Scorpia was the one who came and told him there was something wrong with Adora, and Bow didn’t ask for any further proof because she had the right to feel bad and to feel absolutely destroyed. She was only human. A normal girl, even if people refused to recognize her as such because a big sword had decided to turn her into a tall, shiny, gorgeous lady.

But because he was her friend and he was supposed to be there for her, and because Scorpia looked genuinely worried, Bow decided to go check on her.

The walk to Adora’s chamber was the longest he’d ever had to walk, mostly because he had moved very slowly, scared to find out what was Scorpia referring to. Still, when the door was right in front of him, sheer courage ran through his veins along with his blood. And then, in a blink, Bow’s knuckles were knocking against the door.

No response, as expected, but now that Bow knew he had taken the time to knock and try to be polite, his conscience was clean, so he opened the door even though permission had not been granted.

When he faced the conditions the bedroom was in, there was only one thing that popped in Bow’s head:

“We hit things.”

Sometimes thinking about small children being under the Horde’s care was enough to make Bow’s heart ache for days as if it were breaking piece by piece.

Those poor creatures; stolen childhoods, stolen happiness...stolen lives.

The room looked like an hurricane had torn it apart.

Some of the furniture was on the floor; there were broken things, ripped paper sheets, ripped documents, including a map of Etheria and some unnecessarily complicated notes about Princess Prom; in fact, the only thing that appeared to have been treated with delicacy was the broken sword; placed on the bed, and all of the pieces they managed to recover placed in order, like a puzzle, only it was still detached.

Adora was the last thing Bow’s eyes found; she was knelt down, really close to one of the walls; Bow couldn’t see her face, but he could almost bet her stare was blank; her hair was down, as it had been when they had arrived, but it looked more like a mess now; her hands were placed on her lap, but even from here Bow could see her knuckles were bruised and had tiny red spots, which made him feel speechless...even breathless, he dared to say. And the need to run towards her and shake her was unbearable, but he tried to hold himself back as if his life depended on it.

And he gave her time, until Adora felt his gaze fixed on her and her head started turning around to face him. Very slowly, as if she were yet to process her body was experiencing movement.

When Bow saw her, he saw exactly what he was expecting to see.

Her eyes were red and swollen, and her cheeks looked shiny due to the tears that were still drying on her skin.

Still, when she managed to identify him, she cleaned her nose with her arm and then sniffed. Next, her dry lips were the shape of a forced, broken, barely put together smile that, if anything, made her lower lip quiver more than it made it look more relaxed. A look that, as a whole, made her emanate a more worrying aura.

Adora took a deep, faltering breath before speaking.

“Hey, Bow.” She said in a hoarse voice.

That’s when he allowed himself to finally approach her, kneeling down behind her.

Slowly, Bow hugged her from her back; Adora sniffed again, interlocking her fingers between Bow’s as her way to correspond the hug. A couple of seconds later, she was mildly shaking, but he could feel her swallowing very hard with every breath.

Bow held her tighter, closing his eyes.

Beneath her shirt, Bow could feel the traces on her skin from the scratches Catra had given her some time ago. He had never seen those scars, but he had been there the day Adora was laying face down while they tried to heal the wounds (To be honest, Mermista and Frosta hadn’t helped much).

Actually, Bow had been there most of the times Adora had allowed anybody to take care of her wounds; people tended to see her as this invencible giant lady because that was what She-Ra looked like but, in reality, Adora was scarred.

She was tossed around in every battle as if she were a mannequin; she was wounded, injured, bruised and emotionally and physically attacked every single time she had to face the war. And people didn’t seem to notice that.

Or maybe they did but refused to admit it, because it was more relieving to think of She-Ra as this almighty warrior who would get up every time even if she was bleeding to death.

And she did, but not because she could, but because she chose to do so.

And, to Bow, it was unfair to ask this much out of a person; it was unfair to be in the middle of a war; it was unfair to scar someone’s body and mind this much and this bad.

Like any kid who had grew up in the Horde and any kid who had been born in the middle of this conflict, Adora was stolen. Her everything was stolen. Literally, because she had been taken from her family when she was just a baby.

And now, even when she was in a safer environment than the Horde, the consequences of that kept taking things from her.

Bow felt as if he were hugging what was left of her, and if he dared to let go even just a bit, she would turn into dust.

This was just Adora. No longer She-Ra. And even if in other circumstances that could’ve been liberating, this time was the opposite.

She-Ra was gone.

Just like Angella.

Just like Glimmer.

Bow rested his forehead on her shoulder, and he felt her hold getting tighter, as she leaned her cheek on his skin.

“I’m getting her back.” Adora muttered. “She-Ra or not. I’m getting her back.”

“We’re getting her back.” Bow corrected. His voice sounding like a very thin thread. “She’s our best friend.”

And it was unfair. Very unfair.

“But we must be strong.”

Adora shivered. Gulped again. Breathed.

Spoke.

“We must be strong.” She repeated.

Because they couldn’t waste more time mourning Glimmer’s absence, because they had to use that time to find a way to bring her back.

The world was still spinning.

And time was running out.

#spop #she ra and the pricesses of power #netflix #noelle stevenson #she ra #fanfic #my fanfic #adora #glimmer #bow #send help this is not a meme #im going to miss this gals so much its unreal #there goes one of my coping mechanisms #she-ra season 5 #spop s5 #brotp #she-ra eve

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despair-ninja-everything-agency · 4 years

Text

Oblivious

I swear I’m not obsessed or anything-

A fic for my Kara ga Gotoku AU. Took me 2 days and 2 restless nights to finish due to college. Title came from Fukan Fukuei’s ED theme. This is supposed to be my take on what happened after Millennium Tower exploded and basically a Nishiki-centric Yakuza re-imagine of Hollow Shrine.

Sorry if there’s oocness with some characters and, as always, if there’s any misspellings, redundancies, and grammatical errors. This is the longest fic I’ve made yet.

Before delving in, credits to @koikoikisses (sorry for tagging :,D) for the concept of Shikiya (Nishiki’s alternate personality). I just take my own spin on it for this AU.

Word Count: 5000+ words

Characters: Akira “Nishiki” Nishikiyama, Shikiya, Kazuma Kiryu, Sakamoto Ryoma (Yakuza Ishin), Miyamoto Musashi (Yakuza Kenzan)

Pairings: NiShikiya/AkiShiki, possible one-sided MusaShiki

Fic under the cut

When he opened his eyes, all he saw was nothing. He was floating aimlessly in this absolute void. He thought he was dead. Felt like he’s dead. Yet, another part of him felt alive. As if there were nothing life-threatening happened to him before.

Where am I?

He thinks to himself.

Why am I here?

Am I alive? Am I dead?

What had happened to him?

What of-

And then everything went white.

-o0o-

He abruptly sits up, panting heavily as if he had just running for a long time. Trying to calm himself, he looks around his vicinity. It’s night time. He’s in a hospital room. Smell of antiseptic enters his nostrils as he breaths in. He bows his head and closes his eyes once he calmed down, trying to recall what happened.

Someone shouted his name. No, not quite his name but close. Then a blinding flash and a loud boom. And then nothing.

He hears the door creaks open. Someone’s coming. Slowly, his eyes flutters open and his gaze directed to where the sound came from. The doctor, a nurse trails behind him, comes to check him up. He’s saying something but all that come out is nothing. Well, at least to him as he doesn’t bother to pay attention. He cranes his head to see the doctor. That’s when he sees it.

Writhing and glowing mass of red lines swarming on the two strangers. Anything beside them are blurred and muted, as if forcing him to look at them. They dance. Whispers on the back of his head beckons him to cut them off.

His eyes wide. His face paling. The sight of it is absolutely sickening. He looks away from them. The lines follow his gaze. Even after he tries to look a different direction, they still within his vision. He screams, clutching his head and screwing his eyes shut. Anything to get those foul sight away. The whispers come back, demanding him to look. The doctor tries to calm him down. He only screams louder, tears streaming down his cheek as he desperately cries for whatever it is to stop. He wails out that name, to that person he wishes is still there somewhere within him.

-o0o-

It took him an hour before he finally calmed down. The doctor and his nurse had left fifteen minutes earlier. The lines are still there, just not as loud and demanding as before. As he lays there, eyes on the ceiling, he wonders what was that. So many questions he’d like to answer yet nothing he could explain. He tiredly shrugs it off, closing his eyes and letting himself drift to sleep.

-o0o-

The same thing happens again the next time the doctor visits. He screws his eyes shut, trembling as he screams and cries.

Make it stop! Please!

He continues his lament.

Where is he? Where’s Nishiki?!

If the doctor is weirded out by that question, he doesn’t show it.

-o0o-

The third time it happened, he had tried to claw his eyes out. The doctor had no choice but to cover them with bandages.

In a way, he’s grateful. Sure, darkness can be lonely. But at least it’s better than seeing those things again.

Like this, he can finally calm down and think. How long had he been out? Is Yumi okay? What about the kid? What’s her name again? Haruka? What about Kiryu?

… What about Nishiki?

He sobs as he remembered. After that day he took over, the poor boy had been pulling himself away into the depths of the mind. He had believed that he would come back, first through his efforts then by Kiryu’s presence. However, it did nothing. That is, until the incident that night. Nishiki had surged out from his isolation and pulled the trigger, destroying the 10 billion yen with the bomb Yumi had set up before. If he hadn’t been dead before, the incident that night surely had killed him for good. Tears stained the bandage wet. He finally realizes one thing.

Akira Nishikiyama is dead.

And there’s nothing he can do but regret and cry, even if it’s not his strongest suit.

-o0o-

Kiryu has visited him today, asking if he’s getting better. He can only nods, not trusting himself to talk after three rounds of screaming and crying.

“Doctor said you asked for Nishiki,” the other man says matter-o-factly.

He steels himself. Ain’t that sound weird, coming from the mouth of supposedly Nishiki himself?

A chuckle breaks the relatively short silence.

“I suppose it’s to be expected”

Huh?

“If you’re not him, then who are you?”

Silence.

What is it with that question? Did Kiryu somehow know him and Nishiki were different? If so, how? How did he manage to know?

Not bother to dwell on those many questions swarming his head, he chooses to answer the other man with a hoarse croak instead.

“Shikiya”

-o0o-

Days pass by as he recovers from his wounds. Kiryu visits him once in a while. Most of the time, he takes Haruka with him. A pang of guilt pierces him when she tells him that Yumi died too that night. He apologizes to her, but she tells him it’s fine. He wonders how much of that is true to her.

At times, Kiryu visits him alone, having dropped Haruka to some trusted subordinates.

(Majima, of all people? Really, Kiryu?

You’ll be surprised if I told you what he’s like, Shikiya…)

During those times, they would chat freely without having to hide anything. They talk about life in general, what the outside world is currently like, and other mundane stuff. Kiryu asks him of himself, not as ‘Nishiki’ but as Shikiya. There are times that he would answer but the other times he just silent.

There’s something off… with Kiryu, though.

Sometimes, when they talk, his voice would sound soft and emotional. Kiryu by no mean a cold man, but he was never being one to be too emotional as well. Even if he cries, he still retains some coolness with him. This one’s different. He doesn’t know what it is, it’s just too uncharacteristically gentle and too sentimental to be Kiryu.

Other times, it’s the opposite. His tone would sound mischievous and mocking. Unlike the other voice, this one is completely out of character for it to be Kiryu. Too playful to be him. It is as if there’s venom every time he talks. He does realize it’s just for the show, that this voice does not always talk like this. Still, it makes his whole body shivers in uncertainty and rage. One time, that voice had the audacity to flirt with him. Shikiya wished his palm connected with the other man’s cheek the moment he swung it at him but part of him was relieved he didn’t hurt Kiryu over such trivial thing.

-o0o-

In a few days, he will be discharged from hospital. Most of his burnt scars has healed. Shikiya breaths a relieved sigh. He might need to go back to his mess of a family but he’s ready to face the consequences.

Even if it’s without Nishiki.

-o0o-

Kiryu had offered himself to stay by his side for the night. As always, Haruka was dropped somewhere else, this time by her own classmate’s house. Slumber party, he’d say. Shikiya couldn’t help but chuckle at the mental image.

“Y’know… I was wondering…”

That stupid cheerful voice again…

“Hmm?”

“I don’t remember you being blinded. Sure, you were in point blank position. But, if I’m not mistaken, the doctor said your head was intact. So how come you’re having bandages around your eyes?”

Shikiya’s blood runs cold. He hadn’t accounted that Kiryu would ask around for his condition, hoping he’d assumed the bandage was due to some kind of head trauma. Gotta find a plausible reason for it. He’s not ready to tell him it was to isolate himself from even taking a glimpse of those wretched vision.

“U-Umm… He said I got injured on the back”

Silence. He could almost practically feel Kiryu’s gaze on him. He gulps.

“Really?”

He nods.

Another silence.

Shikiya hopes the other man just dropped the subject already.

As the silence stretches far and wide, he sighs as he hears scraping sound of chair against tiles. Kiryu must’ve left for something. The window, maybe. Shikiya lets himself relaxes, leaning his back against the pillow propping behind him.

Something struggles to yank the bandages.

Panic shot through his entire system.

He pins his palms hard against the bandages, grounding it to his face. He cries out a protest.

“W-What are you doing?! Stop it!!”

Kiryu doesn’t listen, judging from the ever-increasing vigor in forcefully ripping the coverings away. Shikiya desperately clings to it, begging for him to not take it away from him.

As the last shred of the cloth falls onto his lap, Shikiya feels his hands being gripped and pried away from his face. He glares at the other man, barring his teeth threateningly. He would’ve maintained that look had his vision’s not being filled with that blurred, muted scene as before. Right in front of him, the same glaring red lines swims about, outlining a shape of a face.

Something different this time. Something that drains any color from Shikiya’s face.

A pair of dark, eerie grayish green eyes bore into his soul.

He squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to look into the nightmare before him.

“Oi! Look at me!”

He feels his body being shaken.

He still refuses to look.

Suddenly, the grip around his hands disappear. He chances himself a look. The lines outlining the other man get yanked as if some force had pushed them away from him. Both men pant raggedly. Silence falls once more, only being accompanied by their heaving breaths. The two watch each other as if having a staring contest.

The lines are still there but what were once eerie green eyes has been replaced by soft blue hue.

“Shikiya…”

The soft-spoken one…

The outline slowly approaches him, cautious not to agitate him too much. He scoots back but his ass already hits the bed’s headboard. Once the outline stands beside him, he looks up at it. His breaths already calm down a bit but it’s still clear from his expression that he’s still panicking inside.

A hand reaches out to his. He considers pulling away.

“Shiki… It’s okay…”

That voice… So gentle…

He flinches when they make contact.

“Close your eyes… Take a deep breath…”

He does so. One, two, three…

That hand squeezes gently against his.

So warm…

He slowly opens his eyes and looks to the side. Everything is back to normal, crisp and full of colors. The lines are gone. There, Kiryu gives him a concerned look. Soft blue hue glows from his eyes.

Was it always blue like that?

“Kiryu…?”

A blink.

Ethereal blue replaced with familiar brown.

“Shikiya…”

Sighing, he lets himself slumping against the headboard, his hand squeezes back at Kiryu’s.

“I’m sorry…”

No, please don’t apologize you idiot! It’s not your fault, it’s mine! I’m the one getting worked up over nothing!

But… was it really nothing…?

He feels like he wants to cry.

-o0o-

Kiryu had explained everything.

The visions… Mystic Eyes of Death Perception. Allowing its user to see the lines of death, the concept of longevity given form. If you cut the line, its owner will cease to live.

Shikiya wouldn’t believe him the first time, thinking he was fucking with him.

Kiryu himself doesn’t seem to be sure about it as well.

He had another guy do the explaining again later.

It’s still him, red shirt and grey suit pants. The blazer had been hanging on the chair’s backrest. But his eyes are different. It glows soft blue from within, overshadowing its natural brown color. His tone, tender than Kiryu’s usual tone.

It’s him. The soft-spoken one.

His name is Sakamoto Ryoma.

Shikiya feels like he’s gonna faint. If Nishiki didn’t pay attention to history classes back at school, Shikiya would’ve think Kiryu’s fucking with him again. Too bad that wasn’t the case (and Kiryu’s shit at acting anyway).

The historical figure, who is currently possessing Kiryu (his descendant, for fuck sake! Shikiya wouldn’t have knew. Nishiki wouldn’t have known), reiterates what his host had explained before only in much more detail and confidence.

Silence ensues as Shikiya tries to process the information.

“Wow…” he whispered.

“Forgive me, Shikiya-kun. I know it’s too much for you to-“

“No, no! It’s okay, Sakamoto-san! It’s just… I didn’t expect to have such power”

“Please, Ryoma’s fine”

He nods.

Neither speaks after that.

Another awkward silence.

Shikiya’s the one breaking the silence this time.

“So, umm… Ryoma-san?”

“Hmm?”

“If you… Were you…”

Shikiya sighs.

“Yes?”

“Is there… someone else? Well, beside you and Kiryu, I mean…”

Ryoma blinks.

“What do you mean?”

Shikiya’s face heats up.

“I-I mean! There’s this… one. Back when I see nothing but darkness. He’s like, y’know? He has Kiryu’s voice but talk like a dick to me. Sounds like an asshole! Fucker keeps teasing me every time! Do you know that he once tried to flirt with me? N-Not like I like it or anything! I already have a crush!”

The not-quite Kiryu blinks before bursting into a laugh.

“D-Don’t laugh!” Shikiya bashfully reprimands.

“S-Sorry! It’s just- I know too well who are you talking about,” Ryoma answers once he calms down, wiping away the tear from the corner of his eye.

“Really? Who is it, then?”

The not-quite Kiryu clears his throat before looking at Shikiya with a serious expression, as if he wasn’t just laughing his ass off from the other’s minor inconvenience a second ago.

“Yes. But… Do you really want to see him? Last time you two together, it wasn’t a pleasant experience”

Shikiya frowns at that, recalling what happened last night. The forceful hands, how close his face was, how he sent shiver down his spine when their eyes meet even just for a moment and how it was distorted by his vision. Sighing, he closes his eyes and thinks. Ryoma patiently waits for him, not wanting to make the other man uncomfortable. A minute passed before Shikiya opens his eyes and looks back at Ryoma, nodding a confirmation.

It’s Ryoma’s turn to sigh and close his eyes. Shikiya watches expectantly and wonders. Who is the other man? What makes him so insufferable and yet so endearing?

Before he got his answers, the corner of Kiryu’s lip curls into a manic smile. When he opens his eyes, it glows eerie green. The same one Shikiya saw in his nightmarish vision. Shikiya’s body ceases its movement yet also shivering in anticipation. When he talks, it’s in the same annoying tone as Shikiya remembered.

“It’s been a while, Shikiya!”

The not-quite Kiryu brings up his thumb and forefinger to hold Shikiya’s chin with, causing the latter to flinch. He pushes his chin up, forcing the other to look at him.

“Didn’t know you miss me that much~!”

Fear is all Shikiya know at that moment, recalling the nightmare from earlier night. Noticing this, the not-quite Kiryu frowns and let go of his grip, sighing.

“Hey… Sorry about yesterday… I didn’t mean to scare you… I thought- If you face fear head on, you’d-“

A sigh.

“Look… I’m sorry… I promise something like that wouldn’t happen again…”

He doesn’t trust his words.

Rage-filled punch crashes against the side of Kiryu’s cheek, throwing him off his seat. Shikiya breaths heavily before realizing what he had done, looking at his fisted hand in horror.

“S-Sorry! I-I didn’t know what’s gotten into-“

Soft shuffling noises echo through the room as his victim gets up. Footsteps clacking against the floor, approaching him. And then…

SMACK!!

Red handprint forms on his pale cheek. His lips slightly ajar, stunned at the sudden slap.

“Fight me”

“Eh?”

He looks up at the other man. Gone was that playfulness. His expression devoid of emotion. It is as if he is a different person, yet the cold grayish green eyes staring back says otherwise.

“If you hate me that much, then it’s only fair for you to fight me”

An invitation. Every fiber of his being is screaming to turn it down. To brush it off and cowers in fear, even if it’s not like him to do such thing. Warning him that he wouldn’t stand a chance against the man before him.

Yet, he takes the bait. Turning his fear and sadness into anger, he springs out from his bed, hitting the man with such ferocity it leaves a bruise swelling. His vision blurs, red lines wrapping around his opponent.

Mystic Eyes of Death Perception. Allowing its user to see the lines of death

Kiryu’s words echo on the back of his mind. Momentarily, panic courses through his body. However, he soon turns it into a manic desire. A desire to kill this man before him who had so rudely mock and taunt him.

If you cut the line, its owner will cease to live.

Let’s see if it’s true or not…

Shikiya frantically grabs anything sharp from the table beside him. Anything to cut those lines. His palm pressing against a cold metal surface.

Good, he thinks. This’ll do…

Murderous glint reflects on his eyes as he swings the object at the not-quite Kiryu. The other man dodges it, cruel smile spreads through his lips. His eyes show the same murderous glint as his are, a sight so out of place on Kiryu’s face he just wants to punch it out of disgust. It doesn’t matter, though, as the two set into a wild and fast-paced brawl. Shikiya moves swiftly, aiming for a slash, but his movements are frantic and erratic, going for nothing but the kill. The not-quite Kiryu, meanwhile, evades in such grace and finesse, occasionally throwing a defensive punch at his opponent. They both move as if it’s a choreographed dance except for the frenzied speed of each fighters. Crashes and thuds fill the room they’re in, ransacking it mercilessly with their exchanged blows.

Their fight concluded soon after, with Shikiya straddling Kiryu’s hips and looking down at him. His right hand clutching on the metal object tightly. Both fighters pant heavily, chests heaving from the adrenaline. Shikiya lifts his hands, clasping his fingers around the metal object. Rage-filled expression directed to his opponent, expression unreadable as he watches him. With a cry, he swings the object down…

…it stabs the tiled floor beside Kiryu’s head.

Bitter laugh escapes Shikiya’s mouth. His body trembles as he let out a soft sob.

“I… I can’t…”

He lets go of the object. Clatter fills the otherwise silent room before it too ceases its sound.

“Heh… It’s weird… I’ve been wanting to kill you for what you did… Been wanting to silence you for talking shit to me… And yet, I… I can’t…”

Another sob.

“Why can’t I kill you…? Why… Why don’t I wanna kill you?!”

The not-quite Kiryu’s face soften. The manic smirk and cold scowl have been replaced with as small sad smile. He brings up his hand to brush away Shikiya’s stray hair and cups his cheek. Shikiya flinches but lets him to do so, placing his hand on top of Kiryu’s. He hadn’t realized his flowing hair until now. Fuck! He must’ve look like Nishiki right now. The mental image is enough to make tears welling up his eyes, still unable to cope with the other’s passing. He feels sick for wearing the look of his fallen friend. Kiryu’s thumb swipes away the tear.

“You did good, kid…”

That’s all the other man offers him. He glances to his side, looking at the object that could be his downfall. Shikiya follows his gaze. His eyes go wide when he sees it, realization dawns to him.

A bent spoon lays non-threateningly against the tiled floor.

Shikiya had been trying to kill Kiryu with a goddamn spoon.

The idiocy doesn’t escape him. He laughs, softly at first before turning into a maniacal laugh and ends with a choked one. All the while Kiryu’s hand still attached to his cheek. Shikiya leans to the touch. He closes his eyes, sighing as waves after waves of emotion crashes against him.

“Hey…” He calls the other out in a whisper. “Can I… borrow your shoulder… for a bit?”

The not-quite Kiryu looks up at him and nods, groaning as he feels the shift in weight. Shikiya has laid himself on top of him, face buried against his shoulder. He’s too tired to cry, too tired to argue and talk. He inhales a generous amount of air. Smell of sweat and cologne enters his nostrils, lulling him to unconsciousness. He feels a hand combing through his soft, messy hair. Through Nishiki’s hair. Another pang of guilt stabs him, though he’s too exhausted to dwell on it.

“Musashi…”

Shikiya hums questioningly, muffled only by the fabric of Kiryu’s shirt. He doesn’t bother to look at the other in this state.

“Name’s Miyamoto Musashi”

He hums again, this time in content. He finally allows himself drifting to sleep, aware of Kiryu’s strong arms hugging him securely.

-o0o-

The hospital bill suddenly spikes up. Not from the increase of tax but from the property damage he and Kiryu had caused in his room earlier this morning. Shikiya had insisted he would be the one covering for the bill with the Nishikiyama family’s treasury but Kiryu didn’t listen, apologizing and promising the doctor to take responsibility for the damage they’d done. Just before he left, Kiryu – no, Musashi – had offered to teach him how to control the Mystic Eyes but he refused, not wanting to burden the other man with his problem.

(Wait, THE Miyamoto Musashi?! Kiryu, what the fuck is your family, man?! Are you secretly related to all of Japan’s most influential people?!

Shiki, believe me when I said I’m just as surprised as you… I never knew that until these two came into my life. Did Ryoma-no-niisan tell you he’s part of Shinsengumi as well?

But… Wasn’t Sakamoto Ryoma their enemy? How was he part of Shinsengumi?

Yeah… He’s also Saito Hajime…

He WHAT?!)

And after that, he’s left alone. The room had been cleaned from hazardous debris, though the broken and bent furniture are yet to be fixed. Shikiya sighed and laid back to his bed. So much had happened in such a short time. He shut his eyes, imagining Nishiki’s voice and presence. He wished the other half was still there with him but with everything that had happened? He doubted he’s still alive. Yet he kept on hoping, praying that he survived.

Frustrated, Shikiya forced himself to sleep, convincing himself to just forget it already.

-o0o-

Where am I?

He thinks to himself.

Why am I here?

Am I alive? Am I dead?

What had happened to him?

What of-

His train of thoughts were interrupted by ghoulish wails in the distance. He looked around, finding nothing but complete darkness. Then he saw it. Writhing masses of restless spirits came into view. The macabre sight almost sending him running on his heels in fear. But then he heard something else, not quite an echoing wail of a spirit. Rather, a whimper of a lost soul trapped among the land of the dead.

Please!

Get away from me!

Leave me alone!

Swallowing, he cautiously approached the masses of death. Then he saw it. Black, slicked back hair. White suit and pants. A figure standing hunched. His back was facing him, hands clutching tightly at the hair it almost looked like it got ripped from its roots.

He recognized that look, recognized that voice.

As he drew closer, flashes of emotions struck him.

Regret. Sadness. Anger. Fear. Guilt. Pain. Anguish.

Loss.

Suddenly, he understood. As the ghouls closing in toward the lost soul, he took action.

Kicking. Punching. Biting. Stomping. Smashing.

He put everything into his being to protect this lost soul, distant yet familiar.

Then he saw it.

Red lines coiling around the ghouls.

He didn’t understand at first but he figured he’d find out as he went.

He noticed at last.

Spirits ceasing to exist once the lines were cut.

And so he did. Cutting every last visible line on the wretched spirits until there’s no more of them.

He looked back at the lost soul. Glaring red lines plastered on its being.

He shook his head.

No, I wouldn’t kill him.

After what I did to protect him.

I wouldn’t waste my effort just to end him.

The lines disappeared.

He approached the lost soul.

He hugged the poor soul.

He whispered the soul’s name.

Shikiya…

The one he had called tensed and slowly turns around, tears staining his pale cheeks as their gaze met.

Ni… Nishiki…

He smiled, wiping the other’s tears with his finger.

Heh… Who’s the crybaby now?

Shut up… You left me…

I know…

I thought you were gone…

I’m sorry…

I love you…

He kept on. Whispering apologies and sweet nothings. Inching his face closer and closer. Until their lips locked into a gentle kiss. Their eyes fluttered shut. Savoring the moment of tenderness. Never wanting to let go.

-o0o-

Shikiya wakes up gasping for air, eyes pried open as he darts his gaze everywhere in the room. Slowly, he sits up, comprehending on his dream in sleep.

There was darkness. Then the eldritch beings. Then silence. Then the familiar warmth. Then…

Part of him doesn’t believe it was real, brushing it off as a dream. He can’t sense him from within, so surely it can’t be real... Right?

But... Another part of him wants to believe it, clinging onto that sliver of hope. If so, then there’s one thing for sure…

Nishiki is in there somewhere.

Akira Nishikiyama is alive.

He calms down, fingertips ghosting over his lips. A tingling sensation and warmth send shiver down his spine as he remembers the kiss. He breaths, shutting his eyes as he replayed that scene, that feeling over and over in his mind.

-o0o-

The night before he’s officially discharged, he chances himself a look on a mirror. His face looks tired. There’re faint eyebags under his eyes. His hair’s in shambles yet neatly parted in the middle. Stray bangs framing his gaunt face.

He looks like shit.

He looks like Nishiki.

Sighing, he combs his hair backwards in hope to achieve his preferred slick back style. It doesn’t work, as strands of hair fall back to the parted style the moment his hand leaves the scalp. He exhales in frustration, slightly banging the mirror as he leans against it.

Soft thud disturbs the otherwise peaceful night. It comes from outside. Shikiya cautiously removed himself from the mirror and approaches the door. Before his hand touching the cold surface of the doorknob, someone barges in so suddenly.

A man… No, not a man. Foul stench fills the hospital room. Rotten flesh splats on the otherwise pristine floor below. His eyes unfocused, rotating unnaturally in different direction. He pauses for a moment, looking at Shikiya with that ghoulish eyes, before charging at him, knocking him against a wall. Shikiya feels a pair of decaying hands pressing against his neck, his windpipe, choking him. He struggles to pry it off, mind starting to become unfocused as air leaves his lungs steadily. He contemplates giving up and ceasing his struggle. What’s the point of living after everything that happened?

Then he remembers. He remembers the three distinct yet similar voices. He remembers the warmth of skin against skin. He remembers the gentler times. He remembers the smell of something other than hospital, something comforting.

He remembers that dream.

No… I can’t die here now.

Someone murmurs something in the back of his mind.

Live.

With renewed strength, Shikiya pushes the monster away. They hit the window, sending them plummeting to the ground below. Shikiya considers himself lucky as he gets up, although his burnt wounds start to feel sore. The monster stirs from its resting place before he rises from the ground, standing and turning to look at his prey in stumble. Shikiya panics, scenes from his nightmare threatens to fill in his vision. His body shakes as he takes a step back.

Use your Eyes.

Subconsciously, he does. His surroundings turn blurred and muted. Red angry lines wrap around the incoming monster.

Breath. Focus. Focus on killing your enemy.

He closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath. One, two, three…

He hears grasses scrunched under clumsy feet.

You can do this.

That voice, strangely comforting.

He finally calms down, opening his eyes to look at the monster sharply. He bends down and picks up a shard of glass before dashing at him. With one swift stroke, he slashed the monster, shriek in agony echoes through the night. In his vision, he had cut several lines mostly on the torso. Blood sprays from the monster, covering his assailant with the pungent liquid. Shikiya uses the blood to style his hair to the slick back style he’d been trying to get. His lips twitch into a sadistic smile. It’s been a long time since he feels the thrill of killings.

Abruptly, pain pulses in his head. The shard falls from his grip as he drops into his knees, clutching his head harshly. There’s something in there. Something that forces his soul to leave his body. He withholds, not wanting to be defeated so easily.

I’ll take care of it.

That’s when he feels himself being pulled into the depths of mind. He doesn’t see it but he can feel it. Warmth coursing through his being as familiar hands guiding him. His body moves in automaton, picking up the fallen shard and points its sharp end to his chest.

Trust me with this.

So he did, letting the shard stabs through his chest.

Strange… That doesn’t hurt at all.

Screams and wails overflowing his ears, yet it’s not his voice nor the voice that had been guiding him. The shard slides out with ease once the noises disappears into the night. His body feels light, as if the burden had been lifted from his shoulder. For a moment, he experiences peace.

Shikiya…

That voice whispered his name, gentle and serene. He whispers back, equally as soft.

Nishiki…

Tears pricking the corner of his eyes. He had missed that name for a long time. Ever since the day the older soul retreated into nothingness, returning briefly only to almost disappearing completely from within.

Strong yet tender arms ghosting around his body, hugging him from behind. Shikiya could sense Nishiki’s presence, even if he can’t see him. He rests a hand above Nishiki’s right above his heart. The heart beats steadily. He gazes upwards. Clear night sky speckled with twinkling stars greets his vision.

That’s the last thing he sees before he blacks out.

-o0o-

“How is he?”

“Hmm?”

Kiryu pays him a visit in the afternoon. He has heard the news that the patient Akira Nishikiyama had jumped off from his room and was found unconscious and caked in blood the next day on a clearing behind the hospital, along with an unidentified and mangled corpse. The doctor had decided to extend his stay for a day until he truly recovers. Now, they sit in the messy room, product of the duel a few days back and of that night’s scuffling.

“How’s the other guy?”

“Oh. He’s fine. Just exhausted. Poor guy must’ve gone through a lot after I disappeared”

Kiryu nods in understanding.

The man before him. The Koi. Kazama’s boy. Kiryu’s sworn brother. He’s looking out to the horizon, expression unreadable.

“Kiryu?”

“Yes?”

A pause.

“Thank you…For taking care of Shikiya while I’m gone”

Nishiki turns his head toward him, his lips formed into a grateful smile.

Kiryu couldn’t help but smiles back.

“Anything for my brother”

He’s sure his ancestors would agree with him.

FIN

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