#Every time I draw this man I feel like my memory about human anatomy is slowly fading. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

usetheeauthor · 2 years

Text

The Nightmare on Hawkins Street +18 (Request)

Dom!Vecna x Dark!Virgin!Fem!Reader

A/N: Hey this is a request I took from a friend who loves the idea of Vecna as I do so I decided to write this. I made Vecna a kind of hybrid of Peter and Vecna so that it’s still has that monsterfucking aspect along with some human properties as i do not know Vecna’s full anatomy (also i just love jaime’s face)☺️ This will be like a diary entries of an anthropologist who slowly descends into a path of darkness.The diary will be first person but after it’ll be second point of view. Also I use the words “vines” and “tentacles interchangeably. Part 2

Summary: Banished to the world that has now became “The Upside Down”, Peter/Vecna marks his first victim an anthropologist with morbid curiosity. But when she shares his same philosophy, he finds himself wanting her by his side.

Word Count: 2.9k+

Warnings: mention of murder(s), morally ambiguous reader, loss of virginity, blood kink, use of tentacles (sexual), anal sex, choking, pain kink, spanking, vaginal penetration, corruption kink, spit as lube, degradation kink, doggystyle, drooling, tummy bulge, breeding kink, creampie, uses of names like “sir”, “master”, “king”, cum eating

June 16, 1983

Dear Diary,

I’ve seen him again today. Vecna. That’s what I call the monster that haunts my dreams. I’d accidentally fallen asleep from exhaustion for a split second and next thing I knew I was back in his lair. Whenever I’d close my eyes, he’d be behind them. Waiting. I’ve fought to stay awake ever since. He’s threatened to show me my “true nature” or so he puts it. Somehow knowing my true self scares me. I know I’m not like other my age. I’ve always had a fascination for things that are strange which only increased the moment I saw him.

Vecna looks pained. Like someone’s hurt him in the past. I found myself wanting to know who could have hurt monster like him. Yet from what I understood he was once man. A man who had his on motivations and his own ideals that were slowly ripped from him and banished from human society. Now he was a former shell of himself. Part man, part other worldly being seeking revenge and power. It’s like I could feel his every emotion. Like I know his story. I dare say that I sympathize with the entity.

June 20, 1983

Dear Diary,

I’d managed to close my eyes again. I don’t fear being dragged into his reality. I’ve embrace it. I’m still alive. I assume there must be some reason why he wants me alive. Maybe I could find him. Any chance I’d get to be in his world, I would commit every detail of the strange dimension, The Upside Down, to memory. I’d draw the details and displayed them on my wall. I’d stay up late nights going down a rabbit hole researching and looking into random experiments done in Hawkins hoping it’d mean I’d find him soon. I think he’s finally taken ahold of my mind. I welcome him.

June 30, 1983

Dear Diary,

Strange things are frequently happening in Hawkins. Murders, people disappearing, sightings of cryptid creatures. I know it’s him. He’s getting powerful. I could feel him getting powerful. It…excited me. I’ve never been so interested in learning about a person’s life the way I do now. To think that a human could be so powerful? Would be considered human at all since he’d been born with these gifts? I’d like to think that he could feel me, too. That he understood my devotion to him. That I’d only ran away and kept myself from sleeping because I was scared to know who I really am. But he’s shown me that gradually over time.

None of the research I’ve done in university could ever match what his existence. I want to know him now more than anything.

July 1, 1983

There it was in front of you. A gate to The Upside Down beckoning you to enter. It’s a hidden hole in a tree surrounded by a wet sac. You enter not even thinking of the consequences. This will be the first time you’ll get to see him physically so consequences be damned. You break through the slimy barrier. The cold wetness of the unidentifiable substance coating you and your scantily clad red dress.

Once you made it through, an immediate chill goes down your spine. You know he’s close. You explore the grounds, taking note of every sight. It looked just like your worlds except dark. You speculated that through this shadow world this was how he accessed his victims.

You walked through the streets searching for the street where your home lies. Not surprisingly, your home was in fact there. You walked through the doors. The atmosphere eerily still. Looking around, it’s like nothing changed. You notice a light under the door frame of your room upstairs. It grew bright. Tiptoeing up the steps, the floorboards creek underneath your bare feet. Your heart racing.

Once you’ve reached the room, you lower yourself down attempting to look under the door frame. No movement, just blinding light. You stand up, grip the knob, take a breath, and then slowly turn it. The light flickers as you walk through the room.

You notice your diary rested on your bed. You pick it up, flipping through it’s pages. It’s all of the entries you’ve written since the beginning of his mark on you. It’s practically duplicate.

Suddenly, the air shifts and you were sure you were alone anymore. Wet, heavy footsteps thumped against the floorboards. You don’t dare to turn to look. Even as the slick appendage wrapped around your neck, you remained still. You hear his rumbling growl.

“Y/N.” He says, turning you slowly to look at him. His voice, an overlay of a growling beast mix with a hint of his original innocent voice. His facial features part man, part creature. You could tell he was handsome with enticing lips and bright blue eyes. The other part of him was of this strange world. Dark, wrinkled wet skin almost reptilian and flesh in texture. He donned white clothes that had been torn and darkenedfrom what appeared to look as if he were struck by lightning. Several tentacles extended out and around him like extra limbs. Both sides of him were gorgeous and you could feel yourself weak at the knees at this discovery.

“My king.” You moaned.

He looked as if he was psychoanalyzing you in his head, trying to pick you apart. Were you here to serve him? The answer was yes. You were his to use. You spent years wanting to figure out the nuances of humanity and once you realized it, it only made you want to seek something new. Exciting. Morally corrupt. He was exactly who you needed.

“King?” He questions with a head tilt, releasing his grip from your neck.

You take this as an opportunity to show your worth to him. You fall to your knees, bowing your head and hands flat on the ground. You look up at him with admiration. “I understand. I know what you feel and how you think. For years, I’ve studied humanity. I’ve seen the things we’re all capable of. We are not perfect. We are destructive, cruel, irredeemable. That is why I give myself to you and will hang on every word you say. I want you to teach me to be in your light. To serve by your side and fulfill your every wish. I want to be perfect for you. Please claim my body as yours to use however you like.”

He takes a step closer to you, tilting your chin up with an elongated finger. “Such a needy little thing you are. Typical of you humans. Always wanting regardless of if it’s bad for you,” He pulls his cock from his confines. It’s hard and the tip leaking precum. It was large in length smooth, slimy, reptilian skin but appeared like the average male anatomy. “Go on. Show me how you’ll serve me.”

You take his harden member in your hand taking in its beauty. You’d never seen a man like him. You settled with the idea that he would be the one to take you precious flower. He was worthy of corrupting the purity you’ve tried to maintain.

You swirl your tongue around his tip, sucking hard. You earn a grunt from him. This makes you want to hear more. Lowering your mouth down to the base, you swallow around him. He looks so beautiful above you, watching you take his down your fragile throat. He couldn’t wait to rip you apart on his dick and show you how to be taken and trained properly.

A tentacle slithers between your legs. You spread them wider wanting to show your submission to him. He just under your panties. You could feel the slimy suction of the feeler caressing the inside of your thigh. It light goosebumps against your skin at its texture. You gag around him, taking him deeper and deeper.

“Mm, you’re so greedy for me. I’m sure you wouldn’t care that I’ve killed before. Your life could be in danger right now and yet you still lust for cock. You’re such a greedy, fucking whore.” He slaps a tendril-like limb against your ass hard, the wetness causing the contact to sting even more. You choke against him.

The limb between your leg teases your clothed pussy before pushing the soft cotton of your underwear to the side. He flicks your clit back and forth, the suctions on the vine catching it over and over.

Your eyes roll back. “Thank you, sir.” You mewled, stroking his cock while you moaned out and ground against the thick appendage.

He pulls you by your hair and yanks your mouth back onto him. “Did I tell you to stop? Now I’m going to rut into your throat until it’s raw.” Wrapping two tentacles around your hair like pigtails, he drives your mouth down his length over and over. You’re forced to continue to breathe through your nose. His hips moving into your mouth so rough you could feel him in your esophagus. The limb playing with your clit rubbing harder against you. It was borderline painful.

“Look at how wet you are,” He pulls himself from between your legs even with the wet texture of his skin, you can evidently see your creamy slick against the dark blue tendril. “You enjoy being treated so poorly. I can let all my frustrations on you and you’d take it.” He pulls your mouth off him by your hair. Groaning when he sees the lines of saliva connecting his cock to your tongue, break off and drip down you chin and chest.

“Yes, master. I love to be used and ruined by you.” You say with a gasp. He shoves himself down your throat once again while thrusting the vine inside you. You cry out. You hadn’t expected penetration so suddenly. He was just at the barrier if he thrusted further you’d officially be his.

“Sit.” He commands you.

You adjust yourself, shifting at the knee so that you could take him deeper. You’re mouth yanking away from his cock once more. The barrier is finally broken and you stutter out a groan. “F-fuck!”

He maneuvers in and out of your quivering pussy, groaning at its tightness. You look down between your legs watching the extender inside you. There was blood trickling down your thighs. He was fascinated by the sight, pulling himself out of you and tasting the salty, warm liquid. His eyes glimmer with a newfound interest.

He tears off your dress and panties from you in one swift tug, your body completely bare. You instinctively cover your breasts. He couldn’t help but notice how innocent you looked under him. Like a little lamb put up for the slaughter. But you had offered yourself to him. You asked for this. So how innocent were you really?

He rips your hands away. “Do not hide yourself, little one. You belong to me.” His vine coils around your neck lifting you off your feet and slamming you against the bed. You were like a rag doll in his grasp, biting your lip at the feeling of being manhandled. You’re flipped over, forced on your hands and knees. You can hear him fumbling with his clothes. You peep over your shoulder to witness his full body which also bore resemblance of that of man and creature.

“You’re so beautiful, master. I can’t wait to have you against.” You moaned, rolling your hips in anticipation.

He smacks your ass once again then entwining an extended limb around your waist and pulling you against him. He plunges himself deep into your walls, bottoming out in one swift move. You wail, gripping the sheets in front of you. He forces your face down into the mattress while your ass remained high in the air. It was angled just in the right position for him to pummel into your wetness over and over. His grunts above you mixing in with your whines.

“So fucking tight. I’ll ruin this cunt so that no other man can have you.” He growls, smacking your ass once more. You can feel the extenders slithering all over your body caressing every part of your skin and tweaking your nipples. The suctions on them lighting goosebumps against your skin. He spits at your puckered hole rubbing a thumb at the entrance then you recognize the familiar slimy, wiggling of the tentacle penetrating your anal cavity.

He thrusts in and out of it in time with his hardness driving into your pussy. You rise up on all fours again, your tongue sticking out, panting and drooling at the pressure of being filled in both holes. “Holy fuck! Yes, yes, yes. Just like that.”

He mercilessly pounds into you, pulling you closer to him so that your back was flushed against his chest. “This is your role now. You are to take everything I give you. Everything. You’ll serve as my queen. Never to question me. Do you understand?” He whispered into your ear. He sounded so fucking sexy. His voice strained from the moans he held back so that he could speak his commands explicitly.

“Yes, master. Yes, my king. I will take it all.” I throw it back against his cock and the tentacle. They stretched both holes with a mix of pain and pleasure. You want to prove to him you can handle it with ease.

“You’re such a fucking whore. You’ve come here searching for trouble. You beg for me to take you. Then you sacrifice your whole life up there just for a taste of my cock. You’re despicable.” He smacks your ass.

“I’m filthy, sir. A fucking degenerate. I want to be whatever you want me to be. I want you to mold my whole world into your liking.” He pounds harder and it’s as if he’s got even more inches of himself to give to you.

You can feel him sloshing around inside, knocking at your insides and forming a bulge at your belly. You press it causing the two of you to hiss at the action. He swivels his hips making certain that he hits every square inch of you. His length nudges at the small, fleshy button inside you repeatedly. It felt as if he’d touched that part of you from both entrances, the tentacle flicking inside you back and forth.

Your drawn out groans are now, short gasps of air. “I’m gonna fucking cum. You’re so amazing, master!”

He rubs at your clit, the suctions pulling at your clit. You were beginning to feel delirious at this point. It was all so much and you knew that you’d finally lost any sense of sanity, you once had. A wave of bliss takes over you and you can feel yourself gushing, the evidence of your arousal dripping down your inner thighs and his cock.

“Mmm,” He moans, witnessing your creamy slick and blood make a mess of your lower bodies. He pumps sloppy, long strokes into your pussy. “Would you like to be filled to the brim, hmm? Make you drip with my cum.”

“Please fuck your babies into me. I wanna be round and full and take all of it inside. I don’t want to waste a single drop,” You fucked back against him faster, ruining his pace. You were set on him cumming in you and you could feel another orgasm beginning to bubble in the pit of your stomach. “Hurt me, master. Just the way you like. I know it’s what you need to cum. I’ve studied you. All so that I know how to please you. Please hurt me.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He knew you could take the pain. His thrusts returned to the same force that crossed the line between pain and pleasure. He bites at your shoulder, choking you simultaneously. Your air supply had been cut off; you were getting dizzy. Your orgasm was approaching soon and you crawled at the tentacle that constricted your throat. He pounds into your sweet spot once again and a cry rips from his chest and you both tremble against one another. You both arrived at the same time. You felt as if you were dying the orgasm that shook through you so powerful, your wetness shot out like a sprinkler, wetting the bed.

His cum is hot as it paints your walls white inside you. He continues his thrusts to the point of overstimulation wanting to make sure his essence remained deep inside you. Vecna lets go of your body and you immediately collapse against the mattress. Your face down and ass still in the air as you heaved for air. He stares down at your quaking core which had been coated with a mixture of your blood and juices as well as his cum that began to seep out. He takes a finger gathering it and you turned your head to the side to face him, sticking your tongue out. He runs his finger back and forth against your tongue until you clasp a finger around it and sucked.

He removes his finger, patting and rubbing you on the head. You accept the warm embrace, nuzzles your head into his hand. “I knew you’d be the perfect queen. You understand.”

“Yes, my king. I’ve always known I was meant to serve you. I don’t care if you hurt others. You do it because you want you humanity to be better and recognize its deplorability.”

“You wouldn’t turn against me if I were to ask you to carry out an important mission?”

“No, sir,” You sit up, resting your butt on the bottoms of your feet. “I will do anything you say. I meant every word.”

“Then, there is someone whom I need you to bring to me?”

“Who?”

“Bring me the girl, Eleven. Alive.”

Tag: @stygianoir

1K notes · View notes

songsformonkeys · 3 years

Text

Digging Up Bones (whiskey x f!reader) - chapter 3

[Banner by the lovely @yespolkadotkitty ]

Summary: You work for the Statesmen as the head of their medical department. It’s your job to patch up anyone who gets back wounded and to work on ways to prevent them from getting badly wounded in the first place.

Agent Whiskey, in particular, seems to be more accident-prone than the rest and he never passes up a reason to come see you, whether for real injuries or imaginary ones. The two of you form a close friendship, which slowly turns into something more.

Then a British man with a headshot wound and a fascination with butterflies shows up in your emergency room and in the events that follow you’re forced to reevaluate just about everything you thought you knew about your partner.

Warnings: canon typical violence

Masterlist

Chapter 3

The following three days passed in a slow fashion. Not just because Whiskey was gone but the rest of the agents seemed to be staying out of harm's way as well. It was a bit boring, but that was something Tonic had taught you not to complain about out loud since it apparently made it sound like you longed for injuries and carnage.

On the bright side, the slow days gave you, Ginger, and Tonic time to begin interviewing the agents on base for their emergency folders for the Alpha-gel.

The three of you had realized that while the gel and the nanites healed the brain perfectly fine they still needed something to counter the retrograde amnesia, which seemed to be a standard side effect. The sample of agents that had needed to use the gel was still small and so you couldn't draw too many sure conclusions from it, but every single one of them so far had suffered memory loss. It had been Tonic's idea that reminders of a past trauma might jump-start the memory again. The results had been good but guessing and digging up past traumas had been painstakingly difficult and had taken up more time than ideal. So you had collectively decided that each agent should have a file or a folder containing their very worst memory and ways it could be triggered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Wednesday evening, you curled up in your armchair and called Whiskey. He picked up after three rings.

“Moonshine, “ he drawled, voice sounding a little tired.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you asked, suddenly feeling a little bad. It wasn't that late in the evening but maybe Whiskey had needed to tuck in early.

“No no, I was awake,” Whiskey assured you, “Just got home from a looong day at an art auction. I'm not sure if you've ever been but it is possibly the most boring thing I have ever done.”

“Yeah? What was so bad about it?” you asked, smiling to yourself. You would be caught dead before admitting it out loud but you had actually missed him these past few days.

Whiskey began describing his day. A soon as he began talking, his voice relaxed you. You pictured him walking around in a swanky hotel room, with a view of the big city, probably still wearing his hat. You were half convinced he even slept in that thing.

Whiskey told you about the auction and the few stuck-up people who had pretended not to understand his southern accent just to make him feel less than. Then he told you about the way he'd later wiped the smug smiles off their faces by actually bidding home the small painting they had been ogling.

“Champ might kill me for it, 'cause it cost a small fortune, but it was worth it!”

“What will you do with the painting?” you asked.

“Hm,” Whiskey said and you didn't need to see him to know that he was shrugging, “Dunno. Might hang it in my apartment. It's a beautiful painting, reminded me of someone special... Speaking of my apartment, have you finished the cake yet?”

You nodded, before remembering that he couldn't see you.

“Yes, Ginger and Tonic helped me eat the rest of it.”

You had been over to Whiskey's apartment the day after he'd left. When you'd gotten to work, his key had been in a white envelope on your desk and you hadn't been able to keep your curiosity at bay for longer than a workday.

The apartment hadn't been quite what you thought Whiskey's home would look like. It had been much neater and cleaner than you had expected, for starters. You had expected more of a bachelor pad but Whiskey's apartment was quite nice. It looked lived in but not messy. Each thing seemed to have its own designated spot. As you had walked around the living room towards the kitchen you had taken in the big, comfortable-looking couch and multi-colored knitted blanket that looked like it was homemade.

There had been a couple of books on art history resting on the wooden coffee table. You had stopped, slightly in awe, in front of the big bookshelves that covered a whole wall of the room. You'd never pictured Whiskey to be the reading type, but here was clear proof otherwise. You had scanned the titles of the books and the exceptionally wide array of subjects made you suspect that a lot of these had been read for previous missions. But there had been a whole shelf of fiction too and you smiled a little as you noted that a lot of them seemed to be old western classics.

You had found the cake in the fridge in the equally clean kitchen. The cake had been in a plastic container and Whiskey had stuck a post-it note with a smiley on the lid.

“I liked your bookshelf. And I borrowed a book from you,“ you confessed over the phone and Whiskey chuckled in response.

“Is that so? Which one, if I may ask, was it that caught your fancy?”

“Lonesome Dove.”

“Ah, a classic! Didn't have you pegged as a western girl, Moonshine.”

“I'm not sure if I am, I've never read any. But you had a lot of them and I thought...” You cut yourself off, glancing over at the book on your bed, “You had a book on human anatomy as well that looked interesting and one on make-shift medical treatment when you don't have access to a hospital. I didn't take those, though. It felt wrong to take so many books without asking...”

Whiskey chuckled again and the sound did weird things to your insides, or maybe it was the nerves of having just admitted to raiding his bookshelf.

“Darlin', if it makes you happy, you are more than welcome to help yourself to any book in that apartment”

“Really? But what if it's a book that you suddenly need?”

“Then I'll know perfectly well where to find it.”

You couldn't really argue with that logic, didn't really want to either because the prospect of getting to read all those books almost made you giddy.

“So besides ogling my books, what else have you been up to while I've been gone?” Whiskey asked and you proceeded to tell him about the work with the Trauma Folders, which Tonic so affectionately called them.

“You still haven't submitted yours either, by the way,” you told him. Whiskey didn't immediately answer. The line was dead silent for a few seconds and just when you were about to ask if he was still there, he cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I know. I promise to get right on that as soon as I'm back, okay?” He sounded a little odd and your brow furrowed slightly. Whiskey cleared his throat again.

“Look, darlin', I'm pretty dead on my feet right now and as lovely as your voice is to listen to, I think unfortunately we gotta hang up before I start snoring on you.”

“Oh, of course! Sorry, I've talked too much.”

“Hardly,” Whiskey replied and his voice was warm and soft again, which eased the nervous knots that had begun forming in your stomach at his abrupt attempt to end the call. Usually, that was your role to try and say goodnight and his to try and linger. “I cherish every word, which is why I prefer to be awake for them. Call me tomorrow again?”

“Sure. Good night, Whiskey.”

“Good night, darlin'”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If the previous days had been slow, the following day was anything but, at least when the afternoon rolled around.

Ginger had called you about some very strange low-frequency readings coming from a church nearby in Kentucky. She told you that she and Tequila were gonna go check it out but that you should be on standby, just in case.

You told her to be careful. Ginger was excellent at her job but she was also one of your closest friends and you couldn't help but worry.

After you'd ended the call, you immediately set about preparing the emergency room and double-checking to make sure everything was there. Seeing as neither of you knew what the strange readings had been about, it was difficult to prepare for every possible scenario, and while you knew that the health effects of exposure to extremely low frequencies were being discussed in the medical community, no one knew exactly what the effects were.

It seemed like a lifetime had passed before Ginder called you again. You heard the sound of the helicopter in the background. She told you that they'd be there in thirty and that they were bringing someone in with a headshot.

“I'll get the chamber ready for him!” you told her

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thirty minutes later, on the dot, you watched as the helicopter landed and Tequila emerged, carrying a man in a suit. The man's face was obscured by the balloon containing the Alpha-gel but his clothes looked expensive.

“Entry point?” you yelled, over the sound of the helicopter as you waved for Tequila and Ginger to hurry inside.

“Straight through the left eye,” Ginger replied and you winced. The left temporal lobe would be damaged, for sure, maybe part of the occipital one too. You were confident that the nanites would be able to rebuild the brain matter but with the temporal lobe damaged you worried that the memory loss might be even more extensive than what you'd seen before and you wondered if it would affect his speech.

“Exit point or is the bullet still in there?” you asked.

“The bullet went all the way through as far as I could tell. Not sure what he was shot with though so we'll have to scan to make sure there's nothing left in there.”

Said and done. When you got down to the medical rooms you first put the man through a thorough scan of his skull. Just like Ginger suspected, the bullet had gone straight through and it luckily hadn't left anything but damaged tissue in its wake. Tequila helped move him over to the nanite chamber. Carefully, you removed the Alpha-gel balloon and quickly closed the chamber around his head.

“What happened?” you asked as you sat down in front of the computer and began tapping away at the keyboard, starting the machine and readying it for the healing and rebuilding process.

“We have no idea,” Ginger said. “We found him like this outside the church, no sign of who had shot him. Inside the church, however...”

“What?” you asked.

“Inside was a total fuckin' bloodbath,” Tequila supplied, “Whole congregation just...slaughtered.”

You looked over at the strange man.

“You think he did it?”

Both Ginger and Tequila shrugged.

“We don't know. But he's got blood on him that isn't his own and there was no gun in his hand so he clearly didn't shoot himself, which means someone got away from that Church alive.” Ginger reasoned, “And there's one more thing..”

She pulled a pair of glasses from the pocket of her jacket. The left glass was shattered.

“He was wearing these. These aren't normal glasses, which means he's not a civilian. And his watch... he's some sort of intelligence. I'll dig around and see if I can find out whom he belongs to.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You called Whiskey again that evening. He sounded more awake today but you could practically hear the frown on his face when you told him about your strange new guest. He was not happy.

“He's an agent?” he asked.

“We think so. Ginger is running some tests on his glasses and his watch to see what we can figure out but so far we have no idea whom he's working for. So we just have to wait for him to wake up and see how much he remembers.”

“I don't like this,” Whiskey stated. “Not one bit. If he's intelligence, he's dangerous, Moonshine. You shouldn't be alone with him, not under any circumstances!”

“I won't,” you reassured him while rolling your eyes. “Agent Tequila also has an over-protective streak and has, therefore, put himself on guard duty until further notice. I've had him looking over my shoulder all evening.”

You had found it somewhat annoying but Whiskey had instantly calmed down upon hearing that bit of information. He told you to promise to listen to Tequila on this, which you reluctantly did. You didn't tell Whiskey that if the arrangement continued, you would have to come to some sort of agreement with Tequila on how close was close enough for protection. You couldn't have him reading over your shoulder all day long or you'd go stir crazy.

Whiskey continued to ask you a bunch of questions about the strange man and you couldn't answer a single one. He asked you about the signal too and you couldn't give him any answers to that either. It was all Ginger's area of expertise and you told him as much.

“Sorry, darlin', just wanna make sure my favorite girl is safe until I get back.”

Whiskey's words made you smile stupidly, despite the slightly patronizing undertone of them. You would like to think you knew how to take care of yourself, especially around your patients. But you did enjoy it when Whiskey called you his favorite. No one else had called you their favorite before.

After a few more minutes of chit-chat, you both said good night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, your patient woke up.

It had been decided the day before that Tonic and Tequila would be the first ones to greet him. Tequila because of the whole bodyguard business and Tonic because he was by far the one who had the most experience with calming people in shock and panic. You had only sulked a little when you'd sat down the desk on the other side of the one-way mirror showing you the stranger's cell. You turned on the cameras in the other room to record the interaction before leaning forward over the desk to watch.

As anticipated, the man was more than a little freaked out by waking up in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces around him.

“Where am I? Who are you?” he immediately asked and you raised your eyebrows as you noted his British accent. The stranger tried to scramble off the bed where he'd been lying. Tequila took a step forward but Tonic quickly held up a hand to stop him.

“You are in a hospital,” Tonic told the frightened man and gave him a calm smile, “My name is To...Tom.”

“A hospital? What happened?” the stranger asked.

“We were hoping you would be able to tell us. You were in some sort of accident and when we found you, you were unconscious.”

Unconscious... that was definitely an understatement to describing having had one's brains blown out through the back of their head.

“Do you remember anything of what happened?” Tonic continued.

The British man looked around the room with wild eyes but he was already calming down a bit. While you were a bit jealous that Tonic, or Tom apparently, was the first one to get to talk to your new patient you had to admit that it was a privilege to get to watch him work. Tonic continued talking to the man and answering his questions by saying just enough to calm him but not enough to confuse him.

You found out that his name was Harry, but he couldn't remember his last name. He was from England and he thought he was 23 years old, which he most definitely was not. You caught Tonic and Tequila exchange a look as Harry told them his age. If Harry couldn't remember anything beyond his 23rd year then you estimated that he had forgotten more than half of his life. And since he wasn't one of your agents, you had no idea how to bring those memories back again...

Tonic and Harry spoke for a while longer and Tonic told him about his injuries. He also told harry about the memory loss. Harry didn't believe him until Tonic guided him over to the one-way mirror separating you from them and let Harry have a look at himself. You stood on the other side of the mirror and could watch as realization dawned on Harry. His breathing immediately sped up again and he was beginning to panic.

“Harry,” Tonic said calmly, “Harry, I'm gonna need you to breathe slower with me, okay? We've seen this kind of memory loss before and we will do our very best to help you recover the memories you can't remember right now”

“Think of it as one hell of a hangover,” Tequila supplied and Harry gave him an incredulous look.

“Hangover?” he asked in a weak voice “I look old enough to be a grandfather and I don't remember any of it... I don't think anyone has ever been drunk enough for that kind of hangover.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tonic and Tequila handled the whole ordeal in a way that made you proud to call yourself their colleague and they stayed with Harry for most of the day, talking and explaining. Harry listened patiently and you had to give him credit for taking the situation a whole lot better than some of the Statesmen who had gone through the same thing. He was scared and worried, sure, but he managed to keep his panic in check and asked Tonic a whole bunch of relevant questions.

You wished you could have stayed and watched all afternoon but eventually you had to go back to your own office and begin typing up your report.

You had barely gotten two paragraphs in when your phone started ringing.

“Moonshine?” Whiskey said as soon as you picked up and you could immediately tell that something was wrong. He sounded scared. There were car horns blaring and loud crashes in the background.

“Yes. Whiskey what's...”

Whiskey cut you off before you could finish your question.

“Where are you?” he asked and when it took you a fraction of a second too long to answer, he repeated the question, “Moonshine! Where are you?”

“I'm in the office. Whiskey what's wrong?”

“Good! Whatever you do, stay where you are! There's something in the air! People are killing each other!”

“What?” Before you could say anything further, your door burst open and you screamed from surprise.

“Moonshine!” Whiskey yelled, panicked, as Ginger stormed into the office and pushed you out of her way to get to the computer. She began tapping on the keyboard and you watched as she pulled up live feeds from several cameras around the country. Your mouth fell open as you watched the chaos that filled the screen.

“MOONSHINE!” Whiskey yelled again and you realized you hadn't answered him.

“I'm fine!” you quickly assured him and you heard him exhale loudly. “Ginger just showed up. What the hell is going on?” The last question was aimed at them both. The quality of the feeds wasn't the best but there was no mistaking what was going on. All over the country, people were killing each other.

“The fuck if I know,” Whiskey said at the same time as Ginger supplied the slightly more helpful “It's the same signal! It's the same low frequency as we picked up from the church. But this is all over...well the world”

She turned and looked at the phone in your hand.

“Is that agent Whiskey?”

You nodded but then froze as you heard a banging noise on the other end of the line, which sounded much closer than the previous ones. You heard Whiskey curse.

“Whiskey?”

There was another crash and he cursed again.

“I'm sorry, darlin', I seem to have a visitor. I gotta go.”

“Whiskey,” you begged and you heard your own voice break as you spoke his name.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll deal with this and then I promise I'll come right home to you. You just promise to stay inside and stay safe, okay?”

What about you? you wanted to ask, but Whiskey had already hung up.

“He'll be fine,” said Ginger, who must have seen the expression change on your face. You nodded. She was right. Whiskey was an excellent agent. He would be fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He would be fine. You managed to convince yourself of that up until about an hour later when the office phone called. You were too busy clutching your own phone, waiting for Whiskey to call back, to pay any attention to the other phone so Ginger picked it up and answered. She exchanged a few cryptic comments with the person on the other line before ending the call by saying:

“We'll be ready for him.”

After she'd hung up the phone she turned towards you.

“Whiskey's on his way back. He's been stabbed but according to the pilot, he's stable. They're flying him back now. “

#whiskey/reader #whiskeyxreader #agent whiskey #kingsman golden circle fanfiction #kingsman golden circle #my fanfiction #female reader

31 notes · View notes

jazminebrightxx · 4 years

Text

LIKE MAGIC

°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°

SHOW: Teen wolf

CHAPTER TWO: “we are family”

EPISODE: 3x02 “chaos rising”

Sleep is a precious thing, you need sleep, without it you make mistakes, you mess up. You get delirious and screw up. Kaitlin always loved sleep, everyone knew that, not to wake her when she was tired, but dogs...dogs don't understand that. That leads us to now, The last things Kaitlin remembered was watching an episode of some trashy show before falling asleep, and now, Levi, her two year old Labrador cried at her feet

Kaitlin opened her eyes, seeing the big dog sat at her door, his head tilted and whines coming from him "seriously" she whispered, he tilted his head to the other side "can you not just...leave me alone" he whined again, walking over to her and sniffing her face. Kaitlin cringed "okay, okay, you win"

She slowly threw the nice and warm covers off of her, her feet hitting the cold ground, sending shivers up her back, she sits there for a second, contemplating her life. She looks to her dog again, who's now panting in excitement, she groans, getting up and making her way down the stairs, before she can make her way down fully, Levi comes booting it past her and down the stairs, stopping at the door and sitting, Sighing she descends the remainder of stairs grabbing her keys and unlocking the front door and opening it

The big dog speeds out the door and Kaitlin laughs as he jumps around the fenced off garden, when Levi was a little pup, back in Boston, he'd find any and every way he could to escape their home, Kaitlin had many memories of running after the fast dog. So when they moved home, they made sure to get a well fenced garden.

The brunette watches Levi for a few more seconds before deciding to check the time, she moves to the kitchen, it was light out so it had to be early, she switched on the light, making things slightly more seeable, her glasses and contacts were upstairs so it was a little hard, she glanced at the clock 5:40.

It was literally 20 minutes before her alarm went off and an hour before kodins, might aswell make breakfast. She gathered her ingredients, deciding on bacon and toast for breakfast, turning on the hub and grabbing a pan. Midway through her cooking, a shiver sends down her spine, a familiar feeling in her stomach. She whirls around quickly, unsurprisingly seeing the dark figure lurk in the shadow of the kitchen, she was expecting him, but that didn't stop her heart from racing.

Tensely, she glares, turning back to her food, in an attempt to ignore the dark man. "Nice little place you've gotten yourself here" his voice is low, lower than before, Kaitlin stays quiet, focusing on her food.

"You can't ignore me forever Katie" he slowly walks into the kitchen more, quietly pulling out a chair and sitting. Kaitlin's teeth grit together at the name.

"I've done a pretty good job for what? Three years now?" She doesn't turn to look at him, her tone is sarcastic. He laughs, the sound scares Kaitlin slightly.

"That's not entirely true now is it, you aren't surprised at all to see me. You were expecting me" The redhead stops what she's doing, quickly whipping around and glaring her most cold glare

"What do you want" she gets to the point, the man faking a frown.

"What? I can't come and visit my daughter?" Kaitlin laughs turning back to her bacon and taking it off the pan and putting on a plate.

"You only ever visit me when you want something, so either tell me or get the hell out of my house" she grabs the toast, putting it on the plate and sitting opposite him.

"Ah you got me" He jokes, Kaitlin rolls her eyes, and butters her toast

"Scott McCall" is all he needs to say for Kaitlin to freeze, she slowly looks up to make eye contact with her father.

"What about him?"

"He's quite the hero I hear. People tell me he's the man to beat" his tone is evil, as usual. Kaitlin doesn't let her guard down. Her glare as cold as ice. "I've no idea what you're talking about"

"Does he know about you?" He takes an apple nonchalantly from the fruit bowl, the question silencing Kaitlin

"You know, your past, what you are?" He pushes leaning over the table slightly, Kaitlin doesn't break eye contact, her heart hammering in her chest

"What you've done"

"I haven't done anything" she defends, she stopped eating now, her fork and knife still in her hands

"Oh but you did, don't you remember? When Tyler died" Kaitlin slams her hands down on the table, the plate clattering against the knife and fork

"You weren't there, you don't know anything, now what do you want because your testing my patience" her hands are now in fists as she glares at her father.

"Be careful of this boy, he's made enemies, more than he knows, and they are dangerous" he warns. He stands from the table, putting the chair back in its place

"Why are you telling me this?" Her blood was boiling

"You’re my daughter, whether you or I like it or not we are family" He darkly says before a dark cloud forms over him and he vanishes

Kaitlin relaxes, her food now cold she tosses a slice of bacon to Levi and throws away her toast

"What a waste" she mutters before heading upstairs to get ready for school

***

A little while later and Kaitlin was sat on her couch, she usually got up early for school but never this early so she didn't really know what to do with herself. She watched the screen as an episode of greys anatomy played.

Her phone chimed with a text, Lydia Martins name lighting her screen, the strawberry blonde offering to give Kaitlin a ride to school, saying she needed to talk to her. The redhead sent a quick reply, moving off the couch and walking into the kitchen where her mother and brother sat at the table

"I'm not giving you a ride today, Lydia's picking me up" Kodin looked at his sister, taking a drink of his orange juice as he swallows his toast "I'm taking your car then"

"Why can't you take your own?" Kaitlin shoves her phone into her pocket, glaring slightly at her brother, who shrugs "well, yours is cleaner" Kaitlin stares at the boy, contemplating. She gives in, grabbing her keys and throwing them at Kodin.

"Don't damage my car" she warns before leaving the room, soon hearing the honk of Lydia's car, bidding a quick goodbye to her mother she grabs her bag and is out the door. She smiles at Lydia before hopping in the car "hey"

"Morning, what was so..." she's cut off when Lydia hands her a cup of coffee, Kaitlin smiles, thanking her and taking a sip, Lydia starts the car and pulls out of the driveway.

"I know you know" Lydia cryptically states, Kaitlin looking at her curiously "about what?" The redhead placed the coffee in the cup holder.

"About the supernatural, about Scott" Kaitlin freezes, her eyes going wide and glancing at Lydia

"What?" Kaitlin questions, trying to play it cool. "Huh, supernatural that...that's funny" panic sets in Kaitlin's mind, trying to force a fake laugh which Lydia doesn't buy.

"Yeah, okay lets just skip that...I could tell" Lydia glances between Kaitlin and the road "you wanna know how I know? Because you're supernatural too"

Kaitlin's lost for words, her eyes never leaving Lydia as the panic starts to fade, she's not afraid of her friends knowing, it's just how they find out. She wanted to soften the blow, it scared her really, she cared about them and she didn't want them feel any different about her. She lets put a sigh, looking ahead at the road.

"Witch, I'm a witch" the words fell nonchalantly out of her mouth, Lydia does a double take. "A witch? Huh, that's...new" Kaitlin laughs lightly.

"Yeah, I guess they're uncommon nowadays" Kaitlin went on to explain her knowledge of the pack and how she gained it, listing the things her uncle deaton has updated her on before she came back

She knew everything that he did, the kanima being Jackson, Peter Hale biting Scott and Lydia, Alison being a hunter and her grandfather being a psychopath. All of it

It surprised her really, Lydia was so calm about it, she didn't freak out, didn't get mad that Kaitlin hadn't told her. The aura that surrounded the girl was unfamiliar to Kaitlin. She'd learned how to read auras since she learned of her magic. Different colors for different species. Werewolves depended on the color of their eyes. Witches were purple. Humans were green. So on. But Lydia radiated a pink aura, one Kaitlin hadn't seen before.

"Oh yeah, have you any idea what this could be?" Lydia holds out her arm, keeping her eyes on the road

On her arm is a fresh bruise, there's an odd shape to it. Kaitlin gently takes Lydia's arm

"Uh, a bruise?" She glances at the strawberry blonde who playfully rolls her eyes

"Yeah no shit, Alison has one the exact same shape, she thinks it's like some sort of symbol" she states, her eyes never leaving the road

"Huh, can I take a picture of it?" Lydia nods and Kaitlin pulls out her phone, quickly snapping a photo of the bruise

"I'll run it by my mom" she states

"When are you gonna tell the guys about that?" Lydia starts, Kaitlin turns to look out the window of Lydia's car as they pull into beacon hills high schools parking lot

"I don't know, soon"

***

Lydia and Kaitlin strolled together before class, chatting quietly about Kaitlin's antics during her time in Boston. Football games, school dances,swim meets and everything in between. While Lydia went into more detail of the packs antics and stories.

"Okay, but what would a pack of alphas want with Erica and boyd?" Kaitlin questions lydia, who was explaining to her their recent predicament

"I don't know, maybe their recruiting" unbeknownst to the pair Scott and Stiles walks past them, Scott stops in his tracks staring at Kaitlin as she walks past, seeing something he didn't before

"Scott?" Stiles takes him out of his daze

"You okay?" Stiles eyes him curiously, glancing at Kaitlin. Scott nods his head still slightly dazed "Yeah, sorry"

***

Lydia, Alison and Kaitlin sat in the library, Alison drawing the symbol that was bruised in her skin on a piece of paper, a laptop sat on the table, some research the huntress had done lifting up the screen.

Lydia stares ahead, Two identical twins stood at a bookshelf with another brunette, the strawberry blonde had her eye on one of the twins. "I want one"

The two friends follow Lydia's gaze.

"Which one?" Alison questions, an adorable smiles across her lips, Lydia's face drops

"The straight one obviously" Alison glances back at the twins, Ethan looking at Danny wistfully, Lydia drinks from her coffee cup.

Kaitlin's chuckles as she glances at the boys, the brunette sticking out to her, she shakes the feeling off, glancing at Alison's computer, a thought comes to mind. She checks around before pulling a book out of her bag

The book was given to her by her mother, it was enchanted to only open to her, she flips through it finding the thing she was looking for

"What if it's not a symbol?" She questions Alison, who turns her gaze to the brunette and the book in her hands

"What if it's actually a logo?" Alison eyes the book questionably, noticing a few of Kaitlin's spells

"Wait, is that?" Kaitlin smiles at the brunette "what are you?"

"Libra" Kaitlin looks up to digest her theory to Lydia but she's vanished

Kaitlin's and Alison turn to the twins only to see Lydia making a move on Aiden. The two girls look to each other, Kaitlin bursts laughing, Alison joining after a second.

***

Kaitlin Jones was originally from beacon hills, she grew up in the small town. Her family and friends were there, it was her home. A place she'd never forget for as long as she'd live, no matter where she'd end up.

One place and person she hadn't gotten the chance to visit since she'd been back was her uncle Deaton at the animal clinic. Deaton was the brother of her mother, it didn't seem like it, of course because her mother was adopted into Alan's family, his mother was a friend of Natalie's biological mother who passed when she was young.

So when deaton called her to ask if she could come to the clinic because he needed her help with Isaac, Kaitlin jumps into her car and makes her way to the clinic

Her stomach turned and twisted in knots, nerves filled her. She knew what she was walking into, Scott and Stiles would definitely be there, and she knew what Deaton needed her to do, it would be outing her powers to them. She had texted Kodin, giving him the heads up and warning him to talk to the boys later today, knowing they'd want answers from both twins.

Obviously she would have to have this conversation with the two boys sooner or later but she was nervous for their reactions. What if they hated her for not telling them? She knew she was over reacting but she couldn't help it.

Shaking off her anxiety she pulls into the parking lot of the animal clinic and stops the car. She takes a second to herself before jumping out of the car and heading into the clinic

Inside the animal clinic, Deaton, Derek, Scott and Stiles attempted to prep Isaac for the ice bath he'd soon be submerged in.

"How slow does his heart rate need to be?" Scott worryingly questions.

"Very slow"

"Okay, well, How slow is very slow?" Derek crouches beside the tub which was now filled to the brim with water and ice

"Nearly dead" deaton nonchalantly replies, issac touches the water, immediately retracting his hand, hissing

"It's safe though, right?" He nervously questions. Deaton hesitates, just as he's about to reply the bell from the door chimes, the veterinarian smiles

"Not necessarily, but that's why she's here" he leaves the room. The three werewolves and Stiles look to each other curiously.

When Kaitlin Jones walks into the room, Scott and Stiles stare at the girl in shock, Derek and Isaac grow confused, not knowing the girl. When she sees the four her smiles fades, a shy expression takes over her face

"Hey"

"So she's gonna help with what exactly?" Issac questions as he eyes the small girl

"Kaitlin was born from a long line of witches" Kaitlin looks to her shoes, not wanting to see her friends reactions

"Oh wow" Stiles mumbles, he looks to Kaitlin sadly, she looks up meeting his eyes but quickly looks away

Scott is left speechless, his gaze flickering back and forth between Kaitlin and Deaton, Kaitlin steps forward gently grabbing Scott wrist and tugging him away from the rest

"I promise after this is done I will explain everything, okay?" His eyes soften and he grabs the girls hand, nodding and giving it a light squeeze

"Okay"

Kaitlin smiles, moving back to stand beside the tub of ice, she gives issac a reassuring smile, he returns the gesture. She remembered Isaac vaguely from her childhood, she hadn't talked to him much, but she knew of him.

"If anything goes wrong, Kaitlin will be here to pull you out" Deaton reassures him. A rubber snapping sound is heard, all heads turn to Stiles who's wearing a grin as he looks at his arm length glove with a grin

The boy in plaid notices everyone looking at him "what?" Derek gives him a glare, Stiles sighing before he takes off the glove, Issac sighs before standing up

"Look, if it feels to risky, you don't have to do this." The alpha assures, straightening his arms on the rim of the tub, Scott nods in agreement

Issac looks to Kaitlin, who stood on the other side of the tub "you know what your doing?"

Kaitlin's smirks "you'll be fine, Issac, I've been doing it for years" Issac looks to the girl with weary eyes before taking off his shirt and exhaling. He steps into the tub, the group watching him closely, as he attempts to sit in the cold bathtub.

Scott and Derek glance at each other, placing their hands on Isaac's shoulders and pushing him under the water

For a few moments it was fine, but after not to long Issacs true form broke free, jolting up from the water, his eyes a bright yellow and his fangs beard.

"Get him back under" deaton instructed, Stiles was now attempting to keep the werewolf submerged.

But Isaac didn't want to co-operate, he trashed in the water, the two werewolves struggled to keep him in the water as he drenched them.

"Hold him" Kaitlin interjected, Rowling up the sleeves of her jumper

"Don't you think we're trying!" Derek snapped. Kaitlin rolls her eyes before she moves forward, slightly pushing Scott and Derek out of the way, there hands still holding Isaac

The brunette hovers her hand over issacs head, calming him. Not moments later he relaxed and slowly moved to the surface of the water with his eyes open.

"Remember, only Kaitlin talks, too many voices will confuse him and draw him out" deaton holds up a finger, his voice soft. After the three boys nod, he gestures for Kaitlin to start

"Issac? Can you hear me?" Her voice is kind and soft

"Yes, I can hear you" the beta replies after a moment of silence

"It's Kaitlin, I don't know if you remember me, but is it okay if I ask you a few questions?" Kaitlin continued, she was calm, like she'd done it before.

"Yes"

Kaitlin glances at deaton, the thunder outside getting worse "I want to ask you about the night you found Erica and Boyd "

"I want you to remember it for me in as vivid detail as possible, like your actually there" she tried her best to keep a steady voice, knowing one wrong word could send the beta into a panic

"I-I don't wanna do that" He was getting scared now, repeating "I don't wanna go that"

"Issac it's all right just relax" Kaitlin glances at Scott, his eyes are on her and he's worried "they're just memories, you can't be hurt by a memories, remember I told you you'll be fine"

"I don't wanna do that"

"Your okay"

"I don't wanna do that"

"Relax" Kaitlin moves her hand around Isaac's, calming him

"Great" Stiles keeps his eyes on the brunette, occasionally glancing at Isaac wearily, Derek takes a glance at Kaitlin, skepticism in his eyes

"Okay, lets go back to that night, to the place you found Erica and Boyd" Kaitlin's head starts to pound, she blinks in an attempt to rush the pain away, continuing her talk with Isaac.

"Can you tell me what you see? Is there some sort of building? A house?"

"It's not a house. It's stone" Isaac's voice is deep and has a cold edge to it, he takes a breath

"I think marble" Kaitlin smiles at the cold boy "that's perfect"

"Can you give me any other descriptors?" She questions, trying not to push him to hard

"It's dusty, so empty" he slowly explains

"Like an abandoned building?"

The lights begin to flicker, Kaitlin's headache worsening, the four men in the room glancing around them and then to Kaitlin

"Issac" Kaitlin's voice is forced and strained, Scott looking at her with worrying eyes

"Someone's here" Issac moves around slightly in the water, he reaches his hand out and grabs Scott's forearm

"Issac, it's okay, relax" Kaitlin tries to reassure the beta

"No, no, no, no. They see me, they see me" Issac screams, thrashing around in the water. Scott and Derek attempt at keeping Issac in the tub of water, him screaming. Stiles looks to Kaitlin, seeing the pain in her eyes

"There just memories, you can't be hurt by memories. Just relax" she reassures him, he keeps a firm grip on Scott's arm as he relaxes

"Good, that's great issac" Kaitlin's headache eases, but she shuts her eyes in pain, Stiles grabs her free wrist gently

She looks at him, he gives her a worried look. She forcefully smiles at him reassuringly

"Now, Isaac can you tell us what you see? Tell us everything" Isaac opens his eyes, his natural blue taking over. "I hear him"

"He's talking about the full moon, about being out of control when the moon rises"

"Is he talking to Erica?" Kaitlins headache is faint now.

"I think so, I can't...I can't see her. I can't see either of them" his lips trembled from the cold "Can you hear anything else?"

Issac has stopped resisting, but the lights flickered. Kaitlin's headache slightly returning

"They're worried, worried what they'll do during the moon, what they're gonna do to each other" The thunder rubbles from outside, Kaitlin's head feels like someone drilling into it now, the tension of the calming spell getting to her head.

"If they're locked in together on the full moon, they're gonna tear each other apart." Derek whispers to Scott who nods in agreement

"Isaac, we need to find them right now" Kaitlin restarts "can you see them?"

"No"

"Do you know what kind of room it is? Is there any kind of a marker? A number on a door?"

The beta jumps from the tub, sitting upright, Kaitlin's headache worsens, the lights flickering

"They're here" Isaac whispers, Stiles looks around the room confused and a tad bit scared

"They're here, They're here" he slowly moves lower into the tub, he starts to panic "No They're here"

"They see me. They found me. They're here!" Kaitlins head is throbbing, she moves her hand to her forehead, rubbing it roughly

"This isn't working, Isaac, where are you?" Derek intervenes, yelling at his beta.

Everyone looks to Derek, Deaton beginning to argue with him, Kaitlin's vision goes blurry

"Tell me where you are!"

"I can't see!"

"You're going to confuse him" deaton calmly states "tell me where you are"

"He could go into shock Derek" Kaitlin painfully states to the werewolf

"Derek let him go!"

"Isaac where are you what did you see!" Derek ignores Scott's protests, yelling at Isaac more

"It's a vault, it's a bank vault!"

One last clap of thunder is heard, Kaitlin gets light headed, falling backward as Issac jumps forward from the tub. Stiles moves to catch Kaitlin, the brunette coming in and out of consciousness

"I saw it, I saw the name" he moves to jump out of the tub, Scott takes his eyes off Kaitlin when Stiles reassures him and moves to help Isaac

"It's uh, beacon hills first national bank" he shivers as he's wrapped in a towel

Stiles lowers Kaitlin to the ground, gently holding her head beside him, she Sobers up a bit, looking at the boy drowsily

The others in the room watch Isaac as he explain the bank that Boyd and Erica were being held

"What?"

"You don't remember what you said do you?" Scott questions him "no"

Isaac looks at the pair that sat in the ground

"You said when they captured you that they dragged you into a room and that there was a body in it." Stiles explains to Isaac, keeping a firm grip on Kaitlin

"What body?"Isaac looks around curiously

"Erica" Kaitlin drowsily buts in, slowly moving her head to look at him

"You said it was Erica"

*****

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #dylan obrien #scott mccall #stiles stilinski x reader #isaac lahey #stiles x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #dylan o'brian gifs #alison argent #lydia martin #witchcraft #like magic #magic

33 notes · View notes

whump-town · 4 years

Text

Quantico Hope

Based on the text post created by @criminalmindsgonewrong so lots of praise goes to her (if not for the idea than because she’s a queen and I love her content). All of my medical scenes came from E.R, Grey’s Anatomy, or Chicago Hope so don’t come for me. Hotchniss is the main ship, warning for language

Emily Prentiss wakes up in a stranger’s bed. The comforter is thick, soft but the pattern is something only a bachelor would choose. It’s a flannel pattern, blue flannel. Knowing that no woman would willingly buy it is a small comfort. She’d never done it on purpose but she can still think of more than one occasion in which a one night stand came to a crashing halt as a spouse made their existence known. She had been chased from quite a few apartments half-dressed.

Topless, she wraps the sheets around her breast as she sits up. Her John is laying on his side and she has to lean close to see his face. She peaks over his shoulder but her quick movement catches nothing but thick brown hair and a five o’clock shadow. It does nothing to spur her memory so she places a hand on his hip to stabilize herself as she leans over him.

“Fuck,” she grunts, pushing herself back away from him.

On her back, hand slapped on her forehead she breathes out a shaky sigh. “No, no, no,” she rolls off the bed. Blindly scooping up her things on the floor. Waking up in a stranger’s bed can be disorienting but waking up in a bed that is unfamiliar with your best friend sleeping right beside you- so, so much worse. This is all Jennifer Jareau’s fault. Her and her stupid sentiments about how one more drink can’t possibly hurt.

She hears a groggy groan from the bed and she winces as she draws her arms to her chest. It’s instinct to squint her eyes, her subconscious encouraging the childish idea that if she can’t see him he can’t see her. As still as she can, frozen in her spot she waits for him to move.

She is beyond relief when he sighs and settles back down.

This time, she tiptoes, now far more conscious of the noise she’s making. Her eyes sweep the floor, searching for her lost bra. She’s missing a sock too but she can leave a sock here and not think twice about it but a bra?

Last night is mostly a blur. She has a faint memory of his hand cupping her bare breast.

“Hotch,” she breathes against his neck. She’s working his belt off, letting him attack her neck. “Jesus,” his pants fall to the floor, weighed down by his useless belt. Her mouth opens to make a comment about how hard he is but the rough pads of his fingers cup her breast and she arches into the touch.

“Are you sure?” He whispers. “I don’t want you to-”

Both of her hands wrap around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. “Trust me,” she says, breathlessly. “I want this.” She’s wanted it for as long as she’s known him but he was married. So, she stuck to being his friend. His sounding board. “God,” she’s standing in his room, his rough hands pulling her panties to the side to work a finger inside her.

He pushes her onto the bed, laughing that silly laugh that makes her chest ache, and for the first time in her life, she’s able to kiss him. She shares his goofy joy and she can feel him smiling as he kisses her tenderly. It occurs to her that their quick drunk fuck isn’t going to be so simple. His eyes are sober and his actions are soft.

His lips start to wander and her stomach flutters as he kisses her hip bones. He looks up at her suggestively, his hands spreading her thighs. He kisses the inside of her thigh, smiling as she can’t control the way they shake.

“Aaron!”

Emily shudders as she’s pulled from the memory, heart pounding as he groans from beneath the mound of comforter he’s curled under.

The sheets rustle and Emily turns from the door to watch Hotch bolt upright in the bed. He’s on his feet in a flash, stumbling to the bathroom. He’s not of the state of mind to shut the door behind him so she hears as he gags and vomits into the toilet.

She closes her eyes and curses him. She can’t leave him alone and if the clock on his nightstand is right, she’s got three hours before she’s due for rounds anyway. Which means, she’s just an awful friend to leave him like this.

“That was gross,” she leans against the bathroom door frame. “You got a little-” she pats the side of her lip. She’s grinning ear-to-ear at his expense. He may be her best friend but it’s still far and in-between when she gets to see him so human. Without the white coat and stoic frown, he can be himself. He can be the stressed-out single father, going through a tough divorce, who spends nearly all of his waking hours depriving himself of comfort.

He drops his forehead against the cool toilet lid and groans. Wrapping a hand around his stomach, he curls his long legs beneath him. “Why are you being mean to me?” He rubs at his mouth, disgusted when his fingers find a bit of vomit on his lip. It makes his stomach roll with a vengeance that makes his head pound mercilessly. He ends up, gagging miserably again, nothing coming up.

“Alright,” Emily steps in, rubbing at his back. She stands beside him, rubbing his back until he pulls his head up. “Let’s get back to bed,” she hooks her arm under his. It takes a moment, he doesn’t want to let her help him. She doesn’t relent and he caves, allowing her to ease him to his feet.

She’s pretty tall for a woman but getting him to his feet is nothing short of a small feat. "Jesus, " she grunts. He stumbles, leaning heavily on her. Everyone had noticed the weight he dropped after Haley filed for divorce. She can barely keep him on his feet now, she'd hate to have had to do it three months ago. "You're heavy!"

Hotch stops, glaring down at her. It’s a mystery to her how he can look exhausted, nauseated, and angry at the same time. He puffs like an angry little fish, strangely cute. “Are you saying I��m fat?” He makes a failed attempt to stand up straighter, making a soft grunting noise as his stomach revolts against the idea.

Emily rolls her eyes, drama queen. “No,” she pushes him onto the bed. “You’re just a giant.” He bounces as he sits, frown set right in place. “Aaron,” she puts her hand on her hips and frowns right back at him. “Just take a nap, nurse your hangover, and remember to be in at ten when your shift starts.” She pats his shoulder and plants a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll bring you a coffee, huh?”

He yawns, grimacing as his head and stomach both protest. Sleepily, he rubs at his eyes, laying back on his bed. “I gotta…” he yawns mid-sentence. “Going to a parent-teacher meeting.”

She tries very hard not to look completely devastated. “Oh,” so no coffee. “Okay, I’ll see you after that then.”

He nods, “and I’ll bring the coffee.”

__________

Last Friday when Aaron had cornered Dave and asked him to cover some basic stuff for him, Dave imagined he’d be doing some rounds, picking up after an intern, or fussing with an attending. He hadn’t expected a very specific, in-depth list of things for him to do:

8 a.m. take Reid to check-in on patients (keep communication at a minimal)

8: 30 a.m. bust Savannah Hayes (the nurse from the Emergency Room) and Derek Morgan in the second-floor on-call room

8:45 a.m. bring Garcia a non-fat almond milk vanilla lattee--

The man has stones… and that wasn’t even half the list. There are annotations, they came color-coded with sticky notes on additional pointers. Thumbing through the several pages worth of notes and instructions, Rossi shakes his head. Of course, he knows his old prodigy is a busy man. As much as he would like to think he’s what keeps this hospital on its feet… Aaron has a lot to do with it, too.

He’s got a knack for running into trouble just as it’s happening and juggling fixing the problem with making sure it never happens again. Which, in this hospital,-- a cesspool of one night stands, rule-bending, and overbearing masculinity-- makes him a very valuable member for the good side. Good meaning one of the few members of staff without his hands in another staff member's pants.

The problem is, Dave’s hardly got the time to comply with the whole list of nonsense demands Aaron wants him running about doing. He loves Aaron dearly, the boy is like his son but he’s a bit anal-retentive and Dave just… well, he doesn’t want to do all of this stuff. The hospital isn’t going to fall apart if he doesn’t meet every single thing on this list.

Well… hypothetically, right?

“Where’s Hotch?”

Rossi steps out of his office and finds Reid standing on the other side, weirdly close. “Woah,” he takes a step back when the genius doesn’t. He shakes his head, folding the list in his hand in half before regarding the doctor in his doorway. “Reid,” he acknowledges, stepping around the genius, and shutting his office door behind him. “I believe we’ve got rounds to attend to, correct?”

Brainbox is what a few members of staff have taken to calling the young genius. Hotch had made a point to talk to the other leading heads in departments to make sure they weren’t calling Reid that and for the most part, that had slowed down the spreading of the nickname. Dave understands why Hotch got ahead of that problem but on the same hand, it’s kind of fitting.

Reid nods, looking around Rossi and into his dark office. “Yeah but Hotch always takes me.” Technically, taking Reid on rounds is supposed to be Dave’s job. Hotch just made time for it. If Hotch times everything just right, he can get Reid on the second floor near the on-call room to bust Derek and Savannah with enough time to get Garcia her coffee and have time to swing by the cardiac wing and say hi to Emily.

Speaking of--

“What are you two doing down here?” Emily and JJ are standing where Dave is supposed to be, a smooth-talking Derek and meek looking Savannah standing between the pairs. Which means that the pair busted the couple before Dave could. It burns Dave. That skinny little runt. That bastard. Hotch has Emily on the same hunt as him because Hotch doesn't think Dave would do the list.

He’s right but… still, it kinda hurts.

Emily isn’t wearing her signature smirk. For once, she’s got a one-up on him and she’s not biting. Something’s got her down. She offers a simple tight-lipped nod. “Hotch has me trailing you,” she informs him and Rossi understands exactly what it is that’s bothering her or better yet who. “He just doesn’t want the hospital burning down.”

So much for Dave’s earlier sentiment of Hotch keeping his hands to himself. Now, what’s he to do? He’s pissed that Aaron has hurt Emily but they’re both like his kids. What he needs to do is strangle for being stupid. Aaron for never outright telling anyone how he feels and Emily for letting men hurt her.

God, they just… The little idiots get under his skin like nobody else.

“He’s a tight-ass,” Rossi mumbles, shaking his head. And a dumbass if he’s right about Emily. He puffs, “this place isn’t going to fall apart just because he misses a few hours.” Dave has been doing this for a long time. He didn’t get Chief of Surgery dicking around… well, he did a little bit but that’s not the point being made.

Emily smiles, even if it looks a little forced. “Tell him that,” she offers with an eye roll. “I’m just not going to waste my energy with that argument.” Arguing with Hotch is a very taxing and pointless excursion. Especially, if the subject at hand goes against his paranoias and anxieties. So, in other words, the idea that the hospital won’t burn down without him.

Rossi can feel the mood shift and Derek must too because he kisses Savannah's cheek and excuses himself. “I’ve got my own rounds to attend to,” he admits. “Pretty boy,” he calls Reid to him. “Care to join me?” Morgan can handle a little responsibility. He won’t let Reid’s work slack on account of him.

Reid looks between Dave and Prentiss, unsure if he’s allowed to agree with Derek. Ultimately, he sees no qualms being raised by either of them so he nods and his head. He tucks his hands in his pocket and stands by Morgan’s side. Waiting for the plastic surgeon to leave.

“I’ll catch you later,” Derek says with a wave of his hand. Fully intending to make good on that promise at lunchtime where he’ll attempt to tear down Emily’s walls to get her to talk about whatever is bothering her right now. With any luck, it’ll be something juicy.

Rossi turns and watches the pair walk away, wondering how many more chores he’s been left to do. “I should probably--” he lets his voice wander off as he pulls the list from his pocket. He motions to with an air of defeat, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Can I trust you two to behave?”

JJ smiles, “I think we both know that the only pair you should be worried about just walked off to do rounds.” Her smile broadens as she considers all the mischief Reid and Morgan can get into. “However, if I were you, I’d go investigate what they’re really off doing because I’ve never known Morgan to do his work on time and not last minute.”

Dave is obviously not buying her diversion but she’s planted the seeds of fear in his mind. Unable to think of anything aside from whatever Morgan and Reid are out ruining, he lets them go. Besides, he’s certain he’ll figure it out sooner rather than later anyhow.

As soon as Dave turns the corner, JJ turns back to Emily.

“So,” the blonde inquires knowing they’re both working on a tight schedule. “You and Hotch?”

Emily nods. She doesn’t regret it. That’s what she’s learned from her morning full of nothing but introspection. She wishes she regretted it because then she’d be able to tell JJ that she's not madly in love with him. “We were drunk,” she tells her because somehow that makes it okay. But then she remembers how he kept asking if she was okay.

It’s the bare minimum but… no one’s ever actually done that before.

“I’m surprised he could,” JJ admits. “He had a lot to drink.” They’d been celebrating… something. Reid and Garcia were celebrating, actually. The rest of them were just drinking away another miserable day at this hospital.

Emily nods her agreement. It’s unusual for Hotch to drink let alone get drunk enough to have sex with her. “He was very sweet,” she admits.

JJ smirks… What else was she expecting? Hotch can be an asshole but the majority of the time he really is a gentleman. Unless you incur his wrath and if you do… well, that’s your business. He’s a bit of a hothead but it does take a lot to get him worked into yelling.

Besides, Hotch is nothing but a sweetheart to Emily. They can act as blind as ⅔ of the three blind mice but that doesn’t change the heart eyes they exchange. It still leaves a lot to be desired on a lot of their exchanges, though. The way he reaches over and, without prompting, opens boxes or bags for her. The way Emily creeps into his personal space and he doesn’t comment or even step back.

“I don’t think it’ll work out, though.” Emily takes a long sip from her coffee, eyes thoughtfully trailing off. Actually, she’s not sure it won’t work but she’s about thirty percent sure he doesn’t love her and she needs someone to tell her that she’s not making it up.

JJ scoffs at that.

Emily stops walking, eyeing her friend up. “What?” Of course, she wants to know exactly what’s warranted that reaction.

JJ rolls her eyes, “Emily, I have watched you two make some of the most disgustingly adorable faces at each other for the better part of the last year. I’ve seen Haley watch your every move.” JJ picks her pace up, leaving Emily in her momentary frozen state. “He’s hopelessly in love with you Emily and if you don’t feel that way back then you’re lying to yourself and to him.” JJ turns around, walking backward so that her words are met with Emily’s full attention. “And you both deserve better than that.”

__________

Penelope Garcia is certain that someone is leaving her out of the loop.

For starters, Derek and Spencer are giggling in one of her observation rooms. Meaning that they’re not being watched… as they should be.

Emily and JJ brought her coffee this morning.

Dave has been MIA, besides coming down here half an hour ago to ask where Morgan and Reid had “fucked off to”. She would have happily informed him of the shenanigans, no doubt, happening in her emergency room, but Morgan had gotten to her first. Who is she to say no to her Chocolate Thunder so of course, she told Dave she hadn’t seen him yet this morning.

“MVA with three vics incoming!”

Garcia sighs, standing up from behind her desk. She looks over the doctors and staff floating through the emergency room. “Charlotte,” she calls the baby nurse over. Baby being the term she’s using because Charlotte is all of about twenty-three. She finds it adorable. “Honey, do you know where Hotch is?”

Another nurse, Savannah Hayes, steps up to the station. “Uhm, he’s on call.” There’s something about her knowing smile that tells Garcia exactly why Savannah knows that: Derek Morgan. “Off to a-a…” she snaps her fingers as she tries to recall what Morgan was telling her earlier that morning. “Parent-teacher meeting,” she recalls. “He’ll be back later though.”

Garcia frowns, making a mental note to ask about the meeting later. She’s about to ask how Morgan is since she hadn’t seen him that morning when the emergency room’s doors open and the EMTs run-in with the first victim.

“Forty-year-old car crash victim, head-on collision.” The EMTs come in running, shouting out information to whoever will listen. “Pressure is 50 over palp, his respirations were shallow in the field.” The stretcher is relinquished to the closest E.R. doctor. “Pupil dilation was equal and reactive at sight. ”

Garcia pulls herself together, clearing her throat as she steps up to the stretcher. “I want--” the order dies on her lips. The man on the stretcher is pale, paler than normal. His black hair plastered to his scalp, not in it’s usual combed but contained mess. His brow isn’t furrowed and he’s not looming and glooming but she’d know him anywhere.

Her brain blanks. Training and training and protocol and protocol but… It’s not very often she gets a friend in here. “Uhm,” she can feel the emotions taking over where she should be calm. Hotch needs her to be calm. “I need you to take him to--” her mind blanks but her pointing finger guides the seasoned EMT well and the two separate with a business-like nod.

“I need someone to--” Garcia turns and Charlotte is right there. “I need you to call the Chief down here and-and Derek and everyone!” She doesn’t look back or check to make sure she’s understood, she follows Hotch into the next room. There are ethics and protocol and so many things running through her head as she grabs her boss’s hand but there’s not a chance in hell anyone’s pulling her away.

Once in the room, she sets about doing her job. Looking up only as the curtain is thrown back and she finds David Rossi looking back at her.

“It’s Hotch.”

Garcia cuts through his shirt, the thin Hanes material giving like butter with her scissors. Tears sting her eyes, “oh, my liege.” She looks up and Derek and Spencer are right behind Dave, everyone filing in. It takes them a moment, just as it did her before they throw themselves into their jobs.

Rossi pulls the cut shirt away, shaking his head. “Chest movements are paradoxical,” he informs them, moving his hands to palpate Hotch’s abdomen. “Abdomen is rigid, too.” He places the stethoscope on Hotch’s diaphragm, sighing. “I need to place a chest tube, get me a cart.” He throws the stethoscope cord back around his neck, stepping to the side.

Out of the corner of her eye, Garcia sees Rossi going for the tools he needs for a chest tube. She doesn’t want to say they don’t have time for that but… “Pulse ox is 82,” Garcia informs them. “It was just 88.” Her hands are trembling as she moves around them, a flurry of movement all of them trying to do their jobs. “Oxygen is dropping.”

Morgan curses, “I need to intubate him.” The utensils are already gathered in his hands-- muscle memory to reach out for the tools that are cold and familiar in his palms. “Do you want to be the one to tell him he’s got heart damage or worse because we let his oxygen drop to below 80?”

Reid, standing by Hotch’s head, interlaces his fingers and shakes his head. His anxiety is sky high, it’s all too much. “Can’t,” he mumbles, shaking his hands out. “If a patient with pneumothorax or other indication for tube thoracostomy requires intubation and mechanical ventilation, the chest tube should be inserted first to avoid creating an iatrogenic tension pneumothorax.” He presses his palms into his temples. All the noise, everyone shouting is overstimulating him.

It’s why he doesn’t work in the emergency room.

“I just need a second, dammit!” Rossi’s hands are shaking, “let me get the chest tube in!” The scalpel in his hand trembles over Hotch’s skin. He’s pale from adrenaline and clammy to the touch. The emergency room feels different without Hotch looming over them. He’s not shouting out orders into the chaos or guiding anyone through procedures with his scarily calm voice.

“Dave? Come on, man!”

Rossi shakes his head, clearing his dismal thoughts. He clenches his jaw and makes the incision into the fourth intercostal space. “Clamp,” the cold metal is pressed into his palm and he places it inside the area. “Dissecting the pleural space,” he mumbles, working the clamp under Hotch’s skin so that the area can accept the tube.

Hotch’s body jerks away from Rossi, a soft grunt coming from his mouth. Reid steps back to his head, clicking his penlight on. “Right pupil is five millimeters and reactive,” Reid hovers by his friend’s head. He guides the light to Hotch’s left eye, yelping when the man jerks his head away from the light. “Hotch?” His eyes blink open, his head turning from the penlight. “He-He’s conscious!”

Rossi stands up from his spot, pulling his bloodied gloves off. He moves to Hotch’s head, “Aaron? Aaron, can you hear me?” He presses his warm hand to Hotch’s cheek, guiding Hotch’s attention to him. “Can you hear me, son?”

Hotch’s eyes are jerking around the room, his mouth open but silent as he writhes in pain. He can’t breathe. His chest is heavy but he’s only thinking about one thing: Jack. The strangled sound that leaves his mouth is inhuman, he doesn’t recognize it. The pain becomes excruciating.

“Sedate--” all too familiar with that word, Hotch turns his head towards Derek. The other man is red in the face, his anxiety bubbling into rage. Profanities litter his speech but Hotch’s mind is too exhausted to nitpick out the words. For now, the only one worth thinking about is sedate.

He pulls away from the bed, a burst of energy leaving him trembling but upright in the stretcher. “N-No!” Jack. Jack was in the back seat. He couldn’t reach Jack. He has to get to-- Something cold runs into his arm and looks down, body suspended by his friends and coworkers, and it’s Reid. In his hands is the syringe Garcia had gotten out. Hotch feels his chest tighten-- he feels betrayed.

“Easy, son.”

Hotch feels himself falling back but he doesn’t hit the hard surface of the gurney beneath him but rather hands. Gently, he’s guided back down. Sweat sleeks his hair to his face and he’s limp in the hands as Derek steps towards his head. They’re talking-- words he understands but…

Derek cranes his neck back, Hotch can see his lips moving, but he’s not taking in any of the words. He knows they’re asking him to do a simple task: blink on command to questions or offer a thumbs up. His inability to do these tasks, to even focus on anything other than the cold air on his exposed flesh is the reason they keep moving around him. Shouting as if he isn’t really there at all.

A thumb presses on his chin, forcing his jaw open. He grimaces as cold metal slides into his throat. Floating between conscious and unconsciousness, he gags and feels himself twist to get away from the tube pressing into the back of his throat.

“Easy--” someone comforts as hands press his shoulders down.

Air fills his lungs, it hurts-- every muscle, bone, tendon, everything hurts. He can breathe though, full lungfuls of air. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the ambu bag, bright blue, and in Reid’s hands. They make eye contact and Hotch watches as Reid syncs their breathing. The young genius’s shoulders rise as Hotch’s lungs fill and fall as he exhales.

There was once a time when Hotch had stood by Reid’s side, his hands covering Reid’s over the ambu bag. He’d always been able to be more patient with Reid than he was with many other students. Reid’s just a kid. So he made a point to remember that in every interaction he had with the genius.

And he’d grown to appreciate Reid’s unique sense of humor. He’s a good guy.

A good kid.

“Hotch?” Reid’s throat tightens as he watches a pained grimace come across his boss’ face. He’s uncomfortable and in pain but Reid can’t do much besides keeping the ambu bag moving at a steady pace. “Garcia?” He feels a flutter of anxiety knotting his heart up. “Can’t you do something? He’s in pain.”

Morgan interrupts whatever Garcia’s going to say with a shout, “just pulled a positive tap!” A second later, the metal starts hitting the table with a clatter. The wheels of the stretcher unlock, the guard rail going up. “He’s got blood in his abdomen, he needs to get into the OR, now!”

Dave takes a stumbling step back, his arms raised above his head. It’s muscle memory to pull them away from the field-- the field, of course, being his friend's bleeding body. His heart sinks to his feet but follows in the direction that Derek is pushing Hotch. His voice barking out orders that echo down the hall.

Dave watches them go.

“Sir,” an attending waves him down. “Hotchner’s wife is gonna need heart surgery.”

Dave’s got another job to attend to.

He has Savannah call Emily to the OR. He meets his team in the room. They’re working with silence. “If you can’t pull yourself together,” his voice is harsh because they’re past life and death. “Get out of my OR.” He looks around the crowd of faces, nurses and doctors he’s known for years. There’s a solemn understanding.

They wait on edge.

“Prentiss won’t know,” Dave tells the team. His eyes move to the woman on the table and without a word, he draws back the blue cloth over her eyes. The room stands in silent shock. All of them recognize her.

Haley Hotchner.

They’ve seen the evolution of the divorce. The way Aaron came into the hospital fresh-faced and new. Haley used to bring him lunch and Dave used to catch them in the on-call room. They’d gotten pregnant, had their ultrasound a floor down from where Haley now lays. Had their boy, Jack, and fallen into a pit.

Haley stopped kissing him between visits to the hospital.

She stopped visiting altogether.

Then Emily had come.

“Prentiss can’t know.”

She won’t know.

Emily Prentiss has mastered the art of chugging hot coffee and running, which is what she’s currently doing. Emergency heart surgery, she’s thrilled. Even more so when she steps into the room and things are already in motion.

“Dave,” she greets the older man as she steps into the operating room. Her hands are raised, waiting for a nurse to place gloves over her hands. “What’re you doing in here?”

It takes every ounce of his self-control to keep his voice steady. He clears his throat, “thought I’d watch the master at work.” Sure, Dave, win her over with flattery. Maybe then she won’t hate you for lying. “That alright with you?”

Emily shrugs, “I don’t mind dazzling you.” Gloves snapped into place, she adds, “but I do prefer Heart Goddess. You know, for future reference.” She turns to Savannah, who she recognizes behind her mask. “What do we have?”

Savannah glances at Dave. For a moment, Dave’s certain the cat’s about to be out of the bag but before he can fill the silence, Savannah clears her throat. “Thirty-five-year-old female with a suspected arterial wall collapse.”

Emily frowns as she walks past the patient, eyes scanning over the ultrasound that’s pulled up. “Suspected?” she repeats. She doesn’t like the sound of suspected but she’s not complaining. It could certainly be worse. She shrugs it away. “I’m gonna time myself,” she announces. “Have you started her on L.R.s?”

“Two liters L.R. and a unit of packed cells.”

Emily nods her head and moves back to the patient. “Alright, sounds good to me.” She extends her right hand, “ten blade.”

They all watch in baited silence as she sets to work.

“It’s a goddamn…” the frustration in her voice is clear. Her brows furrow and she falls silent.

Dave tries to keep himself calm but taking a deep breath doesn’t settle his nerves. He leans over the operating table, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches. “How’s it going,” he asks. He’s a damn good surgeon himself but it’s been a long time since he was running a heart surgery like this one. His specialty runs more towards general.

Emily shakes her head. When the monitors sound in alarm she doesn’t look up to see what it is, the curse she lets out says she already knows exactly what’s wrong. “Her…” Emily pauses as she works. “The inferior vena cava is completely collapsed. I don’t know how she’s--” Both of their heads snap up as the heart monitor sounds out in alarm.

Emily pulls her hands up, shaking her head as she works. “I can’t do anything,” she tells Dave. “Everything’s a mess. She’s bleed dry and I’ve maxed out the dopamine ....” Emily blows out her breath, letting herself think. “Let me try…” she leans back over Haley.

Whatever she’s doing, causes the monitors to get louder. “Dammit!” Emily keeps working, asking for different tools as fast as the nurses can hand them to her.

The monitor flatlines.

Emily pulls her hands out and she looks over at Dave. “There’s nothing I can do,” she admits. “The heart was shredded.”

Dave refuses to believe this. “No,” he tells her. “There has to be something.” His attention snaps up as Derek steps into the room adjacent to the operating room. He’s come for news but Dave can see his eyes travel to the monitor. His shoulders sag and his mouth opens in disbelief.

Dave looks to the ground, “go talk to Derek.”

Emily frowns at him, “what is your problem?”

He doesn’t mean to. It’s nothing against her. None of this is her fault. He stood right here. He saw. She did her best but sometimes there’s nothing you can do. “Go, Emily!”

Sulking away, looking more like a pissed-off teenager than an award-winning surgeon, Emily pulls her gloves off angrily. Making a point to throw them away where Dave can visibly see how hard she throws the limp latex. She shoves her way through the door and shakes her head at Derek. “What the hell is his problem?”

Dave watches through the window.

Derek starts talking, his hands gathering near his chest as he gestures and tries to work around telling Emily the truth.

Emily takes a step back, shaking her head. She argues with him, disbelief. No. Then her head turns to Dave and to the woman laying on the table. To the sandy blonde hair she just barely recognizes until Dave reaches down and moves the blanket draped over Haley’s face.

Dave can hear her muffled shout. Her voice grows frantic and angry as she accepts Derek pulling her to his chest but her fist hitting him. Fighting with everything she’s got for this not to be true.

For Haley to be alive.

Dave begins the slow process of pulling his own garments off. Someone’s going to have to tell Aaron.

He assumes that job is going to be left for him as well.

__________

It takes Dave a minute to find JJ. She’s lost in a sea of children, crouching so that she’s level with them as she speaks. Judging by the bandanna wrapped around her forehead, she’s got them into some game. Which explains how she’s oblivious to the news he’s carrying.

“Hey, kiddos.” He tries and fails to appreciate the youthful hope written across the snotty faces beaming at him. “I’m gonna need to steal Miss JJ for a moment, okay?”

JJ looks up and tells him to wait a moment, before she manages to wiggle out of the grasp of a rather small snot nosed child. Still, she gives the kid a pat on the head before stepping to the side with Dave.

“Aaron was in a car accident--” he tells her everything. That he lied to Emily and that Haley is dead. She takes it in stride. Nodding and inquiring about the surgeries. About Hotch’s outcome.

“But you think he’s going to be okay?” she asks.

Dave hesitates before agreeing. “His intracranial pressure is being closely monitored but… they all worked to the best of their abilities and--”

JJ nods, right. They’ve got great surgeons under this roof. Hotch would be safer no place else.

“I need to ask you a favor, though.” He rubs at the back of his neck, sheepishly recalling his short-circuited shout at Emily.

JJ already knows, “I’ll take care of her.” She steps to the side, attempting to make good on her promise.

“She’s with--”

“Aaron,” JJ finishes. “I know.” Because where else would she go? When Emily seeks comfort, she goes one to two places. To JJ or Hotch and considering Emily hasn’t been on the ward, the children love her so she’d know she must be with him.

It doesn’t take long for her to find Hotch's room. JJ steps in, feeling her light bubble pop under the pressure of the blood not completely wiped from Hotch’s face. The additional loom and gloom do not help. “How’s he doing?” The room is devoid of all things light and cheerful. Sucked through the dark whole of her friends’ current moods.

His vitals are good. A steady resting heart rate of seventy-two. He’s alive and that��s more than they can say for other victims of the crash.

“He won’t wake up.” Emily stands up from his side. Uncurling her long legs from underneath her as she stretches out. Muscles ache and joints pop as she moves for the first time in several hours. She doesn’t look at him for too long, it makes her chest tight and her throat hurt to see him like this.

She prefers the medicine of everything.

She can understand pulmonary edemas, kidney failures, pneumothorax, and flail chest but… The comparison is medicine makes sense. Show her a blocked artery and she’ll work around it. Bypass isn’t an option? No problem. The surgery is over. Vitals are steady. There aren’t chest to crack or hearts to massage. All she can do is sit back and take watch.

Her best friends sitting in a hospital bed hooked up to machines and she can do nothing.

“Of course, he isn’t,” JJ grumbles, walking over to the light switch and turning on the lights. Bathed in the dark room, windows shut to cut out all natural light, and surrounded by artificial sound it’s no wonder he’s not waking up. They haven’t given him a reason to. “Emily, you’ve shut out all the natural light. Half of recovery is atmosphere and, if I were Hotch, I’d feel like everyone had given up on me.”

JJ pulls open the blinds, the bright light making Emily recoil. The room, though, brightens, and JJ can feel the warmth in her chest. It occurs to her that maybe Hotch isn’t the only one who needs some looking after. While they can rest assured that Derek, Penelope, Dave, and Spence will cycle through the room periodically. Each of them checking sutures, drain tubes, and reflex responses.

No one’s checking on eachother.

“Em,” JJ places a hand on her friend’s shoulder. Emily’s shoulders feel rock hard under her palm. “When was the last time you showered or ate?”

Emily’s too tired to even think of numbers. Instead she leans into JJ, allowing her head to rest against the space between the blondes neck and shoulder. She’s fighting tears before JJ even hugs her back. “Are you sure you don’t want to run away with me?” she asks. “We can run away right now and do gay crimes and leave all the men in our lives right here.”

JJ cups the back of Emily’s head, rubbing her back as she considers the offer Emily has been making a lot here lately. After a moment, JJ decides that she loves her best friend with all her heart and that gay crimes sound thrilling but she can’t. Besides the fact that she knows how good Emily is at sex and the gay crimes would be very gay and very nice… Neither really want to leave. “I think we’d better stay here, love.” She kisses Emily’s temple, “besides, I can’t leave in good conscience while Hotch is like this.”

Emily pulls away from JJ, moving her body so that she can lean into the smaller woman. She’s accepted with open arms and they stand leaning and silent as they watch Hotch breath.

It’s artificial and that comes with it’s own sort of sting but it’s still him.

“I killed his wife,” Emily whispers after a long moment between the ventilators hissing.

JJ knows. Dave had come to tell her the minute Haley’s heart stopped the first time on the table.

“She’s not going to be able to save her,” he’d whispered, hushed and frantic. “It’s going to crush her.”

Now, as JJ feels Emily sobbing silently beside her, she wonders how Dave knew. Emily’s never taken losing well. She’s heavily competitive. So, maybe this is the worst kind. Emily didn’t just fail… she let her best friend’s wife die.

“Ex-wife,” JJ corrects. Because that’s what Hotch and Halery were. Separated. Anybody with two eyes could see they still loved each other but the job always came first for Hotch. Haley… she wanted more. “She was his ex-wife.” Besides that, the distinction is important.

Emily knows it doesn’t matter. “I still killed her,” she replies. “He’s never going to forgive me.”

JJ looks at the man on the bed. There’s nothing she wants more than to reassure Emily that’s not true. She’s seen the way Hotch looks at her when no one else is watching. But she can’t really know. “Let’s go clean up,” she deflects. “You’ll feel better.”

God, Emily hopes she’s right.

__________

“We’re having a party.” Penelope Garcia is standing in front of her family, sans Hotch, with her hands on her hips and enough conviction in her tone to convince them that’s a solid plan. “JJ’s right,” she informs them. They had lunch together like they do every day. It may be normal to have one or two of them missing-- general surgery logs Hotch random hours and heart and brain surgery tend to run on the long side-- this is the first time any of their own have been on the table.

The first time Reid wasn’t at the table because his hands were meticulously placing holes in Hotch’s head.

“This place is way too gloomy,” and she’s right of course. Even with the light funneling into the room from the blinds JJ pulled up, Hotch is still surrounded by their dismal moods. “We’re having a party.”

After a long moment, each of them rolling this idea around Dave speaks. He’s not against the idea but he’s not exactly going to give it the go-ahead, not yet. “Aaron would hate the attention,” he deduces because that’s the truth. Hotch wouldn’t even talk to them about the divorce.

The papers for which were delivered in the middle of the workday. JJ had been the one to go get Hotch. He was in the middle of a surgery… one that someone else had to finish.

“He won’t even know,” Garcia informs them. “Reid’s keeping him in the induced coma for another night.”

This is, of course, news to the rest of the room. Reid had gotten out of the surgery and gone to collapse in bed. Exhausted. Emotionally and physically.

Emily speaks up for the first time since the meeting had been called. “He could--” she realizes how helplessly hopeful she is as soon as the words start to come out. “He could still wake up.”

He could. Reid had decreased his dosage a little post-operation before he’d gone home but before Reid could even leave the hospital Hotch’s intracranial pressure had increased.

“He could,” Garcia agrees. “That’s why, if he does. He’s going to be surrounded by us. Having a good time.”

And if there’s one thing that rings true through-out that hospital… If Garcia says it, then it’s Gospel.

“I feel stupid,” Emily grumbles, sitting still but not going through the party process as well as her friend would like. She’s in a dress because Garcia wants this to be a fancy party. Full of drinking and music. Emily knows Hotch would be just as happy if she were barefoot and daisy dukes.

JJ taps her cheek, a small soundless reprimand for moving away from the eye-liner JJ is so meticulously placing on her eyes.

Emily sits for the remainder of the make-up JJ paints onto her face. She can’t actively see it going on but she still knows it’s a lot.

“Oh my God,” Garcia beams when she sees Emily. “You’re gorgeous.” She looks at JJ, “I love it but we’re not trying to shock the man into another coma when he lays his eyes on our total bombshell babe!”

Emily rolls her eyes and shakes herself loose from Garcia’s grip. “I’m not sure I can do this.” She admits, sinking back against her chair. “How am I… I couldn’t… I couldn’t fix Haley and I can’t fix my own heart… so, what am I, JJ? Because a heart goddess certainly isn’t it.”

JJ drops her knee, ignoring the way her own dress rides up her thigh. “Emily, you’re the heart Goddess whether you like it or not.” She cups the side of Emily’s face, wiping her thumb across a tear that dares to fall from her friend’s face. “Dave had you do the surgery on Haley because you’re the best surgeon in the damn county.” She shakes her head, “hell in the nation, probably. If you couldn’t save her then no one could and her best chances were when she was on your table.”

Garcia offers a hand on Emily’s shoulder. She squeezes lightly, “you did you best, Em. You tried to save Haley but now we have to go save Hotch.”

Emily nods, caving to the idea. “Fine,” she mumbles, “but I’m not dancing.”

She lasts four seconds because as soon as she steps through the door, Dave sweeps her up. “Dance with me, bella?”

It’s mostly shifting back and forth but she can feel the tension leaving her body as she accepts Dave’s proximity. After a moment of listening to Reid and Morgan’s bickering, Dave clears his throat. “I wanted to apologize for everything that happened earlier,” he tells her. They step closer to one another so that they can hear each other over the sound of the music and monitors.

“It’s okay,” Emily whispers back, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I know…” she sighs, she’s not sure what she knows.

Dave rubs her back, keeping them moving. “At the very least,” he offers, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

She pulls away from his embrace just enough to stand on the tips of her toes and press a kiss to his cheek. “I forgive you,” she promises.

Air cleared and feeling a little better Dave looks over to Hotch. The kid looks better. It’s hard to tell if that’s a placebo or the truth. “Is it just me,” Dave asks, “or does he seem to be getting more popular?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Maybe I should go into a coma.”

Emily snickers, “Dave, if you went into a coma… how would we ever know?”

Dave stops dancing, mouth open in shock. “I--” he shakes his head. “I can’t…” He shuts his mouth with an audible snap, “I can’t believe you’d say something like that!”

Behind them, Morgan and Reid are still in the heats of an argument about plastic surgery.

“Anybody can--” Morgan flusters, “it’s called aesthetic awareness, pretty Ricky. You don’t have it. It’s a fine-toothed skill and you can’t even color inside the lines.” He looks at Savannah for back-up but his girlfriend doesn’t offer it. “Never mind your mismatched socks. You just don’t have it, kid.”

Before Reid can offer a rebuttal on the matter, Garcia calls his name out.

“He’s waking up!” She dances at Hotch’s side, motioning them all over with a hurried flick of his wrist.

The music is turned down as Reid pulls out his penlight.

“Hey, kid,” Dave greets softly. He takes Hotch’s left hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’re all here. Reid, JJ, Garcia.” They watch as his eyes open, it’s just a sliver but the soft brown of his eyes greets them back none-the-less. “Morgan and Emily.”

A shiver goes down Emily’s back as his eyes turn over to her. She steps up, feeling awkward as the other’s part to let her through. Garcia lets go of his other hand, letting Emily takes his hand. “Hey,” she greets softly. She smiles, unable to contain her tears when his finger slowly crawls back around hers.

“You’re gonna be a-okay,” Dave promises. “We’re all here, okay? You can get some sleep.”

His eyes flick over to Dave for a second before returning to her.

Emily looks around the room, uncertain… but her gut is forgotten by her heart as she leans over and places a kiss on his forehead. “Get some sleep, Aaron.”

Dave takes a step back, “good night, kiddo.”

She holds his hand until his eyes slip back shut. Waiting for another moment, just to be sure.

“He’s going to be okay,” Reid reassures her.

Emily steps back from the bed and nods. “I hope you’re right.” But Reid is never wrong and she holds onto that hope with everything she’s got.

@ssaic-jareau @emilyxprentiss @purple-scarf-mistress @blatant-attitude @torimea @jetaime-jespere

#criminal minds #greys anatomy au #hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #david rossi #derek morgan #penelope garcia

87 notes · View notes

vicecityhq · 3 years

Photo

██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: the last plump dumpling on the plate that you and your friend fight over, the betrayal you feel when you drink a milkshake that’s too cold and get a brain freeze but it’s too good to stop, and the buzzing of a bumble bee flitting from flower to flower. With a slight resemblance to LEE JOOHEON (JOOHONEY) of/the MONSTA X.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

Last Name, First Name: Kkul Beol (actually his full name. He doesn’t have a surname) ALIAS: Yellowjacket Realm of birth(if earth, nationality): Divine Realm Age: Unknown, but has lived 26 years in Earth realm Date of Birth: May 20th (aka World Bee Day) Gender: Male Preferred Pronouns: he/him or they/them Species: Spiritual Fairy Occupation: The Howlers, Dealer Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

VISUAL FILE:

Skin Color: Milky, pale Eye color: Varies Scars: None Piercings: Ears, Dimple piercings Tattoos:When he doesn’t have his wings out, they manifest as bold linework that follows along his shoulder blades and down his back. He has a colorful fairy pinup girl on his right inner forearm. A bumble bee design on his left upper arm that blends into a fairy circle tattoo on that inner forearm. Various weeds and flowers on his legs. Hair color: Varies Abnormalities: Since Beol can reinvent his physical form to his liking, his features may change on a whim. However, he does tend to stick to the same form, with only his hair and eye color varying. Transformed form:As a spiritual fairy, Beol’s physical form is only a formality that allows him to better experience the world. His spiritual presence is formless and genderless. It is almost like looking at dust when it catches the light.

PERSONAL FILE:

RELIGIOUS BELIEF: N/A SINS: greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath VIRTUES: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice KNOWN LANGUAGES: Korean, English, Gaelic SECRETS: Beol manages to get out of being prosecuted for his crimes by charming the officers who try to arrest him with his fairy dust or using illusions to escape. SAVVIES: drawing, getting tattooed, playing pranks. Powers & Abilities: fairy dust manipulation, healing, wish granting (but it usually has a hidden caveat), semi-immortality, empathy, energy manipulation and absorption, energy barriers, energy blasts, malleable anatomy/shapeshifting, spirit physiology, illusions, intangibility, possession, telekinesis (via fairy dust manipulation), teleportation. Traits: (positive) chipper, animated, fun-loving and playful. (negative) fickle, impatient, gets petulant when things don’t go his way, doesn’t realize his pranks can be harmful or perhaps he feigns ignorance. Aesthetics: the last plump dumpling on the plate that you and your friend fight over, the betrayal you feel when you drink a milkshake that’s too cold and get a brain freeze but it’s too good to stop, and the buzzing of a bumble bee flitting from flower to flower.

BACKGROUND CHECK:

Date of Birth: May 20th, year unknown Date of Death: N/A Crime Record: Beol knows that he should avoid getting entangled with the authorities at all costs, but his innately mischievous nature contradicts rationality. He rather enjoys skating on thin ice when it comes to getting caught. When he was a “teen,” he often got in trouble for truancy, vandalism, and theft. Now, as an “adult,” he has to be far more conscious about getting caught. He has been charged with possession and possession with the intent to distribute, but - miraculously - has not served any jail time.

Background/Biography:

In a time long ago, Celts used to believe that when a person slept or entered a hypnotic state that their soul left the body in the form of a bee. Sometimes those souls got lost on the way back (or perhaps were detained) and found their way to the divine realm of the fae, where they would become what is known as spiritual fairies. Or at least that was the story Beol’s mother told them, but the reality was that there was no living fae who remembered exactly where they originated. Their mother would affectionately call them their ‘wandering little bee’ because Beol was an adventurous child who could never be tied down in one place. It came as no surprise to them when Beol decided to leave the realm they’d always known and venture out into the human world.

When Beol crossed over to the mortal plane, they embraced the incredibly different way of life with childish wonder and enthusiasm. At first they explored in their spiritual form and enjoyed playing all sorts of pranks on unsuspecting humans, but - as is typical of the fickle nature of fairies - that grew boring quickly. Beol eventually constructed a physical form so they could better interact with others around them. Being a young and playful soul, Beol chose the façade of a school-aged child since their fun-loving antics were very similar to his own. What he didn’t take into account, though, was that a parentless, vagrant child stood out and it wasn’t long before his friend’s parents became concerned for his well-being.

In his naivety, Beol didn’t think much of it when they’d asked where he lived and who looked after him, telling them that he took care of himself and stayed wherever he wanted. That naturally led to the police being contacted and Beol was placed in an orphanage until they could find a family for him. Truthfully, he could have simply flitted off and ventured someplace new, but the idea of living with other kids sounded like an eternal sleepover to him and how could that be bad? Of course, it wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies in the system. Many of the orphans came from broken homes and were passed around to fosters that were no better. They’d come back with new scars and bereft of their smiles, their innocence gobbled up by the darkness within others.

Beol couldn’t stand seeing them hurt. He could vividly imagine how they’d gotten each bruise like he’d experienced it himself and felt their anguish like a bottomless pit in the center of his chest. Yet he wasn’t powerless to fight against it like they were and Beol quickly went from using his abilities for harmless fun to avenging his friends. He would go out of his way to be assigned to their previous foster parents and would make sure to traumatize them so much with his illusion magicks that they never dared to take in another child again. While it did make him feel better, his habit of terrorizing parents tarnished his record and made him increasingly difficult to adopt out. Not that that bothered Beol. Sure, it was hard watching his friends eventually leave to go with loving parents, but protecting those that remained had become his responsibility and he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that if he left. Besides, he had parents and didn’t need new ones, even if his counselors never believed him when he told them.

As he “aged” into teenage years, Beol’s outer image evolved to suit his interests and style. He became close with the more rebellious crowd, other lost boys and girls like himself who couldn’t care less about authority or conforming to what society wanted. They spent more time in seedy pc bangs and back alleys sharing a pack of smokes than they did in school or hoping for families that would never accept them. It was around this time that he actually came out about what he really was and where he’d come from, though that identity seemed like a far off memory now. He was no longer a shade wearing the suit of a man and could freely embrace his quirkier side without worrying about anyone disapproving.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

This charade always amused Beol. Every time he found himself in this position, with an officer staring him down on the other side of the table in the cramped interrogation room, he wondered why their initial play was to put on this veil of ignorance. As if they didn’t already know what he did or have evidence against him. Did it actually work on suspects? He assumed that most people dug themselves into a hole trying to weave a pitiful fallacy with the same gusto as a scared child blaming the broken vase on the cat in the hopes that it would exonerate them. Beol, on the other hand, was a sophisticated liar and not burdened with the pressing need to evade something. He could phase out of the room right before their very eyes, after all. So the only reason he had to deceive them was simply because it was fun.

“Well, I can’t just start with last night, officer. That’s not how good storytelling works.” He countered coyly and rocked the chair back onto the two rear legs so he could kick his clunky boots up onto the table. Dirt and grime broke loose from the deep grooves in the sole and fell onto the open file set out before the policeman who was trying his best to see unperturbed, but Beol relished in the neigh imperceptible way his jawline tensed in annoyance. “It all began when my parents died in a tragic car accident and I was adopted by my rotten aunt and uncle. You know, they always told me my father was a drunk and that the apple wouldn’t fall far from the tree. So at least I’m exceeding someone’s expectations. Anyway, this one day, we went to the zoo for my cousin’s birthday and there was this enormous python-”

#vcaccepted #vchowlers

3 notes · View notes

roseprincesskristina · 4 years

Text

My Crimson Valentine ((POV))

((Hey people. 😊 Today, since Valentine's Day is just around the corner a little later, I had to write a special fanfic about everyone's favorite crimson hunter getting busy with a certain girl who is new in Abel City to visit him. Plus, it's a POV version for the ladies out there. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this story and Happy Early Valentine's Day 💘💘💘💝💝💝 😊✌))

The crimson hunter, lastly created by the late Dr. Albert Wily, previously known of the uncontrollable maverick who lusts for blood, carnage, even destruction increases his strength along with everything he possesses. Founded by the former leader of Hunter HQ before being escorted to be tested after the ferocious duel against him, until later on when the impossible virus had traveled it way within the strong balded crusader's armored anatomy away from the blonde irregular's helmet to successfully control the new host. Forming from evil to good has allowed him to join the organization which meaning by hunting down crazed evildoers that caused havoc upon peace. Hardly addresses himself as the hero, however to battle against difficult odds such as maverick while for those around that he believes in at heart, for his own will also. Throwing away the corrupted memories of his past which blinded his focus of a better future awaiting ahead as well as to embrace off multiple sadness from his body.

Now, as the irregular destroying commander of the 0th unit, lacking any clemency towards opponents and acts with a "too cool for school" attitude to lower his emotions instead of showing them to anyone expect his indigo comrade in arms. Ranked into an upperclass position, bearing with the energy beam sword for slashing down anything blocking his path. Aiding with his colleagues, brawling baddies, passed onto with additional power ups, the rest during numerous journeys. He is ultimately quite difficult to become defeated when it comes to danger calling him out, but not with assistance to accomplish any tasks at hand. This fearless swordsman in red is named Zero.

At last, slightly exhausted of every beatings along with rescuing the innocent like any super hero would always do, fully relaxed while the daylight is young, the golden locked hunter had peered his eyes towards you into a seductive persona. Lying onto his bed sideways with his hand planted on the manly thigh to await your appearance inside his dorm. Smirking with a satisfying preparation in mind for a guest of honor such as yourself.

"Mmmmm he he he he~... Well well~... Hello to you, my sweet young treat~ What brings you here to MY lair of awesomeness~? Just by looking at your expression, I suppose you're here to visit me or to earn my autograph, right~? Either way, it wouldn't even matter much anyway since I'm bored with nothing to do~ But what really does now is to amuse a cute little lady like you with my irresistible charms to hypnotize my fans~" The upperclassmen spoke deeply with a sexual tone, walking over and takes you by your hand into his room as a welcoming manner by stroking his hand under your chin. Placing you upon his bed. "So, why don't ya come inside and make yourself comfortable until I freshen up for a special surprise in store just for you~ BRB~" He winked at you, rising right out of his bed capsule to change into a different armor.

While waiting for the blush colored host, you would began to take out something from your backpack like a notebook to draw characters, anime or shapes in order to keep yourself occupied. Even to write a journal about your life. It was your time here in Abel City, never have seen or been here before to meet the legendary Maverick Hunter in the flesh. Or perhaps reploid, of course. You hummed while enjoying usual hobbies like in your house, loving nature even to make friends, pondering about such wonderful memories within your thoughts just to keep you happy and lively for the rest of your life through tough times. It truly warms your innocent heart all the way along with emotions, until a surprise sudden has called your attention....

"Hey there, gorgeous~ Thanks for the long wait for me to straighten myself up, didn't wanna get too.... messy around ya~.... " Outside the bathroom despite of his "freshening up" methods, hearing his voice aiming across the roam has made you look away from the notebook that you're drawing and directly at him, who is wearing nothing underneath his armor like the inner black suit, but into a sexy belly dancing attire to suit him quite better out of his under clothing. Revealing not only the body, yet secondly his most flawless treasure known to man: his diamond shaped navel of his abs, placed with an initialed Z shaped jewel inside, similar on his left shoulder. The appearing shade of redness shown itself in your cheeks during your first witness of your host's harden bods of steel completely in front of you.

"Awww~ Did I made ya blush, little girl~? I kinda love it when you look real nervous when you're around me~ Cause it really, REALLY turns me on~" Slurped the bright red sword wielder, approaching his irresistible self towards you, folding his arms behind the brighten locks of his tied up hair. Blinking his sparkling sapphire pupils slowly to create something even more consensual than before or after your arrival to surround you along with everything in his dorm. You began to feel speechless for a fast second, beholding his fairly gifted body before you now when he chuckled.

"Mmmm~ Giving the silent treatment, too, aren't we~? I like that in a human woman~" Anything about you has impressed the saber enhanced mentor even more than busting against his enemies in the hunting days when duty calls. Could be a waste of time, but not as long as you're here to make his life interesting. "So, beautiful~ Whaddya think~? Like what ya see~? Did my abs impress you~? No need to answer cause I'm already aware of that~ Let's put away the notebook and enjoy ourselves, shall we~" He said again, helping to throw away the book off your hands. Snapping his fingers automatically to initiate the sensual music before the beginning of his dance. Once again, you blinked while watching him jiggle his hips to the rhythm, back and forwards non stop. Several visions of him showering the pleasurable has blinded you away from the focuses about your life, being slowly imprisoned filled of little resistance left in your body to fight it off.

"Mmmm~ Damn, you look so delicious when I take a closer look at you~" Licked his clean filled of the starving metaphorical act, circling around you while slowly drawing his finger on your shoulder. "Even though you're a human, but it ain't gonna change the fact or my mind since you're here~ Lemme taste you for a bit to see if you're good enough to eat~ Meow~" He does that right away by licking your cheek, making you fluster into a shade of pink appearing in your face. "Hot damn~ Did my tastes buds lie~? Or is it telling the truth~? You truly ARE my sweetest dessert, babycakes~ Meaning that I'm gonna save YOU for later after my overwhelming performance~"

Dancing very closer to you, caressing all over his glistening armor as well as his body to approach once more. Seducing you by shaking more of his delectable manly hips with his might, polishing the crotch if necessary. Commencing to arouse your being becoming trapped in his grasps to never release or allow you to flee from his inescapable sights, pinning down your body of his hypnotic dance. Then, feeding on your thoughts with his sultry speech.

"It's no use trying to resist my urges, baby~ My body will consume you whole whether you admire it or not so try not to fight against it~" He compelled, positioning his finger into a "come over here" action to brainwash you. "Come on~ Let my poisonous effects absorb you~ Look into my eyes and rid yourself of those tragedies holding you down from your senses~ Submit to me, my innocent slave~ Obey my body forever~ Smoothingly erasing your worries from your mind and replacing them with images of the sunshine haired expert's erotic movements clearing off those irritating dirt of lies entirely out of your peeps, helping you to see perfectly even by looking at your maverick hunting host shaking his money maker for you. Complying his demands with the lack of free will to shield yourself away of something elegant, you had no other option but to surrender by gazing straightly at him into the middle of his dance.

"So~ What do you think of my stunning bods, little lady~? You like it, even when I punish myself for being a bad boy~? Hmm~? He he he he~ Then I'll take that as a yes~" He moaned while speaking to you sexually. "Well, how about I give you.....this to change your pretty little thinking~? Continually to please you the hardest, he would slowly remove the pierced jewel from his stomach. Placing it on the desk table. You would be able to watch carefully of his special present only for you to see instead of others, but your mind says to resist it for this "nightmare" will haunt you in your sleep forever. Once the gem has been confiscated out of the body, he "accidentally" insert one of fingers deeply inside his ravishing navel.

"Whoops~ He he he he~ My bad, darling~ Didn't mean to cause an accident to you like that~ Or did I~?" Grinned the A Class sword fighter, planning his act on you in the first place by circling deeper into his belly button. Extending out his tongue to rock it like in the concert to party all night, siding with shaking his thighs of continuation towards the dance.

"Unh~ Unh~ M...Mmm god, it feels so nice~" He spits out his longing yet magnificent moan all the way from his mouth trying to dash for freedom, drilling his finger into the dark cavern of the stomach more further. Pleasing you to death with every inch of his power but quietly. Over and over he punishes his stomach hole without trying to stop himself. "Ahhhh~ I love massaging my navel during off duties at peace~ It really takes my mind off of killing enemies~ But, I couldn't hide it from somebody so tranquil and quiet like you~" He refers to you, winking to arouse his guest by "cleaning" his deepen abyss of a stomach hole further. You slightly blushed from his unseen hobby, attempting to look for an escapable exit. However, nothing could ever work because of the frozen spell of his seduction pinned you down on the seat.

"Oh yeah~ Yeah~ Mmmmm, face it, pumpkin~ I know you wanna see me ground my deep, luscious, tasty, warm navel of mine for being very naughty~ Don't try to deny it~ You CAN and WILL love it when I play with it~ Or better yet, to let you taste it~" He spoke toward at you, placing a torturing spell which is impossible to break. More shades of red pinkish flustering substance had yet again made its appearance in your face, eyes stretched of shocking discovery, heart pumping in a repetitive beat. It's as if you have seen a boy band member saying your name to climb up onstage or earning a first gift. But this, right up front, is even more breathtaking than both all combined at once.

Forwardly into your ear, his calm voice enters within your mind. Purring seductively due to his obsession with his new plaything like you to have fun with.

"Purrrrrrr~" No matter how much you try or do that could drive the spell from your consciousness, that too, is unstoppable to leap out of. "It's already too late to back out from me, doll~ Cause there ain't gonna be an exit to save you now that you're all mine~" He said, tilting your head directly to him by his hand grappling your cheeks. "You know, before I met an adorable birdie like you, all I ever do was fight off maverick trash all freaking day without getting a single break, which is completely boring for my taste~ But now here you are, making my life a living heaven than hell like in my usual days as a hunter~" You nodded while listening. "I really like you that much, despite of being a human, but still~ " He comes at you, proceeding towards your face. "As a matter of fact, you mean the world to me, Valentine, and that's why.... I wanna taste and suck your irresistible at the same cause I'm so famished~ So, let's kill off the idle chat, shall we~? And lemme give you something to make you.... remember me in your dreams~ Let me kiss you~ So~ Badly~....." With everything pushed out of the way, the stern yet handsome reploid in red inserted his lips into yours deeply. Drinking the life out of you with a craved thirst before resuming his belly dancing routine. His perfect smooch has gave you a further blush.

"Mmmmmmmm~" So forever long, he softly yoinked himself from the perfect smooch given to you and licked. "God, you taste even better than the rest~ So delicious~" Swallowed the smirked hunter, enjoying your clear lips until he continue his undodgable dance of lust to please you rapidly. Secondly, the glorious cave of a navel to pleasure or play with as well.

That trick, especially the breath stealing kiss, had forced you to have a nosebleed right away from his unavoidable surprise than earlier before. Without holding any grudge against the blonde host's perfect symbol of desires that shuts down all worries from their minds, the only chance you have is to submit towards his beauty and enjoy it, refusing to turn back. Zero smiled gladly at you, wanting more of his fascinating dances to ease your boredom aside in the garbage where it belongs.

"So~ Finally enjoying my gift, huh~? Good girl~" He smiled rapidly, resuming his lustful dance for your enjoyment. "I'm so proud of you for cherishing a pleasant gift I rained on you, sweet treat~ For that, here's another one from me~...." For following his directions of the pleasurable belly dance, the handsome rose themed ex maverick lays his hands onto your soft cheeks while you are a little prepared for something much more....appealing? However, you have to allow him by accepting the second present until finally, he mashed his lips gently into yours. Tongue and teeth.

"Mmmmmm~....."

Your eyes started to open widely because of the seeping smooch warming up your whole heart upwards to 100%, blushing darker than earlier. While you slowly responded back, he continues to sink his kiss into your lips all day long, never to get enough of your existence for one minute just to stomp on his doomed past like an insect. Non stop after separating himself from lip locking with you, he continues his beautiful entertainment by dancing, especially navel pleasuring, to please you more than the first act while you're gazing towards him with both hands placed under your chin. Directly in front of you, he blow a kiss at you for further mood at peace.

"Mmmmmwah~..... Mmmm, thanks again for keeping company to shut up my boredom today, cutie~ You're just the one who never gets tired of my unbeatable charms~" Winked the high ranked blade user, impressed by your company to sleep away his exhaustion from dealing with endless hordes of irregular rabble rousers all the time. You replied with a nod, watching permanently of your die hard android in light burgundy with all your heart no matter what. Enjoying both his company, even the erotic dance as well.

He may become of the lone wolf type reploid who refuses to gain anyone's assistance during heart throbbing missions, roughing up tough mavericks without problems whatsoever. However, fighting alongside friends to be stronger foes than him or enemies combined has made the yellow headed mentor even too powerful other than his base state. Because companionship can make any dream succeed so long as everyone remains by his side always, even the true Maverick Hunter should realize this. Furthermore, no crime lovers including the inhumaniods baddies could ever escape from the beam sword bearer of Abel City when it comes to disasters knocking on the town's door without regret. But for now, he is finally relaxing during his off duty with the only person in store to interest his company instead of all else: You.

"Happy Valentine's Day, ladies~ Feel free to visit yours truly anytime~ Mmmwah~💖"

#megaman #mmx #zero #pov #valentine's day #fanfic #earlyvalentinesday2021

4 notes · View notes

dragonheartftherpays · 4 years

Note

What are some fun gross things about being a chiropractic student?

I’m so glad you asked! Oh boy there are a lot, in varying degrees of both “gross” and “interesting.”

Putting this under a cut, if Tumblr will let me, for obvious reasons.

Gross Anatomy lab class is probably the biggest obvious one. You’re dissecting a human cadaver, from the skin all the way down to taking out organs and cutting open bones. Skinning a human person definitely qualifies as “gross” in my book, even if you do get desensitized remarkably quickly. Of particular note in this category:

- turns out there are some areas on some bodies where the skin is attached to the superficial fascia (aka the fat layer that’s subcutaneous, or just under the skin) loosely enough that you don’t have to use a scalpel to cut it away at all! Just grab and pull. So I now know what it feels like to rip a human’s skin off with my bare hands. The sensory memory haunts me.

- the objectively worst part of a cadaver dissection is having to use paper towels to pat and soak up the fat juice/grease, as one might do to a Costco pizza

- the sheer number of food comparisons that end up being made as you’re trying to describe things to each other. I’ve literally started compiling a list of them so that I can make a full-blown meal out of them at the end of Gross III and serve it to my group. Notable additions include: certain brands of cheddar smell almost exactly like cadaver which is extremely unfortunate, the fat-juice has gotten compared to honey mustard dressing, congealed blood in veins has gotten compared to various types of chocolate and chocolate sauce

- me asking my teacher if we could open up one of our cadaver’s interphalangeal (finger) joints because she had super bad arthritis there and I wanted to see what it looked like, and the teacher going “I’ve actually never done that or had anyone ask about it but sure why not we can try”. It looked horrible and also fascinating

- having to repeatedly bend and straighten the cadaver’s leg after having cut open the joint capsule of the knee is An Experience. The texture of synovial fluid is indescribable

- about skinning, actually, one of the main techniques to make it easier is making a “finger hole,” which is the real actual term anatomists use. It’s exactly what you think it is: a hole in the skin through which you hook your finger so you can pull the skin back and get the tension needed to keep cutting it away with the scalpel. (This is, by the way, how we realized that we didn’t need the scalpel on certain portions of the body.)

- human feet are Awful and if I have to stare at the inside of a person’s foot for another five minutes I’m gonna Snap

- nothing like seeing a dead man’s dick projected at 3x life size on eight widescreen TVs throughout the room

- “do you KNOW how many layers of muscle and fascia and other neurovascular structures I had to dig through to even FIND that artery, how the FUCK did I manage to pinch it off partially by sitting funny and make that specific part of my leg fall asleep -”

- apparently you can have your entire larynx, hyoid bone, and part of your trachea removed surgically and survive it, because cancer. Like, there’s just this entire chunk of someone’s neck onscreen and I’m like “ah, yes, a fresh cadaver specimen” and he goes “this was surgically removed from a patient” and I’m just like “sorry, what???”

- my knowledge of the ABO trope continually haunts me throughout this program

- pro tip: if you plan on donating your body to science for full-body dissection try not to get bruised just before your death, it makes your muscles so much harder to dissect cleanly they just want to shred under the forceps

- sometimes your gross anatomy prof just kind of rips the clavicle off a human body instead of cutting the second half of the joint capsule so he doesn’t cut anything deep to it and you’re just like “Well That Sure Was A Noise”

This isn’t really gross but it is funny: we have a class at some point later on in the program and I only know three things about it: 1) we learn to draw blood in it, because apparently that’s a thing chiropractors can do in Oregon, 2) we learn by practicing drawing each other’s blood, because that’s just how this school works, and c) don’t know the actual name of the class because everyone, including the teachers, just calls it Stab Lab (which kills me btw, I can’t stop laughing every time I remember. Stab Lab. jesus.)

This also isn’t really gross but it is neat: fun fact! it’s possible to get pee that turns bright-ass green when you shake it if you disrupt a certain step in the process of hemoglobin catabolism, aka breaking down old blood cells that have gotten too old and crotchety to fit through your capillaries anymore

There’s probably more but that’s all I’ve got off the top of my head, enjoy

#chiropractic #med school #i guess??? idk if there's a community for that on tumblr i'm not in it so idk the tags #asked and answered #onceuponymus #college chiropractic

14 notes · View notes

landeg · 4 years

Photo

31 Days of Apex: A Retrospection

I participated in the incredible #31DaysOfApex challenge hosted on Twitter, where fans created new content for every day of July based on a one-word prompt. I’ve signed up for/started lots of similar challenges in the past but always ended up having to drop out or trail off before the end... but this time, I managed to complete something for every day of the challenge!

My only goal was to make something by each day’s deadline, and it was a really interesting exercise both in technical skill and also in my management of not only my time, but my expectations and energy. Below, I go into more detail behind each piece.

To preface; the beginning of this challenge coincided with the beginning of a new personal time-management exercise where, for 5/7 days a week, I would only go on the computer at night. Combined with the deadline, this had an interesting effect on my time management and the quality of certain pieces.

Day 1 - Memory

From the start, I wanted to use the challenge as an opportunity to do more studies and to push myself wherever possible. This was the first piece I did and I had more time to work on it, so I used it as a digital painting study. I still think it’s a strong piece and it’s probably my favourite of the month. Symbolically, this character’s backstory doesn’t match up with her own memories, so the idea is she’s missing information she can’t quite place or remember, and this both scares and comforts her.

Day 2 - Blood

Another digital painting and lighting study that didn’t work out as well as the first, mostly due to time constraints meaning I couldn’t scrap it and start again. While I don’t like how it turned out, I did learn a lot. The character on the right is a field medic, and my intent was to show the calm after a successful rescue.

Day 3 - Mercy

Some days I relied more on the humour of a piece’s concept than the skill of its execution, though I also liked how this piece turned out artistically. After two days of intense studies, though, this was very quick and easy for me to turn out as it relied on existing skills.

Day 4 - Prize

This one thankfully came together very quickly, which I credit to the two previous painting studies making it much easier to achieve what I wanted. The character is searching for the disembodied head of the man who killed her parents, who is now acting as a robot, hence the vaguely half-machine-half-human silhouette in her hand.

Day 5 - Family

Another quick, simple illustration under a time crunch. The character framed by the nameless foreground figures has no memory of herself or her family.

Day 6 - Noise

For some pieces where I was under a time crunch, I experimented in an opposite direction; instead of studies, I played loosely with different techniques/brushes/etc to see what came out. This was a lineless style I ended up employing a lot when short on time. The piece pictured here was just one of four alternate colourways, presented in a pop-art style. The character is almost always depicted with thick coverings over her ears, so I thought she might be sensitive to auditory overload. This particular piece was retweeted by the character’s voice actress!

Day 7 - Mask

More relying on humour for lack of time/a better idea. A fun experiment in colour, though.

Day 8 - Healing

Another technically “easy” piece but with a stronger concept. It was actually pretty hard to get the reflection & condensation elements balanced right. The character pictured has a narrative thread relating to an old ex he has trouble moving on from.

Day 9 - Weapon

While obviously another joke, and made to be finished quickly, it was surprisingly difficult to get the duct tape and knife to read clearly without over-cluttering the lineless image. This little ‘bot is a drone used by one of the playable characters to hack areas of the map; it’s not NORMALLY an offensive weapon. This image was promo’d in a video stream by the character’s voice actor!

Day 10 - Truth

I only had less than an hour to finish this one by the deadline, but I still tried to experiment with silhouette and colour. It was surprisingly hard to get the interior silhouette to be legible. The outer silhouette is a playable character (not easily readible unless you’re familiar with his design) and the inner silhouette is his sister, whose disappearance he is trying to investigate.

Day 11 - Shield

A fun, self-indulgent one. Had a blast simplifying the game’s characters down into little caricatures. The character in the centre has abilities related to shields and protection, so many other people were drawing him for the prompt; I wanted to try and flip it, so I picked other characters he would be friendly with, and picked a non-lethal, lighthearted setting.

Day 12 - Ruins

Short on time so did a quick lighting study. A recent game plot has changed one of the areas of the map, submerging it in water and leaving it to “ruin”.

Day 13 - Hero

Another painting study. Really didn’t like how this one turned out, but had to turn in something, and I did learn a lot in the process. If I’d had more time I probably would’ve scrapped it and started again. This characters had recently been revealed to have been manipulated by another character who used gas-based offenses, whom she admired.

Day 14 - Rest

I was going to be away from mt computer until after the deadline, so I decided to make a traditional piece. I ended up enjoying it so much I tried to take the time to do a few more traditional pieces later. This piece was sort of a comedy of errors; I had to do it while I was out, and the pen I had brought with me to ink my sketch ran out, so I had to make do with a blue ballpoint pen, and I was missing several colours of coloured pencil. I think the finished piece reflects how rushed it was, and it did’t meet my concept, but I do still like it.

Day 15 - Skull

Another quick one but I wanted to experiment with a different line style. Wanted a sort of “graffiti” effect. One of this character’s skins includes a skull-shaped mask.

Day 16 - Growth

Extremely quick play on words because I didn’t have the time to work on anything meaningful and couldn’t think of anything better!

Day 17 - Home

Another traditional piece, this time by choice and with more time. Markers. It looks extremely like some janky art school homework on 2 point perspective because it extremely is. Perspective and backgrounds are very difficult for me - they just don’t “click” - but I had a lot of fun with this one. I kept my mistakes intact because I didn’t want to edit it too much. A lot about the technical perspective is wrong, but I think I achieved the “mood” I wanted. This location is a bar owned by one of the player characters where many of the other characters are shown to meet.

Day 18 - Sky

Very happy with how this one turned out, even though there are still lots of problems. Markers again. There’s a lot I would fix next time, and I think technically it’s lacking, but there are some specific areas I feel happy to have achieved, such as the almost brushed texture of the curved metal above his shoulder and the values of the shadow/reflections on the underside of the head piece. I’m also happy with how I was able to draw from my shoulder rather than my wrist when inking the curved lines, something I struggle with.

Day 19 - Target

An experiment in pushing the lineless style I’d already been playing with for a stronger likeness. The pose and expression in this could both be pushed more but I like the result. This character had just learned that one of the other players, whom she had trusted, was actually sharing her secrets with her enemy, and she didn’t know which one it was.

Day 20 - Friendship

I had this one concepted from when I first looked over the prompts. It was a fun challenge trying to simplify all the elements into the lineless, blocky style while being legible. This character has a strained relationship with one of his friends, and finally pushed her too far with his selfishness, and she now no longer responds to him.

Day 21 - Scar

Quick joke. This character was introduced briefly as a red herring for another character before being killed off. He was stabbed through the chest by another character’s hand, hence the scar pattern.

Day 22 - Dream

I wasn’t sure about this one while I was making it but I ended up liking how it turned out. I wanted to capture the character’s robotic legs bent at an unnaturally straight 90 degrees, like a Barbie doll. The flat background and lighting make it feel like an indoor stage. The little “electric sheep” are inspired by iDogs.

Day 23 - Meal

After a few days of not having time to really spend on any piece, it was fun to get to spend time on concepting and composing this. I always admired these kinds of watercolour-like food illustrations and this is the first time I’ve had any success in creating one myself. I concepted and sketched out the individual items traditionally before working out the composition within the box digitally. Each food item/utensil is inspired by the different characters’ design elements. Only two of the now-current characters are excluded due to plot reasons. In particular, I like how one of the character’s dome-shaped shields acts as the base and cover of the box.

Day 24 - Hobby

Wasn’t a fan of how this one turned out. I think the likeness is a bit off, and his facial anatomy is skewed. But I also like how the general composition, tone, and bee turned out. This character’s concept art originally imagined them as a beekeeper who would use smoke to fight.

Day 25 - Fear

An incredibly rushed piece that I intended to go back in and add more detail to, similar to day 4, but I actually took a step back and decided I liked the blocky, flat-colour version. This character is the youngest of four, all of whom are MIA or worse, along with his father, and his mother is losing her memory. He’s talking to her through a handheld holographic device. This piece gained more traction, most likely thanks to the subject matter since this is a popular character.

Day 26 - Holiday

I didn’t want to do a religious holiday like Christmas or Easter. A lot of other people also interpreted the prompt as a vacation, but I had already done a sort of “beach vacation” piece for day 11, so I instead went for a “public holiday” and chose NYE/NYD. This was fairly quick but the lighting was an interesting experiment. I knew this one wouldn’t be as popular because it wasn’t as “flattering” but I personally really like it. The girl on the left is kind of goofy and completely un-self-conscious and I think it’s captured here.

Day 27 - Music

Really didn’t like how this one turned out. I don’t think the likeness is good at all, the lighting is poor, and the gold detailing feels lazy. But I liked other elements, such as the pose and the clothing.

Day 28 - Treasure

This is my least favourite of the entire month, but I also had the least time available to work on it before the deadline so I had no opportunity to scrap it and start over, which I sorely wanted to do. The likeness is terrible, but more than that the base anatomy is off, the pose is stiff, and the lighting/colours are cheap. I wish I could’ve done better by this character; but, I am glad I had something finished at all.

Day 29 - Skin

This was probably my third attempt at this picture and I’m still not happy with it, but again, I had to finish something. I almost considered scrapping the concept entirely and choosing something easier but ended up seeing it through. The concept itself is actually recycled from an older piece of mine for an entirely different fandom, because I didn’t think I did it justice then, either. Would still like to revisit this concept with this character and take more time.

Day 30 - Trust

After a few days of feeling really dissatisfied and uncomfortable with the art I’d been making, I finally more time to dedicate to a piece, and I’m overall happy with how this one turned out. I decided to go for a different medium entirely with pixel art, which also gave me the opportunity to try and animate it. I started off confident and then started to get worried towards the end, but all the elements came together when I added the portal colour effects. This is an alternate reality version of one of the player characters, who appears through a portal and allows that character to escape the facility she’s being kept in, encouraging them to trust the “voices” she hears which are actually versions of herself trying to help her. This piece was retweeted by the official Apex Legends Twitter account!

Day 31 - Freestyle

I had this planned out early in the challenge and I’m really, really happy with how it turned out. It’s probably tied with my favourite along with the very first piece (how fitting). I was worried about how I was going to capture the movement without over-complicating the lineart, having so many people in one image, etc. before I realised the focus was entirely on gesture, and then everything clicked. I went for a thicker brush, which forced me to conserve my lines, and tried to simplify each character down to the bare minimum needed to recognise them. They’re also all wearing new non-canonical outfits so I used their familiar colour schemes for the same purpose. It’s not perfect, but I love it, and it’s everything I’d hoped I’d be able to end the challenge on.

I really, really enjoyed the entire month and the way it tied in with my new time management schedule. It gave me some achievable short-term goals which added up to this long-term achievement I can now look back on; I learned a lot both about balancing my energy and about technical skills, I found ways to stay motivated, and most importantly I learned to not get caught up on the individual slip-ups and pieces I didn’t like as much and to instead focus on the bigger picture. Thank you to everyone involved in organising and supporting this event! I found so many other incredible fanartists, writers, and content creators through this challenge and I can’t wait to see the bonus content released over August!

#31 Days of Apex #31DaysOfApex #highlights

4 notes · View notes

raendown · 5 years

Link

Plot bunny bit me so I popped out a second story for yesterday’s prompts. @madatobiweek Day 2 prompt: Blind Tobirama

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 1835 Rated: G Summary: Madara helps Tobirama try something new and the results aren't at all what either of them expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Love At A Glance

“Are you ready?”

“Is it possible for one to ready oneself for such an experience?”

He could feel Madara glaring at him just as the man always did and it added a flavor of normalcy that immediately calmed him, loosening the muscles he hadn’t realized were tensed in his shoulders. Surprisingly gentle hands brushed under the sides of his jaw and traced the edges of his tattoos where they disappeared under his collar.

“Don’t be snarky,” Madara scolded him. “I’m being very nice to you right now.”

“Noted. I suppose I shall be appropriately grateful afterwards – if you make a good showing of yourself.”

“Are you disparaging my skills?”

Tobirama snorted. “Let me experience them first; I’ll disparage them afterwards.”

He grinned at the sound of teeth grinding together in frustration. Even after several years together there was no better fun to be had than winding his husband up and listening to the many varied expressions of irritation. Madara was far and away the most expressive person he’d ever met other than his own brother. It was the freedom of those emotions that drew Tobirama to him initially, the way his outside perfectly reflected his inside where chakra always told the truth.

Most people thought it must be easy to lie to a blind man. Those people always seemed to forget Tobirama’s deep connection to the chakra networks running through every living thing, the way he could listen as no one else could because he didn’t have whole other source of input to confuse his idea of the truth. He loved his partner first for never trying to conceal his own emotions and second for the sheer beauty of how well he resonated with his own chakra. Lies will wear on a person, Tobirama had found, and after years and decades of lying as all shinobi do he found there were very few who maintained harmony with their own chakra as time marched on.

His husband would be a powerful man long after everyone else’s chakra began failing them, a symptom widely attributed to old age.

“Are you paying attention to me?” Madara demanded.

“No,” he admitted blandly. “I’m distracting myself with disgustingly sappy thoughts and a little bit of chakra theory.”

“Of course you are. Well stop. I need you to hear me.”

“Yes dear.”

Madara huffed but his fingers remained gentle in their hold. “It’s important that you don’t move because a single shift in the wrong direction could break the flow and I want the transition in and out to be as seamless as possible. What I’m giving you is no more than a memory so you won’t be able to interact or change anything. There will be movement but if you focus in the center–”

“You,” Tobirama interrupted him.

“Indeed, me. I will be in the center.”

Nodding slowly, Tobirama took a deep breath. “Anything else?”

“I think we’ve covered everything else a hundred times but if you forget everything else just remember that I can still hear you and I can stop anytime you want me to.”

“Okay.” The fingers cupping his jaw stroked him one more time and he smiled warmly.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

It felt like an invasion, albeit a gentle and welcome one. By the descriptions he’d heard from many people he thought it might be compared to the sensation of having a genjutsu cast when you know it’s coming. Madara’s chakra poured out from where he knew the man’s eyes were, the Mangekyo Sharingan formation spinning wildly, and Tobirama experienced it only through his internal senses as waves of his husband’s presence sank in to his own ocular nerves and then-

And then.

He was going to be seasick. Tobirama squeezed his eyes shut tight but it made no difference, as Madara had promised it wouldn’t, for the vision around him did not stop moving. Nothing made sense. The world was a mix and all too much and he wasn’t sure whether the movement was the problem but he wanted it to stop.

More than that, though, he wanted it never to end. He understood so little but Tobirama forced his poor confused mind to focus and to memorize in a way he’d never had to before, as many details as possible filed away to keep as precious treasures from this day forward. This was a gift he could never possibly repay. Surely nothing he could ever dream of would mean as much as what Madara had offered so freely, an offhand idea over dinner one night now made glorious and terrible reality.

They had agreed beforehand on something short but a handful of seconds felt like forever in both the best and worst ways before finally Madara's voice whispered soothingly that it was all going away. Relief swept through him when the vision faded and his world returned to the same darkness he had lived in for more than thirty years, something bittersweet clinging to the edges of him as he fought to recall the details he didn’t even understand. Fingers combed through his hair and touched his face and he realized he was crying.

“Are you alright?” Madara asked. He nodded. “What was it like?”

“Terrifying,” he admitted.

Not the answer his partner was expecting, judging by the startled hum. “It wasn’t anything bad.”

“I didn’t understand it. My mind didn’t…doesn’t know how to process any of that. You know I was born blind so I’ve never seen color and I’ve never seen movement and I know–” Tobirama stopped the flow of words when he realized it wasn’t only his words that had begun to shake. His body was trembling like a leaf.

“Come here.” Madara gathered him close and continued to comb through his hair, waiting patiently until he was able to continue speaking.

“I know that it was you but I don’t…know…what that means. The shapes meant nothing because I’ve never seen a human with my eyes before. And it’s so bright! How do you concentrate when the world is so bright? With so many colors!” Tobirama forced himself to draw another breath. “Is that color? How many colors were there? W-what ones? Your hair…is…black?” He thought he could remember someone mentioning that once, something not many people would describe out loud when most could tell with a single glance.

A rustle and a brief kiss were his answer. “Yes, my hair is black. Can you guess what you were seeing or would you like me to tell you? I gave you a few hints when I decided on the memory but…”

“No, I wanted to guess. There was a lot of the same color I think. And it was moving. Another color through it? And I know that was you in the center so all of that color was…hair. Your hair. Were you brushing your hair?”

“Yes.” Only one word but it sounded like a floodgate. Madara's chakra wavered and suddenly Tobirama was aware that he wasn’t the only one overwhelmed with emotion.

Unsure of what else to say, he said the truth. “You’re beautiful.”

“How can you say that when you just said you didn’t even really understand? You don’t have any comparisons!”

“I don’t need to understand.” And coming from him that was saying a lot. Tobirama reached up to brush at the hair he had just seen for the first time, the beloved face he’d never known until today. “It was you. That’s all I need. I don’t…I don’t think I want to do this again. If the only thing these eyes ever see is your face then I’m fine with that. Vision is a little terrifying when I’ve gone so long without it. It’s just not a part of my world.”

“Well there’s no need to be so sappy about it,” Madara grumbled and he gave a shaky laugh.

Out of all the many possible outcomes to having his husband’s unique Mangekyo pattern grant him a brief moment of sight in the form of a shared memory, he never would have expected to find himself so viscerally terrified. Now that he was taking a few moments to calm down he thought it was probably an instinctive reaction to his brain being inundated with so much information that it simply wasn’t trained or even equipped to process. He’d meant what he said, he didn’t think he would ever want to repeat this, but he was glad that they’d done it. Knowing Madara's face was an experience he could never regret.

And more than that it was something that would have stayed in the back of his mind for the rest of his days, a small niggling wonder forever pulling at his curiosity. What was it like to see? From the moment Madara mentioned that he thought his own Mangekyo could help Tobirama experience what the rest of the world lived with every day he was helpless to do anything but accept that gilded offer lest his own imagination spiral out of control.

“Thank you,” he said after a few minutes of simply holding each other.

“Don’t thank me for scaring you,” Madara grunted.

“Would you prefer I be angry?”

“It would feel a bit more normal,” His husband admitted.

Tobirama couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. “Ah, right then. How dare you be the most important part of my life and make every day together a gift? I demand recompense.”

Listening to Madara splutter indignantly and shout at him for ‘doing anger wrong’ Tobirama breathed out the last of the tension in his body. In his mind he brought up the confusing image that had been granted to him for such a brief time and tried his best to recall the details. Not much about it made sense to him even if he did know intellectually which parts corresponded with his knowledge of human anatomy. He still tried his best because that was his husband. For the first time in his life he had a face for the name, so to speak, and Madara's face was the only one he had ever seen. Would ever see. That was special in ways he couldn’t hope to put in to words.

Doing his best to hold that image in his mind as he lifted his face more towards his partner’s, Tobirama decided that the room was indeed getting a little too sappy and, of course, the best way to break the tension would always be to get Madara riled up again. He’d known the man long enough to know how to do it with two simple sentences.

“I’m glad you didn’t insist on showing me my own face. I’d have gone doubly blind, I’m sure.”

Madara's enraged shrieking that he was beautiful and perfect and not allowed to saying anything against that was music to his ears. As long as he had his hearing and his sensing, able to feel the sincerity of his husband’s emotions, Tobirama was just fine with his lot in life.

#rae writes #madatobi #madatobiweek2019 #madara #tobirama #fanfiction

16 notes · View notes

malecsecretsanta · 6 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @Parabitri!

This idea turned out to be far more angsty than anything I usually write but it insisted on being written. I love the way Magnus and Alec always find their way back to each other, no matter what universe you put them into.

This is their Hallmark-style Christmas Story - I hope you enjoy it!

Read on AO3

******

This Christmas

Chapter 1

I remember,

I wish I could forget

What you did last December

You left my heart a mess.

- Ariana Grande (& George Michael), Last Christmas

~ The Present: 22nd December 2018 ~

“Are you sure Alec won’t mind?” Magnus asked for what had to be the fourth time that morning as he followed Izzy inside the apartment she and Alec shared.

“When has Alec ever said no to you?” Izzy threw over her shoulder with a wink as she opened Alec’s bedroom door and sauntered in.

“Well, there was that whole morning after the Yule Ball fiasco,” Magnus muttered to himself, dragging his feet as he followed Izzy.

“Besides,” Izzy said as she flopped down on Alec’s bed apparently oblivious to Magnus’ dark comments, “You and I both know, Alec’s the only person who has an early enough edition of Gray’s Anatomy to feature the illustrations you need.”

“They’re too valuable for any libraries to stock before about the 18th edition,” Magnus agreed with a sigh as he approached Alec’s bookshelves brushing his fingers lightly over the soft leather spine, tracing the gilded letters which identified it as a hallowed second edition.

“You said you’ve tried every other option, Magnus, and your essay is due in tonight. It’s not like you can just call and ask him. Even if by some miracle he isn’t still in the remote mountain villages in Timor-Leste then he’ll be in transit. You know as well as I do that any time he gets funded flights it means he’s on a stopping all stations round the world tour of obscure airports. Even if you managed to get a message to him, there’s no guarantee he’d be able to get an answer back in time.”

“I know,” Magnus sighed easing the book gently out from between its neighbours and cradling it close to his chest. He wanted Alec home but he also half-dreaded the idea that the tension that had grown like a wedge between them might still be there. “Thank you, Isabelle. I guess I’d better go finish my essay. You’ll let me know if you hear from him?”

“Of course! Hopefully this time he’ll remember to let us know before he boards the last plane so we can meet him at the airport, I know Max is dying to use the latest sign he’s made.”

Magnus laughed, thinking of Max’s ever-expanding stack of ‘Welcome Home Alec’ signs. At this point, they’d need to bring everyone they knew in order to hold up even half of them.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

[Throughout human history there have been many iterations of the symbol which represents the human heart. The first non-medical European illustration of the heart is thought to be a drawing accompanying the medieval French poem Le Roman De La Poire circa 1255 however it was not until the early 1500s that the familiar shape made its appearance...

...but why does this symbol bear so little resemblance to the human anatomy it represents? There are plenty of theories, the most prominent one being that most of our ‘knowledge’ of human anatomy in the 13th and 14th centuries was based on animal biology, in particular reptiles, which much more closely resemble the familiar scalloped shape of the heart icon. The ability of early physicians to view or study the human body was fiercely regulated and controlled - with many unable to view a single dissection let alone partake in the kind of labs that are a standard part of modern medical tuition. As such, Henry Gray’s seminal work Gray’s Anatomy, first published in 1858, was a turning point in the depiction of the human heart…]

Magnus' fingers stilled on his keyboard as he glanced again at the book he’d brought back to his apartment almost four hours earlier. It was ridiculous but he still hadn’t opened it. The thing was, he hadn’t told Izzy the whole truth. Yes, this essay was for his History of Medicine subject and accounted for almost a third of his grade but it was also final piece of his application to join Médecins Sans Frontières’ new project, working in the new hospital Alec had spent the past year helping local engineers design and build. Alec would be going back for another whole year to support the development of sustainable water supply for the school and the rest of the village. Following your best friend halfway around the world was madness, especially when things had never been quite the same between them since last year’s Yule Ball.

~ Morning After the Yule Balle: 19th December 2017 ~

Magnus came to slowly, groaning as he peeled gritty eyes open just long enough to take in the couch and apartment around him before squeezing them shut again. It wasn’t the first time since becoming friends with the Lightwoods three years earlier that he’d woken up on their sofa but the blinding headache was new. So was the fact that he couldn’t for the life of him remember how he’d gotten back here. He barely remembered any of the Yule Ball. Burying his head further in the soft pillows Magnus vowed never to mix first-generation antihistamines and alcohol again.

“Breakfast?”

Magnus’ eyes snapped open his lips curling at the corners as he took in the sight of Alec setting a breakfast tray on the coffee table beside him. The man really was an angel sometimes.

“I figured you’d need something to help wash down the aspirin,” Alec said, smiling back as he reached over and placed two pills on Magnus’ palm, following it with a glass of water.

“My hero,” Magnus said, downing the tablets and finally tearing his eyes from Alec and focusing on the food in front of him. “You made me blueberry pancakes, Alexander? That’s not exactly standard hangover fare. If you were anyone else I’d think you were trying to seduce me with your culinary skills.”

Magnus grinned at the way Alec’s cheeks heated at the suggestion and he became suddenly fascinated with his boots. Whatever the cause, Magnus wasn’t complaining - in fact, he almost moaned as he took that first blissful bite of pancake. Alec really would make an excellent husband to someone one of these days. Too bad there wasn’t any handy mistletoe or he might...Magnus’ thoughts ground to a sudden halt as he suddenly remembered kissing someone under the mistletoe last night at the ball. It hadn’t been a typical crappy holiday season hook-up either, it had been incredible. He found himself describing it to Alec as he ate: the way her lips had felt against his, passionate and wild yet somehow also tender as if she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to devour Magnus or worship him. The way her fingers had tightened in his hair, tugging roughly to adjust the angle of his head, deepening the kiss, only for those same clever fingers to send shivers of pure pleasure as they massaged away any last traces of pain. The worst part was, despite remembering every tiny detail of the kiss, he had no memory of the person who’d done the kissing.

“Please Alec, you were there last night you have to help me find her!” Magnus said, looking up beseechingly at his best friend only to realise something was wrong.

At some point during his monologue, the blushing, solicitous angel who’d made him breakfast had been replaced by a stone statue.

“You remember the kiss but don’t remember the-the-the person, at all?” Alec asked harshly his fists clenching at his sides.

Magnus flinched, feeling suddenly ashamed even though he didn’t know why it was such a big deal to Alec if Magnus’ memory had decided to defy logic. Before he’d had a chance to ask, Alec had turned away, his shoulders tense as he’d gathered up the remnants of Magnus’ now cold breakfast.

Tray in hand he’d barely looked at Magnus as he’d apologised, “I can’t do this, Magnus. I-I-I thought -” Alec sighed sounding frustrated but resigned. “I’ve got that application for Engineers Without Borders to finish.”

Magnus tried to get up and follow him into the kitchen but the world still spun horribly when he attempted to stand and he was forced to sit again so he didn’t fall down. The last thing he needed was for an already grumpy Alec to have to bandage his head when he split it open on the sharp corner of his coffee table. Impatiently, he waited for Alec to reappear, which took considerably longer than Magnus had expected.

When at least he came out he headed straight for the door his bag already slung over his shoulder giving every appearance of intending to leave without another word.

“Alec?” Magnus called out after him, wishing his head would stop pounding long enough for him to figure out whatever this was.

Alec turned, his hand resting on the door handle still refusing to meet Magnus’ eyes. “I have to go. Feel free to stay as long as you need.” And then he walked out, closing the door firmly behind him.

Magnus had waited, half expecting at any moment that his best friend would come back and tell him what exactly he’d said that upset him so much. After over an hour, Magnus had to accept the unwelcome fact that Alec wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t answering any of Magnus’ messages either. He knew he was being selfish, knew how important that application was to Alec even though the thought of them being on opposite sides of the globe sounded miserable to Magnus all of a sudden. It would be the first time in almost three years since Izzy and Magnus had met on their first day of med school that they’d have to go more than a few weeks without seeing one another. At present, barely a day went past that they didn’t speak, one way or another, whether it was IM, in person or notes passed via Izzy.

Despite Alec’s continued refusal to discuss anything about the Yule Ball, Magnus had kept looking - amazed to discover that despite there having been hundreds of people at the ball, somehow no one had seen Magnus spending time with any women other than Dot, Cat and Izzy and he was absolutely certain it hadn’t been any of them. He’d even tried to convince the photographer to go through their shots from last night only to discover to that the man was crazy enough to still be using film and hadn’t had time to get the negatives developed yet. Rolling his eyes at the pretentiousness of art students in general, Magnus had hunted on in vain.

~ The Present: 22nd December 2018 ~

Magnus sighed, running his fingers over the soft leather cover of Gray’s Anatomy. He could still remember the first time Alec had shown it to him. It had been a gift from his grandfather on his mother’s side, the same one that was responsible for Alec’s middle name being ‘Gideon’. He’d apparently been convinced, despite Alec’s complete lack of interest in medicine, that book that had been in their family for generations would inspire Alec to become the next doctor in the family. The meticulous technical drawings the book was famous had inspired him just not to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps. He’d taken his love of the book’s illustrations and developed a fascination for cartography, drafting and surveying, finally settling on a career in engineering. Izzy had told Magnus that Alec had offered her the book when she’d first set her heart on doing medicine but she’d knew she’d never love it the way Alec did. She wanted the modern textbooks, the ones filled with gory colour photographs of real bodies, not the elegant etchings done over a hundred and fifty years earlier.

Magnus, by contrast, had happily indulged Alec’s passion and they’d spent hours pouring through the book together over the years every time Magnus had happened to need to reference one or other of the illustrations as he learnt about the body’s various structures and systems. As much as he’d adored it when Alec bought him a modern copy of Gray’s Anatomy for his birthday he always defaulted back to Alec’s copy with its incredible single-colour woodcut illustrations whenever he could. The text might mostly have become redundant has as medical knowledge changed fundamentally and rapidly over the past century but the illustrations were as important now as they’d ever been.

He missed Alec. Magnus hadn’t realised how much he’d relied on his presence until his absence left a gaping hole in his life. It’s been almost a year and Alec is still the first person he wants to tell whenever anything happens. He might finally have stopped getting his phone out and staring out compose texts he can’t send but it still aches everytime he remembers Alec’s sat-phone is for emergencies only. Going from talking every day to exchanging infrequent emails had felt worse than some of his breakups. Then again, for the last few years, he’s always had Alec there helping him pick up the pieces whenever a relationship inevitably failed. He’d always scoffed at the adage ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ but it’s been 355 days since Alec left and he’s sitting at his desk hours before an important assignment is due incapable of completing it because he doesn’t want to open a book that would remind him too much of the man he wants, more than anything else, this Christmas. Too bad he felt certain Alec didn’t feel the same way about him.

Sighing, Magnus opened the cover and scanned the index of illustrations for the one he was looking for. There, under the heading ‘Heart’, the illustration he’d looked everywhere for: ‘Circulation of Blood in an Adult’ directing him to page six hundred and twenty-nine. Picking up the tome Magnus started at the middle and skimmed gently through the pages, slowing when he finally reached the six-hundreds to turn each individual page so as not to miss it. Magnus nearly dropped the book in surprise when he turned the final page and a colour photograph slides out onto the desk.

A single glance is enough to make him forget Gray’s Anatomy, forget the essay he has only hours left to finish and the application he needs to ace. On the desk in front of him is a photograph from last year’s Yule Ball. A photo of him and Alec wrapped tightly in one another’s arms, kissing under the mistletoe.

Chapter 2

I confess,

I loved you more than I let on but you weren’t ready for it and I wasn’t going to pour myself into hands that couldn’t hold me

- Lauren Eden, Of Yesteryear

~ The Present: 22nd December 2018 ~

Having seen the photo, Magnus wonders how he could possibly have forgotten. He’s spent an entire year comparing every kiss he shared to this one, like Prince Charming with his stupid glass slipper, finding them woefully disappointing by contrast. The thing was, with the exception of giants like Alec, he was tall so it hadn’t occurred to him why the angle always felt off - no matter what he tried. God, he was such an idiot! How could he have ignored what was right in front of him all this time? And why hadn’t Alec said something? But as soon as that thought occurred to him, he knew exactly why.

Who in their right mind would confess when the object of their affection not only didn’t remember them but had also somehow misgendered them in the process. Magnus felt physically ill as their conversation the next morning replayed in his head with full 5.1 surround sound, complete with high definition technicolour images of Alec’s transformation from breakfast baring angel to the stony-faced statue he’d been by the time he left the apartment. The fact Alec had hidden the photo here, in his most treasured book under the heading ‘Heart’ made the tears that had welled up unnoticed spill out over his cheeks.

With shaking fingers Magnus picked the photo up off the desk, the knife in his heart twisting as he realised they were both smiling as they kissed. Steeling himself, he flipped the photo drawing in a sharp breath as he saw the inscription in Alec’s familiar all-caps handwriting and in smaller text printed directly onto the photo, the photographer's details.

‘A NIGHT TO REMEMBER’ MAGNUS BANE & ALEC LIGHTWOOD YULE BALL 18TH DEC 2017

PHOTOGRAPHER: J. GHAMSARI - EDITION: 1/1 - PRINTED: 24TH DEC 2017

He’d thought nothing could make this situation worse, but one glance at the date the photo had been printed made Magnus want the ground to open beneath his feet to transport him straight to hell. Alec had tried to tell him and Magnus had unintentionally broken his heart a second time instead. By the time Magnus had realised his mistake, Alec had already left the country.

~ December 24th, 2017 ~

Magnus groaned when he heard the doorbell, it would probably be carollers but as the only person home the night before Christmas Magnus had promised his housemates he wouldn’t let any last minute parcels go unsigned for. Snatching his shirt up from where it lay discarded beside the sofa and buttoning it haphazardly Magnus made his way down the long passage to the front door, stunned to see it was Alec standing on the sill, a thick manilla envelope clasped in one hand.

“Alec, what are you doing here? I thought you would have gone back home for what’s left of the holidays,” Magnus said noticing the way Alec’s eyes lingered on his exposed chest a beat longer than they usually would before darting away.

“It’s - uh, it’s about last week,” Alec paused, threading his fingers roughly through his hair in that familiar tell of mental agitation. “Look, you’ve got every reason to be mad at me. The next morning, after the Yule Ball - I know I should have-”

“Allowed me to drag you halfway ‘round NYU on a wild goose chase when neither of us had any idea who we were looking for?” Magnus interrupted smoothly, laughing softly. “I should never have asked, Alec, I know how important getting that internship application in was to you. Besides, it doesn’t matter now anyway.”

“It doesn’t?” Alec asked roughly, his gaze piercing as he froze in place.

“Surely you know me better than to think I’d let it rest until I found out, Alexander?”

“You - you’ve remembered?” Alec asked, looking suddenly paler.

“Not exactly. But Camille - you remember her from the presentation night for the Medical Prize, don’t you? She found out I was looking for her and admitted she’d been my mysterious stranger all along. Apparently, my crush wasn’t so unrequited after all. So you see, it’s all worked out. She’s coming around later tonight if you wanted to stay and meet her?”

“No.”

Magnus’ head snapped back, surprised by the vehemence in that single word but before he had a chance to do more than raise an eyebrow, Alec had continued.

“I mean, I’d be interrupting your evening plans. I should let you -” Alec paused again, his teeth sinking into his lip almost hard enough to draw blood. “I have to go. Merry Christmas, Magnus.”

“Wait, Alec!” Magnus called out, hating this sudden chill between them as Alec turned away. “Surely you didn’t just come here to apologise. You should stay, have a drink with me. It is Christmas after all.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Well, can you at least tell me when we’re catching up next?” Magnus asked, suddenly feeling the need to make sure he hadn’t somehow irrevocably ruined the friendship without even realising it. “I know you had planned to spend Christmas and New Year's Eve with your family but seeing as you’re still here...”

“Actually, I, um. I got offered the internship with Engineers Without Borders,” Alec muttered, shifting his feet.

“Alexander! That’s fantastic, now you have to come in and have a drink with me, tell me all about it. Where they’re sending you, for how long - I want to know everything!” Instinctive Magnus reached out, tugging on the arm of Alec’s long black coat. It hurt when instead of smiling Alec pulled away.

“I fly out January 1st. I’ll be gone all year. It’s - I’ll be living in one of the mountain villages in Timor-Leste, they’ve got a new project to build a hospital there and if things go well, I can stay to work on securing the town’s water supply the year after. They said they’d try and get me back in time for next Christmas. So I - um - I have to go. You know, packing and everything.”

Every other time Alec’s said anything about the project his passion had been radiant, which meant these clipped sentences and flat tone had to be Magnus’ fault. Magnus cursed the Yule Ball, cursed the fact he couldn’t even abandon his plans with Camille because he hadn’t thought to get her number. Cursed the fact he was meant to be going away with Cat and Ragnor to have New Year's Eve at Cat’s family’s Chalet. So this was it? Alec was leaving the country in a few days for an entire year and Magnus wouldn’t get to see him again till next Christmas?

“At least let me take you out to the airport, Alec,” Magnus said, throwing caution to the wind and jettisoning his New Year's plans.

“But-” Alec began, displaying that adorable furrowed brow of his.

“Nothing is more important than seeing my best friend off on the trip of a lifetime,” Magnus assured him. “I’ll be at that airport whether you let me drive you or not. I’m not below blackmailing Izzy into telling me so you may as well just accept it.”

Alec’s rueful smile was like sunshine, the man he recognised peeking out from behind the rigid facade he was putting up.

“You really want to get up at six in the morning just to see me off at the gate?” Alec asked, raising a challenging eyebrow.

“I’ll be on your doorstep at five,” Magnus shot back, his lips automatically curling to match Alec’s.

“If you’re late I’m leaving without you,” Alec threatened sliding back into their familiar banter without even seeming to realise he was doing it.

“Okay.”

“Okay. You’re on.” Alec nodded, holding Magnus’ gaze before saying softly, “Merry Christmas, Magnus.”

“Merry Christmas, Alexander.”

~ The Present: 22nd December 2018 ~

Magnus needed a drink.

His crush on Camille had been madness and she’d played him for the fool he was. She’d strung him along for almost 3 weeks after ‘confessing’ to being his mysterious mistletoe kiss. She’d made a game out of kissing him everywhere except his lips, correctly assuming that he’d realise the minute their lips met that something was off. He’d been so caught up in wanting it to be her, wanting to believe that she felt the way he did about her. But even she’d tired of that game eventually, laughing at his naivety when she’d finally revealed she hadn’t even noticed him at the Yule Ball, she’d just thought it would be fun to see how long she could string him along because surely the top medical student couldn’t be that stupid? Well, apparently he was. He’d spilled the whole humiliating affair out in one of his emails to Alec. It makes perfect sense now that Alec had barely referenced the whole mess when he’d finally replied over a week later. Then again, it wasn’t like Alec had super reliable internet at the best of times, so it could also be that Magnus was projecting.

Getting up, Magnus paced over to the drinks cart, skipping his usual ice and pouring whiskey liberally into the waiting tumbler. Tossing it back in a single swallow Magnus tried to figure out what to do. It’s been a whole year since that photograph had been taken, it’d hardly be surprising if the intervening time had been enough to thoroughly destroy whatever feelings Alec might once have had for him. Did he really want to risk destroying their friendship a second time?

Yes.

The answer was immediate. He was in love with Alexander Lightwood and he had to know if there was any chance to make this work. Hell, he’d been prepared to follow the man to the other side of the world without the tiniest shred of real evidence to justify his hopes, now at least he knew it was possible. There had been real passion in that kiss and tenderness in the breakfast he’d made for him the next morning. He just hoped Alec was willing to give him a chance to show just how much he wanted that future.

To Be Continued

#Parabitri #malecsanta18 #*fics18 #*gifts18

40 notes · View notes

cosmicteadust · 5 years

Text

[LOGH fic] Guys Like Me

Fandom: Legend of the Galactic Heroes

Pairing: Oskar von Reuenthal/Yang Wen-li

Wordcount: 2600+

Summary: The opening scenes of an artist!Reuenthal and history professor!Yang modern AU for @beingevil. It’s incomplete for the time being and I don’t know when I’ll be able to pick it up again, but I wouldn’t consider it abandoned. Title from this song by Aimee Mann.

The human form is intimately familiar to Oskar von Reuenthal. He’s been studying it for as long as he’s allowed his past to stretch out; beginning in his adolescent days—devouring anatomy books and committing the various muscle groups to memory, back when he thought he might want to become a physician. The time he’d spent meticulously copying diagrams from those books soon gave way to an interest in drawing for drawing’s sake. Eventually, he found himself in an art college, his eye for detail insatiable despite the twice-weekly figure drawing classes he attended.

He’s been making a living as an artist for close to ten years now, still popping in to live drawing sessions whenever he can. He thought he’d mastered the various ways in which it was possible to draw the human body, clothed or unclothed. Thought he’d been confident in his ability to capture any posture, any curve of musculature, any drape of fabric or lock of hair. Until he met the stranger who would change that.

The human form was intimately familiar to Oskar von Reunthal, before he saw the man perched cross-legged on the top step of his front door, taking shelter under the awning.

Reuenthal’s breath catches in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” the stranger murmurs, glancing up before Reuenthal can speak. He has sorrowful eyes, a smile like a peace offering. Hair that looks like he’s threaded his fingers through it countless times before the rain plastered it to his face. Plain dark sweater vest over a cream-coloured shirt.

The man shakes his head, sending beads of water gracelessly flying in an arc around him. Doesn’t help the state of his hair. He twitches from a sharp inhalation before raising his arm to his face, muffling a violent sneeze.

Reuenthal is staring. He’s thinking about the wetness on the stranger’s cheeks and how the late afternoon light catches it. For the first time in a long while, he’s so captivated by detail that he can’t appraise the figure as a whole. The subject is eluding him. Reuenthal clears his throat. “You’re in my way,” he says firmly. To emphasise the point, he marches up the steps and plants a foot within millimetres of the stranger’s knee. If he made to kneel, it’s likely that he would end up straddling him. Reuenthal is tall, but his imposing silhouette is mostly accounted for by his oversized black umbrella. Raindrops slide off the waterproof coating, landing obnoxiously on the stranger’s face.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” the stranger says unhappily, head bowed. He shifts, revealing a crumpled sheaf of paper stuffed under his cardigan. “Just let me get these in order and I’ll go. It took me the better half of the morning to photocopy this lot, not that the fact is of any relevance to you.”

“It could be.” The words slip out before Reuenthal can stop himself. He moves back, then steps under the awning into what little space has been left for him, closing the umbrella as he turns to face the front door. The sheaf of paper is added context. With every new detail he notices, his curiosity about the stranger heightens. His dispassionate facade is starting to crack, and it won’t be long before he loses his resolve to send the stranger on his way.

He can almost hear Mittermeyer’s voice in his head. Every great artist needs a muse, idiot. You can’t keep drawing anonymous people forever. Reuenthal grudgingly admits to himself that Mittermeyer may be right. An intimate knowledge of the human body isn’t intimacy. But Reuenthal always thinks he knows better.

Yang hears the sound of a key turning in a lock somewhere above his head. He angles his body to peer up at the owner of the house, waiting for a cue. The door swings open behind him. A slow wall of heater-warmed air nudges invitingly against his back. A gesture from the owner as though to direct him inside—a single, decisive flourish, index finger extended to indicate that this is indeed a command to enter.

Yang levers himself off the step with an arm while attempting to stand on legs that have fallen asleep. The sheets of paper start to slide out from under his cardigan. Turns out, the world doesn’t tilt in slow-motion the way it does in films; it’s an artless backward tumble against a carpet that only marginally cushions the bump to his tailbone. “Ah...” Thousands of years of written history are now sprawled across the floor and his thighs. “Sorry. Thank you. Sorry,” he says. “In that order.” Added after a brief moment of thought. He rearranges himself, starts to shuffle the fallen sheets back into some semblance of a pile.

The owner of the house has moved past him and is already making his way up to the second floor. His overcoat has been hung on the coat stand, the umbrella deposited into a tasteful steel mesh holder beside it. His furniture seems purposeful, like his stride. Every movement he makes. “Wait in the living room. And close the door when you’re done,” he calls to Yang without even turning back to look. Yang feels his cheeks burn, but he’s too exhausted to be humiliated. He gets to his feet, groaning at the prickling sensation of pins and needles in his calves. Shoves the door shut with his free hand, defiantly using more force than necessary. Slowly, he hobbles further inside.

The house is sparsely furnished, the decor a blend of minimalist aesthetics and accents inspired by brutalism? Baroque architecture? Yang isn’t sure. Wooden floorboards, concrete feature walls, a large mirror with an embellished frame. A curious yet coherent mixture of the angular and the ornate. He can identify some of the design elements present thanks to the elective art history module he took as an undergraduate. An incongruous splash of colour by the far window catches his attention. Two generously stuffed cushions resting on a window seat—one red, the other royal blue.

A window seat! He heads toward it eagerly before remembering that his clothes are still damp from the rain. Comes to a stop by the table and rests his precious sheets of paper down on it, lets out a soft, wistful sigh in the general direction of the window.

Still standing, Yang starts on the arduous task of sorting through his notes. They’ve gotten hopelessly jumbled, many pages sporting dog ears and splotches of moisture that threaten to smudge the printed text beyond legibility. He’s made copies of chapters from at least fifteen ‘Reference Only’ books and had left a mess in the library’s photocopying room. Ms. Greenhill hadn’t been pleased, but she’d slipped him a cling-wrapped home-made sandwich which served as his lunch later on in the staff lounge.

Reuenthal pauses on the way down, leans casually against the banister to watch the stranger in his home. The other man is too absorbed in his task to notice. He’s a strange sight in his mismatched outfit. The top is alright, but the slacks simply don’t match. On the whole, they produce the effect of a student in an ill-considered public school uniform. He’s of average height and build, has an admittedly plain face. What, then, makes him so compelling?

“Here.”

The stranger nearly jumps when Reuenthal appears beside him and offers him the change of clothes. Reuenthal doesn’t apologise, waits patiently for him to take the clothes off his hands before pointing him round a corner. “There’s a bathroom on the left. Light switch is behind the door.”

“You’re really too kind.”

Reuenthal waits until the man is out of earshot before scoffing.

The clothes smell faintly of mothballs. For no reason in particular, Yang buries his face into them and breathes in. They remind him of his childhood. His father was always moving for work. They lived like nomads, on the move so often that his clothes spent more time in boxes than out of them. He didn’t mind. The only thing he cared about was his father’s mouldering collection of old history books.

Yang has been given a plain black shirt with long sleeves and a pair of dark grey sweatpants. He wouldn’t have guessed that his host had these lying around. Not with the way he was dressed: fitted black jeans and a black turtleneck shirt which made his arms and torso seem endless. Though the broad shoulders did not escape Yang’s notice. Their recent interaction was the first time he’d been able to get a good look at his host since the kerfuffle in the doorway. Up close, the shimmer of blue in his left eye seemed almost supernatural.

Genetic quirk or vanity lens? He wonders as he struggles out of his own clothes. Lost in thought, navigating his vague first impressions of the man, it takes him longer than usual to get dressed. He puts the shirt on inside-out on his first attempt, wears it back-to-front on the second. It’s a little too large for him, but comfortable.

When Yang finally leaves the bathroom, damp clothes tucked under his arm, his host is seated at the table, leafing through his notes. “Would you like a comb?” He is asked, in a tone that seems to imply that hair tousled dry with a shirt is not a good look on him.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Unconsciously running his hand through the offending unruly hair, a reflex he found impossible to rid himself of. “If you don’t mind, I’ll stay till the rain stops.” Yang slides into a chair, leaving an empty seat between himself and his host.

“As you like.” His host gives him a lopsided smile, eyes crinkling into an approximation of genuine contentment. “I never did introduce myself. Rude of me.” He leans back to ease a leather cardholder from the pocket of his jeans, offers a name card elegantly poised between index and middle finger, like one would ash a cigarette over an ashtray. It’s printed on high quality card stock; Yang satisfies his tactile nature by enjoying the marvellous texture, stroking his thumb over it appreciatively.

Oskar von Reuenthal. Portrait Artist.

“It’s pronounced Reuenthal,” the man says. His deep voice wraps around the name possessively, as though daring Yang to speak it aloud himself. “You can call me that. I’ve been told I don’t look like an Oskar.”

“Honestly, you look like less like an artist than you do an Oskar.” The comment bubbles to the surface before Yang can stop himself. He’d been expecting something else. Real estate mogul. Surgeon. Lawyer. “That was uncalled for. My apologies.” Hand in hair again, fussing. “Uh... I don’t know much about artists. My father was an art collector who never directly liaised with anyone who made art. He didn’t think it was necessary. Turned out, he’d been purchasing forgeries.”

A piercing stare from Reuenthal. “As an artist, I find it difficult to extend my sympathies.”

Yang laughs in spite of himself. “There’s no need for that. He died before anyone found out what his collection was really worth, or if they even knew he’d been duped. Who knows what he was thinking? He was always so earnest about that particular interest of his. I never understood. Never understood his actual work as a stock trader either. Business. Money.” He shakes his head.

“So, what do you do?” Reuenthal waves a hand over Yang’s notes for emphasis. “You seem unusually preoccupied with events and warfare of ages past. Or is this just a hobby?”

Nervous laughter. “I’m an adjunct professor. Working towards a second Ph.D. in Military History.” He reaches out across the table, fervently hoping that Reuenthal recognises that a handshake is being initiated. He does. “I’m Yang, by the way. Yang Wen Li.” The language of his childhood rarely sees use these days, but it lives on in every self-introduction; he’s careful to enunciate well, employing the tonal lilt of the Mandarin tongue. People in this country tend to iron out the intonation of his full name. While they aren’t to blame, he resists in his own way.

“Yang.” Reuenthal repeats. And Yang never thought he’d want to hear another person speak his name over and over again, but he does. Reuenthal says it like an incantation that would seek his soul out if it were lost and anchor it to his corporeal form.

They sit in silence, allowing the hum of the radiator to fill the room. Without a word, Reuenthal continues to sort Yang’s notes. Most of them are easily discernible as belonging to disparate sources. His attention to detail comes in useful, picking out minor differences in typeface, line spacing, margin width. Yang puts each smaller pile in order by page number. Sometime during the afternoon, a pot of unsweetened black tea is brewed, the contents duly contemplated and consumed. Reuenthal mentions nothing of his preference for coffee, nor does Yang drop the slightest hint that his choice of beverage contains a warmed shot of brandy.

ii.

Yang returns home just past twilight, moments before Julian would have hit the dial button on his phone to check up on him. “There you are!” The adolescent exclaims. “If you’ll tolerate my saying of something completely disrespectful, I’ve been thinking about getting you a collar with my number on it for easier retrieval.”

“You could have called, if you were worried.” Yang mumbles, his tone tinged with guilt. He tosses his notes onto the couch (neatly organised and filed in the thickest ring binder Reuenthal could spare him). As discreetly as he can manage, he slides his hand behind the cushions in search of his own misplaced phone. There it is, wedged beside the remote. He suspects that the crafty Admiral had noticed it and taken it upon himself to paw it out of sight for Julian’s sake.

“I’ll start on dinner!” Julian calls from the kitchen. “You’re getting the Yang Household Special: Quick and Creatively Re-purposed Leftovers for Adult Students and Child-Like Educators.”

“If it’s edible, it’s good enough for me,” Yang answers. He privately resolves to bribe Walter and Alex with decent whiskey so that they will, in future, refrain from being openly sarcastic around his impressionable young housemate.

Later, over creatively re-purposed ratatouille with a side of pasta:

“I met a man,” Yang confesses.

“Good. So you’re finally ready to settle down?” Julian teases, with shades of Caselnes.

Yang frowns. “Settle down...? Oh, you meant a relationship. Aren’t those the very opposite of settling down? I’m too tired for that sort of thing. Upend my comfortable way of life? Not a chance.” Hastily, he shovels a forkful of pasta into his mouth so as not to segue into an unintended monologue. He’s reminded uncomfortably of the talk he and Ms. Greenhill had about a month ago, after she’d confessed her attraction to him in a quiet corner of the cafe two blocks down from the administrative building exit. In short, it seemed clear to Yang that he did not feel as strongly for her as she did for him, nor could he even promise that he had the capacity to identify and reciprocate expressions of affection. “My heart’s more like a part of my mind,” he’d mumbled into the beret he’d nervously pressed to his mouth, wishing that he could shrink and crawl under it to hibernate. “And my mind is near constantly on my work these days, and will continue to be for the foreseeable future.”

Julian butts into his reverie with a statement that comes out of nowhere. “Things always happen to you,” the youth observes.

“Don’t things happen to people as a general rule of life?”

“No, not like that.” A serious look that makes him appear well beyond his years. “I mean, you don’t steer yourself very much. Or navigate currents. You’re like a leaf drifting along a river.”

Yang is surprised, but not offended. “So you think that I lack direction?”

Julian winces. “Not that either. You’re just... you.”

Yang blinks at him.

9 notes · View notes

takamikeiigosmain · 6 years

Text

yooo, i decided to write this as a kind of character study for my hunter oc in Destiny??? more like i just wanted my oc to interact with cayde.

idk i saw a post about guardians and bars and kinda just spit this out. so if you’re interested or if you wanna get to know my oc feel free to read or shoot me a message!!

Ao3

In the Last City, a little ways away from the Tower and just past one of the small ramen shops, sits one of her most favorite hangouts. It’s a cozy little bar, comfortably tucked back into a dimly lit alleyway and open to all of those seeking somewhere to wind down for the night. The string lights hanging loosely from the apartments above and the soft, steady rhythm of Southern Blues are what continue to draw her in.

It’s no wonder that she finds herself there after one of her most recent missions, sitting at the bar with a dull ache in her shoulders and three fingers of aged whiskey in front of her. Her thought process is beginning to slow and distance itself from the tiring events of the week and she tosses her drink back with no hesitation, the distant chatter of fellow guardians and civilians a calming contrast to the music thats playing in the background.

“Rough week, guardian?” a quiet voice makes it’s way to her ears, and she glances up to see the bartender refilling her glass.

She lets out a chuckle and shakes her head, using a swizzle stick to gently stir her drink. “Mmm, just some suspicious Vex activity on IO. Nothing more fun than getting into it with a bunch of trigger-happy robots, ya know?”

“Oh, don’t you worry, I’m sure Sloane is gonna need some help with hive rituals on Titan at some point,” Cayde makes his presence known, dropping onto one of the barstools next to her with a soft ‘thump’. The bartender greets him with a smile and Cayde shoots the retired guardian behind the counter a wink before ordering his “usual”.

The bartender nods and walks away to get started on Cayde’s drink, whipping up some green concoction that barely looks appetizing. She brings her own glass to her lips and wonders if Exo’s can even get drunk like Humans and the Awoken do, or if Cayde is just here purely for the buzz of life outside the Tower.

Speaking of which..

She brings her drink away from her lips without even taking a sip and glances at the Vanguard, staring at him for a moment before speaking up. “Aren’t you supposed to be back at the Tower?”

Cayde scoffs and shakes his head, looking back at her with what she would assume was supposed to be a sardonic facial expression. “Hunter,” he says, his voice low and chastising, “I don’t think you understand how bad my cabin fever is.”

She hums in understanding, bringing her glass back to her lips and taking a few long sips, finishing off her drink. She doesn’t even have to slide the empty glass forward in request for a refill because the bartender is already back and handing Cayde this vibrant green drink that almost looks dangerous, before taking her glass and refilling it with another three fingers of whiskey. She mutters her thanks to the bartender with a smile.

“How was your mission on IO?” Cayde asks, his voice low and just barely audible over the low hush of the bar music and it’s patrons.

It takes a moment for her thought process to backtrack through the haze of the alcohol and bring back the events of the day. It was a simple mission, go to IO and prevent Vex from opening another one of their portals and creating another time warp. For the most part she handled it quickly, until the Taken decided to butt in and pick a fight with both the Vex and herself. And if there’s anything she hates more than the Vex and the Cabal, it’s the Taken. The way they creep toward her slowly with their twitching bodies and their beady eyes makes her skin crawl.

She remembers getting caught up in the crossfire a few times and being taken by surprise while trying defeat one enemy and having the other sneak up behind her. At one point she remembers activating her super in the middle of the conundrum, her arc staff crackling with energy as she gripped it tightly and took stance, only to be taken out by a too-close Hydra that wasn’t taking any chances.

When she’d been revived the Vex were still shooting at her, until she’d finally had enough and tossed one of her stun grenades before letting a spray of bullets rain onto her enemies until they were no more.

The memory fades back to the present and she lets out a sigh, resting her elbow on the bar top and her head in her palm. “It was fine. Got knocked on my ass a few times, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Blacked out once, I think, but what can I say? Those Vex are persistent.”

She runs her fingers down the side of her glass, the cold condensation a calming sensation on her warm skin, and when she glances at her Vanguard, he’s already staring at her. His usually bright, blue optics are dim in the low-light of the bar, and he’s looking at her with an expression she can’t quite place.

“You should be more careful, ya know.” Cayde shakes his head in mock disappointment before finally raising his own glass to his mouth and taking a sip. She watches as the soft green glow of his drink disappears into his mouth and she wonders where it goes, or how he’s not shorting out at the moment. She knows very little about Exo anatomy, but she does know they’re mechanical beings and there’s numerous wires inside of them that allow them to function. She continues to eye him with that ebbing nab of curiosity, and scoffs in late reaction to his comment. He looks at her again, this time with one of his metal eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, yeah,” she drums her fingers against her glass as a distraction instead, now, too filled with pride to be caught staring.

Since the Red War, every guardian has been on their toes, attached to their ghosts with a newfound fear of losing them. She can’t blame them. The feeling of having her light - the very reason for her existence - ripped from her being is something she’ll never be able to forget. The loss she felt when her ghost was kicked over the edge of the tower wall was enough to split her world in two, the reality of the dire situation at hand shaking her to her core. And when she stumbled through The Last City, her ribs aching and every breath she took rattling her in her chest, she couldn’t help but choke on her fear.

She was going to die alone.

And yet here she is, shoulder to shoulder with the infamous Cayde-6, downing drinks like they’re best friends.

“So,” Cayde changes the subject, opting for something less stressful and more lighthearted, “You come here often?”

She huffs and knocks back the remainder of her abandoned drink, her skin abuzz with the gentle warmth of the alcohol flowing through her. She’s just floating on the brink of being comfortably buzzed and nearly drunk.

“Yeah, well, someone’s gotta take your place and frequent all these late night hideouts. Ya know, since you’re not supposed to leave the Tower and such,” she remarks sarcastically. She turns her head and catches him staring at her. He looks like he’s trying to figure her out, and with that she orders them another round of drinks.

“Man, you really must be one of mine,” He remarks with raised eyebrows, and she knows that if he had the ability to have a shit-eating grin on his face..

Well, he’d definitely be owning one right now.

She rolls her eyes and tells him to shut up.

#destiny #destiny 2 #destiny oc #destiny 2 oc #hunter #female hunter #female guardian #cayde-6 #cayde-6/OC #cayde-6/female hunter #My writing #my fanfic

1 note · View note

chokeholdwrite · 7 years

Text

Art class

AU. Sasuke is the model. Sakura the painter. Do your math. Shy!Sakura

She was running down the street.

Late, like always.

She is a rush of colors crashing against black. He looks up to the (creature?) girl who falls back with her folder open, a lot of papers flying free on the air, touching the floor graciously.

“I’m so sorry, mister!” She apologizes

He sees how the girl begins to collect all her paintings at increasing speed, cheking her clock on her arm. Cursing under her breath. She has to be the most amazing and tiny thing he ever has saw it. Pink hair, big glasses covering two green mesmeraid eyes. Something so pure about her. Something so childish on her features.

Almost like and angel.

(I’m so, so, so, late!)

“Hey-“

“I’m sorry” She screams while running at faster peace. The stranger standing there. One of her paitins in his right hand.

(A beautiful koy fish. Watercolor)

Is her first day in this type of class. She doesn’t want to be late.

“Forehead, I thought you didn’t want-“

“I oversleep” She says, taking of her coat “But it was worthy, I finish the assignment Kakashi-sensei gives us yesterday, so now I can fully concentrate on the assignment from today”

“Like you could take away your eyes from the model of today” Ino cross her arms, pointing with her chin to her back “Is the most beautiful specimen from here. Kaka-sensei did it right this time”

Sakura looks back sideways, just seeing a black coat and black hair talking to her sensei. “I don’t know what you are talking about. He seems normal” Ino stops babbling and looks angry at Sakura’s eyes “Beside, Choji was nice to paint yesterday”

Ino mouth hang open with disbelief “I can’t believe you are comparing him” Points behind her “To Choji! A sumo player!

“How very superficial of you, Pig” Her pink eyebrows doing a little M on her forehead “Choji is your friend since childhood, show a little respect to him”

“Oh, I respect him very much, Furby-hair” Ino walks beside her to their respect lecterns, both taking a seat. She land closer to her ear, whispering “But you can deny he is more than just fine”

Ino sit back on her chair, and points in front of them. Sakura has to land her body to the side to catch the man undressing on a white platform, in the middle of the room. Kakashi-senseis stars talking about human anatomy, but she only can catch the tatoo of an anaconda circling her entire arm. He is giving her the back, his pants hanging incredibly dangerous from his hips, about to fall. A muscular back. Strong shoulders. God hair.

Kakashi-sensei got the god of an Olympus or something?

Then. He turns around.

Oh. Oh. OOOOOOH. Oh. He is a God of the Olympus! He is Zeus, Hephaestus and Apollo in just one mortal body. No, tach that, he can’t be mortal, not with that face! He is gorgeous, the kind of people you see on TV: that mysterious aura, handsome as heel and above all, one of his eyes is obsidian black, the other one blue like the sky, almost white. He is something more, he really is something more, oh, and he knows it, because he smiles there, superb, like the king of the world. That fine nose, beautiful lips. He even can pass like a girl with long hair!

“I told you” Ino smiles next to her, eyeing all the reactions her best friend did – and still does- while watching him.

He is analyzing the room, and doesn’t look at the people at all. Instead, he seems more focus on his surroundings and Kakashi-sensei than the twenty something pair of eyes whose right now are looking at his naked – delicious, smooth, toned – torso.

Is when watching the windows behind Sakura that he locked his eyes on her.

She blushes and hides behind his lectern with her heart throbbing strongly against her chest. Ino hides a snort behind her hand.

“…So, that’s what are we gonna do today” Kakashi finish, stopping his carefree walking in the middle of the room, beside the model “Sasuke, please, if you could take off your pants”

“Yeah, take them off!” Ino cheers quietly. Sakura elbow her arm accusingly.

Sasuke, standing on the stage, follow a list of instruction her sensei is giving him while everyone takes out their utensils, pencils, charcoals, brushes. Sakura has her charcoal on her right hand when she looks at the model again, when-

She sees his naked but.

The charcoal touches the floor. And before everyone notices her stupidity, she bends down to reach it, collapsing her lectern on the run.

Everybody in the rooms is quiet, looking at the girl with funny glasses, pink hair and pink cheeks.

“Something wrong, Sakura?” Kakashi-sensei ask.

“N-n-no” She shakes her head rapidly, raising her lectern “I’m just clumsy! S-sorry!”

Kakashi sighs “Are you sure? Maybe you would have to change your position” He points with his index where he is standing (just IN FRONT of Sasuke) “Here the lights are brighter, I recommend you this spot, is nea-“

“I’m fine right here, s-sensei!” Her voice is hurried, every passing moment more blush appear on her checks

“Well” He puts his finger on his chin, looking at her “I insist”

Sakura is about to speak, but only little push from Ino is the answer. When she looks back, she winks at her, hearing a whispered you welcome, from her.

Sakura takes her belongings and with a speed dignify of spedy Gonzalez, she walks where Kakashi is standing. And before she can watch Zeuz again, she hides behind the immaculate white of her block.

“You may begin”

The rooms is filled with sound of painting, drawing and scratching: Working people. Everyone seems immerse in their works. Even Ino-pig is measuring the model from her spot, everybody is working.

She, on the other hand, can feel a presence just up front of her, like cornered, someone watching her. She looks where Kakashi-sensei is sitting, reading his porn (or graphic romantic literature) just like always does.

So why she feels like this?

With a sigh, she presses her charcoal on her hand and with resolution, looks above her white page to see Sasuke.

He is staring at her right back.

She blushes and hides behind – again.

Who. Why? Why is he looking at her like that? Why is he…

Why he has to be so intense?

Ok. Sakura. You got this. You just have to draw him. Just that. Is nothing like you never done before. You have two hours to fulfill your dream. Two hours. Then this will be over. Rely on your memory. A little glance and then is over.

With new resolution. She frowns and looks again.

Sasuke is smirking – and looking at her.

Her face turn slightly into flames, but she didn’t back up. Putting her charcoal on the paper, she starts to draw.

And when she stars to draw. She is inmerse in it.

“Girl, he was eating you alive back there!” Ino snarts, chuckling “He couldn’t take his eyes off you!”

“Pig, please” She sighs, relieve that the two (and a half) hours where finally over “It was the pose where Kakashi-sensei told him to stand. He didn’t have another choice”

“Still. He could look at the window, or at the wall, but instead, he chooses to see you the entire class, mhm” Ino raises and lowers her eyebrows very quickly, elbowing her arm “He so has a crush on you, forehead”

Sakura squint her eyes “Yeah, right. Because I look just splendid like this” She points at her ripped jeans, her sweatshirt stained with oil, her messy bun “And don’t let me star with my hands, look at my nails! They look dirty when in fact this is just graphite!” She stands her black hands as example “If he has a crush on me, he is so has a thing for girls with glasses, I mean, look at me!”

“I am”

Both girls stopped. Sasuke is just behind them. And Sakura wants to die right there (and right now). Who knows how many of this conversation he has been listening too? He smiles at both of them, knowing what they are thinking. Even Ino is blushing, and Ino is the kind of people who regrets nothing. (is my hashtag, girl. My mantra)

“I just remember! I left my pencils on the room!” She begins to walk beside them, almost running “I see you, forehead, take care!”

A pregnant silence has arrived. Sakura looks at her shoes, not really knowing what to do. It would be rude to just take off? She really doesn’t know him, so he souldn’t mind at all… then again, is not like he doesn’t knowing him at all, she has seeing him naked (well, to be fair, a bed sheet covered his noble parts).

“So, you are the I’m sorry girl”

She looks up. Even his voice is serves to be used as dubbing, I mean. C’mon. Who can be soo perfect?. What if he is one of those reptilians guys, or iluminati guys who are perfect and are from another planet and-

“Hey. You are alright?” He asks, frowning.

She shakes her head “Sorry, I was thinking. I’m….wha-why did you call me that? I don’t know you, right? Oh my god! Maybe you are one of my neighbors? No? I’m sorry, I’m really clueless and as you can’t see, I don’t see shit without my glasses. They are my life and- why were you looking at me like that? I mean, I’m not something edible, you know? I feel very uncomfortable back there…I…I… I’m sorry, I will just shout up and go away. Can you please like, forget me? I promise you would never see me again. I’m sorry i…I”

He is now standing in front of her. Her voice fading out when her nose can – almost – touch his chest. She is too afraid to look up to his beautiful eyes, so she breathes there. Hardly. He lay down little by little, until his face is just in front of her. His eyes are way more beautiful at this non-distance. His right is celestial, almost white and greyish on the inside. His left is black with blue iris. She tries to catch the amazing color palette he has on his eyes. Is truly amazing-

“I believe this is yours” He stand a paper to her. She goes from his eyes to his hands.

Is not possible, but even his fingers are beautiful.

She takes it, and unfolding it, she gasps “Is my painting! How-you?” Her eyebrows are frowned, confused. “How did you get this?” She looks at his eyes.

“You dropped it”

Clarity illuminates her face. “Oh. Oh! I understand! You were the guy I run over this morning, right? I’m sorry-I”

He pokes her forehead with two fingers, making her head go slightly backwards.

“Let get coffee” He murmurs “I want to see your paintings”

#sasusaku #sasusakufic #Sasuke Uchiha #sasuke #AU

45 notes · View notes