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memeadonna · 4 years ago

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Metallica

You are an intern working at Fatgum’s Agency alongside our favourite Hard Himbos: Tetsutetsu and Kirishima. Your quirk allows you to control metal, which attracts the attention of a certain someone.

Alternatively: I thought Tetsutetsu might have a thing for piercings and then @malicealieness bullied me until I posted this because we Tetsutetsu simps are starved for content (and don’t worry guys she promised to post more of her own writing if I posted this so I’m more than happy to do so (I love you mom ❤️))

Word Count: 5,971

This story is NSFW. Minors DNI.

Warnings: Switch Tetsutetsu and Reader, Piercings, Size difference/Kink, Mentions of Blood, Biting and Scratching, Loss of Virginity, Vaginal Intercourse, Creampie, mentions of birth control, Tetsutetsu being a Simp, mutual pining, this boy deserves more love.

Update: Part Two is Out!

When Tetsutetsu was in his last year at UA, an underclassman joined him and Kirishima at Fatgum’s agency. She was in class 2-A and went by the hero name Metallica. That was you, and you were certain he was terrified of you when you first met. To start with, your quirk was metal manipulation; you could control anything metal and, as the name implies, manipulate it however you’d like – changing its shape, sending it flying, or even adjusting its hardness – and that meant if he were to ever fight with you, he would be at a major disadvantage. It wasn’t like you wanted to hurt him (unless you counted raking your nails down his back and biting his collarbone), but the threat was there.

Tetstutetsu spent a lot of time staring at you, especially when you were in your hero costume or when the two of you had been left alone for a moment. On the rare occasions you met up with him on campus, he always stared at your piercings while you talked. You had ended up fighting with UA over their dress code: students in the hero course were supposed to be limited to only earrings (which you had several of) and small necklaces as jewelry, but due to your quirk you preferred to wear as much metal as you could. Different metals reacted differently to your quirk, and because of that your piercings, bracelets, and rings had been a mix of many different types that you had painstakingly organized so it was stylish rather than garish. It was hard to pull off so many different colours, but you managed. The school wanted you to only wear the piercings in your earlobes during class (the rings were fine), but after a long argument, you managed to convince them to let you wear something so your holes didn’t close up. The stainless steel you ended up with was much less flashy than the other colours you had had before, but you didn’t mind. It was a versatile metal, and the ability to shape and change it to your will was an asset. Besides that, your piercings were not technically support items, so you could use (and had used) them at the sports festival.

The first time you met Kirishima and Tetsutetsu, Fatgum had insisted the three of you go out for food together. Kirishima had spent the whole time talking and laughing with you, trying to get to know you, and Tetsu had just spent his time staring like he was in a trance. You were used to people staring – like someone with a mutant quirk, the large number of piercings you wore every day was unusual, and you had gotten used to stares and comments. You tucked your hair behind your industrial and sipped on some boba. His eyes never left your face, scanning over the barbell bisecting your eyebrow then down to the one on your tongue as you took another sip.

“So, metal,” Kirishima spoke, kicking Tetsutetsu under the table and shooting him a glare that said Pay Attention. “Tell us about that.”

You waved your hand, the ring on your index finger unwrapping itself and forming into a bowl shape. You concentrated as it dipped into your parfait and brought a delectable scoop of vanilla ice cream up to your mouth and took a bite. Tetsutetsu’s brain was all but short-circuiting as you casually dunked the ring into your untouched glass of water and wrapped it back around your finger. As you explained how your quirk worked to his companion, all he could think about was being bent to your will like that. His legs felt weak and shaky, and he was so, so glad you were all sitting in a dark restaurant.

He seemed skittish around you – never wanting to be alone with you, always fidgeting when you used your quirk. Even Fatgum noticed his strange behaviour and pulled you aside to ask if anything was wrong. You felt so guilty as he asked you if the two of you had had a falling out and what he could do to help – was the transition into working at his agency smooth? Were you happy in the position? Why does one of his interns hate you? He hadn’t asked that of course, but the question was there.

In the end, you had cornered your colleague. “I’m not going to hurt you,” you had told him softly. “I don’t think my quirk would even work on you. I don’t want to find out though, because if it did hurt you, I don’t think I could forgive myself.” You told him. “I want to be your friend, Tetsutetsu. I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Scared? It had taken him almost ten entire seconds to process this as you tried to make yourself look as nonthreatening as possible. “I – I’m not scared of you,” he had answered dumbly.

Your friendship blossomed from there. He had to hide a boner whenever you used your quirk in front of him (which was a lot, you tended to overuse it if anything), but now he got to see you smiling and make you laugh, which melted his steel heart every time. He felt extraordinarily guilty whenever he’d sneak off to the bathroom, shove his shirt into his mouth, and beat his dick like it owed him money. This resulted in more than one shredded shirt and several raised eyebrows from Kirishima, but he learned to pack a spare change of clothes in his bag. At least his frantic two-minute tangos were almost enough to get him through patrol with you. Almost.

His situation became more difficult when the agency was working towards a major drug bust. You and your coworkers were excused from school for two weeks and were living out of the agency’s basement. There were three rooms set up there – one for Fatgum with a massive bed, and one for each off-duty intern. Someone was supposed to be patrolling at all times, and all four of you were feeling exhausted. Esuha was not a horribly busy city, but as the dealers you were after were backed more and more into a corner, they began to lash out and take matters into their own hands.

Tetsutetsu was so ready to slide into a comfortable pair of pyjamas, eat a quick dinner and pass out, but the zipper on his hero suit was stuck. Of course it was. Kirishima had taken up residence in the room Fatgum normally slept in, and was snoring loudly, so he shuffled his way over to your door and reluctantly knocked.

You answered the door after a few moments, wearing only a tight tank top and a set of loose pyjama shorts. You were rubbing sleep from your eyes, and if he wasn’t so hyper-focused on what he was sure was the outline of a set of nipple piercings through your tanktop he would have felt bad for waking you. “Zipper,” he said quickly, fighting to tear his eyes from your chest. “My zipper is stuck.”

You reached out your hand and activated your quirk, but frowned slightly. “Your zipper is plastic. Wonder what moron made that design choice. If it gets too hot, it’ll melt,” He was about to agree, but then your hands were on him and he was so, so thankful it was plastic. “Come over here, the light is better.” Your hands unclasped the steel straps across his shoulders, and you used your quirk to send it across the room to rest gently on your nightstand as you worked to get him out of his jumpsuit. He barely registered the door closing and the sound of the lock sliding into place as his brain once more began to short circuit.

You pressed closer to see the zipper better, which only gave Tetsu a great view down your shirt. He had to be hyper aware of his hands, so he didn’t accidentally touch you. He was a gentleman, after all. He had to be a gentleman, even when you once more tugged him towards yourself to get him closer to the light on your desk. Yup. Had to be a gentleman.

You continued to fiddle with the zipper, tugging it this way and that. You stuck out your tongue and dragged it backwards along your lip so the little ball on it clacked against your teeth, and he had to physically stop himself from letting out an unmanly noise.

You triumphantly grinned as you finally got the zipper unstuck, and then your tongue was back in your mouth. “I think the fabric got caught in the teeth!” you told him with a grin. “It was no match for me.” he was so close to you now. You were all but pressed against the wall by him, and as you looked up into his eyes, a lazy smirk crept its way onto your face. “What? Embarrassed that you had to ask me to help you out of your clothes? Aren’t you at least going to say thank… you…” your voice trailed off as he leaned in closer, one arm bracing himself against the wall above you. You weren’t a small person, but he had hit a growth spurt in his time at UA and was now almost 6’6. He made you feel small.

He didn’t lean in to kiss you like you hoped thought he would but instead leaned over to your ear. As you felt his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear and his warm breath prickling the hairs on the back of your neck, you felt your heart fluttering in your chest. “Do you have any idea how much you make me want you?” he growled out, voice gravelly and low. “Are you doing it on purpose?” he pulled your earlobe and the trio of studs it housed into his mouth, and you had to place your hands on his shoulders to stop your knees from buckling.

He was so warm as his tongue teased at your earlobe and one hand came up to run itself up your side, splaying itself over your ribs before slowly trailing upwards. “Well, this is one way to thank me,” you smirked to yourself as he pulled away, snapped out of his trance. “Not even going to kiss me first? No, you’ve just gotta fondle my piercings, don’t you? You have such a one-track mind.”

You ran your hands up from his shoulders to his hair, pulling him closer and standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. It wasn’t heated or anything, just a simple brush of your lips against his. He leaned into it, and for the briefest moment, as you pulled away, he chased your lips. He caught himself as he did, a bright blush spreading over his cheekbones. “I’m sorry, I-”

You kissed him once again to shut him up, deep and slow and filled with passion. He relaxed above you, letting himself become putty in your hands and against your lips, pushing his body flush with yours and pinning you to the wall. He was strong enough to keep you there – he could easily snap your neck if he wanted – but the way he held you was so gentle. Like you would break if he wasn’t careful.

That was nice, but it wasn’t what you wanted. You bit his lip which made him yelp and took the momentary parting of his lips to conquer his mouth, tugging his hair as you took control. He let out a sweet little whine as he felt the barbell against his tongue. He wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground, holding you by the ass and thighs as he stumbled backwards towards the bed, kissing you more and more frantically. As you wrapped your legs around his body you felt him throbbing against the soft skin of your inner thigh and smirked triumphantly to yourself. He sat down on your bed and you peeled his jumpsuit off, grinding down into his lap as you kissed.

Once the fabric was pooling around his waist, he flipped you over onto the bed, pinning you beneath his hulking form. “You’re awfully bold,” he rumbled. “Thinking you can get off domming me.”

He kissed you deeply, a rolling kind of pleasure that made your knees weak and your toes curl. A wave of desire swept you away and made you almost forget your name. Then, you remembered you were Metallica and you had a series of bracelets on your nightstand. Maybe it was time to put them to good use.

He was back to mouthing at your ear and teasing your numerous piercings, then trailing his hot mouth down your neck, before grazing sharp fangs along your collarbone. You squealed as he gripped the collar of your tanktop in his teeth and ripped it violently off of your body. The animalistic look in his eyes sent a lightning bolt of pleasure through you, and his hands left your wrists to rip the remaining shreds of your top off of your body. He sat back to admire you, letting out a quiet ��Fuck” as he took you in.

He was right, you had a set of matching barbells in your nipples, but he hadn’t known about your belly button piercing. It was one of the more basic piercings, but he seemed enraptured by it for a moment before his hands reached out to cup greedy handfuls of your breasts. One of your bracelets clicked around his right wrist and yanked his arm upwards, sending his body crashing down onto yours. You giggled at the “oof” he let out, and wrapped your arms and legs around him, mouthing at his ear. “I am bold. That’s why you like me,” you held his cheeks in your hands and gave him a commanding kiss before returning to his ear to whisper: “I’m also going to get off with your pretty mouth.” as you sank your teeth into the shell of his ear he full out moaned. What a glorious sound that was. You formed your bracelets into hooks to pull off his boots and his hero suit, careful not to tear it. He did need the thing after all.

Pressed up against you like this, he could feel the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, and also the drag of cold metal across his body. He began to kiss and suck at your neck and shoulders, relieved that the bodysuit you wore under the armour of your hero costume would hide this come tomorrow. He resisted the urge to sink his teeth into your warm flesh. That was probably too much for your first night but in the future…

Yielding his right arm to you, he used his left to finally grab one of your breasts and caress the barbell with the pad of his thumb. He felt you shift underneath him, and then your thigh was between his legs and he allowed himself to hump it out of desperation. “God you are such a needy bitch,” you laughed into his ear. “Do you really want me this much?”

You were winning. You were winning and he knew it. But if there was one thing Tetsutetsu was, it was hard-headed. In more than one sense of the word. He redoubled his efforts on your collarbones, leaving dark hickies that would probably take days to fade. You raked your nails down his back to get a reaction and he bit you. Hard. The strangled wail you let out was more than enough to make him come back to his senses and he pulled away with a hundred apologies on his lips. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Fuck that was hot. Yes please, more,” you sat up with him and gave him a kiss, ignoring the taste of your blood on his tongue. The feeling of your tongue piercing against him once more made him lightheaded, especially as he felt your bracelets closing around his neck like a collar. You pulled away from the heated kiss with a sly smirk, your lips just barely grazing his as you murmured: “You want to act like a dog then I’ll treat you like one.”

His response was to lift you up a bit so he could get his mouth around one of your nipples. You squirmed in his arms, letting out breathy groans, tugging at his hair and struggling to keep hold of your quirk. He switched breasts, falling backwards so you were on top of him. One hand grabbed the meat of your ass and as you finally released your psychic grip on the bracelet restraining his other hand he was squeezing and fondling the tit he had just been sucking. It was like he couldn’t get enough of your body, and that thought made you gush.

He pulled away from you, grinning triumphantly. “Not so tough now, are you?” he teased, pulling you into another kiss as his big hands roamed your body, squeezing and touching and sometimes just holding certain parts of you. You couldn’t help but feel grounded and safe in his arms, even though you were still bleeding from the shoulder. The warm, fuzzy feeling of safety spread across your body, mixing with arousal, and you smiled into the kiss because he was yours.

Fucking finally.

You then squealed as he ripped your shorts in half, tearing the thin fabric off of your thighs and laughing to himself as you slapped his chest. You pulled back to pout at him. “You asshole I liked those!”

“Fuck, baby,” he answered, hands exploring the newly exposed skin. “I’ll buy you new ones to show you just how sorry I am.” Based on that grin, the amount was zero. You rolled your hips down into his just to wipe that smug look off of his face, and the way he gripped your body to help you made sparks dance inside of your core. You could feel him throbbing against your sex, and based on what you could feel pressing up into you, you were almost sure you would be sore tomorrow.

You made a show of crawling down his body and snapping the waistband of his briefs against his toned stomach. You peeled the garment off and tossed it over your shoulder. In the two seconds you were turned away the smug bastard had folded his hands behind his head and had leaned back into your pillows like he was presenting himself to you.

Your eyes took in his muscular frame, sweeping from his toned arms down to the throbbing cock between his legs. You tapped the tip. “This is bullshit,” you told him.

“What?” his brows furrowed. “Bullshit?”

You nodded. “Yeah, what exactly I supposed to do with this? It’s as thick as my wrist what the fuck. Can it even fit in my mouth? Of course you would have a magnum dong,” you rolled your eyes at him as you pressed a kiss to his tip, wrapping your hands around it. “Fucking bullshit. You’re lucky I brought lube.”

As he processed your words you licked his tip, and that damned piercing grazed his sensitive skin, drawing a strangled gasp out of his lungs. You smirked up at him, giving him another slow lick as you showed off the tongue piercing. He spread his legs a bit and bit his lip, closing his eyes as he slipped one hand into your hair. “You’re good at that,” he mumbled, pleasure washing over him as you finally slipped him into your mouth and gave him an earnest suck. He was absolutely mesmerized by his cock disappearing into your mouth, and the position of your body between his legs (face down ass up – something he hoped to explore more later).

You worked more and more of him down your throat. You reached over and tugged his hand away from his body to bring it gently over your head. You winced as he stretched your throat open for himself, moaning happily as you gagged around him. “Shit, sweetheart…” he let you pull off of him and a hot bolt of guilt shot through his chest as you coughed. “Princess, did I hurt you?”

After coughing a bit more you offered him a sweet grin. “I’m okay, just-” you coughed again, “-your stupid horsecock is too big for me to blow.”

“Oh,” he turned bright red. “Sorry.”

“I have another idea,” you grinned at him, taking his free hand and kissing his fingers before pinning it back behind his head. “Harden it.”

“What?” his eyes widened and his cock visibly throbbed. “O-okay.” He obeyed you, and you licked your lips as you watched the grey steel colour spread across his dick. It was pretty, which was a weird way to think about a dick. It was also way too thick, and you were sure was going to mess up your insides, which only made you want him more.

You raised your hand over him and met his eyes. “Tell me how this feels,” you told him. He nodded at you, and you activated your quirk. His heavy eyelashes fluttered as his back arched, and his breathing picked up speed.

“Tetsu, baby, talk to me,” you cooed.

“Feels good!” he moaned, spreading his legs more. “So good!”

His eyes were all but rolling back into his head as you played with him, and his cock pulsed hard beneath your ministrations. It was almost strange, really, because normally when you manipulated metal it was obeying you and nothing more. With Tetsutetsu, you could feel his nerves lighting up with pleasure, and you smirked to yourself as you twisted your wrist to make him vibrate. He let out a loud moan as you did, and you giggled to yourself.

He squirmed more as you stroked him with your psychic grip, careful not to change his shape. Lord knows that would happen if you did that. “Gonna cum!” he moaned, back arching. “Fuck, what are you doing to me Sweetheart?” you looked up at him, at how wanton he was for you, and your insides clenched around nothing.

You straddled him and leaned up to kiss him again. “I’m ruining you,” you answered lowly. “You’re mine from now on.”

You could feel how his throbbing changed as he came. You felt the thick streams painting your ass and back, and smirked to yourself. He arched up into you and moaned loudly, before slumping backwards, limbs jelly, and panting loudly. “Fuck,” he moaned. “Sorry.”

You reached down to yourself and gathered some of your slick on your fingers. You spread them for him, showing off how wet you were. “Looks like we both enjoyed that,” you told him, watching as his eyes widened once more. He leaned upwards desperately, and you watched in amusement as he sucked your fingers into his mouth. You once more clenched around nothing, and the slick between your legs only got slicker. You wondered if you could take him with how wet you were.

Probably not, but you wanted to try.

Once your fingers were clean you leaned down to give him a kiss, your hands gently tracing themselves over his pecs and down his abs. He had released his hardening after he had finished, but he was still hard beneath you as you continued kissing him, your tongue piercing clacking against his teeth every so often. You slid back down his body and he reached his free hand out to cup your ass. “You’re covered in it, baby,” his voice was gruff and husky.

You brought his massive hand up to your mouth and then it was your turn to suck his fingers clean. He watched you with hooded eyes, and as you pinned his wrist behind his head alongside his other one, he watched you with growing trepidation. You were also a little nervous – would he even fit? You should probably stretch yourself out first, but it just looked so delicious to you. You wanted to feel him. Now.

You wrapped one hand around his thick shaft and guided the tip up to your lips. You were so slick it was practically gushing out of you, and as you ran his head along your lips and thought “I’m going to take all of this,” your lust only grew.

You started to lower yourself down onto him, holding him steady. The pressure of him trying to push inside gave way little by little, and he threw his head back with a ragged moan as you slid the tip inside. It was so thick it was hard for you to breathe, but the stretch felt euphoric. You coaxed more of him into you, bit by bit, but stopped suddenly and pulled off. You used a bracelet to bring over your lube bottle and you squirted a generous amount onto his cock.

“Where do you get off on having such a stupidly huge dick?” you asked him. “Are you trying to split me in half?”

“You’ll learn to take it,” he purred at you, and that thought made you clench once more. You imagined him one day effortlessly able to slide it inside of your ruined pussy, imagined how the stretch would burn so good as you eased him back into you. You could feel him tugging against his restraints like he wanted to grip your hips and help you. You braced yourself against his pecs as you sank further down onto him, and he grinned smugly at your efforts. “Your face is so fuckin’ cute when you’re stuffed too full.” He purred, groaning as you sat back up and slid him in once again. “Not even halfway down yet and you already look like you’re about to break.”

“In your dreams,” you teased back, riding him slowly as you slid his too-big dick further and further inside. Your body swallowed him up like it was made to, and the stretch burned the way you had hoped it would. He was quite a bit bigger than the toy you normally used on yourself, and you wondered briefly if you should get a new one to train your body better. You raked your nails down his chest and slid a bit further down. “Just shut up and enjoy this.”

He looked down and watched his dick disappearing inside of you, and licked his lips. Even with all of that lube, you were still the tightest thing he had ever felt, so tight he could barely move. Even tighter than he had imagined. As he watched you take him, he noticed the slightest tinge of red on his dick. As he realized it was blood, he was not proud that his first thought was to thrust up and ram as much of himself as he could inside of you. You let out a choked sound and clenched around him, scrambling for something to hold onto. “Fuck baby, you okay?” he asked, apologies tumbling out of his mouth in a borage. “You’re bleeding, did I hurt you?”

You had released your psychic grip as you lost focus, and he was instantly up with his arms around you, peppering your face with kisses. “I’m sorry princess,” he cooed, running his hand down your back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered, looking down between the two of you. “Just surprising. Guess that was my hymen breaking or something.”

He thrust up into you as you said that, once more attacking your neck with bites and hickies as he carefully rocked your bodies together. He growled at you as you tugged on his hair and let out a strangled sound. He rolled you over, so he was on top, and kissed you hard as you wrapped your legs around him. The drag of his cock inside of you hit all of your nerves at once, and in this position, you were almost certain you couldn’t push him off even if you wanted to.

You once more restrained him, pinning his hands on either side of your head and using his bracelet-collar, brought his face down to you. You kissed him sloppily, once more tugging on his hair as he moaned and panted into your mouth and sucked on your barbell. The feeling of being stuffed beyond what your body could take was absolute euphoria, and as your toes curled and you held on tightly, moaning as he kissed and bit you, you knew you would have to do this again. “Princess,” he cooed. “You feel so good! Fuck!”

“Y-you too,” you hissed, scratching at his back. He tugged at his restraints once more, but as you held his hands firm you smirked up at him. “What’s wrong, want to touch me?” you slid your hands down your body and began to tease your clit, back arching as he sped up his thrusts.

“The things I’m going to do to you,” he growled. “Gonna make every inch of you mine!” he carefully lowered his body so he was in a push-up position over you, and lavished your breasts with his tongue, sucking on your nipples like he was trying to pull out your barbells. He worked them with his tongue, which made you moan and keen and scratch. You could feel his arms shaking with the effort of holding himself up, and at the same time felt the drag of his abs against the back of your hand with every thrust. You used your free hand to tangle in his hair, and he bit down again as if on instinct. You let out a surprised yelp and he kissed your sensitive flesh as an apology, licking at the little beads of blood he had left on one of your breasts. Your cunt clenched around him as you heard the gravelly noises he was making, although he was stretching you so open you weren’t even sure it could be called clenching. You were too overstuffed and it was everything you had ever wanted.

“Please,” he groaned. “Please let me fucking touch you. I need-” he cut himself off as he kissed you once again, sloppy and full of passion. “-I’m gonna cum. Need you to first…” you released his hands and he was immediately pulling you up into his lap, kneeling on your bed and bouncing you on his dick while he kissed you hard. Your legs were too high off the mattress to kneel on it, so you settled for wrapping them around his waist instead. He slid a hand over your abdomen. “I can feel myself!” he growled, pressing down. “Right here.” You kissed him back, moaning because you could feel it too. Feel him destroying your insides.

His fingers found your clit and roughly began to abuse it. He was so hot inside of you, pulsing like he was happy to be there. You panted against one another, lips connecting and sliding apart as he bounced you for all you were worth. It was wild, it was feral, and he was grunting like a caveman as he claimed you. You gripped his muscular shoulders desperately, looking up into his eyes as he smirked down at you. He kissed you again, long and hard and slow, and you felt his tongue turn to steel in your mouth. You tightened your grip on his shoulder, activating your quirk on him.

The change swept across his entire body, including his dick, and as he jackhammered even faster into you, you manipulated his body to send twinges of pleasure zinging through him. You could just about hear his thoughts, every “Yes!” “Good!” and “More!” and then the word “Mate!” popped into your mind and you once again clenched hard around him.

He let you fall backwards a bit, once more kissing at your chest as he fucked your plaint body. Your back arched from the new angle, and you gripped at him desperately, insides twitching as they waited for that last push over the edge. You trusted him to hold you and released your death grip on his shoulders, splaying your hands in the air and making his entire body rapidly vibrate. That feeling threw you into an orgasm almost instantly, and your insides clenched around him. You leaned backwards and he held you close. It was so intense you couldn’t even scream. All you could do was lie there stiffly, unable to even breathe as the feeling washed over you. He kept fucking you through it, burying his teeth in your shoulder once again as he pumped you full. As you came down from your high, you gasped for breath and wrapped your arms around him once again. You kissed him desperately as he held you, and as he leaned back into your pillows he kept you in his arms, his cock still buried deep inside of you. You panted against him, aftershocks making your pussy twitch around him.

The metal beneath your fingers softened to skin, and he ran his fingers gently through your hair. “Fuck me,” he croaked.

“What, again?” you laughed a bit, drunk on the euphoria flowing through your body as you reached up to kiss him again.

“I should get my zipper stuck more often,” he grinned, running his fingers gently over the bite on your shoulder. “Does it hurt?”

“A bit, but I like it,” you looked at him flirtatiously, before lifting yourself on shaky limbs and reaching down to pull him out of you. The wet Schluck! sound made both of you giggle, and so did the wet slap of his softening dick hitting his abs.

He let out a gasp as his cum began to pour out of you now, dripping heavily all over him. “Fuck, we didn’t use condoms!” he looked absolutely mortified.

“Relax,” you gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve got an IUD.”

He pulled you back down to rest on his chest, tracing patterns into your skin. His eyes drifted from the piercings in your ear down your jawline and up to your lips, and he gently ran his thumb over them. “You’re my girlfriend now, right?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled sleepily, nuzzling further into his chest.

He resisted the urge to do a happy dance or pump his fist in the air. “We should get cleaned up,” he kissed your shoulder as he sat up and carried you to the western-style shower. You clung to him as he turned it on, and finally put your feet down as the water warmed.

You removed the bracelets from around his wrists and neck very carefully, and as you smiled up at him, he smiled back. He then blasted you full in the face with the showerhead and the two of you were giggling again. He washed your body carefully, reverently, and even somehow made hosing you out with the shower head feel intimate.

By the time you were done with your shower, you were putting on your hero costume to go out for your patrol. He helped you zip up your padded bodysuit, and his dick stirred back to life beneath his towel as you gently draped your armour-esque hero costume over your body. “You should go rest in your own room, Fatgum will get suspicious,” you gave him a kiss and used your quirk to slide his hero suit onto him, doing up the zipper with a flick of your finger.

“H-huh?” he stared down at it as you clasped his chest straps. “But I thought the zip was plastic!”

You chuckled a bit. “How else was I supposed to get you alone in my room?” you teased, before offering a wink and slipping out the door.

“Clever girl,” he whispered to himself, grinning like a moron.

Taglist: @malicealieness

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#bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha #tetsutetsu #bnha tetsutetsu #tetsutetsu x reader #reader insert #mha reader insert #tetsutetsu tetsutetsu #Memeadonna #Tetsutetsu is a simp #I will die on this hill

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hufflepirate · 4 years ago

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Bioshock headcanons/ficlets:

- Jack’s sweater is always damp. It’s too thick and it won’t dry and he keeps having to splash through water and he’s always wet. Until he wakes up in the safe house and knows he’s been out of commission for too long because he’s somehow become dry. Strangely, having once, for a few precious minutes, been dry makes him feel weirder about huddling as close as he can safely get to a burning corpse the next time he’s half-soaked and shivering. But he can’t go back. Something might follow him. He huddles closer to the body and tries not to think about it.

- Jack’s bleeding profusely, keeping pressure on the wound and shoveling chips into his mouth with dead eyes as he hides behind some boxes in a corner. He didn’t want this. Nobody would want this. He keeps dripping seawater into the chip bag. He hopes it’s seawater. He’s also been in a sewer today. His chips seem extra salty, so it’s probably seawater. He really, really hopes it’s seawater. They don’t crunch properly because they’re soggy from the drips, but that is the absolute least of his problems. He finishes up his chips and checks to find his wound is at least not actively bleeding anymore. He checks the boxes one more time. He checks the chip bag one more time. Empty. He allows himself one moment of sagging forward, leaning his head against the crate that hid him, then cocks his gun and steps back into the room itself, body electric with attention as he watches for anything that might see

- Fighting Big Daddies is no joke. He knows he should rescue the Little Sister crying next to him, but he’s already flat on his back, laid out by that last hit, and he’s almost unconscious and it’s blessedly quiet other than the sobbing, and maybe he’ll just stay here. Maybe he’ll just stay here. Maybe he’ll just - No. He sits up, his breath catching as he feels every inch of his body throb with pain, and his fingers itch to open up a first aid kit and try to convince himself he’s not dying. Instead, he drags himself up farther, onto his knees, because his feet seem a step too far, and drags the girl close to him, exorcising the creature that makes her other than human and then slumping down to sit on his heels, exhausted by the struggle. She peers curiously at him and he waits for her to run away, but instead they stare into each other’s eyes. He’s so tired. He hurts so bad. He’s sure his eyes look dead, or at best haunted. Hers look - look - God Almighty, there aren’t words for what hers look, but he thinks he understands, thinks he would know how to feel that feeling too, if he had the strength left to feel anything at all. She undoes her sash and ties it tightly around the worst of his wounds and he just stares, still spent, as she finishes up and runs off, clambering into a hidey-hole and out of sight. He gets his first aid kit out instead of just falling over and letting himself lie there. He has work to do.

- He doesn’t want to leave the safe house. He doesn’t want to do anything, and he especially doesn’t want to face a man whose words can sink all the way into his bones, pull on his muscles like puppet strings, and he doesn’t want to and he doesn’t want to, and the woman’s eyes looking at him have no mercy and something inside him, deep, fears her, too. “He’s the one that saved me,” a little voice says. And “He’s here to help us,” and “I like him!” but then their voices are piling up on top of each other, and his head spins with whatever’s been done to him and as it’s spinning the voices pile up more and pile up more and he hears things they aren’t saying at all, now, “Get up, Mr. Bubbles! Get up! Mr. B! Mr. B! Please, Mr. Bubbles, please get up!” He crouches down next to the little girl who’s meant to be taking him out of here, his tongue frozen in his mouth as he fights through all the sounds, and then he can’t stop looking at her face. She’s not afraid of him and her chin is up, stubborn, and she looks impatient, tells him again to follow, and he’s so tired. So tired. He wants to sink down onto his knees, wants to tell this tiny, stubborn thing he can’t do it, that it’s beyond him, that he’s not enough, will never be enough, has never been enough, that he doesn’t even know who he is, anymore, but she says it again, “Come with me!” and her eyes - her eyes - he straightens his protesting knees and as she runs off with a satisfied nod, he follows.

- Jack leans his forehead against the inside of the Vita-Chamber and closes his eyes. The glass is surprisingly cool, given the energy of the whatever-it-is around him that pulls him to itself from the jaws of death. He is tired of the jaws of death. He is tired of being scraped through the teeth and coming out of the chamber raw and aching. He is tired of trying not to wonder if it’s really still him every time, or if every time this happens he has died for real and been re-made. He thinks if he’d been re-made, his joints wouldn’t ache. He thinks if he’d been re-made, he’d be whole instead of half-healed and pulsing with pain. He thinks he’d like to stay here, instead, this time, just save everyone and everything the trouble of sending him to his living grave one more time. He hears a little voice, a woman screeching, a deep, animal growl. He steels himself, reloads his gun, shoves open the doors, steps out hearing the whoosh behind him and prays his feet never have to step here again. Then he’s running.

- At the end of it all, Jack lies on his back, feeling the ground, solid under his battered body. Lord Almighty, he hurts. He thinks one of his ribs is cracked. He thinks he might be out of ammunition. He thinks he might be out of EVE. He thinks he might be out of bandages. He thinks the girls look tall from this angle. Dangerous. Strong. Their eyes look down at him and soften, and then they’re only little girls again, after all. He lifts up one hand, too weak to work out what for, and a set of little hands takes it, cupping it between them, and the little girl whose hands they are tells him it’s ok now. Clear as rainbows. He wonders if she’s ever seen a rainbow. He wonders if he has, or if he only imagined it. “Ok,” he says, hoarse, “Just give me a minute.” She cocks her head to the side, confused. “Angels don’t wait, Mr. B.” He raises his other hand, lays it over hers, where she was already holding onto him, and says, “Today, they do.” Another little sister tries to hand him something and he doesn’t take it. He meets the girl’s eyes, and sees a shift in them as it sinks in. She smiles, and it’s beautiful. “Today, they do,” she repeats, slowly, as if the words feel unfamiliar. “Where do you wanna wait?”

- Jack runs out of EVE for good on the surface. He snaps his fingers and all that happens is a snap. He does it again. Again. A little hint of fear runs down his spine, but then one of the girls snaps back again, one, two, three times. He snaps twice. She snaps twice. She’s grinning. A smile spreads slowly across his face. He switches from hand to hand, left, right, left, right. She gets a devilish glint in her eyes, snaps back at him, left, left, right, left. He snaps right, right, left, right, and she laughs out loud, and the fear is gone, as if it were never there. “Help me find some matches,” he says, “It’s going to be cold tonight and we ought to have a fire.”

- The upper floors of the lighthouse are inaccessible, as if it’s never been manned, as if it’s never been a real lighthouse at all. He doesn’t want to be where it looks like Rapture. He wants to be where it looks like somewhere else, like he’s got all the space he needs, like anything is possible. The girls help him drag the seat cushions out of the bathysphere and they curl up in a pile under the stars, huddling together to stay warm and fidgeting with childish energy without moving away into the cold first. He gets elbowed in the half-healed, still-bruised rib and can hardly breathe. He gets kneed in the crotch and grunts in pain. He gets head-butted under the chin and bites his tongue. Little voices apologize. Apologize. Apologize again. His voice is deep, broken, not fully his own, but he’s starting to get the hang of making it gentle in spite of the growl. “It’s alright. I’ll heal. But try to be more careful - the stars will still be there when you look up again.” He feels the surprise, the remembering, the pleasant shock. He smiles, in spite of everything. “The stars will be there every night. Every night there’s not clouds. I promise.” “Did you ever count them?” Before he can answer no, one of the other girls is counting out loud, pointing at one star and then another, another, another, and can’t tell them no, can’t tell them there’s no point to trying, can’t tell them not to keep looking, and looking, and looking at something they’ve never seen before. They’re still counting when he falls asleep, a pleasant, easy rhythm of numbers, like counting sheep.

#bioshock #headcanons #ficlets #whump #fluff #jack bioshock #long post #i am so soft for this game #but also some of this is maybe whumptober content?#i'm not doing whumptober but also i a little bit am bc i did do this #bioshock spoilers #in case u also have heard of but not played this decade+ old game and think u might try it

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translations-by-aiimee · 4 years ago

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Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 16

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 16 - Game

Ten minutes later, Lin Yan appeared on the stage awkwardly wearing a silver-grey robe with a small dragon pattern embroidered on it. All ten participants took their seats. Even the Professor File Folder put on a traditional teacher's outfit. The buzzing activity coming from the crowd made Lin Yan blush. It felt like he was sitting on pins and needles; it was uncomfortable no matter how he tried to adjust himself.

This whole situation felt like a melodrama between Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai. He couldn't help but glance back at Xiao Yu several times. The only real ancient man in the audience was standing behind him with a frown. Looking at him with a serious stare, he pressed his hand against Lin Yan's shoulder, like he was trying to comfort him.

When he changed his clothes, he noticed that something was wrong with Xiao Yu, or maybe it was just everything that was wrong. In the dressing room, the ghost had wrapped himself around him and hugged him. He pushed and shoved the other around the narrow room, creasing his costume. Just as Lin Yan was about to start fighting back, Xiao Yu suddenly stopped tugging him around. He pulled him over to the mirror, put his chin on Lin Yan's shoulder and he stared at the person in the reflection. For the first time, his chaotic eyes seemed calm, even holding a quiet sadness.

The mirror surface swayed, like a droplet hitting a calm pool of water, waves rippling away from the center. Standing in the brass mirror was a young man standing with clear eyes, hands resting beside a cloud brocade waistband, and a face exuding pride. Lin Yan backed away in horror. He almost screamed. The person in the mirror wasn't him. Although he had the exact same face, life had done a number on him and he wouldn't be able to make an expression like that anymore.

The scent of agarwood incense in the room was intoxicating. The young man's eyes softened. The tall man in the traditional Chinese clothes adjusted his chin on his shoulder, raising his long eyebrows. His voice was slow and hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time: "I've been waiting for you for so long. . ."

Lin Yan's head snapped back to the mirror. He staggered forwards and leaned against the mirror. The person in front of him had hair as black as paint, and his mottled blood coat didn't match his eyes that seemed so sad and hopeless. . .

I have been waiting for you for a long time.

Lin Yan scrambled out of the dressing room.

"The break is over. Please quiet down and we'll get started with our next activity." The girl in the red jacket skirt read.

Lin Yan sat in the chair in a daze. The bright stage lights and the dark crowd in the audience made him feel like what just happened in the dressing room was a hallucination, and Xiao Yu was no different. Lin Yan looked back at him, panicked. Xiao Yu leaned down and held his trembling hand. On the table were a small whiteboard and a soft black marker. Xiao Yu motioned for him to pick it up and he moved his hand across the whiteboard: I'll help you.

Lin Yan was stunned and wrote out: Do you remember something?

Xiao Yu didn't seem to want to answer. He shook his head and let go of his hand. He still stood behind him holding onto Lin Yan's shoulder for support.

The audience quieted down, and bright white chasing lights hit the mahogany silk box on the centre of the stage. The red jacket skirt girl stepped forward to open the silk box, revealing the glass box within. The audience let out a few exclamations, and Lin Yan's eyes lit up. It was a beautiful moon flask with two handles. The maiden leaned against the tree art, the linework was meticulous, the enamel fully covered the flask, the piece was still intact, and the overall flask was in good condition.

This authentification wasn't difficult for a student studying cultural relics. Lin Yan carefully looked at the glaze texture and enamel of the flask's body. He wrote his answer on the whiteboard after double-checking that it was correct. When the time was up, the host walked past the square table and stopped when he reached the PSP guy, holding up her mic and asking: "You, what's your answer?"

The PSP guy’s whiteboard turned out to be empty. He was leaning on the table and his attention was focused on his game. When the host asked the second time, he raised his head as if he had just woken up. He glanced lazily around and sarcastically twitched the corners of his mouth into a smile. "It's genuine," he spat out. Then he brushed the host off and lowered his head to continue playing the game.

Lin Yan knew this guy was arrogant, but he didn't expect him to act this to everyone. The girl in the red jacket skirt was embarrassed by PSP's attitude. After putting a polite expression back on her face, she nodded and walked to the next student.

"Well. . . There were nine students who got the answer right, might as well switch it up for the last one." The audience let out a good laugh, and the boy three places down from Lin Yan grinned and left the stage. The professor briefly spoke about the flask. Lin Yan cleaned off the whiteboard and waited for the next question. His mind couldn't get over what he saw. He thought that most people wouldn't make a mistake on such a simple question. It seemed that the people on the stage were not as professional as they thought.

Professor File Folder also seemed a little disappointed. He took a sip from his stainless steel cup and turned his attention to the laptop, not knowing what he was looking at.

The brocade box in the center of the stage was swapped with a smaller one. After the mysterious sound effect, the box slowly opened. It was an ancient book. The host motioned everyone to take a closer look. Lin Yan stood in front of the glass box for a while and returned to his seat to write the next answer: "Genuine, the Southern Opera "White Rabbit" published in the Ming Dynasty, unearthed from the tomb of the Xuan family in Jiading."

He had seen this thing in the Shanghai Museum. Lin Yan thought, this lecture is like an antique appreciation meeting. No wonder it attracted so many people. After they all answered the question, another person left the stage amidst the applause and whistle of the audience, leaving another armchair free.

The questions were asked one by one, gradually getting more and more difficult. A fake yet elaborate sunflower gold hairpin inlaid with gemstones stumped three people, and then a bucket-colour fine-grained water chestnut bucket imitation with a "grinding" technique even had Lin Yan hesitate with his answer. After the authenticity of each item was announced, the professor simply added a few points on the piece, which could count as educating the audience on the topic. The seats were vacated one by one. When the eighth object was brought out, there were only two people left on the stage. Lin Yan glanced to the right, and it was the PSP guy who had toughed it out until the end.

He looked careless, but he didn't expect that he understood the field so well. Lin Yan put his cold palms on his face to cool down and took a long breath as he waited for the next question.

The red jacket skirt girl was holding a delicate paper box in her hand. Instead of showing it to the audience first, she walked over to Lin Yan and the PSP guy, signalling them to come forward. She opened the paper box and carefully took out a fan.

The ink on the front of the golden fan wasn't very visible; it wasn't well-preserved. The ribs of the fan were slightly damaged, and there are signs of water damage on the ink-painted mountains. With this kind of condition, it would be difficult to fetch a good price in a private auction if it wasn't made by a famous artist. But when the inscription on the face of the fan was exposed, Lin Yan and the PSP man couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. On the front, a few lines of the unruly inscription were written on the fan: “Wildwater Bridge Road, The Village of Barren Chickens and Fallen Leaves. Returned to Hou Xidu, The Child Sweeps the Firewood Door." What surprised the two of them were the three small characters following the poem: by Tang Yin.

Lin Yan's heart sped up. If this was Tang Yin's authentic work, then the fan in front of him was worth at least 500,000 yuan. Wasn't he afraid of being robbed bringing such a valuable thing to school? Then a clear picture of the fan was shown on the big screen. As expected by Lin Yan, an exclamation sounded from the audience, and even the host's voice was drowned by the buzzing discussion.

Professor File Folder grew impatient and coughed into the loudspeaker to signal the audience to shift their attention back to the event.

Lin Yan carefully looked at the light brown fan in front of him. He couldn't help but take his time with his answer. Tang Yin's paintings were extremely difficult to distinguish in the field of calligraphy and painting. His style of painting changed throughout his pieces, and he rarely indicated the year on the paintings so it was difficult to guess the painting based on its creation year. Therefore, there were countless counterfeiters and imposters on the market. To be honest, judging this kind of work could only be based on the painting style, date and seal inscription. The most important thing is the eye and inspiration of the connoisseur. Being extremely familiar with the author’s style, the first time he saw the work, he could only make a guess. This wasn't just an answer determined by years of study, but it was also just a luck-based gamble.

In the early years of the founding of the People’s Republic of China, many collectors relied on this ability to make money at auctions overnight, but it was too difficult for students like Lin Yan who hadn’t even finished school. He frowned and thought carefully. Regardless of the painting style, the date and the handwriting of this fan were almost flawless. Although there was a slight deviation from Tang Yin's other landscape paintings, the vigorous and unrestrained spirit of the brush strokes clearly distinguished this piece.

It should be the original one. . . Lin Yan bit on his pen and hesitated. Halfway through writing out his answer, his wrist was suddenly grabbed. Xiao Yu bent down and studied the fan carefully. His fingers lightly tracing the red seal and he seemed surprised. He shook his head at Lin Yan and crossed off the half-written "true" on the whiteboard with his hand.

"After so long, you still haven't figured it out?" PSP guy leaned over to Lin Yan casually with a disdainful expression. Seeing Lin Yan still holding the pen hesitantly, he couldn't help but sneer, "I thought you were so awesome."

The file folder-like professor was staring at his notebook in a daze. Hearing these words, he couldn't help turn his head around and looked at the two with interest. Lin Yan just focused his attention on the painting instead and had forgotten to be nervous. As soon as he raised his head to meet the professor's gaze, his cheeks became hot again. He couldn't help but cry inside. He originally planned to wait for the end of the event to ask the professor backstage regardless of whoever won the contest. Now he feels like he wouldn't be able to ask him anything if he lost to this guy in this activity.

"Hurry up, hurry up." PSP guy tapped the table with a pen and made some muffled noises. "Just go home already, you aren't qualified for this."

When the professor heard this, he couldn't hide his amusement and turned his face to take a sip of water to cover up his expression.

That was rude. He hadn't finished yet. Lin Yan clenched his fist and asked Xiao Yu as quietly as possible: "Are you sure?" Xiao Yu nodded, his pale fingers stroked his throat, and frowned. After a long time, it seemed that it took a lot of effort to say slowly and hoarsely: ". . . I drew it."

Lin Yan's eyes widened. He looked at Xiao Yu in disbelief, and then at the fan. In ancient times, there was no perfect reprinting technology. Famous paintings and calligraphy were often copied by literati and calligraphers. Some were for practice, some were to give to friends. Some were for selling, and the prices of those high-quality copies were even comparable to the originals. But Xiao Yu's counterfeit actually appeared here. . . Wasn't this too much of a coincidence?

"Dude, if you don't know what it is, stop wasting our time." Seeing Lin Yan's hesitation, the PSP guy shook his head impatiently. He lowered his head and continued to play his game, pressing the buttons with his thumb, clicking them loudly.

Lin Yan was also irritated but by this person's attitude. He took a deep breath and wrote his answer on the whiteboard. The crowd in the audience couldn't wait. The people in the nearby seats pointed at the PowerPoint. Someone nodded gently, seeming to recognize the authenticity of the painting.

The sound effect of a gong sounded, and when the host read out the answers of the two, Lin Yan heard a commotion in the audience and even a disdainful sneer from the corner of the room. However, the PSP guy completely ignored the audience’s reaction and crossed his legs. He glanced at Lin Yan, touched the pimples on his face and raised an eyebrow with a chuckle: "You're right, not bad."

The same answer was written on both whiteboards: fake.

The professor showed an appreciative smile on his face for the first time. After he said the right answer, he grabbed the microphone and explained to the audience: "Tang Yin's fan "Xiqiao Going Back to the River", a work made during the Ming Dynasty Chenghua period. The author is unknown. The two students answered correctly."

There was a sigh from the auditorium. This time, most of the people who had thought they were right about their guess couldn't help pointing at the screen to discuss the flaws in the fan. There was even a school official wearing a black suit in the front row who had turned around and argued fiercely with the guests in the back row.

Author unknown? Lin Yan wasn't focusing on the fan, instead looking back at Xiao Yu. His hands still rested on his shoulder, but he didn't respond to anything Professor File Folder was saying. Instead, he frowned as if immersed in memory. He seemed really lost in thought. Lin Yan looked into Xiao Yu's eyes, no longer as wild as a beast like when he first saw him. Now, his dark eyes were like the surface of the river after sunrise, and the turbid fog was slowly burned away in the sun, revealing a hint of clarity from within the chaos.

"Now that the first nine rounds are over, please give your attention to the last round with these two classmates, which is also the most difficult round today." The red jacket skirt girl raised her voice and signalled to something behind her.

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #yaoi #danmei #yaoi novel

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hypnoticwinter · 4 years ago

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Down the Rabbit Hole part 28

A scratchy little voice is crooning in my ear. Major Fracture Detected. Joint Dislocation Detected. Pneumothorax Detected. Blood Loss Detected. Mild Nerve Damage Detected. T. Jacksonii Spore Residue Detected. Diagnosing…acute deceleration injury. Poisoning. Spore inhalation. Begin treatment?

There’s a little friendly dinging tone. Someone near me shifts, and then I feel a warm hand slip into mine momentarily and squeeze. For a second I’m willing to let myself believe it might be Elena, but then I run my thumb lightly over the knuckles pressing against my fingers and give that up right away. This hand is much too soft to be Elena’s.

I try to crack my eyes open but it’s far too bright for that right now. I’m having a little bit of trouble thinking straight. And a little bit of trouble breathing but for whatever reason it feels as though wherever I am right now is very far away and separated from the rest of my body. I can feel a stab of pain on the right side of my chest whenever I take a breath but at the same time it’s as though I’m observing it from such a far distance that it barely is of significance. Maybe it’s happening to someone other than myself.

Begin treatment? the voice repeats and next to me the person holding my hand sighs and says my name. I recognize their voice but not who they are.

“Are you awake?” they ask, and I try to say something but my tongue is very thick and heavy. I swallow hard; my throat hurts.

“Roan,” they say again, “I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m going to have to start the treatment procedure soon, okay? You really did a number on yourself falling off that cliff, and then the spores you’d been breathing in for about three days weren’t helping any.”

I try a little harder to say something but I know it doesn’t come out right.

“This might feel a little weird,” the voice says. Now I do recognize it; it’s Makado.

Begin treatment? The tiny scratchy voice says again and this time Makado shifts next to me and hits the button. There is a hiss and a whine of moving machinery and then a sharp prick in the skin above my hand. I make a little noise, try to move my hand away, but something hard has grabbed onto it and isn’t letting me go.

Sedative administered, the voice says, and then everything fades very quickly. I have just enough consciousness left, circling the drain as it is, to feel Makado’s hand slip from mine, and then I am moving, or rather I am being drawn into something, and then something comes down over my head and cradles my neck. It’s very dark and I feel as though I ought to be afraid, but before I can open my mouth to voice my fears, to scream perhaps, I flutter out entirely.

* * *

I can hear talking. I’m laying in a bed curled over onto my side and in the other room I can hear talking.

My head is remarkably clear. I breathe in deeply and let it gust out slowly through my nose. There is a mild ache in my ribs, nothing more.

“Yes,” Makado says, “I’ve got her. No, she didn’t give me any trouble. She’s pretty beat-up, a kitten could have knocked her out and carried her up to the surface.”

A pause. I open my eyes with an anticipatory wince but the light is cool and grey and clinical, filtering down through a sheet or curtain drawn around the bed; there is a wide-paneled fluorescent set into the ceiling but it’s switched off.

“No,” Makado says, after a pause, then repeats. “No, that won’t be necessary. Just be ready to receive us, that’s all.”

There’s an IV in my hand and the jaw of a heartrate monitor clamped around my finger. I think about it for a moment and then reach down and take it off. The machine the IV feeds into gives an interrogative chirp.

“Yes, I have the handcu - hang on, she’s awake.”

I hear the screech of a chair sliding back along a hard floor and then a door opens and someone comes in.

“Hey,” Makado says softly, and I almost feel like crying. “You okay in here? You awake?”

“Makado,” I breathe, and she pushes back the curtains and sweeps her eyes over me, then blows her breath out.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m – I’m good,” I say, taking a moment to think about it. I sit up a little more fully and yawn. My jaw cracks like a gunshot. “How long was I out for? And what are you –“

Makado laughs. She motions at my legs and I scoot over a little, let her sit down at the foot of the bed. “So, um. You were out for about a day and a half. That’s how long it’s been since you fell off the cliff.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. I brought you down here,” she gestures, “put you into the autodoctor unit that they had, let it do its thing. It isn’t ideal but it uses a ton of ballast, so I figure you probably feel pretty decent, at least. When we get out of here we’ll get you to an actual doctor for a checkup.”

“Autodoctor?”

“It’s an old Anodyne thing,” she says. “DUSA has the last functioning one, they get a little use out of it. Runs off an old AD biocomputer. It was supposed to be for a military contract, put a bunch of them overseas, hard to reach places. Can do surgeries and treatments and diagnose like that,” she says, snapping her fingers. “Not a lot of flexibility, though. But plans fell through of course and the few that were left are museum pieces now. The one they’ve got here is the last working one.”

I chew on that for a moment. “DUSA?” I ask finally.

“Oh, right. This place,” she says, gesturing. “Dura Urgens Staging Area. DUSA. Some people call it Medusa. As like, a pun.”

“That doesn’t really help me understand what it is.”

Makado nods. She reaches up and runs a hand through her hair; I’m busy watching her eyes. Something about this place is important, I think; something here means something to her.

“Below us,” she says finally, “about eighty or a hundred meters down, is the largest known nerve bulbule in the Pit. There might be others someplace else, someplace deeper, someplace we haven’t explored yet, but this is the biggest one we know of. The Pit doesn’t have a brain the way you or I do. Whatever common ancestor it shared with humans, if it ever had one, was so far back that it was before the development of the central nervous system. The Pit uses a distributed nervous system instead; it has nerve bulbs all over the place and they handle reflexive and autonomous reactions for the general area that they’re in. Then, you move deeper by another five hundred meters and you find another bulb. It’s like a web, or a road network, and all of these bulbs are the cities.”

“But this one below us is the biggest.”

“Yes. That doesn’t mean it’s the main one, just that it’s…bigger. Handles more things. And DUSA – well, there’s a reason that they put it right over the big one.”

I blink at her. “Wait, is this where the - ?”

“The Contingency Plan?” she says, clearly saying the words with big important Capital Letters. “Yeah. That’s here. This is the facility for it.”

Something about the way she grins at me makes me shudder. I think back to the story Peter had told me – god, poor Peter – and his horrible descriptions of the way that the contingency had fucked their brains. I look at the woman before me, at the mottled flesh beneath her eyepatch and the hearing aids poking their heads out of her ears, at the acid burns and digestion marks lining her arms like vitiligo, and I can’t reconcile her tiny excited smile with the picture I had of her when Peter was telling me about her.

I blow out a big sigh and flop back in the hospital bed. There’s a warning twinge in my ribs and I wince; Makado picks up on it instantly. “You alright? Do you need anything?”

“No, I just – how was that thing able to fix me so fast?”

She shrugs. “Lots of ballast. The tank was still nearly full when we got here, it used a few gallons on you it looked like.”

Again I shudder. I’m trying not to think back to the horrible, terrifying crawl through the tight, sucking, fleshy tube to the ballast bulb, about the abject terror I had felt when Crookshank had crawled in there with me.

Crookshank…he’d be dead now, almost certainly. I realize that I don’t remember seeing him die, I don’t remember what happened to him. My memory of the attack down in the barrows is just streaks of gunfire sliding by my faceplate, the rhythmic, chest-squeezing thundering of the slug rifles, and the shrieks of the copepods. I wonder for a moment whether I’m going to have PTSD, whether I’ll ever be able to eat lobster again. I shake my head.

“Mak, this is fucked.”

“What is?”

“This whole – this whole thing. This is –“

“Relax,” she says, putting a hand on mine. I can feel the cool, clammy skin on the inside of her palm where the acid had burned her. It feels like something that’s been microwaved about twice as long as it needed to be and then let to cool down and I have to stop my lip from curling. “It’s not active. Not yet, anyway. Once we get that crystal back we can go about getting it carved down and –“

“I don’t think that crystal’s going to be an option any more.”

I tell her, briefly, about what happened after Erica and Marcus had ambushed us, how they had shot the Sergeant, how they had shot Elena and gotten us separated. “Do you know where she is?” I ask, realizing with a faint feeling of guilt that I hadn’t asked already.

Makado stares at me. “Who?”

I blink. “Elena. I don’t know where she is, did she – did she make it out?” The thought of Elena laying there hurting somewhere in some throbbing corridor of this place is almost too much for me to bear. Or worse, laying there dead –

I break the thought off like a plank of rotten wood. She is not dead. She can’t be.

I almost missed the calculating look that had flashed across Makado’s eye, and I realize I’ve grabbed onto her arm rather tightly. I let go but even so I can’t stop myself from biting my lip out of sheer worry. “She’s fine,” Makado says finally.

“She is?”

“Yeah. She came stumbling into Control a few days ago, they got her up to the surface, far as I know she’s still in the infirmary. That’s how I knew to come down and get you, she told us what was going on.”

“Oh thank god,” I blurt. I hug my knees to my chest and squeeze my eyes shut. She’s okay, I tell myself. I can feel the tears coming but at least this time they’re out of relief. After a moment I hear Makado sigh again and then she shifts closer to me and puts her arm around me.

“You must really like her,” Makado ventures after a moment. I laugh but it comes out as more of a sniff.

“Yeah,” I say after a moment. “Yeah, I think I – I do, yeah.”

For a short while it feels as though Makado doesn’t know what to say. Then finally she shakes her head. “I’m sorry,” she tells me.

“For what?”

“For dragging you into this,” she says. “I never thought that all of this would happen, it was going to be just routine,” she says, massaging her temples. “The copepods, they never would have done anything if it wasn’t for the damn Leechman, they never would have attacked, nobody would have had to die…”

“It isn’t something you could have predicted,” I say gently. Makado continues on as though I hadn’t spoken.

“And then Erica, goddam Erica, Christ…”

“She was doing what she thought was the right thing,” I say. “I don’t think she meant for things to go the way they did.”

“That doesn’t really make it any better,” she groans. I think about Peter again and wish fervently that he were here. I lean back and navigate my arm around so that now I’m the one holding Makado.

“I’m sorry about Peter,” I tell her.

Makado is utterly silent. She’s looking away from me, over into the other room. I can see the muscles at the base of her jaw working as she grinds her teeth. For a moment, just a moment, I get a feeling of foreboding. She seems horribly angular and purposeful and mean all of a sudden, sitting there at the foot of the bed like an axe about to fall on me. I start to say something else but she looks over at me and nods. Her eyes are very hard.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too. It sounded like a rotten way to die.” I look over at Makado, look at her carefully. She glances over at me after a moment. “What?”

“Nothing,” I say finally. I swing off of the bed, get up and stretch. “I feel good,” I observe.

“Yeah,” Makado says, rising to her feet as well. “With that much ballast in your system you’ll probably be riding pretty high for a couple of days at least. Now, be careful though, because –“

“What are we going to do about the FBI?” I ask her. I undo the hospital gown and let it fall, gaze down at myself. There’s a ragged weal of a scar along my ribs on the right side but it already looks long-healed. I put my weight down on my other foot and nearly stumble. Makado gets up and rushes to me but I caught myself on the railing around the cot.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, my leg, it –“

“I was going to tell you,” she says. “The autodoc wasn’t able to set it properly. You’d fallen on a calcium deposit and your tibia and fibula broke. It cleaned out the fragments of bone but there wasn’t enough left to just set it and let it heal, so it put in a synthetic replacement, used ballast to meld your skin and muscle around it, but that leg is going to be weak for a long time.”

I sit back on the bed, reach down and feel the leg. It doesn’t feel much different but whatever caused the weakness is still lurking inside there, maybe a muscle not connected properly, maybe something else. I can feel a dull, bone-deep throb of pain, steady and regular and hard-edged, just waiting to boil up to the surface the second I put a foot wrong. I shake my head.

“I’m going to need like, a boot or something. If we have to climb out of here –“

“We’ll figure it out, it’s okay. I just wanted to tell you before you, you know, figured that you were totally fine.”

“What about this?” I ask, turning to her, pointing to the scar across my ribcage. “I know that wasn’t there.”

“Just repair work on a rib, I think. I read the summary it spat out after it was done but I’m pretty sure it didn’t reinflate your lung by going through your rib cage.”

“Jesus Christ,” I murmur, craning my neck and squinting down at it.

“Are you breathing alright?”

With only a little trepidation I take a deep breath and hold it, then let it blow out long and slow. There’s a little pain when I hold it, in the right lung only, and then as I’m nearing the tail end of the breath it rattles somewhere deep down, but I shake my head. “A little rough but it’s okay.”

“You need to know that you’re still a little, you know, doped up. Ballast would have kept most of the pain down and kept your head pretty clear but that’s going to come back with a vengeance if you overdo it.”

I nod. “Alright, I get it. Take it easy for probably the next year or so.”

“There’s an extra jumpsuit over on that chair.”

And so I get dressed, and eat a nutrient bar and Makado shows me around DUSA. I have to hang on to her every now and then when my leg threatens to buckle beneath me but she bears it without complaint and lets me hobble around with my arm around her shoulder like we’re old friends.

DUSA looks just like all of the other ranger stations I’ve been in so far, if maybe a little cleaner. She shows me the door to the room that has the big scary capital-letter Contingency Plan inside of it, but even though I ask she won’t let me in to see it.

Outside the inch-thick windows the Pit’s flesh is squeezed tight against the walls. A few small stents hold it back here and there to let a metal gantry and corridor file through and out into a vent but otherwise it’s like this place was just cut open and the small lozenge shape of DUSA was slipped in and then the Pit grew back around it. Unlike some of the other ranger stations this one is tall rather than wide, maybe four or five floors of various facilities. There’s a dormitory, a kitchen and eating area, the small infirmary with the autodoctor, now revealed as a squat, many-legged machine a little like an MRI machine and a metal octopus had a baby, and on the fourth floor room after room of workstations with dark screens and dusty keyboards. Servers lie dark and dormant, tucked against the walls and tied down with cloth straps.

We end up sitting on the roof of the place, after Makado opens the hatch and lets a ladder telescope down from the recessed sheath it was hiding in. She helps me up it methodically and then we’re there, the fleshy wall of the ceiling barely a dozen feet above our heads. It gives me a sense of disorientation somehow, like I’ve just crawled upside down from the bottom of DUSA and am now standing with my feet glued to the ceiling, staring down at the floor. I blink hard and it passes.

Makado leans out over the railing and groans. “Everything’s fucked,” she growls. “This whole place ought to be full of people, getting things ready for when that crystal gets here. Instead it’s just me and – and you.” She’d gotten more and more pessimistic the further into our little tour we’d gone. I reach over and put my arm around her. She stiffens when I touch her and then seems to relax. I feel rather comradely, I feel like laughing. I guess I had convinced myself that I was going to die and now that I’ve received an unexpected reprieve I can’t hardly believe it.

“It’ll be okay,” I tell her. “What’s going on with the FBI?”

“Admin’s stalling them, but they’ll come back with a writ or a warrant or something and when they get their hands on our files there’ll be some shit. Right now they’re fighting with the DoI guys over jurisdiction, I think.”

“DoI?”

“Department of the Interior,” she says, waving her hand. “Normally that’d be who would handle this type of thing, they’re in charge of National Parks, but the FBI want in because this isn’t a park any more, I think technically it’s a preserve or something and that’s different…somehow. Not sure on that one.”

I nod. I start to say something else but Makado heaves a huge sigh, glances sidelong at me. “There might be some trouble but I think we’ll be able to get you out of it,” she tells me, and I laugh.

“I’m more worried about you. Klaus said they were gunning for you, that you were going to go down hard.”

She rolls her eyes. “We’ll have to see,” she says. “Especially if he’s dead, it might be a little more difficult for that to happen.”

I get a little wrench in my stomach as she says it but I swallow hard and let it pass. I did what I had to and if I hadn’t I would be dead.

I wonder for how long after this I’m going to be seeing that grin and that knife in my dreams.

“So he was a mole, then?” I ask. “That’s basically what he was saying.”

“I don’t think so,” she says. “He’s been here for a long time, Klaus has. I don’t think he ever was, you know, an undercover FBI agent or anything, I think he was just their guy on the inside. An informant. I read his personnel file, he’s an ex-con. It makes sense that there was someone giving them information but…” she trails off. “It’s hard to say,” she finishes. “It’s too bad, though. Too bad we didn’t get that crystal. We could have done a lot of good with it. If they just hadn’t shattered the first one…”

We sit there on the roof of DUSA for a long while, until Makado finally groans and gets to her feet. I glance up at her and then take the offered hand, let her pull me up. “What happens now?” I ask.

“Now?” she laughs. “Now we get out of here.”

* * *

Getting out is easier than getting in. Makado gets me into a ranger suit and we march off into the wet, tumescent depths of the Pit. Except, as Makado explains to me, we aren’t nearly as deep as I think. DUSA is far higher depth-wise than the dense fungal hell I thought I was going to die in. When I asked her how I had gotten here, then, she explained, as though it were simple, that she had just taken an IAV.

Peter had mentioned them briefly, the acronym standing for something like ‘Internal Anatomy Vehicle’ or similar. I’d even seen some, parked down below in the meager garage at the control center, what feels like ages ago, lurking like snub-nosed, aerodynamic lozenges, there in the dark. But here is one of them, its big chunky wheels soaked in gore, its prow stained red from apparent hours pushing panicked through venterial folds, rushing to DUSA with me in the passenger seat, strapped in as tightly as Makado had dared.

“It was tight,” she tells me. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it. I went as fast as I possibly could but it was still a near thing.”

“It was those fucking lizards down there,” I mutter. “I touched one, they’re covered in some kind of – poisonous goop, I don’t know what –“

“Yeah. The autodoc scrubbed your system and breathing clean air for long enough got the spores out as well, but you’re just riding on the ballast right now,” she reminds me, pressing a combination on a keypad near the low-slung waist of the vehicle and then stepping back to let the hatch open. It smells like oil and disinfectant but I clamber in eagerly. The interior is space-age, or at least it would have been in the 90s or so. The interior lights are all in red for some reason; when I ask Makado about it she explains it’s to help maintain low-light vision while still letting you see. When she grins at me her teeth reflect back cherry-stained and I have to shake my head to keep from thinking of it as blood. She looks carnivorous, hungry, frightening.

The ride is bumpy but uneventful. Once Makado flattens something that looks like an overgrown louse the size of a small pig. It shrieks as the wheels crunch over it. I glance over at her and she shrugs. “We’re in a hurry,” she explains.

After that we lapse into a comfortable silence that grows slowly more frosty the closer we get to the Control Center. I can see it approaching on the three-dimensional map readout on the dashboard, a blinking line of waypoints leading us back to the garage. Makado’s answers become shorter and shorter and eventually I just stop trying to make conversation at all. She’s just tired, I tell myself.

After we park Makado helps me out of the IAV and guides me up a set of stairs and into the Center. My leg twinges a little whenever I really put weight on it but if I limp it isn’t nearly as bad. The stairs are rough though, and I have to cling on to her and take them one step at a time just to get up them.

Over the last hour of driving or so I developed a little bit of a headache but when I mentioned it to Makado she nodded and explained it was probably just the ballast starting to wear off. It’d keep me going for a while longer but I’d need to rest and let my body heal. I had grinned. “Fine with me,” I told her, and she offered me a faint smile and then turned her attention back to the wet, bloody folds ahead of us, nudging the nose of the IAV through one muscular ribbed sphincter at a time.

The stairs take us to sort of a tool room or machine shop, and then we pass out into a hallway and then up some stairs that I recognize. Beyond the next inch-thick submarine-style door is the control room, still as messy as a few days ago, with two or three of the geeks present before still in residence. They look up when Makado enters but make no comment other than a perfunctory greeting or two; clearly we’re expected. Then I step into the room and catch nothing but eyeballs.

One of the nerds frowns. “Wait,” he asks Makado, staring at me, “is that…?”

I start to answer but Makado nods, shuffling me along with her hand in the small of my back. “Yes, it is,” she assures him, but the look he gives me after she does so is more than a little confusing. I glance at Makado but before I can say anything there is a burst of pain in my leg that forces a groan from my lips and makes me stumble. Makado catches me before I fall and then I’m good again. My leg feels like it’s made of glass, or rather that it’s two glass blocks stacked on top of each other, and if I’m not extremely careful about how and where I put my weight they slide apart and the most excruciating -

“You okay?” she asks, and I nod.

“Yeah,” I grunt. “Once I’m out of here I will be.”

“They already called the elevator down,” she tells me. “I radioed ahead for us. Twenty minutes and you’re through.”

“And I can see Elena?” I ask. I feel a little like a baby saying it but it just tumbled out when I opened my mouth to say something a little less pathetic like ‘thank goodness’ or similar. Makado stiffens next to me fractionally, and I frown. “Are you –“

“Yes, you can see Elena.”

We hobble out of the control room and down the corridor to the gondolas. I don’t even know how to feel; I don’t even know what time it is, whether or not it’ll be light out. Something about the way Makado took too long to answer has me worried, though, and I glance over at the woman as we make our halting way towards the waiting gondola car.

Her jaw is clenched tight and though I can’t see her one good eye from the side I’m on, I can see her brow is downcast and furrowed. I lick my lips and try to quell the sudden stab of fear that’s gone through me. “Mak, is Elena…is she okay?”

Makado opens the door to the gondola and helps me inside. “She’s fine,” she tells me. “Just try to rest. Sit down on the floor if you need to.”

As soon as she says it, as if on cue, a wave of exhaustion passes through me and it’s all I can do to keep myself standing. Makado shuts the door and fiddles with the controls for a moment and then with a sickening lurch we’re moving upwards, and with the motion it’s as though all the tension exits my body. Even the twinging in my calf doesn’t seem quite as bad now that we’re moving. I look at Makado and she offers me a tight smile. “See?” she says. “We’ll get you out of here soon.”

“And Elena’s alright?”

Makado doesn’t meet my eyes. “She’s fine,” she tells me again, but the way she says it just makes me worry more.

“Do you promise?” I ask her. She looks up from her wrist computer.

“Hmm?”

“Do you promise,” I say slowly, “that Elena’s alright?”

Makado stares at me and I see something dark and unnameable shifting behind her one remaining eye. After what feels like entirely too long she nods. “Say it,” I prompt her. “Please.” I know it’s irrational and stupid but the way she’s acting is like she’s hiding something from me, it’s like she’s –

“Roan, calm down,” she says. Her voice is smooth and serene. “Elena’s fine.”

“Promise me she is,” I whisper.

Makado takes what feels like a moment longer to respond than she should. “Okay,” she says finally. “I promise.”

“Okay,” I say. I try to will myself back to the relaxed, relieved state I’d been in as soon as the gondola had started moving, but I can’t find it. Makado’s put enough worry into me that I feel like a spiky ball of it, hard-edged and serrated. I eventually do take her advice and sit on the floor and rest a while.

I try to make conversation with her but the answers she gives me are flat and eventually we both let it peter out. I assume she’s nervous about the FBI and the investigation I’m sure she’ll go through. I already told her on the way up that I didn’t mind hanging around and giving a statement or whatever else they need exactly, but it barely seemed to make an impact on her. Maybe it’s Peter, and if it is, I don’t know what to say to her that could possibly make it better.

But I go ahead and stick my foot in my mouth anyway. “Mak,” I say, breaking the – well, not silence exactly, for the grinding and swaying of the gondola is far from quiet, but my words still seem overly loud inside the car, “are you okay?”

She blows a breath out and looks at me. She starts to say something, then stops. “I’m sorry,” she ends up telling me, and I frown.

“What for?” I ask. “I know it didn’t – it didn’t go how it was supposed to but none of it was your fault, you couldn’t have predicted –“

“No,” she says. Her voice has a catch to it as though she might start crying. “It isn’t that. It’s – look, can I show you something?”

“Sure.” I’ve got no clue where she’s going with this. Outside the window I can see the first hint of real sunlight that I’ve glimpsed in probably about four or five days, pouring down into the Pit like an orange cascade. It’s far-off and dim but it’s real. Looks to be somewhere around the middle of the day or so. Makado reaches down for me and with her help I manage to clamber to my feet. I’m still a little unsteady on the right leg but I think it’s getting better. I think I just needed to rest it for a while. “What is it?”

“I’ll show you,” she says. “Turn around real quick.”

“What are you –“

“Just do it,” she nods. Her eyes flick over to the window then back to me. “You’ll miss it.”

So of course I turn, not thinking anything of it. I hear her shift and then come and stand just behind me. There’s a clink of metal, a small subtle sound. I don’t see anything out the window.

I start to glance back at her and then she grabs my wrist and tugs it backwards and snaps half of a pair of handcuffs around it. “What!” I blurt, jerking away from her before she can grab my other hand. Her face is tight and calculating.

“Give me your fucking hand,” she snarls.

“Makado, what the fuck –“

She punches me. I see it coming but I don’t react in time. Her fist slams into my gut and the breath whooshes out of me in one go, folds me over like a pressed shirt. I reach for her and try to slap her back but she grabs my hand and then she’s got me by the wrist – her grip is like iron. I bring my leg up and knee her in the hip and she grunts, but then she draws her leg back and kicks me in my newly repaired calf and the explosion of pain is so intense that I scream. I draw my leg back and falter and then fall to the floor, landing heavily on my elbow, and then Makado grabs me and heaves me over onto my stomach, jarring my leg again and forcing another scream from between my teeth as she cuffs the other wrist.

“What the fuck!” I yell, as soon as I’ve caught my breath.

“I’m sorry,” she says, breathing heavily, smoothing off the front of her suit. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“You fucking bitch!” I shriek. “You fucking bitch, get me out of these fucking cuffs!”

“It wasn’t anything personal,” she says, sounding more like she’s trying to convince herself than she is trying to convince me.

“You bitch!” I say again. I apparently become rather uninventive when I get stabbed in the back. Makado growls, a low wordless snarl, and then rolls me over onto my back. The cuffs cut into my wrists, sandwiched between myself and the floor, and I cry out.

“Shut the fuck up,” she tells me. Her voice is icy calm and that scares me more than anything else she could have said. “I have to give someone to the FBI. I have to let someone take the fall.”

I open my mouth to say something and she puts her booted foot over my throat and presses down gently. I can feel the blunt cleats on the bottom dig into my neck. I try to wriggle away but she just puts a little more of her weight onto it and then I can’t breathe and so I stop, staring at her desperately, hoping she has the sense not to choke me.

“There is too much at stake right now,” she says, “for me to go down for something as fucking stupid as human trafficking. Especially when my contribution was just looking the other way. So you’re going to go down for me. That’s all. There’s still a chance I can get that crystal back but I won’t be able to if I’m rotting in a federal prison somewhere.”

She takes her foot off my throat and I heave the air in while I still can. “Tell me,” I wheeze. Makado looks down at me. “Tell me you weren’t lying about Elena. Tell me she’s okay.”

Makado is silent for a long while. “I lied,” she says finally, in a small voice. “I knew you wouldn’t come with me if you thought she was still in the Pit. I don’t know where she is or if she’s alive. The tracker in her suit is dead and nobody’s heard from her in three days.”

The gondola grinds to a halt and the doors hiss open, and sunlight and fresh air pour in. I hardly notice. Makado steps over me and walks out while I lay there, my hands cuffed behind my back, bawling my eyes out, and then three men with badges and pistols come in and pick me up and carry me off somewhere. I don’t notice where, I don’t see it. All I can see, my eyes squeezed shut in a vain attempt to keep the tears from leaking out, is Elena, poor Elena, trapped somewhere at the bottom of the Pit and calling out my name, not knowing I’ll never come.

Continue with Part 29

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#mystery flesh pit #writing #writeblr #alt lit #spilled ink #mystery #thriller #original writing #caving #disaster #Michael Crichton

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chandelier-s-notebook · 4 years ago

Text

Hello Internet! So I wrote a stylized transcript of events from @moonbowphobia and @mcyt-apocalypse-au‘s wedding the other day. I apologize from the deepest place in my heart if I messed up anyone’s pronouns.

I hope you enjoy my little rendition of events.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Moon was sat in their dressing room; deep blue and black ball gown splayed over the loveseat while their sister Chandelier put the last finishing touches to their hair; Vi and Rib playing cards on the floor; Vibes trying to keep the vodka away from Aria; the chaos was comforting, but Moon was nervous. It was their wedding day. They would be marrying the love of their life, Abi.

“Help! I’m scared!”

“Take a deep breath.” Moon did as Vibes instructed, taking a deep breath in, and letting it out slowly. “You love Abi. She loves you. You’re going to be fine.”

“Am I though? Rib help!”

“Am I not help enough?” Vibes joked.

“No, of course you’re helping. I just nee-“

Vi slaps them across the face. “YOU LOVE HER BITCH JUST KISS HER CMON!”

Chandelier whips around to push Vi back to the floor. “Play your card game. That’s not helping, nor how weddings work.”

Moon laughs at their sister’s antics. At least someone is calm. “I got one of Lu’s cupcakes!” Vibes calls, skidding back into the room. When did they leave? “Here.”

“Thank you,” Moon reaches for the treat. Biting into it and eating with vigor.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes.” Moon polishes off the cupcake. “Oh go! Two minutes.”

“Bitch calm down!” Aria says, shaking her best friend by the shoulders.

“Ah yes. The drunk friend always calms people down.” Vibes let the sarcasm seep into their voice, trading a look with Chandelier.

Chandelier goes about shooing Aria and Vi out the door; trusting that Vibes will follow and keep them in line. She brushes the crumbs off of her sibling’s jet black skirt and fixes their headpiece one final time. “You will be fine Moon. Everything will go well. You don’t have to worry about a thing. Let me do that.”

“Okay. Thank you Lier.”

“Anytime.” Lier beckons Rib to follow them out to the altar. Rib grabs the pillow and rings and skips after them, careful not to step on Moon’s train.

Vibes is already at the podium. Moon and Rib set themselves off to the left side. Lier fixes their midnight blue embellished train as they take in the crowd.

Fenn is in the corner playing something on her switch and Vi is on the opposite side doing the same. Ozzie is sitting with the rest of their siblings, trying to waggle them into compliance; their every expression screaming ‘this is fine’ in a deadpan tone.

“Please help,” Moon whispers to the ether.

“It’s okay.” Lier squeezes their shoulder before tucking one of Rib’s stray hairs away and going to calm the masses.

“I’m sure Abi is just as worried at you are,” Vibes consoles.

Aria runs from behind the bar with a glass. “Drink this vodka mix and calm down.”

“Thank you,” Moon gushes, taking the glass from their best friend’s hands. Only for it to be swiped away when Lier comes to collect Aria and get her in place, so the wedding can start. Moon is thankful for their sibling, but they really wanted that drink.

They see Vi run out and down the drink in Lier’s hand before she can stop her. Lier sat Aria down and started to whisper lecture to her niece. Or what looked like whisper lecturing.

Lightly slapping Lynn’s hand away from the cupcakes, Lier goes to put the glass away. Moon watches Lynn sprint to the other dressing room. Looks like Abi needed a snack as well.

Lier pokes her head into Abi’s room. She comes out and locks eye with Moon, giving them a little thumbs up. Moon takes a deep breath, looks at Rib and zeir comforting smile. They give Lier a nod. She cues Star to start playing the wedding march.

Des comes out first, throwing roses Lier procured on the floor. She goes to sit next to Aria in the front row. “God fuck, why am I getting nervous,” Aria whispered to the older girl.

Then comes Tabz in all her glory. She nods to Moon and goes to stand on Abi’s side of the altar.

The first section of the song ends. There are a few seconds of silence before the piano resumes and Abi turns the corner. She walks down the aisle gracefully, her white off-the-shoulder cape flapping gently behind her. Moon can’t keep the smile off of their face.

Neither can Abi. She’s smiling wildly; the only thing keeping her from tripping on her face is the sturdy arm of her father right beside her. Sooty lets go of her hand as she takes her place next to Tabz.

Moon slowly nudges the mask off of their face; showing their visage to Abi, but hiding it from the audience. They smile at each other and Vibes starts to speak.

“Today, we are here to unite Moon and Abi together.”

Moon can see Aria trying not to cry out of their peripheral vision. They hear someone cracking open a can, of course, was it Corn?

“Moon,” Vibes asks. “Do you promise to never give Abi up, never let her down, never run around, and desert her?”

“I promise.”

“Abi. Do you promise to never make Moon cry. Never say goodbye, never tell a lie and hurt them?”

“I do.”

“Moon, do you take Abi to be the ‘yee’ to your ‘haw’?”

“I take Abi to be the ‘yee’ to my ‘haw’.”

"Abi, do you take Moon to be the kazoo noise to your Mono?"

“I do take Moon to be the kazoo noise to my Mono.”

“Then with the blessing of this church, I now pronounce you partners for life. May I have the rings?”

Rib scurries to present the golden pillow to Vibes. “Yes,” ze says, tears in the corners of zeir eyes.

Abi grins and reaches of Moon’s hands, slipping the ring of their finger. Moon does the same for Abi.

"May these rings be a sign of love and faithfulness in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Head, shoulders, knees and toes. Turn up your nose, strike that pose. Hey Macarena. Y'all may now kiss."

Moon cups Abi’s face, both have tears in their eyes. Moon brings Abi in for a kiss, thankful that the mask is still there keeping this moment private for the prying eyes of the audience.

Star starts to play Megalovania as the attendants applaud to newlywed couple. The song continues as everyone files out of the ceremony room to the reception hall. Purple light flooded the room, the guest sat in round tables of eight according to the seating chart. String lights hanging from the rafters to look like stars in the night sky.

Unnie was ferrying food from the kitchen to the guests. Aria was handing out drinks to whoever came up for one. She was about to give Rib one, but with one glare from Lier, Rib got an apple juice.

The room was filled with sounds as everyone ate and got drunk. Aria pulled Moon to the dance floor after handing out vodka shots to Vi and Corn. Abi stumbles out onto the dance floor as well, laughing and having a good time.

Vibes comes over to Lier and offers her a glass of champagne. They clink their glasses together. It was a good show they pulled off.

“So how are you doing these last few days, buddy?” Corn gave Rib her shot glass, sticking her tongue out at Lier who was glaring over the rim of her drink.

“Congrats on your wedding! I hope your marriage lasts for three hours!” Vi yells at her parents, leaning heavily on her fiancée’s arm on her way to get more drinks with.

“Fuck off Vi!” Abi screams back, content to keep dancing with Moon.

Lynn backs into a corner, drinking her apple juice and watching the scene in amusement. She is the first to the tower of cupcakes. “Cake!”

“Cake!” Aria screams.

Star agrees with the drunk one, “Cake time!”

“Cake!” Vi barrels passed everyone, not caring who she knocked over. “Sugar rush Violet activating!”

Corn silently takes half of the cupcakes with her. Batting Vibes’ hands away when they try to stop her. Lier helps Unnie dish out an equal number of cupcakes to everyone else.

Once everyone was satiated, Rib and Lier broke into the pile of pizza boxes. Pizza is a good substitute for cake; what are you talking about?

Then it was time for gifts. Rib gave zer parents a switchblade, embellished with a motif of leaves and wooden paneling, and a beautiful floral metal necklace. Lier gave them a coaster with Moon’s mask design on it, and a handmade Technoblade plush toy. Aria gave them a set of moonstone chokers.

The couple loved them so very much. Hugging each of the gift givers in turn, they thanked each one.

Then the two backed away from the crowd to exchange gift with each other away from the audience. They started screaming I love yous to each other shortly thereafter.

Everything was calming down a little, so Vibes started to play Blitz Parody by Technoblade on the piano while Lier sung and botches along with a chord chart and a ukulele. Then Aria played Highway to Hell on the drum set, Vibes singing this time.

Once they were done, Vi grabbed her guitar and started playing The L’Manburg anthem. It became a drunk sing along, with Rib, Abi, and Vi herself joining in. Both Star and Corn joined in for the “Fuck Eret” line.

“I’m gonna cry,” Moon said, watching the scene in front of her.

“Don’t cry love,” Abi consoled, halting her singing.

“What’s wrong?” Vibes asked.

Lier came over with a tissue. “Happy tears?”

“Happy tears.”

“It all started on a day like any other!” Corn yelled in tune.

And they’re off again. Singing an Ode To L’Manburg.

Abi throws the bouquet at them. Vibes manages to catch it. Vi bites their arm in retaliation. Berl drags Vi away kicking and screaming.

“With a heart that she’d taken from me,” Star continues to sing the song in the background with Rib.

“Moony honey, are you okay?”

“This was beautiful.”

“It is! It’s lovely.” The two smile, just looking at the crowd.

Vi raises her shot over her head, standing on a table. “A toast to Moon and Abi, who I bet will divorce by December.”

“A toast to kicking Vi to the curb,” Lier mutters. Having given up on keeping people from hurting themselves, she again clinks glasses with Vibes again.

“Vi you are on a timeout you fucking little shit.” Abi yells.

“I bet they’ll do it by the month after October.”

“Rib!” Corn whacks zer across the back of zeir head.

Vibes goes to distract. “Let’s all have another round!”

“Moon it’s okay. C’mere.” Abi brings her partner in for a hug, before they murder two of their children.

Moon returns the hug as Aria screams in shock. “Guy this fucking wall is talking to me!”

“Aria that’s it. Time to go home. You are to drunk,” Vi says, slurring her words.

“Aria! Go home,” Abi yells. “I love you Moony,” she says quieter.

“I love you too.”

“No! Me staying her with ma best friend Moon!” Aria screams back; to the wall instead of the people. Huh. Maybe she should go home.

“A toast,” Vibes holds up their glass. “A proper one. For Abi and Moon; may they live happily ever after!”

“May they live ever after!” Star cheers.

“Cheers I guess…” Corn says, not sure what’s going on anymore. Too many drunk people.

“Cheers bitches!” Aria says, getting dragged by her legs while Vi yelled at her.

“Go. Home. You. Are. Drunk.”

“Vi, no.” Lier goes to dislodge the two. “Let Aria stay here with me.”

“Aria you want to come with me?” Vibes asks. “I have some ice.”

“She will be fine in my sight.”

Abi stares into Vi’s soul. “Put her down.”

“Okay mom.”

Aria’s feet drop to the floor and she just lays there. “No, I want to stay with Lier.”

“I love ice!” Rib calls from the other end of the room, where ze is standing really close to a vase.

A drunken Moon then starts giving out food from the kitchen people. Unnie decides that they don’t get paid enough to care.

Aria looks to Lier. “But I want ice.”

“Then get up. You can come with me to the ice machine.” The two of them go to where Rib and Vi are munching quietly with Star.

“Y’all can see the walls moving right?” Aria asks again.

“Uh, yeah, sure Aria. They’re doing jumping jacks and everything.” Abi says, grabbing a handful of ice for herself.

“Aria, I think I’m seeing that walls talk too,” Vi said way too loudly for their proximity.

Rib turned back to the vase. “So, ya come here often?” Ze was slurring zeir words all over the place.

“Aria sit down. Rib are you flirting that was vase?” Lier facepalmed.

“Yes Vi! They are talking!”

Lier stands up, leaving them to it. “I’m getting the hose,” she muttered to Vibes on her way out. “If I remember correctly Abi said arson was allowed after the ceremony.”

“These guys are so weak to alcohol, let’s hope they forget that.”

Vi knocks over Rib’s vase while talking to the walls with Aria. “Ooh! Mango!” She them proceeds to eat some.

“NOOOOO!” Rib cries. “My beloved!”

Vibes rushes over to get Vi to cough it up.

“Vi how could you!” Rib shouts.

“Cronch. Tasty.”

Aria picks that moment to start playing the death metal to get some good head banging. Abi tries to hold in her laugh, but can’t. Rib starts sobbing in an ugly drunken fashion, bopped zeir head as well.

“Well at least no one is hurt yet,” Vibes says when Lier returns with the hose.

Star is still sitting to the side, drinking her apple juice quietly now that their’s no songs within her vocal range to sing.

“Let’s do Coke!” Aria suggests.

“No. Aria. No.” Lier stands right in Aria’s face. “I will literally make a PowerPoint on why that’s a bad idea.”

“Yeah! Coke!” Vi cheers, but Aria is already trying to shush her.

“No. No. Coke.”

“Why?” Vi complains.

“You ate my future wife!” Rib yells.

Lier muttered a question to herself. “Is me holding the threat of an informative PowerPoint really enough to stop Aria?”

“It’s okay. I’m good. Sorry Lier. OMG no. No PowerPoint necessary!”

“Smile on nod,” Lier said to herself.

“PowerPoints are scary,” Aria explained.

“No they aren’t,” Abi piped up.

“Do you want her to do coke?”

Abi paused to take in the question. “PowerPoints are terrifying,” she says deadpan.

“Any song requests?” Star asked when the death metal ended.

“Something sad,” Rib said, “because that’s how I feel. I feel betrayed and backstabbed.”

“Could you do ‘Cost of the Crown’ for me?”

“Wait there’s a crown!” Abi jumped up. “I want a crown!”

Abi was very clearly drunk, so Vibes handed over a paper crown before she hurt herself.

“POG!”

“By a sibling no less!” Rib continued to scream.

“Shuddup out prick!”

“Shut up, murderer!”

As this conversation continues, Star starts to play ‘Let it Go’ on the piano. Abi and Vibes are dueling, not half badly, but defiantly in the wrong key.

“Fuck you! You murdered my beloved!”

“I’ll do it again fucker!”

“She ate my wife!”

“Rib and Violet. Calm. Down.” Vibes went to stand between them.

“It’s only a vase, calm down,” Ai adds.

“I WILL NOT CALM!”

“Rib calm down, Moon and I will get you another.”

“It wasn’t just a vase! It was the mother of my future children!”

“I’ll fix her if you calm down,” Abi reasoned.

“Okay. I’m calm. Fix her please.”

“I’ll fix her tomorrow, don’t you worry kiddo,” Abi soothed.

“Don’t worry, she’s not gone yet,” Vibes said. “Just sleep for now Rib, she’ll be okay.”

“She’ll be even shinier than the day you met her kiddo, don’t you worry!”

Lier came over with a glass of ice. “Have some water before you dose off on us.”

“Yay!” ze said sleepily. “Ice.”

Lier starts putting the pieces into a large Ziplock bag.

“Are y’all gonna do some necromancy?! No!” Vi them process to charge at Lier, pushing her over and breaking the pieces into even smaller ones.

“Vi,” Lier falls back into a deathly calm tone. “We just got Rib is calm down.” She gets up and into Vi’s space. “I will slowly dismember you part by part if you do not shut up this moment”

“No!”

“Ok Vi. You’re right. I’m not going to hurt you. But please stop breaking the vase.”

Rib had started worry again. Abi started shushing her child again. “Don’t worry, Rib vasey is completely fine.”

“And now I will sing N/A my MegaPvP!” Vibes said. For the first time, Lier wondered if Vibes was truly sober.

Rib places an orange peel on Abi’s shoulder. “Here you go mother.”

“Huh?”

“Okay! Pack it up family! Time to go home!”

“But my vase!”

“Will get super glued together tomorrow.”

Lier finds where Ozzie has secluded themselves, and forces them to help get everyone into cars and home safely. Thank goodness she had had the foresight to book a couple vans and drivers.

#ramble

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zuluoscarecho · 4 years ago

Text

Same Same But Different

idk what this is. I wanted to write some smut. Instead I got feelings. I started watching Scorpion a week ago and I love one Dr Tobias M. Curtis more than anything else. Set after 2X06 Tech, Drugs, and Rock ‘n Roll.

Also on AO3

Happy stopped beside his desk and it took him a second to move his head to look at her. He didn’t hurt yet but he could feel a dull ache building. Right now he just felt like he was made of lead and moving, even to look at Happy, was a Herculean effort.

She was looking down at him, head cocked to the side studying him. “In your medical opinion, is it safe for you to go home alone?”

He paused, mind going a mile a minute, observing, calculating. He clocked the tense set of her shoulders - she was nervous, the way she made her own observations of him with her eyes tracking over him - she was…worried?

“Doc. You all right?” Her voice was as gruff as usual but she peered down at him rather than walking away.

“Yeah. Yeah I…” he trailed off as his brain got stuck on the wrinkle between her brows as she frowned at him. She was worried.

Happy took a step forward and touched his arm. The frown grew deeper and her other hand twitched like she wanted to reach for some tool to fix it, fix him.

He looked down at her hand on his arm and back up at her in what felt like slow motion.

“You don’t look so good. I’m not so sure you should be alone. Where are your keys? I’ll drive.” She was as abrupt and brusque as Happy ever was but there was a slight tremble in her usually surgeon-steady hands and despite not taking her eyes off him, she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Happy was worried about him, she was concerned about his health, she cared. This wasn’t the first time he’d been hurt during a job, definitely not the first time any of them had been hurt but this was the first time Happy had sought him out to check on him and definitely the first time she’d offered to drive him home.

Happy turned and picked his keys from amongst the mess on his desk. She tugged on his ash covered sleeve with the other hand and he followed her without thought.

He’d follow her anywhere.

Happy was silent on the drive, which was no surprise, she wasn’t particularly loquacious at the best of times, especially not after a long and stressful day. What was a surprise is that Toby was also quiet.

He felt like his world had been turned upside down with Happy being nice to him, not that she was ever mean, she just wasn’t actively nice. He felt a little fizzle of warmth slide through him at the thought. He’d known that she liked him, or else she wouldn’t have been so upset when he messed up. But in the last few weeks, they’d settled back into their old friendship, albeit slightly stilted whenever their banter threatened to slip in to flirting. He’d thought it was too late, especially with Chet on the scene, but maybe not all hope was lost.

His brain was so stuck on Happy being concerned about him, playing their interaction in the garage on loop, that he didn’t notice where they were, or more accurately where they weren’t, until they were out of the car.

“This isn’t my apartment,” Toby said, glancing around owlishly as he followed Happy down a hallway to stop in front of number 7.

Happy looked back at him and shrugged one shoulder. “Nah, I don’t know where you live. This is my place.” She paused after she opened the door and turned a scowl on him. “Don’t touch anything, okay?”

He held up his hands in surrender as she opened the door. “I would never.”

She led him into the studio apartment. It was pretty spartan except for the multitude of appliances and engine parts strewn over anything that even resembled bench space. Both stools at the breakfast bar contained tool boxes and the coffee table was strewn with motor magazines. “Bathroom’s through there if you wanna shower.” She ducked down to rifle through the drawers of what looked like an old mechanics tool box and pulled out some clothes for him.

“Wait, who do these belong to?” he asked, holding up a pair of sweatpants and an old faded jumper. “Are these Chet’s?” He was exhausted and starting to feel that ache that always came after a physically hard job, not to mention the probably bruised ribs he had from Happy’s CPR, but he had a visceral reaction to the idea of wearing Happy’s boyfriend’s clothes. So much for independence.

Happy rolled her eyes. “No. Old boyfriend from college.”

Toby nodded, satisfied that at least the guy who’d owned these clothes was long gone, and turned towards the bathroom.

“Towels are under the sink!” she called after him.

Toby nodded as he shut the door behind him. The rush of the shower water helped calm his mind and for 4 blissful minutes he didn’t think about anything more than washing the soot and sweat from his skin.

Happy was fiddling with what looked the insides of an alarm clock on her kitchen bench when he came out of the bathroom, towel over his head as he scrubbed at his wet hair.

“Now I just want to sleep for a week,” he said with a weary sigh, voice muffled from under the towel.

Happy blinked at him. She’d never seen him look so soft and vulnerable. He looked dead on his feet and his usually considering gaze was almost blank from exhaustion.

All the times he’d spouted off about his feelings for her, playing at being sincere, and she did believe his feelings were real, but there was always some sort of agenda in the way he spoke to her, to anyone, some facade or wall between him and whatever could hurt him.

She could relate, but it made seeing him like this, his cheeks flushed from the shower and his hair sticking up in all directions rather than flattened by his hat, feel like she was seeing another side of him she’d never even gotten a peek at before.

“Uh, you sleep on the left, I like to sleep on the right.” Happy ducked down to dig out pyjamas for herself so she didn’t see the raised eyebrow or following shrug as he crawled into the left side of the bed without question.

“Anything I need to worry about with you tonight?” she asked turning back to him. “You know, medically?”

Toby’s eyes were closed when he replied and he looked almost asleep already with one arm tucked up behind his head. “No. As long as my heart doesn’t stop I’ll live.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll listen out for it.” With that she turned and headed into the bathroom herself and Toby was asleep before he even heard the shower turn on.

When Happy came back from the bathroom, Toby hadn’t moved. She stood beside the bed as she towel dried her hair, too tired and too concerned about waking Toby to use the hair dryer. She considered how on earth she was supposed to check if his heart stopped beating in his sleep.

She hung the towel up in the bathroom and carefully slid into bed beside him. She slowly moved closer to him and carefully lay her head on his chest, damp hair splaying out behind her. She could hear the steady thump-thump of his heart beat beneath her cheek and she felt herself release the tension she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding on to.

Ever since Walter had flicked that switch and she’d watched the oxygen levels drop, and Toby with them, she’d felt on edge, a tightness crawling across her skin. Even literally breathing life back into him hadn’t made the feeling go away but she could feel it ease now with every beat of his heart beneath her head.

When Toby woke up it was still dark. He could see brightness from the streetlights outside leaking in around the drawn curtains. His whole body hurt, but especially his head which is why it took him a minute to realise the pressure on his chest wasn’t the probably fractured ribs from Happy’s CPR but Happy herself curled up against him.

He blinked down at her head, dark hair spilling out behind her before he decided to ignore whatever this was and go back to sleep.

The next time Toby woke up he was alone but he could hear quiet movement and he dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom before finding Happy in the kitchen.

She was supervising an old Happy-style refurbished mixmaster that was slowly stirring a bowl with a wooden spoon.

Toby ran a hand through his hair, feeling it stick up and reminding him why he always wore a hat. “Hey, uh, thanks for driving me back here and letting me stay last night. I probably just would’ve crashed at the garage and we all know that couch is older than dirt. Anyway, I’ll go home and get out of your hair.”

“You don’t have to go. I’m making pancakes. You should probably eat something anyway.”

“Happy…” Toby trailed off, eyebrows showing his confusion. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it, but what’s going on? You bring me back here, let me sleep in your bed, I wake up in the middle of the night with you asleep on my chest - which admittedly could have just been a really good dream - and now you’re making pancakes? This is…not like you.”

“Iwaslisteningtoyourheartbeat,” she mumbled to the pancake mixture.

“What?”

Happy huffed and turned to glare at him without saying a word.

“Why are you glaring at me?” he asked in bewilderment.

“I was lying on your chest because I was listening to your heart beat!”

Toby still looked confused. “Okay?”

“You know, so you wouldn’t die,” she said turning back to her pancakes. She turned off the mixer, getting out a frying pan to heat. “You almost died yesterday, or you did die, I don’t even know.”

Toby shrugged nonchalantly, like it was something that happened all the time. Near death experiences hadn’t actually been super common for any of them up until a few years ago. Unless you counted the number of daring escapes Toby had made from people he’d owed substantial amounts of money to. “Technically dead, but not brain dead seeing as you resuscitated me in time.”

“Whatever. I just wanted to know you’re okay.”

“I am okay,” Toby said slowly. “And we all almost died yesterday. You were stuck in the pump room that was on fire, Sly was stuck with the kids, also on fire, and Walter was…Walter.” Toby shrugged as if that explained Walter and to be perfectly honest it kind of did.

“It’s not the same,” she said. She turned to face him and looked at him the way she always did when she couldn’t find the right words but knew he’d find them for her. “You know it’s not the same.”

Toby shook his head and moved to stand in front of her. “No, I don’t know that it’s not the same. You froze me out, you said we were just friends, colleagues. It is the same, Happy.”

Happy bit her lip and looked up at him. “It’s not the same.”

Toby let out a breath and nodded at her, or himself. “Okay then. I’ll stay for breakfast.”

#quintis #quintis fic #toby curtis x happy quinn #toby x happy #toby curtis #happy quinn #scorpion #scorpion fic #my fic

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redpandaramblings · 4 years ago

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I’m More of a Cat Person. Aizawa x Inuyasha.

Let me first say that I am so sorry and I blame my friends. This was originally suggested as an impossible crack ship. So naturally my feral brain couldn’t and wouldn’t let it go. I’m still working on my other, serious stuff. This just held me hostage until I finished it. Formatting is probably a mess because I’m on mobile right now. Will edit later.

Content Warning-

Not SFW. Crack treated seriously. Aged up Character. (Inuyasha written as in his mid thirties or so.) Lime. Fade to black sex scene. Drunk sex. Dubcon. Hickeys. Implication of switching. Love motels. Cheese. Slight AU.

Shouta slumped on the bar. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting at the sticky, stinking counter. The number of glasses seemed to indicate it’s been a while. Of course that might not be accurate. It’s a little hazy, but he recalls knocking drinks back at an alarming rate earlier. And this wasn’t the kind of place that cared about overserving sad sacks of shit like himself. He buried his head in his arms and groaned quietly. Sloshed as he was, he still hadn’t hit a point of being drunk enough to forget about what had happened earlier that day. The way Zashi and Nemuri had looked at each other as they had announced their relationship in the break room. How they had laughed when they said it had been a long time coming. He had noticed the two hadn’t invited him out quite as much as they had used to, but he felt like a fool for not spotting the signs sooner. Shouta raised his hand and called for another shot as memory after stubborn memory refused to leave his brain. The ghostly feeling of Hizashi throwing his arm around his shoulders and telling him how he’d totally set him up on a date with somebody particularly stung.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the clink of two glasses being set in front of him. He blinks several times to make sure his eyes are still focusing. Yep. Two glasses. He looks questioningly at the bartender. The bartender shrugs and points to a booth on the other side of the room. A tall, white haired man in a red suit raised a glass and smirked.

Aizawa knew he shouldn’t. He was not remotely in the right mindset to be doing anything right now. Unfortunately, impulse control has siddled out the door about eight shots ago. Shouta downed the shot he had ordered himself, before picking up the second glass and standing. Only his years of hero training kept him from wobbling as he made his way across the room. The white haired man’s gaze didn’t leave him as he made his way to the table. Shouta leaned on the table and looked the other man over. He was handsome, despite his somewhat garish outfit. His hair was long and loose. Two white pointed ears twitched on top of his head. It was hard to gauge the other’s age, but probably was somewhere around his thirties. Shouta gave a smirk as he spoke.

“White hair, red suit. Guess I have to say thanks for the gift, Santa.”

The white haired man threw back his head and laughed, making a pair of pointed fangs visible. Aizawa tried to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine at the sight of them. The stranger held out a hand with some dangerous looking nails. “Well I suppose that depends on if you’ve been a good boy or not,” he purred.

Shouta couldn’t help the breathy moan that escaped him at that statement. He shook the stranger’s hand as he slid into the booth with him. The glasses on the table seemed to indicate that whoever the white haired man was, his evening was going just about as well as Shouta’s. Shouta licked his lips before saying softly. “I’m Shouta.”

A fanged smirk met that statement. “Inuyasha. Look, Shouta, I’m going to be blunt. I’ve been watching you for a while and it looks like maybe your misery could use a little company.”

Shouta leaned back in his seat, regarding this Inuyasha for a few moments. “Bad night for you too?”

Inuyasha nodded. “Yeah. And I’m looking to make it better.”

This was crazy. Shouta wasn’t going to have a one night stand with a stranger from one of the seediest bars he knew. They both were drunk and upset. Yet here he was, standing and offering a hand to this other man. “Well then, what are we still doing here? There’s a love motel a couple blocks away.”

Inuyasha grabbed his hand and gave a near feral grin as he stood. “Just let me settle our tabs.”

Aizawa raised his eyebrows, but didn’t complain. If a handsome man was going to offer to pay his probably sizable bill, he wasn’t going to complain. He downed the last of his drink as he waited. It wasn’t long before Inuyasha returned, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Let’s get out of here, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe.” Shouta mumbled, slinging his own arm around the other man.

“Babe, Sweetheart, Kitty Cat~” Inuyasha cackled louder than was necessary.

Aizawa attempted to elbow him in the ribs, stumbling in the process. “Shut up, mutt.”

The two bickered as they made their wobbly way out the door and down the street to the love hotel. Soon enough, they had paid for a room and were stumbling their way to it. Aizawa draped himself over Inuyasha’s back, nibbling at the other man’s neck as he fumbled with the key, trying to unlock the door.

The door lock finally cooperated and the men nearly fell in, kicking the door closed behind them. They were on each other in seconds, pawing at each other’s clothes. Lips came together, and tongues battled for dominance. Teeth nipped each other’s lips, hard enough to bruise. Alcohol buzzing through their veins, they fell to the bed, and time became a blur of motion and touch, give and take.

The next morning, Aizawa awoke to a pounding headache. His mouth felt like sandpaper, and his eyes throbbed more than usual. Blindly, he reached out to grab for his alarm clock to check the time. It was then Aizawa became immediately aware of a few things. He was not in his bed. It really hurt to move anything at all. There was someone wrapped around his back like an oversized octopus. With some difficulty and dread, Shouta slowly rolled over to face his bed companion.

The first thing he noticed was the pointed, white, twitching dog ears. As Shouta took in the other man’s face and the trail of hickeys leading from his neck downward, Shouta began remembering bits and pieces of the night that had transpired. A quick glance down and he confirmed with a resigned groan that his body also was covered in evidence of their night time activities. Bite makes, hickeys, bruises, scratches. It looked like he’d come out on the wrong side of a fight with a bear. He was so busy inspecting his minor injuries, that it took him a moment to notice the pair of golden eyes blinking up at him.

“Morning, Wildcat.” Inuyasha gave a flirtatious wink before stretching, groaning as his joints popped. The sheets pooled around his hips, showing off the impressive amounts of marks on his skin. Shouta didn’t answer as he turned away to hide a blush. He’s not a virgin by any means, but he’s never done anything remotely close to this before. Looking for a distraction, he leaned over the edge of the bed, rummaging through discarded clothing until he found his phone. He squinted at the screen, his hungover brain trying to make sense of the numbers. When he finally did, he jolted upright, ignoring the way his muscles screamed. “Fuck!”

Inuyasha made a questioning hum, reaching over and gently rubbing the tense muscles between Aizawa’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m late for school!” Aizawa scrambled off the bed, hunting for his pants.

“You? Late for school? Kinda doubt that.” Inuyasha leaned back, letting his eyes rack over the dark haired man as he hopped on one leg, struggling into his pants.

“I’m a fucking teacher!” Aizawa yelled as he finished pulling up his pants, bending over as he swiped up his shirt.

“You are indeed a fucking teacher.” Inuyasha smirked, lazily scratching his head. “Want me to call you a cab?”

Aizawa thought for a moment as he adjusted his shirt and began to wrap his capture weapon around his neck, making sure all hickeys were covered. “No. Will be faster if I run from here.”

The dog eared man stood, stretching languidly. “If you say so. We should do this again sometime when you aren’t in a rush. Let me treat you to breakfast or something.”

“Not happening.” Shouta said as he shrugged his jacket on. “This is not happening again. This shouldn’t have happened at all.”

“Ouch. Kitty cat has claws in the morning. Come on now, you can’t say you didn’t have a good time.” Inuyasha grinned, pulling his own shirt over his head.

Aizawa shook his head as he made sure he had his jacket and wallet and he quickly walked to the door. “I don’t need or want a damn puppy sniffing around me and my business. We can forget last night ever happened. You won’t see me again and I won’t see you again. Besides.” Aizawa couldn’t keep himself from throwing one final taunt over his shoulder. “I’m much more of a cat person.” And with that, Aizawa let the door bang closed behind him. If he ran, he might not be noticeably late.

Inuyasha sighed, staring at the closed door. He had just been seeking a one night stand last night. But from what details his fuzzy mind supplied, the night had gone a lot better than anything he’d had in a long time. It really would have been nice if he could have gotten at least a phone number out of last night’s bed partner. They certainly had been physically compatible. Trying not to feel too put out, he puts on the rest of his clothing. As he double checks that he has everything, Inuyasha notices something bright yellow half hidden under the bed.

He bends down, and finds what appear to be a pair of bright yellow goggles. Closer inspection shows that they’re clearly expensive and heavily used hero equipment. A fanged smirk slowly stretches across his lips. After all, he couldn’t let the grumpy kitty cat escape without his things, could he? Returning it would simply be the responsible thing to do. With a feral grin in place, Inuyasha tucked the goggles into his jacket pocket and whistled as he made his way out the door.

#i’m so sorry #aizawa shouta #inuyasha #crack ship #crack treated seriously #Aizawa x inuyasha

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aethelar · 5 years ago

Text

The shooting star that careers through the night sky and crashes, quite spectacularly, into the muddy lake is not, in fact, a shooting star. The man that pushes open the emergency hatch and hauls himself, gasping and wheezing, onto the ruptured ship is not, in fact, a man. And the emergency response comm he aims at the stars and swears at in a harsh and alien language is not, in fact, working.

Graves would like very much to know which utter dipshit in Transfers had managed to screw up his warp jump quite this badly and whether Graves was allowed to throw them out of an airlock when he got back.

Then the heavens open and Graves discovers that the delightful little planet in the middle of delightful fucking nowhere has a working water cycle, one that brings with it a great deal of cold, a side helping of misery, and a whopping dollop of wet.

Oh, and apparently when he crashed he broke several ribs, fried the electrical connections to his left knee, and rolled in a pile of broken glass. Grand.

He retreats into his broken spaceship and cannibalises a control panel to fix his knee. It… mostly works. That done, he digs through enough old textbooks to identify where he is (backwater, uncivilised, and uncontacted - glorious), what language he needs to program into the translator (there are a ridiculous number to choose from, more than any one planet should reasonably need; he goes for the first seven in the list and hopes that’s enough) and what basic field-notes he needs to add to his mental database (far too many, most of them gathered from a distance, at least half of them marked with question marks and sounding blatantly ridiculous). And, because he’s currently hurting and light-headed, he says screw it to health and safety and just uploads the whole lot at once. The resulting headache has him staggering into the wall, missing the wall and tumbling through the breach in the hull, flailing and half drowning his way through the lake, and fetching up somewhere on the bank. And he’s still getting rained on.

“Fuck this planet,” he coughs through a mouthful of lake-water, and faints.

He manages, somehow, to survive undrowned until morning and it’s Newt that finds him, sprawled unconscious in the mud. Well, Niffler that finds him, Newt that scrambles after Niffler and almost trips over him in the process, but that’s just semantics, really. Newt’s the one that asks, hesitantly, if he’s alive; when he doesn’t get a response, Newt’s the one that manhandles him into the case and cleans his wounds as best he can.

When Graves rejoins the land of the living, Newt’s the one who stutters to a halt, blushes lithium red, and throws a sheet his way while backtracking pronto out of the room.

“I’ll get clothes!” he squeaks from halfway up the suitcase ladder. “There’s food in the kitchen, see you soon, don’t let Niffler out thank you bye!”

Graves blinks. “Illgetclothes,” he repeats. “Thankyoubye.” Then, switching back to a more familiar language, “Identify and translate. Please.”

Whirr. Beep. Whirr whirr. Ding! English, the text across his vision reads. Activate real time translate Y/N

Feck it. The headache can’t get worse. “Activate,” he agrees. “Yes, that means yes. Yes. Activate - Y. I want the Y option.”

Activating real time translate. Target language: English. Please note minor vocal edits required for accurate pronunciation.

“Minor vocal what now - glerk.” Graves lifts a hand to his throat, frowning the disturbed and confused frown of someone who’s just had their voice box rearranged without sufficient warning. And, from the feel of it, the back of his throat as well. Maybe? He opens and closes his mouth a few times to get used to the new sensations. “That will never not be weird,” he mutters to himself. It comes out in English and translates itself back into real words by the time his ears pass it back to his brain and the double-overlap does exactly squat for his headache.

Graves predicts direly that he’s going to hate this planet and distracts himself by turning his attention to what’s around him.

The room is soft, muted colours with strongly yellow-orange tinted lighting. The basic set-up is surprisingly familiar - he doesn’t need the fieldnotes ticking over in the back of his mind to identify that he’s on a bed, or that the primary building material is some kind of local plant matter. The assorted objects strewn around the room are less familiar and Graves takes a minute to run through the new words that flash up for each one (chair is obvious, but what’s book or slippers and why does the door have handle is that the keypad? There’s no control panel on it, and this place really doesn’t look advanced enough for motion sensing so what?)

Bored with the room, he turns back to himself. He’s wearing a clean bandage, wrapped tight around his chest, and part of him wants to unravel it to see how his back is doing underneath. It hadn’t seemed so bad, but he had passed out so there was a potential that one of his internal systems was wonky; based on what he’d seen so far of the planet it was doubtful the Earth-inhabitant who found him had known how to fix them. On the other hand, he feels surprisingly fine for a ship-wreck survivor.

He rests a hand on the neatly tucked end of the dressing for a long moment before shaking his head. “Food,” he says instead. “Food, kitchen, no niffler.” They seem simple enough instructions to follow.

Error, the translator warns. No entry for “Niffler”. Update dictionary when possible.

Error, the fieldnotes warn. Nudity detected. Local customs require nudity to be dealt with before proceeding.

Graves groans.

It takes some trial and error to work out what, exactly, the nudity problem entails, but he finally narrows it down to his lower back and the tops of his legs. That sorted, he winds the sheet round his waist and shuffles his way out of the bedroom into what is either a kitchen or a health hazard, or quite possibly both. The field notes haven’t yet given him the intricate understanding of Earth culture he needs to tell the difference, but there’s something about the haphazard way pans and bottles and jars are stacked on the shelves that seems a bit unstable to him. He proceeds with caution.

After about five minutes of careful study he slumps down on a stool and confesses to himself that he has no idea what he’s looking for. The small four-legged creature that had followed him around the kitchen hauls herself onto the table and tips her head with a curious chirp, and Graves decides, somewhat desperately, that she looks like she might know.

“What,” he asks her, “What, precisely, is food?”

She chirps. It’s not English. Life wouldn’t be that simple.

“Identify,” Graves says tiredly. “Translate. Please.”

Language not supported. Download new language Y/N

“Screw it, why not.”

Four and a half minutes later, with a headache to rival a nova-shot hangover, Graves repeats his question.

Lots of things, the creature answers with a series of drawn out squeaks. Things that smell nice. Things that look nice. Things you want to eat.

Ah. Fuel. Graves reaches for the nearest bottle of thing that smells nice. He thinks. He doesn’t have much to compare it to, not of Earth smells, and it’s very different from anything he’s familiar with. It looks nice, that at least he’s more certain on, but wanting to eat is a stage he and the unfamiliar food-fuel haven’t yet reached in their relationship.

“Is this food?” he asks.

The creature wrinkles her nose. Not for me, she says, and Graves nearly puts it back - but Mummy eats strange things. It could be food.

Mummy, Graves assumes, is the blushing human. He squints at the bottle. It’s labelled, and it takes a second for the unfamiliar script to resolve itself into something Graves can read. Lavender, it says, which the fieldnotes classify as colour and plant. Graves squints further. How can a colour be bottled. Electromagnetic radiation doesn’t listen to cork stoppers. Are the fieldnotes sure about this.

Plant, the fieldnotes insist petulantly, and Graves allows that ‘colour’ may be a translation error - he’s stuffed a lot of data into his brain in the last eighteen hours, he can’t expect it all to go right. Plants, though. Plants are carbon. Carbon is a (primitive, but workable) energy source. Plants are probably food.

“Bottoms up,” he mumbles, and removes the stopper.

Lavender, he decides, is a bit dry, a bit difficult to swallow - and yes, he can now confirm that his throat has definitely been modified to speak English, he’s only glad it didn’t need further modification to speak the small creature’s squeaking language as well - but other than that, perfectly good enough. He toasts the creature with his bottle, and she makes a hopeful gesture at the door and asks if Graves is going out.

“Ah,” Graves guesses. “Niffler. Mummy said not to let you out.”

Mummy’s a killjoy, Niffler grumbles, and crawls her way into Graves lap to curl up and sulk. Graves shrugs; Mummy has also taken him in and, from the feel of his back, poured far too much time and effort into healing him. Even his hastily-repaired knee feels better. He’s happy enough to keep Niffler in the kitchen if that’s all Mummy asks in payment.

He’s two thirds of the way through the lavender by the time Newt returns.

“Hello?” Newt calls from somewhere down a corridor. “Are you in the - oh, hello, potions lab. That’s. That’s fine. Hello.”

Graves smiles. It feels awkward. Are smiles always awkward? Maybe he’ll ask Niffler later. “I found food,” he says, holding up the mostly empty bottle of dried lavender.

Newt manfully holds his tongue about potions ingredients and food and not really quite the same. “I found clothes,” he replies, holding out the bundle. Graves puts the lavender aside and stands up to take them, toppling Niffler to the floor as he does so.

Naturally, she digs in her claws and takes the sheet with her.

Newt eeps, bright red again as he all but throws the clothes at Graves. “Wasn’t sure about your size, hope you like them, do you want tea I’ll put the kettle on kitchen down the hall,” he babbles, and flees.

Graves stares at the empty doorway, completely bemused. “Mummy is odd,” he tells Niffler.

Well obviously, she grumps, wriggling backwards out of the sheet. He’s Mummy. It’s what he does.

Graves absorbs the new information while he struggles his way into the clothes. Unlike the sheet, they don’t seem willing to stay if he wraps them round, and there seem to be too many of them for the number of limbs he has. What, he wants to know, is wrong with skin-tight nano suits. Who thought clothes were a better idea and are they still alive for Graves to explain why exactly they’re not. “Fieldnotes,” he finally says. “Help?”

The fieldnotes give him a barrage of images. The translator helpfully annotates each one; petticoat, gauntlet, jumpsuit, scuba tank.

“Ok. Niffler. Clothes go how?”

She grumbles something about clothes being ridiculous (Graves privately agrees) but manages to talk him through the way Mummy wears clothes until they make some vague amount of sense.

Buttons, on the other hand, do not. Graves admits defeat and gives up. The trousers probably are the right size but without the buttons done up they hang low and almost falling off his hips; as for the shirt, Graves is lucky to have worked out the arm holes but he leaves the front open over his bandaged chest.

The belt, he abandons. No clue. Some sort of restraint, a collar of some kind? The fieldnotes suggest using it to tie his hands to a bedpost which seems highly counterproductive. He’ll ask later.

Niffler paws imperiously at his bare foot until he bends down and lets her climb to his shoulder. Get me a sugar cube, she demands. Mummy puts them in tea. I want one.

“More food?” Graves asks. Sugarcane the translator tells him is another plant, as is sugar beet but there doesn’t seem to be an entry for sugar cube.

You won’t like them, Niffler hurries to tell him. Kitchen is through that door.

Graves hums and follows. He suspects he may have to try a sugar cube for himself before he decides if he’ll like it or not.

“Hello Mummy,” he says politely as he comes into the kitchen.

Newt spins round with wide eyes, takes in Graves’ rather lax approach to getting dressed, and brandishes a teapot in distress.

Graves pauses and frowns, confused. He has clothes. He’s found the kitchen (it’s not much less of a hazard than the potions lab). He’s not yet let Niffler escape. He’s not sure what’s wrong, but Newt is bright red again, and all but hyperventilates as Graves steps nearer to cage him against the counter.

Error, the fieldnotes protest. Data suggests current breathing method is inefficient. Lack of oxygen fatal to earth residents.

“What are you doing,” Newt asks in a rushed, high pitched breath.

Graves presses their foreheads together. Newt’s skin feels hot against his, even moreso than their different biology can account for. Fever, the translator supplies worriedly. Sign of sickness and ill health. Then the fieldnotes chime in with increasing panic: Error: sickness leads to death. Reduce fever where possible.

“I’m helping,” Graves says out loud to all three of them, and modulates his skin temperature to be cool and soothing. It costs more energy than he’d hoped and it’s unnerving to see the proof of how weak he is, but when he leans back Newt’s sudden fever is gone.

He’s still flushed, and now his pupils are wide and his breathing has stopped altogether. The fieldnotes begin to bleep in distress but the translator shushes them. Earth phrase identified: take my breath away, it says soothingly, to which the fieldnotes start shrilling about giving it back. Graves deems him probably not in danger anymore and nods in satisfaction as he steps away.

“Better?” he asks.

“Newt,” Newt blurts (semi-aquatic, pond dwelling, small creature similar in size to a finger), which is an odd thing to answer with, but then he goes on to clarify, “My name is Newt.”

He lies, Niffler says. His name is Mummy. Don’t believe him.

Newt seems a lot larger than a finger, but he was near a lake when he found Graves so Graves elects to ignore Niffler in this. “My name is unpronounceable on your planet and may vibrate your vocal chords to shreds if you tried,” he says to Newt. “But I don’t mind if you call me Graves.”

Newt stares for a long moment. “Ok,” he finally says. “Graves. Ok. Vibrate my - ok, that’s. Ok.”

Graves smiles, and, potentially, it’s less awkward than before. Maybe. Graves is working on it.

Niffler pokes him in the ear and comes dangerously close to short circuiting his auditory processors. Sugar cubes, she reminds him.

Graves scans the table for something Mummy puts in tea and solemnly hands her a teaspoon.

It’s ok, she says, patting his hand. You’ll learn.

#gramander #percival graves #newt scamander #niffler #alien!graves #cyborg!graves #with two ai tagalongs #i had far too much fun writing this #niffler my darling #you hold too much power over graves please don't abuse it #my writing

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levinfist · 5 years ago

Text

I: Arrival

“Why do I have to be bothered with babysitting savages?”

Acacius pyr Coxus heaved a frustrated sigh. When word first came down that he was to be transferred to the vaunted XII, he had been ecstatic. He dreamed of winning glory for himself and his family quelling rebellions in the humid jungles of the Far East or perhaps even crossing blades with the mighty savages hailing from the peaks of Gyr Abania. Surely a life of dashing adventure, whirlwind romance, and riches beyond his wildest reckoning awaited him serving (at least tangentially) under the Crown Prince’s command! Ah, the stories he would have to tell when he finally returned home from his tour of duty. Why even those snobby Desertus’ would be positively green with envy! He was certain of it!

The truth of the matter, however, was none of those things.

By the time he’d reached his posting the Doman rebellion had been snuffed out, the leaders either dead, captured, or scattered to the winds. Much the same could be said of the so-called “resistance” in Gyr Abania and Ala Mhigo; all that remained were frightened children and old men too long in the tooth to offer any kind of meaningful resistance. Glorious battles imagined in the Capital had been replaced by tax collection, investigating often fraudulent reports of ‘rebel’ activity, and the occasional run-in with wildlife to spice things up a little bit. Today was, unfortunately for everyone involved, the first of the three out in some backwater village high in the mountains that Acacius wasn’t even sure had a name. All he knew was that it stank of stale piss and mud with a healthy dose of decay thrown in for good measure, just to make things as unpleasant as possible.

His linkpearl chimed.

“Decurio Coxus! The villagers have been rounded up and gathered in the town square. They await your presence, m’lord.”

“Very good,” he replied, trying to sound at least somewhat professional, “I’ll be along shortly.”

Acacius waved his hand forward and trudged through the mud up the main road into the village proper. Half a bloody bell. That’s how long it had taken six of his men to complete such a menial task, though he couldn’t be sure if the issue was a lack of enthusiasm on their part or if the villagers were dragging their feet as usual. His barely passable trail gave wound upward and around a ramshackle mud hut, snaked to the right past what might have been some sort of merchant’s stall at one point that had since been abandoned to rot and then back to the left into the village square proper. He was greeted by the sight and- ugh- the smell of the village assembly in their finest filthy rags. Sometimes he wondered why the Empire even bothered to send him and his men out here. Whatever he’d bring back in tax revenue had likely already been spent supplying the men for the journey, so he doubted that was the case. One of his subordinates dropped a small sack of gil into his hand. He frowned.

“This is it?”

“It is, Decurio. All that we could gather.” Acacius’ frown deepened. Were he to return with such a paltry sum, his superiors would surely have his hide. He pursed his lips and glanced up from the gil to the assembled crowd huddled together like terrified livestock. Yes. That was a good word for them. Such a paltry sum was insulting, both to him and the Empire he represented. This would not do.

“This is it?” he repeated himself, raising his voice louder this time so that all in the square could hear him as he held the tiny sack high over his head. “Surely you mean to mock us with such a measly offering. We who the Emperor would graciously see fit to send to liberate your lands from the madness of your ‘King!’ We who work so tirelessly to safeguard your homes from the wicked and the wild!” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “This will not do.”

Acacius surveyed the crowd. Not a single one of them dared to even look him in the face, much less move. He sighed and turned to the man at his right. “Search every home. Take everything of value. Turn the whole blasted village upside down if you must, but I will not be returning to the Centurio with this little.” “At once, Decurio!”

A murmur rippled through the crowd as his men fanned out but Acacius found little need for alarm. He had looked this lot in the eyes time and time again, dared them to make a move and found none among their number willing to even entertain the idea. There was a dullness in their eyes only found in those well and truly broken. They were in no danger here- or so he thought. Again his linkpearl crackled to life, only this time it was a short burst of...something. A malfunction maybe? Certainly not out of the realm of possibility, but he couldn’t help the pit slowly beginning to form in his stomach.

Another burst from his linkpearl. This time he was able to make out something that sounded like a cry for help. Another of his men must have heard it too.

“That was Eligius!”

“Where is he?!”

“I don’t know! I saw him headed south, I think, with Velia!”

“I found him! Hey! You! Stop! I said st-”

The transmission cut out and the pit quickly became a gaping hole. Shit.

“Everyone back to the square!” Acacius shouted into his linkpearl, desperate to try and regain some kind of control over the situation. As soon as his remaining legionnaires assembled, he ordered them to push south apace to investigate the source of the disturbance. Seven rounded the corner and immediately came to a dead stop. Eligius lay face down in the muck, lifeless as far as Acacius could tell. Velia was a few fulms to the right, neck twisted at an impossible angle and body left slumped against a wall. He could hear the sounds of a scuffle coming from the rundown shack at their front and silently gestured his retinue forward.

The door creaked open. A black gauntleted hand clutched at the frame of the door, followed shortly by the other hand reaching outward in a silent plea for aid that would go unanswered. Acacius felt as though he were in the thick of some sort of horror novel as he watched the now lifeless form of another of his fellows collapse unceremoniously face first into the mud with a spear driven into his back and through his ribs.

It was in this moment that the Garlean detachment first lay eyes on their adversary and unlike the wretches huddled together in the village square, this one seemed to be everything he imagined before his deployment. He was a giant of a man, easily a head taller than even the tallest of his compatriots. A hood and black mask concealed the savage warrior’s face.Tattoos crisscrossed up the savage’s arm in geometric patterns- stylized feathers, he thought -from at least the elbow to the shoulder, where they disappeared under the purple cyclas he wore. Sunlight reflected off the armor plates layered overtop leather boots and gloves as he stepped completely out into the open. Dark purple. Blinding white. Flashing silver.

This man was one of Ala Mhigo’s ferocious warrior monks: a Fist of Rhalgr. Acacius was certain of it.

One massive armored hand closed around the haft of the spear lodged in Acacius’ now former comrade and pulled it free with all the effort it might have taken him to pluck a feather from a fowl. Was this it? Had this single savage managed to kill three of his Legionnaires in such a short span of time? That couldn’t be right, shouldn’t be possible! He rejected the very idea outright- at least until the savage turned his attention to him and his blood ran cold. Eyes the color of a sheet of ice and just as frosty stared straight through him and sapped the strength from his legs. His formation faltered around him. A lump had formed in Acacius’ throat, robbing him of his voice and any authority it could have wielded. He wanted to order his men to attack, to destroy this beast wearing a man’s flesh without remorse, but found that he could muster little more than a stammering croak. Fear’s paralyzing tendrils wound deeply into Decurio Coxus’ very being and rooted him to the spot upon which he stood.

“D-Decurio!” called one of his comrades. “What are your orders?!”

At least momentarily, the spell had been broken and Acacius fumbled clumsily for the sword at his hip.He turned his head toward his Legionnaires to try and rally them, to spur them into action as was his duty as their Decurio.

“Rally! He’s only one man! Strike! Destroy this sav-”

Acacius stopped speaking mid sentence. Lances of white hot pain radiated from his belly and spread like wildfire into the rest of his body - except for his legs which he realized he couldn’t feel anymore. Slowly his head turned down toward his waist where, confusingly, he saw himself clutching at a wooden haft. Where had this come from? When had it happened? He tried to think, to remember, but found it increasingly difficult to conjure anything clear through the heavy fog that descended over his conscious mind. Realization dawned on him as the sensations finally overwhelmed the dense cobwebs clinging to every corner of thought. It hurt. It hurt. Desperate to make the pain stop, he took hold of the wooden shaft in both hands and struggled to wrench this thing free but to no avail; his strength was fading at an alarming rate. Groggily did Acacius turn his gaze up from the shaft of the spear to the man who wielded it.

In an instant, the sky and the ground seemed to switch places and go spinning about him for several long seconds before finally coming to a stop. It took him that long to realize that he’d been flung aside like a sack of rotten vegetables. Terrible sounds came from his left and he struggled to right himself with what little strength remained in his arms- and he immediately wished he’d stayed down. Like a ravenous wolf the savage set upon his fellows and tore into them with a terrible fury. The first of his Legionnaires expired quickly having been pierced through the throat by the same blade that had run Acacius through. Another moved to strike, but succeeded only in splitting the shaft of the spear in two. His reward was to have his head driven into a savage knee strike that shattered the faceplate of his helmet. Fragments of glittering silver and a spray of crimson arced through the air as time seemed to slow to a dirge’s pace.

One by one Acacius watched this savage rain blow after blow upon his Legionnaires, seemingly revelling in their howls of agony and shrieks of despair until only he remained breathing. A terrible quiet settled as the masked man took stock of his handiwork before he again turned his attention to Acacius. Escape crossed the Decurio’s mind for a moment, but such a thought was fleeting; without the use of his legs he wouldn’t get far. Impossibly broad shoulders eclipsed the sun as the savage towered over Acacius who could do little save accept his fate with what dignity he had left. If this man expected to hear him beg, Acacius decided, he would be disappointed.

The killing blow he expected did not come.

Instead, the man turned without so much as a word and rifled through the belongings of Aacacius’ fellows. He moved from one corpse to the next without so much as a word or a glance in Acacius’ direction until he found what he was looking for: a flare gun. Pop. A crimson orb rocketed skyward and the Fist discarded the launcher unceremoniously, casting it aside with the same clear disdain that he had treated the rest of the Garlean patrol. Acacius could do little but watch his foe slowly disappear over the ridge and stew on what would become of him. Help would come as quickly as a response could be organized. There was no doubt about that. All he had to do was survive for perhaps another hour, two at the most. Manageable. Definitely manageable.

Acacius winced and lifted the hand he’d been covering the hole in his stomach with. His palm was bloody, certainly, and the wound was likely deep but he didn’t seem to be losing an alarming amount of blood. This realization got him thinking. His colleagues had all been erased in quick succession with a frightening efficiency. Their killer clearly had the skill and precision to have ended him just as swiftly, but had either opted not to or missed. If the latter then why had he not taken the opportunity to finish the job? No. Leaving him alive had been a calculated move. Acacius narrowed his eyes and slammed his fist into the mud as all the pieces fell into place.

This was both an omen and a warning. The Fist wanted the Empire to know exactly who had humiliated them, how he had done it, and which way he had gone after his business had concluded. His message was clear:

Come and find me or I will find you.

#Ala Mhigo #Final Fantasy 14 #FFXIV #Fist of Rhalgr #Monk #Garlemald #Empire #E

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munofsilver · 6 years ago

Text

Putting Everything in Place 7

Last day of @chlonathweek Today is AU. Can you guess the AU in this chapter? Ao3 link.

When the ray hit them Rena Rouge, and Royal Blu cover their eyes with their arms. Uncovering their eyes, they find they are the only two here and in some strange building. Both are without their miraculous. Worse they don’t seem to know where they are. Besides, in a dark room with no lights.

After a while, one of them was finally able to find a light switch. The two are in a janitor’s closet. Now they have a good look at each other. “Why are you, Evillustrator?” “Why are you, Lady Wifi?” “What?!” Both said at the same time. They decided to leave the room, full of caution. The door creaks open, and the two are at College Franoise Dupont. Good thing it’s empty. They rush to the bathrooms; those are the only rooms with a mirror. Not only are they akumatized again, but it also seems they are teenagers. “What the hell happened!” Alya screamed. Nathaniel was able to hear her in the ’boy’s bathroom. He runs out thinking the same thing she is. They bump into each other by the lockers. Both shocked and very confused. Both are also wondering if this is even real. “We need more information. Are we in our teens because we’re akumatized? Did we go back in time? Did we get transported to a new dimension?” Lady Wifi is asking question after question, making Evillustrator wondering the same thing. “I got an idea,” he declared while checking the time on his phone. “School is out. Let’s go to my childhood home.” “Good call. Plus a good idea.” They head back to Nathaniel childhood home. Before they enter Lady Wifi stops him. “Should we knock first?” Evillustrator knocks on the door. When a little girl opens the door, Evillustrator got an answer. “Why did you knock?” she asked. “Natalie? Are you not scared?” The little girl shakes her head. “Mommy told me. You are still you.” Lady Wifi and Evillustrator gave each other a question looks. “If we are indeed back in time, right now, my mom is at work. She usually doesn’t come home until we’re both asleep,” Evillustrator whispers to Lady Wifi. If they want more answer, they need to look for them somewhere else. Thinking about it, Lady Wifi decides it tries to talk to her younger siblings. They are older then Natalie so far seems like their best bet. Lady Wifi knows that they just can’t leave Natalie here alone. “I got an idea. I’ll try to get more info from the twins. You can come with Natalie if you want,” she whispers to her friend. “You do that while I’ll see if I can get anything from Natalie,” Evillustrator suggested. Lady Wifi agrees that it is a better idea than the one she had. Then she takes her to leave and heads straight home. On her way, she heard someone call her name. It came from a giant rock monster with Ivan’s voice. It then hit her, those that got akumatized stay that way. “Hi, Ivan,” she waves. Ivan waves back, “Any knew akumas since Nathaniel?” Not knowing what to say Alya just made something up, “Not that I know of,” she takes off running before Ivan could speak again. She takes her phone to look for Nathaniel’s number. Only to just notice this isn’t her regular phone. It still has all the numbers her other phone did, and that’s all she needs right now. After she found his name, hit call, and wait for him to pick up. “Hello.” “Nathaniel I know what’s up.” “What is up?” “Everyone that has been akumatized is for some reason staying akumatized.” “Everyone?” “As far as I can tell.” “If I remember right just about everyone in our class did. Didn’t you say your father did once also?” “Yes. He might be at home with my sisters. If he is.” “This Hawkmoth is worse than the one we had to fight.” “I agree. I’ll call back when I have more info. Got anything from Natalie?” “It seems I’ve only been akumatized for a few weeks.” “I just saw an akumatized Ivan. I’m still heading home to check things out.” “Rose isn’t akumatized. So it seems not everyone in our class has been akumatized yet.” “Good to know.” Lady Wifi ended the call, now that’s she’s home. Meanwhile, Evillustrator goes back to watching his little sister. Trying to remember who all got akumatized after him. He knows Mylene was same with Juleka, Rose, Max, Lila, Marc, Sabrina, and Chloe twice. Queen Bee, she still fighting Fairy Queen and Lady Papillon. He and Alya have to find the way out and soon. Carapace and Queen Bee notice that once they were it, Rena Rouge and Royal Blu seemed to turn into a rolled up scroll on the ground. “Venom!” Yells Queen Bee. She is going to end this now. “Lucky Charm!” Calls Ladybug. With her wings, Queen Bee takes to the sky, her target Fairy Queen. Ladybug focuses on both opponents, while Carapace was on the same page as Queen Bee. Cat Noir is helping Ladybug, but most of his focus is on Lady Papillon. With her lucky charm a basketball she looks around for answers. Once she got the clues, she knew what to do. “Cat do your thing,” she calls out to him. “Cataclysm!” “Wait for my signal and go for the staff,” Ladybug glasses at her first partner. Ladybug runs off towards Fairy Queen, tossing the ball at her. She laughs as she flies up to avoid getting hit by the ball. Only to get hit by Queen Bee’s venom. Unable to move the fallen Fairy Queen falls towards the sky only to be caught by Carapace. The ball, on the other hand, bounced off of the side of the building and hit the trying to escape Lady Papillon making her trip and fall. After the catch, Carapace tossed the staff towards Cat Noir, who caught it with his power activated hand, turning it into dust. The akuma flies out while Ladybug purifies it. While she was doing that Queen Bee lands in front of Lady Papillon, arms crossed with a look of anger that no one can match. “Miraculous Ladybug,” the bug heroine calls as she tossed the basketball into the air. Her healing wave turned everything back to normal. Rena Rouge and Royal Blu are no longer scrolls. Carapace and Queen Bee run to them as they try to stand up. Sadly without Queen Bee there, Lady Papillon was able to get away. Not that is matter since they know who she is, and the villain did leave something behind. Everything is back to normal then they detransform, and Nathaniel spoke. “When did we get so tall?” They all look at each other in confusion, worried looks. It seems not everything is back to normal after all. That day repeated for Chloe again last night. She’s still kicking herself for it. They found out about the place the two were sent too when Rena Rouge told the group about it. At least things are starting to look suitable for Nathaniel. When Chloe went to visit him today, she was surprised to see Nino and Alya there. “What’s all this?” She asked, putting her daughter down. Like always, Nicole greets her father with a hug. The room was filled with Nino and Alya, “Awwwwwwwww cute.” “I see they finally let Nicole come and visit,” Nino sounds like he’s whining. Alya jabs him in the ribs as a warning. “What? As a father and friend, it hurt whenever Chloe would drop Nicole off. Poor little girl deeply missed her father,” Nino rubs Nicole’s head. Alya was about to say something when she was stopped. “I understand it wasn’t easy for anyone. Now Nathaniel knows about his wife and daughter. There’s no need to bring up any issues we had with the way Dr. Tumble has handled things,” Chloe hands Nicole her bag of toys. “I hope when we see him again, the doctor will have good news,” Alya added. Now all are sitting at the table while Nicole is taking her nap on the only bed in the room. Soon Nino and Alya left to eat lunch elsewhere. Now it’s just the Kurtzberg family. That is until Dr. Tumble comes in with some paperwork, “I see the other two have left. Nathaniel would you please come with me.” Chloe is unsure about what to do. She’s worried something wrong has or will happen. Nathaniel came back alone with papers. “It seems I’m free to return home.” Before she knew it, Chloe jumped into Nathaniel’s arms as they embraced each other. “Can you come home today?” Happy tears fall from Chloe’s eyes. “Yes, he said it's only for the weekend. I do have some paintings he said I can keep at home if I want.” Chloe smiles, “I’ll call Natalie. She can bring our minivan,” Chloe was on her phone in less than a second. Their lunch arrived, and Nathaniel wakes up Nicole so they can eat. Chloe joins them once she got off the phone. After they ate, Natalie showed up for a second and disappeared with Nathaniel. “Nicole gathers up your toys we’re leaving now,” Chloe smiles. The van is loaded and on its way while Nathaniel returns. “Are you ready, honey sweetie?” Chloe coos. Nicole was about to hug her father goodbye when he smiles and picks her up, “We don’t have to say goodbye today. I’m coming home with you two.”

“Yay!” Nicole cheers. “Only for the weekend,” Nathaniel explained to her.

Nicole didn't mind like Chloe. Maybe later he will stay home. They get into the car Chloe drove here in and head home. They unload the van and place all of Nathaniel’s new paintings in his studio. “Pretty,” Nicole says, brushing her hand against the one of Chloe holding a baby. “If you want we can hang this in your room,” Nathaniel tells his daughter. They did right above her dresser. That night when Nicole went to bed, Nathaniel and Chloe spend some time together. They slept cuddling each other as they use to before the incident.

The weekend went by fast, and Nathaniel had to return back to the hospital. Everyday Chloe and Nicole would visit. After a month of weekend visits at home Dr.Tumble as good news. “Even though Nathaniel's memories aren't fully returned, I still think he's able to return home, but he will have weekly apartments with me.”

“Is that all?” Chloe asked, “That's a deal.”

A year later, Nathaniel has most of his memories back. He no longer needs to visit Dr.Tumble once a week or at all unless he feels the need too. Nicole's third birthday is coming up. Nathaniel is sketching some ideas for the banner Chloe says they need when she comes home carrying some supplies for the party.

“We're home,” she calls, putting the bags down.

Nathaniel greets his wife and daughter. Then he helps put things away. After Chloe puts Nicole down for her nap, she comes to talk to her husband. “Nathaniel listens, I know you've been transforming to help get your memory back, I'm here to tell you that from now on I need you to stay at home. I'll be needed help around here.”

Nathaniel laughs and gets back to work on the banner, “Yes, dear.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. She clears her throat to get Nathaniel's attention. Didn't work, so planed B. She starts to leave the room, before she made it through the door frame she looked back at him, “Nathaniel I'm pregnant. Thought you wanted to know.”

Nathaniel heard that. He stopped working a followed her. She was waiting for him, as she runs up to hug her. “Chloe that is great news.”

#Chlonathweek2k19 #chlonath #Chloe Bougeois #Nathaniel Kurtzberg #Nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #miraculous ladybug #ML #Fanfic #ML Fanfic #AU #ML AU #still not feeling 100%#Sorry I'm late #Akumatized AU

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meetthetank · 6 years ago

Text

Maled[I]ctum pt. 2

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationship: 4S/A2 (NieR: Automata) Characters: A2 (NieR: Automata), 4S (NieR: Automata), Anemone (NieR: Automata), Original Machine Additional Tags: bloodborne references, Blood and Gore, Robogore, little bit of eldritch nonsense, Hallucinations, Nightmares, A2 has big guilt, Post-Ending E (NieR: Automata), the smut is in chapter 2 for those who are impatient, i understand horny priorities, Hurt/Comfort

Dismantling the machine wreckage proves to be a more complicated affair than previously thought. In addition to its immense size, a large portion of the scrap is contaminated by the strange organic matter, rendering it unusable. Most of the Resistance swarms the area shortly after recovering an unconscious 4S from the wreck, along with the bizarre machine creature’s body.

He’s lucky his injuries aren’t as bad as they feel. Without the Bunker and a steady supply of new bodies and parts, the repair process takes two days. The Resistance medics and 9S work together to open up 4S and set some of his displaced components. Nothing major needs to be replaced, much to his relief, but calibrating his fine motor functions comes with a few hiccups. Something must have been knocked loose during that fight.

The moment repairs are done, 4S tears around camp asking if anyone has seen A2. He expects the repeated negative answers, but that doesn’t quell the tension building in his gut. 9S offers to help him look, but he declines. Knowing A2, she’d only be more frightened if anyone else aside from a select few went looking for her.

It isn’t unusual for A2 to disappear for a day or two, and normally 4S is happy to let her be, but this time...the way she looked at him...It doesn’t sit right. She went through something far worse than being held captive by that monster. Once he asks practically everyone at the main Resistance camp he sets out on his own.

4S searches the area near the forest castle and A2’s usual haunts. The secluded places she frequents when she needs a quiet moment to herself show no trace of her being there for a long time. No tracks, no machine corpses. Nothing. Pod 035 picks up a faint sign of activity, but it’s old and far past the forest. He’s in no condition to be tearing through the denser woods looking for someone who doesn’t want to be found.

Two more days pass before 4S returns, despondent, to the Resistance camp. Just as he suspects A2 hadn’t stopped by at all, but the improbability of it all doesn’t stop the foolish hope he had as he entered the camp. He sits on a bench in the small rest area near the jukebox, listening to the twanging of some ancient human ballad.

He doesn’t notice 9S until he sits in the spot next to him. 4S jumps a little at 9S’ sudden presence but gives him a little nod shortly after.

“Still no sign of A2?” 9S asks.

4S shakes his head, “Nothing. No trail, no signals...I’m really worried about her.”

“What she lacks in everything else she makes up for in strength,” says 9S followed by a sigh and a shudder, “She’ll be okay.”

He manages to smile a bit, “I know but...she was really shaken up by...something. I want to help her but I don’t want her to feel smothered…”

“Yeah, I know the feeling…” 9S mutters, his gaze wandering to 2B as she lifts an absurdly heavy box with ease.

4S slumps in his seat and buries his head in his hands, “I get the feeling she’d never come back if I confronted her now, but…”

“You don’t want her to end up hurting herself.”

“Yeah...She’s,” 4S sighs again, then goes quiet for a long time, “...I don’t know if she’ll come back after this one…”

A lump forms in his throat as he says that, as if the words had a physical weight to them. He didn’t want to admit to himself the possibility, but it’s time for him to be honest with himself. In his head, he believed that she would be attached to him enough for that alone to bring her back his way, but...Their relationship is a bit complicated, or ambiguous to say the least.

9S puts his arm around 4S shoulders, “Of course she’ll come back. She was on the run for...Six years, was it? That can’t be a life she wants to return to.”

“I hope you’re right, Nines.”

“Here,” 9S says as he stands up, “Why don’t you help me out today? Anemone wants me to start looking at that machine creature today. Could help you take your mind off things for a while?”

4S hesitates for a moment. The memory of that...thing he and A2 fought sends chills down his spine. He has no great desire to come face to face with its malformed corpse any time soon, but 9S does have a point.

“Sure, I can lend a hand.”

It isn’t often that the medical equipment is repurposed, even temporarily, for a task away from the main Resistance camp. With materials being as limited as they are, and without the support of another group like YorHa, they need to use whatever they can. Considering this is a major discovery when it comes to machine evolution theories, Anemone allowed for a considerable amount of tools and personnel to be devoted to this.

Unfortunately, all those tools and personnel are under the command of Jackass, so 4S and 9S wait until she throws out everyone for being incompetent and then gets distracted by one of her insane personal projects.

The setup is reminiscent of a mad scientist’s lair in an old human story. Fitting, considering who was overseeing this. Various tools and recording equipment lie scattered without any care or reason, all surrounding a large table holding the machine’s corpse covered with a tarp.

4S and 9S spend a few minutes cleaning up and organizing their equipment while idly chatting about old times. They had rarely worked together in the field while YorHa was active, but the scanners were all fairly close friends in one way or another. Though, 4S had always been on the edge of that group, nowhere near the social butterfly that 9S was. He can’t help the twinge of sadness that creeps into his voice when he mentions his time in relative isolation while he was doing deep field reconnaissance.

“Right,” 9S begins, eager to switch gears for both their sakes, “Let’s get started.”

It takes their combined efforts to pull the tarp off of the body, sending the stench of rotting flesh billowing through the whole tent.

“Ugh!” 4S gags and covers his face, “Gods, it smells worse than it was alive.”

“I’ve never seen this kind of growth on a machine before,” 9S says as he covers his face with a clean towel and begins a preliminary scan of the corpse, “Aside from those two command units, Adam and Eve.”

“I thought those were one of a kind?”

9S shrugs, “It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for the machines left on Earth to try and replicate past evolutionary paths. But this one is a lot different.”

As 4S begins to separate the growth on the creature’s arm from its body, he replays the encounter and the state he found A2 in his head, “I’ve never seen a machine do things like this one could. Have you seen the Pod records?”

9S shakes his head, “I haven’t had the time. Here, why don’t you start working on that piece while I go over your footage?”

With a quick wave of his hand, 4S commands Pod 035 to display a video feed for 9S.

At first, the growth appears to be just a simple mass of metal and tissue with the occasional piece of bone. Each piece of anything that isn’t soft tissue or connected to the central metal bone is carefully cut away and placed onto a tray nearby. It seems to be only random bits and pieces of machine scrap until 4S come across a strange shape underneath layers of warped muscular tissue.

Unlike the fractured and rough textures of its counterparts, this object is smooth and rounded. A few hairline splits zigzag across its surface, yet it stays together as 4S shifts it around to cut away the connective tissue surrounding it. Once most of the flesh is cut away, 4S pries the object out with a firm tug.

A smooth, diminutive skull sits in his hands, gazing at him with hauntingly vacant sockets. It bears some resemblance to a machine head. The bolts next to the optical sockets, serial numbers and machine script carved into its surface, and unique alloy betray its true nature. However, it’s eerily android in its appearance. Or rather, eerily human. A row of half formed teeth, some pointed and some blunt, deep nasal and optical cavities, and an oblong shape show more similarities to androids than any other machine.

But as 9S pointed out before, there were two machines that were vastly different from the rest not too long ago.

4S sets the skull down on the tray, next to the other tiny, misshapen bones he had extracted from the growth. A clavicle, two humeruses, six ribs, pelvis, and an assortment of vertebrae form a sickly small skeleton.

“Hey, 4S?”

A jolt runs down his spine as he snaps back to reality, “Yeah...yeah what’s up?”

9S glances at the grim display on the tray before continuing, “I finished going over your footage.”

“Oh. Well did you see anything odd? I mean, besides everything.”

9S pulls up a stool and takes a seat near the creature’s stomach, “At first,” he begins as he starts a scan of the machine’s body, “I thought that it was an attempted copy of the Adam and Eve units, and looking at the…what you’ve extracted so far, that theory is partially right.”

4S raises an eyebrow, “...But?”

“But…” he looks down and takes a deep breath, “But there’s more in line with another machine I’ve encountered.”

“What?”

“When I handed over that enemy data back when...back a while ago, there was one bit of data that I didn’t give you because it was just…” he takes a deep breath and shudders, “I didn’t want to think it was real.”

As much as 4S’ curiosity burns in his head, he doesn’t press 9S further. The discomfort is visible in the way his eyes dart around to anything, how his eyebrows knit together, and how he grips the edge of the table.

“Listen, 4S…” he begins after a bout of tense silence, “If-...When A2 comes back, if she seems...off, be careful. When 2B and I fought that thing in the sewers, something...happened to her, and when we got back to the Resistance camp she…” Again, 9S shudders and blushes, though that might have been 4S’ imagination, “Just be careful, okay?”

4S nods, “Of course. Don’t worry about me.”

“Good.” he sighs again, “...Let’s take apart the rest of this thing. I’ll give you the enemy data when we’re done.”

A2 knows she shouldn’t feel this deep shame as she lingers in the shadows of the forest zone. Just a year ago, the thought of returning somewhere she ran from was insane; now, she’s slinking back to the castle as if she’s done something wrong.

She hasn’t done anything wrong...right?

No, of course not. She just needed some time away from...everything.

…

Gods, she was such a coward.

It wasn’t just that, in the days since the fight on the beach, it’s felt like something was itching just inside her skull or under her skin. She’s lapsed into old self destructive habits as well, like picking at the dermal seams 4S spent so much time on.

4S…

Thinking about how worried he must be about her, what he might have gone through when looking for her, or what might happen when she comes back...It makes her stomach coil like a spring so tightly she starts shivering. A2 is no stranger to guilt, but it has been some time since the feeling caused a physical reaction in her.

As the crumbling facade of the castle comes into view A2 plays with the thought of turning back. Could she really face him after all this? Would things just...go back to normal? Did she even want that? She doesn’t know what she wants. Hell, she doesn’t even know if she wants to take another step forward. Her legs lock in place, and aside from a light shiver that runs through her body, she stands so still that a little boar comes up to her and sniffs at her foot. She shoos the boar away with a gentle kick, sending the little animal squealing back to the safety of the woods.

A2 takes a deep breath. No use delaying the inevitable any longer. She forces herself to walk. Just, one foot in front of the other, one step at a time. There isn’t any reason to be afraid. That doesn’t stop her from being terrified, though. She shuts her eyes and focuses on the sound of her footsteps on the crumbling stone pathway.

She expects 4S to come rushing down to her the moment she reaches the castle steps, but she only hears the soft songs of the birds that make their homes in the trees and tiny crevices in the walls. There isn’t even the echoes of him running errands, the groans of his jerry rigged terminals, or Pod 035’s made up language.

“Must be resting…” A2 mutters to herself.

Sure enough, there’s signs of activity through her home but 4S is nowhere to be found. The stray piles of supplies that she usually leaves lying around the entry hallway are all cleaned up and organized into bins and shelves nearby.

She meanders through the castle like a spectre, floating from room to room with no real goal in mind. Not looking for anything, not searching for a goal, just wandering. She flips through books in the library, accidentally knocks over some dusty suits of armor, and fiddles with anything she can to find to keep her mind from running a mile a minute.

It isn’t long, however, for those distractions to run out and eventually A2 finds herself at the threshold of her small bedroom. Like the rest of the castle, all of her stuff is rearranged and cleaned. Even her bed is made, but it isn’t the bed itself that disturbs her. Perhaps disturbed isn’t the right word, but the neatly folded set of clothes similar to the torn rags she wears now makes her feel...strange.

She rolls the cotton of the shirt in her fingers. Exactly the same as the one she wears now, albeit not torn and bloodied. It smells a bit musty, like it’s been sitting out for a few days. Her chest tightens a little, but she changes into the new clothes regardless. They stick to her grimy skin and torn seams. She mentally kicks herself for not washing first thing once she got home.

...Home…

The realization hits her like a punch from a goliath. She has a home. Something to come back to, a safe place to let her guard down and relax.

Someone to…

She curls her hand into a fist, bunching up the fabric of her shirt. A weird tightness forms in her throat and chest it dawns on her that she’s being watched.

With wide, wary eyes, she turns back to the doorway to see 4S just...standing there. Watching her. He looks surprisingly calm, despite everything, but there’s a tension in his face that even someone as unobservant as A2 can pick up on.

A2 looks at the floor, suddenly far more interested in the brickwork than him.

“...Hey,” she says, the word catching in her throat.

His green eyes dart about, studying every detail about her that he could as quickly as possible. He lingers on the fresh wounds that begin to stain her new shirt, the way her shoulders slump with exhaustion, and the weariness in her own expression.

With great gentleness, he speaks, “...Are you hurting?”

“I’m fine-...” A2 stops herself short as a sharp pain shoots through her arm, “...I’ve been better.”

4S approaches her slowly, his dark eyebrows knitting together, “Here, let me help.”

The moment his hands touch her she flinches away, causing 4S to do the same. There’s hesitation in his grip as he lightly pulls her towards the bed and sits her down on it. A2 could swear she feels his hands shaking.

His fingers ghost over her injuries and torn skin seam as he takes stock of what ails her physically. He mutters his findings to himself while A2 stares at their feet, her head hanging low. She lets him move her arms and body as he cleans the dried blood that’s caked around her skin seams.

“Does…” 4S says, his touch lingering on her arms, “Does anything hurt internally? Any pain when you move?”

A2 shakes her head, “Just a bit sore.”

4S nods once, then allows a tense silence to fall between them. Neither one looks at the other, and neither one wants to think about why.

After moments where nothing but the stale breeze passes between them, A2 speaks up.

“I think...I’m just gonna lie down for a bit.”

“Alright. Call for me if you need anything...Okay?”

“Yeah...Of course.”

As she gets settled into bed, 4S allows himself a quick glance backwards before leaving her to her thoughts.

For a week they do this dance. With the exception of grafting new skin onto her wounds, 4S and A2 avoid each other. Sometimes, she sees him in the corner of her eye only for him to brush past with only a mumbled apology or for him to duck back out of her view. When she asks him about it during the hour or so they see each other, he waves if off as a coincidence or just making sure she’s okay. The cadence and waver in his voice tips her off to his real motive. He is checking on her, but he’s making sure she hasn’t run off again.

She can’t shake the guilt, something that seems like a constant for her. It starts eating away at her nerves and her resolve. How long would things continue like this? Would they stay this way until they both drift apart? How much longer would it be until she’s alone again. The visions and the fear from that machine creep back into her chest and constrict her lungs. It’s such a similar feeling to...before. When she watched Number 4 smile at her one last time.

Only this time she can control the outcome.

It’s much less dire, of course. 4S is in no danger of dying in a fiery explosion, but A2 feels as if she’s going to explode if things don’t go back to the comfortable and mundane. She knows 4S won’t come to her, he’s too cautious. He knows she’s skittish when it comes to...feelings, and for that she’s grateful. He’ll let her come to him when she’s ready to talk, and it might be the point of no return very soon. Whether she’s ready or not, she has to do this.

Around this time of day 4S is tinkering with one project or another in his room. Normally A2 leaves him to his work, but this is something akin to an emergency. Besides, he’s probably not working on something important or dangerous. He has a more level head on his shoulders than 9S.

A2 hesitates at the wooden door to his room, grinding her teeth as she fights with herself. It’s absurd, she already has her hand on the door and now she thinks about backing down? She’s fought with worse things than her own feelings and memories. This would be nothing. 4S is reasonable, he won’t freak out at her about any of this.

Her knock on the door echoes through the stone halls, and the few seconds before she hears 4S’ footsteps on the other side feel like an eternity. The door swings inward, revealing a grease-stained 4S staring at her with bewildered green eyes.

“A2? What’s wrong, is everything okay?” he asks, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“I’m fine. I just…” she sighs and shuffles her way into his room, “Do you have a second to talk?”

His eyebrows shoot up, then return to normal a moment later, “Of course.”

4S gestures for her to sit on his bed (more of a cot in truth) while he pulls the chair from his workbench over and wipes his hands and face off with a rag. She pulls her knees close to her chest and curls up as tight as she can. Something to quell the shivers that emanate from her gut.

“I wanted to talk about the shit that happened with that weird machine…” she mumbles, avoiding eye contact, “I just...don’t know where to start.”

He watches her expressions shift from anger, to sadness, and back within the span of a split second, “Maybe...When I found you, you looked like you were in some kind of trance. What was that? What was happening to you?”

A2 winces at the memory, “The damn thing hijacked me. Made me see things...feel things that weren’t there. It made me…,” she shudders, “It must have messed with every sensor that still works.”

4S shuffles closer to her, “What did it make you see?”

“Its…,” she groans and buries her face in her hands, “It...It made me see Number 4. The whole squad. They…,”

He takes one of her hands in his, “It’s okay…” he mutters gently and rubs her hand.

“They tore me apart.” she says in a lifeless voice, her eyes glassy and unfocused, “The visions tore me apart piece by piece. They drowned me, beat me, blamed…” she can’t stop the tears from welling up, “They blamed their deaths on me...and they’re right.”

“A2…”

“They were right. If I wasn’t a coward, if I fought with them-”

“You’d be dead too, A2.” 4S says sternly, holding her hand just a bit tighter, “You’d be dead along with them.”

“But-”

“No. I won’t sit by and let you blame yourself anymore for what happened in the past. I don’t care what that machine made you see or made you think you saw, but none of that was your fault and none of them blame you for what happened!”

A2 opens her mouth and shuts it just as quickly as she tries to formulate some sort of counter. She tries to draw her hands close to her body but 4S’ grip remains strong and holds them in place. His green eyes hold her gaze even as she tries to look at anything but him. Anything to avoid showing weakness, anything to not break down.

She fails spectacularly.

Tears pool in her eyes and spill over within seconds. Her synthetic muscles give out all at once as she collapses in a heap in 4S’ arms. Brutal, silent sobs rip through her body with such intensity that she begins to shake and shudder. 4S holds onto her as tight as he can without hurting her. He rubs her shoulders and back with a soothing yet heavy hand, while his other hand combs through her short hair. Gentle refermations of her safety and soft whispers seem to calm her quaking body after a moment. She grips onto his shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping her afloat.

A2’s breathing starts to even out and at first 4S thinks that she’s beginning to wind down, but then her quiet sniffling turns to growls. Her nails dig into the skin of 4S’ chest, and 9S’ warning starts to play over and over in his head. Despite himself, fear begins to worm its way through his gut. A2 is strong. Far stronger than he is. If something went wrong, if something possessed her to, she could kill him by barely lifting a finger.

Yet he takes hold of her trembling hands and the low snarls in the back of her throat stop. Her hands tremble in his, and her wide, fearful eyes let him know that none of that was intentional. 4S leans forward and rests his forehead on hers with her hands still clasped tightly in his.

“Hey, look at me,” he whispers, “A2 look at me.”

She tries to look at anything but him to no avail. Everything in her body tells her to run away. Get away from these bad feelings and shitty memories and hide in the wilderness until she breaks down for good. But she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want to leave him, she doesn’t want to be alone again. She can’t be alone again.

Slowly, her eyes meet his. In her head she prepares for the inevitable flashbacks those deep green eyes of his give her, but instead of seeing the eyes of Number 4, his face remains his own.

“You’re okay, A2,” he mutters to her, “I promise I’m not going to let anything hurt you.”

She snorts and rubs at her puffy red eyes, “Idiot, I should be protecting you.”

“There she is,” 4S breaks out in a smile, “There’s that brash moron.”

“Shut up.”

4S gets caught in their moment kisses A2 on the cheek, just beneath her eye. This isn’t the first time they’ve kissed, not by a long shot, but it is the first time that it’s felt so...natural? He supposes that’s the word for it. In the past it had been bouts of passion that broke free of restraints on both their sides, but it never went further than that. This time the simple gesture caused a comforting warmth to bloom in his chest. Judging by A2’s tired smile, she felt something similar.

“A2…” he begins, their closeness loosening his desire to hold back what’s on his mind, “I know that...I know I’m not Number 4 but-”

She pulls back from him, her brows knitting together, “Stop.”

“What?”

“Stop comparing yourself to her,” an icy determined glare warps her expression. For the first time in weeks, strength returns to her, “Number 4 is gone. You’re not her, you’re never going to be, and....I don’t want you to be. I want you to be you.”

4S tries to blink away the tears, “It only took a near death experience, huh?”

“Oh, shut up!” she shouts. She slugs him in the shoulder playfully and puffs out her cheeks after he catches her face in his hands again. “You’re an ass.”

“Hey, you’re not doing anything to stop me,” teases 4S. He kisses her cheek once again.

He immediately regrets saying that. In a show of speed and strength, A2 pulls him into a tight hug and flings them both onto the bed. 4S struggles, but he’s no match for the combat model’s strength. She holds him down as they laugh at themselves and the absurd turn their heavy conversation took. A2 digs her knuckles into his scalp to the sounds of his protesting as he flails his arms and legs in a wild attempt to break free.

Eventually she lets him go, the fatigue of an outburst of emotion catching up with her body. She fails to suppress a yawn and 4S chuckles at her sudden exhaustion. He rolls off of her and curls up against her side as she settles into bed.

“Tired?” he asks.

A2 nods, “Mhm...Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Okay.” 4S starts to sit up, “I’ll let you rest.”

He’s about to stand up from the bed, when A2’s hand grabs onto his wrist and tugs him back down.

“Huh?”

“S…,” she seems to choke on her own words and looks uncharacteristically vulnerable, “Can you...stay?”

“...Of course,” he says with a warm smile.

Sleeping with A2 is...a full body experience. 4S had his expectations, sweetly snuggled up against her and curled in her arms. Or her in his, either way would work for him. Instead, he’s treated to erratic movements, constant tossing and turning, and nearly being shoved off of the bed multiple times. Yet despite this, they end up in a semi-comfortable position for both of them, although 4S believes it was entirely by accident. Sharing a bed was, in truth, something they would have to learn how to do.

4S is unsure how much time has actually passed by the time he starts to wake up, though it couldn’t have been more than a few hours judging by the fact that his Pod’s alarm hadn’t gone off yet. A2 remains asleep, wrapped around him with her chest pressing against his back. Her breathing is light and steady, and tickles at the back of his neck.

She’s so...warm. The way her hands mold to the shape of his chest and stomach…

A deep, tightening pain in his gut makes him flinch, and brings him to agonizing consciousness. Glancing down at the odd bulge in the sheets, just between his legs, reveals source of his discomfort.

What a useless feature… 4S muses to himself.

Carefully, 4S shuffles out of A2’s arms, doing all he can to avoid waking her and to avoid letting her hands drift further down. He winces with each movement, even the fabric of his shorts rubbing against his erection sends jolts up his spine.

The moment he’s free of A2’s hold, he rises from the bed centimeter by centimeter so as not to shift the ratty mattress too much. All he has to do is make it out of the room without waking her and make his way to somewhere secluded to take care of this issue. Of course he could always attempt to sleep it off, but with how awake he is at the moment he doesn’t think it’ll be possible.

It’s only when success is nearly in his grasp that it is snatched away from him.

“Hey...Where’r you going?” A2’s grumbles in a raspy voice heavy with sleep.

Synthetic blood rushes up to his face one moment and then back down the next, “Uh...J-just going to stretch my legs a bit.”

“...What’s wrong. You sound nervous.”

Oh , of all the times, why did it have to be now that she learns to be observant?

“I’m fine,” 4S tries to maintain an even level to his voice.

“Why are you standing all hunched over like that?”

Her questions are just as pointed and cutting as her swords. 4S sighs. He always underestimates her intelligence, seeing as she’s not only a prototype model but a combat model as well. They’re not exactly known for being as capable as scanners when it comes to...really anything that isn’t killing. Yet she’s pinpointed exactly what he’s trying to hide. The heavy, almost icy tone to her voice convinces him that she doesn’t need him to explain his current state, but instead beckons him to come forward about it.

“Come here.”

Her sudden confidence makes him shiver.

4S turns back to her and returns to the bed with slow, plodding steps. The way her icy blue eyes roam over his body make him feel exposed, naked, despite being fully clothed. There’s a shift in her expression as he approaches though. At first she looks at him like an old world predator eyes a slab of meat, but as he sits on the edge of the bed the confidence falls away piece by piece.

“A2…”

His breath is heavy in his throat as he reaches out to cup her face in one of his hands. Her warmth is infectious, her breath just as heavy as his. Despite the way her eyes hold his with an intensity he’s rarely seen outside of battle, he can feel the subtle way she shivers with each breath.

“Are you...sure?” he asks, hoping that he’s understanding what all of this means. In the past she’s been reluctant to even touch at moments, why is she suddenly doing this?

Was this what 9S meant by strange behavior?

A2 nods, “Yeah...But I um...How does...this...start?”

A wave of relief hits him. She’s not under some strange control or in a damaged frame of mind. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he took advantage of her like this.

4S smiles, “Just follow my lead, okay?”

Their kiss starts out tender, soft even. A2 recoils back, but leans into it only moments later. Her hands start to wander around their bodies as if she’s not sure what to do with them. Without breaking their admittedly awkward kiss, 4S takes her hands in his and places one on his neck, and the other in his hair. Her fingers immediately hook into his curly hair and pull him closer than he thought possible. Heat rises in his gut once more, spurring him to push things further faster.

4S leans back against the bed’s headboard and pulls A2 onto his lap. For a minute or so, things continue much in the same way as they had before. Position aside, their kissing is rather tame. Chaste even. Simply savoring each other’s warmth and the way their mouths move in tandem. But there’s a desperate edge to A2, in the way she moves and her labored breathing. She wants more, she needs more. She just doesn’t know how to take it.

So, 4S parts his lips and in turn hers. With his tongue he tests her bit by bit, prodding at her lips, her teeth, her tongue, whatever he can reach. Her hand tightens in his hair to the point of discomfort, yet it doesn’t bother 4S in the slightest. In fact it seems to intensify just how good everything feels right now. A tiny whimper escapes from the back of his throat as she tugs on his hair a second time.

A2 suppresses a grunt, or a moan, or something in her throat. She grinds against him so slowly that 4S isn’t sure if she realizes what she’s doing. Carefully, he returns her motions, raising his hips to meet hers beat for beat in a clumsy rhythm. Fingernails dig into the skin of his neck when his teeth scrape against her lips, so he breaks their kiss to gently bite her lower lip.

She gasps, her breath ghosting over his face for a moment before he leans in and nibbles at the underside of her jaw. Another gasp as he slides one hand beneath her thin shirt and traces the outline of her muscles and lines of carbon plates barely concealed by synthetic flesh. A2 doesn’t normally shake in situations outside of life threatening combat, but her body trembles beneath his touch.

There’s a strange shift in A2’s movements when 4S begins to leave small bite marks down her neck and to her shoulder. He can feel the thundering of her pulse quicken as he clumsily grabs at her breasts. Between the blood roaring in his ears and the amplified sound of their bodies, he doesn’t hear the low rumbling from A2’s chest until it’s too late.

Her mouth traps his suddenly, pushing him back until his head smacks against the headboard. His shirt and shorts are all but torn from his body by A2’s desperate hands. The cool air of the castle makes him shiver all over. A groan catches in his throat but is quickly silenced by A2 climbing on top of him further. She practically towers over him now, ravaging his mouth and hungrily grinding down on his now exposed cock.

Like the flip of a switch, A2 goes from unsure to ravenous. Both her hands tangle themselves in his hair, holding him down and kissing up and down his neck. He feels the scrape of her teeth against one of the taught tendons in his neck once, twice, and then they clamp down around it. An intense jolt runs through his whole body. His back arches, hips thrust up, and a sharp whimper escapes him. She bites him again, worrying the skin of his neck between her teeth and eliciting more moans and cries from him.

4S isn’t sure when the tears start to form in his eyes, but his body becomes so overwhelmed with the pain and pleasure that it's the only reflex he can manage. He gulps down lungfuls of air the moment A2 pulls back off of him just a bit, removing the pressure from his chest. There’s something in A2’s eyes, something that 4S can’t place. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide and lids half closed. He’s never seen this look from her before and it makes him feel...strange. There’s fear, that one is easy to identify, but there’s also...excitement. His gut coils as A2 shuffles out of her tank top and shorts.

This was really happening, wasn’t it…

4S always pictured this being more planned and careful, and without the fear for his life that nags in the back of mind. Of course he wants this, and he knows A2 wants this.

But did he want this to go so fast?

A2 tugs him up to her lips by his hair.

Oh god yes he wants this.

He moans against her mouth and ruts his hips into hers. There’s a brief but powerful sensation that shoots up his spine when his cock presses against the space between her legs. A2 must have felt something similar as she groans against his mouth. One of her hands rakes down his stomach and grips onto his cock far too tightly.

“Ah!!”

A2 recoils back, that dark look in her eyes fading instantly, “Shit! Are you okay?!”

“Yeah-...Yeah I’m okay…” he pants, “Just...gentle. Be gentle with...that.”

When that half-lidded look doesn’t come back immediately, 4S pulls her down for a quick kiss and takes her hand in his. He guides her hand back down to his cock and starts to move it up and down as slowly as possible at first. Once she gains her confidence back his hand falls away only to rise back up again to tangle in her hair.

Most scanners do this sort of thing by themselves, but oh god does it feel so much better when someone else does it to him. Especially someone he cares about. He does his best not to jerk his hips into her hand too fast, and the exertion of self control makes him pant and sweat. In response A2 strokes him longer, harsher, pushing him to the point of pain again. He throws his head back against the pillows and lets out a long, loud moan that he’s sure he heard A2 laugh quietly at.

There’s a spot that A2 ghosts her thumb over that makes him almost scream, and the tight coils in his stomach threaten to unwind right then and there. It’s only through gritting his teeth and focusing on anything but how fucking good it all feels that he’s able to not come.

“A2…,” he says in between heavy pants, “A2, please…”

“What.”

He shoots her a scowl, though it isn’t as intimidating as he’d like since he’s blushing and sweaty, “What do you mean what,” he growls.

She smirks at him, that heavy, dark-eyed look returns, and she sinks down onto his cock without warning.

“F-Fuck!” he shouts, “A2!”

She hisses through her teeth as she adjusts to having him inside her. 4S is about to ask her if she’s okay but the words catch in his throat when she shifts her hips. He isn’t sure if his visual processors are failing or if A2 managed to hack him somehow, but he swears that stars and sparks fly across his eyes. He throws his head back into the pillows again and lets out a moan that’s much louder than he intends it to be.

“Where-...” 4S tries to say as she raises herself off of him and slides back down, “Where did you- Haa….Learn-...”

“What,” responds A2 in between pants, “You think your-...ngh...Your stash of h-...human mating behaviors are...Haaa...Secret?”

“Well...I did until now.”

A2 laughs a breathy laugh that sends waves of strange pleasure through both of their bodies, “Next time, label that file as something boring.”

“Ugh, just shut up and fuck me.”

They find their rhythm, clumsily and slowly, but eventually they fall in sync with each other. Every time A2 raises herself off of his cock, he pulls himself back so that all but the very tip remains in, only to slam their hips back together. Each time, A2 crushes her body against his harder and harder until he’s afraid that she might break his pelvic chassis. Well, not for long anyway. Once the wet and the hot overtake his mind again, the soreness fades into the background.

4S meets her beat for beat, thrust for thrust. He tries new angles and methods to try and force her to cry out in pleasure, much like he does. It’s...strangely awkward to him, to be the only one making noise. A rigid spot on the front of her walls makes her groan and gasp so he aims for that again and again and again, but it all falls to the wayside once his pace reaches a feaverish, desperate peak.

His hands latch onto her hips, fingernails digging into the curve of her waist and giving him the leverage he needs to thrust his cock deeper and deeper into her. Her hands grip his wrists, her chest heaves with each labored breath. The way her walls constrict around his dick lets him know that they’re both within sight of the end. For now.

4S’ mind devolves into simple lines of code. Single words, simple actions, and blinding speed. Anything higher than repeating the actions that bring him and A2 this intense pleasure are tossed aside.

Hunger. Need.

More.

M o r e

M o re moremoremoremoremoremoreMORe.

Suddenly, A2 gasps and grabs his shoulders so hard that he’s shaken from his stupor. Her whole body heaves with each breath she takes. 4S swears he can hear her teeth grinding against each other and the wanton moans she desperately tries to suppress. If he wasn’t consumed with primal repetition he might have tried to edge those sounds out of her, but it’s all he can do to keep himself from coming each time he thrusts into her.

4S slows to a crawl, letting himself linger inside of her. It takes all of his willpower to pull out once, twice, and on the third he can hold back no longer. All of the tension in his gut releases as A2 lets out this long breathy sound. She’s still holding the moans back, but he can’t contain the moan that echoes through their room. Something in the back of his mind tells him he should be embarrassed, but he could care less right now. He revels in the circuit-melting euphoria for as long as he can before he has to breathe and bring himself back to reality.

A2 looks down at him with dark, half-lidded eyes. Her face, flushed red, covered in sweat, is hidden by the white hair that clings to her skin.

He’s never seen anything more fascinating.

As she gracelessly flops onto the bed beside him, he can’t help but feel a twinge of disgust at the white, sticky mess that covers the bed and parts of their bodies. Maybe it’s a quirk with scanner models, but he hates being dirty.

He nudges A2 in the ribs with an elbow, and she cracks one eye open at him in a tired, half-hearted glare.

“We should clean up,” he says.

A2 just scoffs, and rolls over on her side, taking as many blankets as she can with her, “If you can carry me, go for it.”

4S sighs, and lays back against the sweat stained pillows.

He’s never been more infatuated with her.

#nier atuomata #nier automata fanfiction #A2 #4S #A24S

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over-30-hormone-solution-reviews · 2 years ago

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godaime-obito · 7 years ago

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Kagatobi Modern Ageswap Ch 4

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

there will be a sort of fifth chapter, but im planning for some nsfw in it, so consider it a bonus chapter

Tobirama has reorganized his books, notes, papers and various writing utensils four times now. Kagami is coming over in less than ten minutes to help him study for his bar exam, and in preparation he had to move his entire set up out of his bedroom to the more appropriate location that is the living room. It would not do to take his guest straight to his bedroom his first time over. That can come later, not that he’s been considering such things. He reorders his highlighters one last time before going to the kitchen to start making tea. It’s important to be properly hospitable for guests who are actually invited.

The tea is still seeping when Tobirama hears a knock. Isn’t nice when people knock instead of just picking the lock, even though Kagami probably could if he wanted. Wait. Is intelligent-people-who-know-how-to-lock-pick a type? Do he and Hashirama share a type? God, he doesn’t want to think about that. Putting that horrifying tangent from his mind he walks briskly to answer the door.

Tobirama pulls open the door, and steps to the side to let Kagami slip past him. “Hello. Would you like tea?” he asks.

“That would be nice,” Kagami answers, slipping past to sit his satchel near the work space Tobirama set up. He must have come straight from his office at the university if he still has that satchel. It’s where he keeps the papers he’s grading and such.

“I hope this isn’t too inconvenient for you,” he calls from the kitchen, “I’m sure you’re busy at the university right now.” Tobirama gathers the tea onto a tray and quickly heads back out. It’s best not to waste any time, especially if he’s holding him up.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to it if it was. I’m not too busy for a friend,” Kagami chuckles back.

“Of course,” Tobirama agrees. He’s mostly placated, but he is still a little concerned Kagami is just too nice to turn down helping him. Tobirama reassures himself that he’s been a professor for a long time, and can manage his time well enough to know when he can afford an evening away from his office. He puts the tray down on the coffee table feeling more confident, and sits down where he arranged his things. Kagami slides closer to him on the couch as he reaches for his tea, and their thighs press lightly together. Which is only a minor distraction really, so he doesn’t pull away. Neither does Kagami.

The additional insight does prove helpful during the study session, both from tips gained from experience or just the aid of an outside perspective, and Tobirama is glad he took him up on his offer to study together. Maybe he’ll give Hashirama a key after all, since his visit had some positive impact. Not that he’ll admit that even if he gives him a key. It wouldn’t do to encourage him.

“Thank you Kagami,” he says, and stands up from his spot on the couch. “You were very helpful.”

His friend smiles up at him, and stands as well, gathering up his satchel. “No problem! Feeling ready to go take that exam right now?” he teases.

“Perhaps not right now,” Tobirama replies, smiling slightly. “I am rather confident I’ll be ready when the exam time actually arrives,” he assures.

The end of the time the agreed to meet is over, and he’s sure Kagami has other things to do, but he is, perhaps, not eager to see him leave. The two of them move towards the door together. In front of it he stops, and lingers.

“I believe my family will be meeting the weekend after the exam. To celebrate. You should come,” Tobirama states. He meant for that to be more of a question.

“I mean, do you want to come?” That’s better.

“Of course! Just tell me the time and place and I’m sure I can make it,” Kagami answers, giggling at Tobirama’s slightly subpar communication skills. He would be more upset at being laughed at if it weren’t such a nice laugh.

“I’ll text you as soon as it’s decided,” he says, and finally stops his stalling to open the door.

Kagami slips passed him. He brushes against his arm as he goes, before stopping and turning to face him in the doorway.

“I hate to go already, when it feels like I just got here, but I’ll see you soon. I hope,” Kagami says softly.

“I hope so too,” Tobirama replies equally soft. Pulling together his nerve, he firmly corrects himself, “I know we’ll see each other soon.”

Then, quickly as to not run out of nerve, he presses their lips together. It’s firm, but chaste. He can feel the tips of his ears go red as they pull apart. Kagami smiles at him, broader than any of his earlier smiles, as they look at each other, and it makes Tobirama smile too.

“Just to be certain,” he says, “we are dating now right?”

Kagami snorts at him. “Yes.”

He leaves then, heading down the hall. Before Kagami turns the corner out of sight, he looks back at him and winks. Tobirama’s blush renews, but he’s too happy to have confirmed the study date as an actual date to mind.

It will take about six weeks to find out if he actually passed the bar exam, but only two days later the celebration his family planned has already arrived. Perhaps they think having his first try over with is worth celebrating even if they don’t know if he’ll have to try again. Perhaps they’re just that confident in him. Most likely it’s mix of the two. They’ve made reservations at a restaurant for seven. It will be himself, his brothers, Mito, Touka, and Kagami, which considering how involved Hashirama was in the planning is a tiny number. He should probably thank Mito and Touka for keeping him from inviting their estranged parents, or Izuna, or Madara. He cannot stand him, no matter how many ‘bonding sessions’ they’re tricked into.

“Tobirama!” He knows that voice. Why are Hashirama’s only settings yelling, and dramatic whispering? Tobirama knows he must speak normally to Mito at least. Does he do this just to irritate him? He’s having second thoughts about giving him the key.

“Hello Hashirama,” he sighs out. He is then promptly manhandled into the restaurant where he and Mito listen to his brother yell as the others arrive. He’s not sure what exactly he’s talking about, but he has been counting every time he says ‘Madara’ which is up to eight already. Perhaps he should start kicking Hashirama whenever he mentions him more than 5 times in an hour.

Kagami shows up last, and slides into the open seat at his left. Hashirama is sitting at Tobirama’s right, and reaches right across his personal space to shake his hand and gives his usual overenthusiastic greeting.

“Hello Professor,” Mito says. She’s smirking. Tobirama is about to need a distraction, isn’t he?

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she continues, “I’ve heard you are the cooooolest professor.”

Kagami grins at him, wiggling his eyebrows. “Is that so?” he coos.

“This is Mito,” Tobirama says, ignoring his question. “My wonderful, kind, sister-in-law.” No sarcasm there, no ma’am. “That’s my cousin Touka, my brother Itama, and my brother Kawarama,” he continues, nodding to each of them.

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” Kagami says, switching back to a more serious expression. Although not that serious, it is Kagami after all.

The dinner goes surprisingly well, and he seems to get along with Tobirama’s family, even if their main bonding activity seems to be try-to-make-Tobirama-blush. How does Kagami remember so many things he did as an undergrad, surely, he wasn’t that memorable? At least Mito doesn’t bring up that one thing that happened his junior year as an undergrad. If Kagami found out Tobirama would be too embarrassed to look him in the eye for a decade at least.

He’s been waiting to tell anyone that he and Kagami are dating until today, so that he could say it to them all at once, in person. However, he’s been putting it off all night. Hashirama is going to cry on him, but it must be done eventually. Tobirama waits until the bill has come and they’ve decided who’s paying for how much, before finally deciding it cannot be put off any longer.

He clears his throat, to catch everyone’s attention. “Kagami and I are dating,” he announces as soon as it’s the table is quiet. There. Nice and to the point.

Hashirama appears to be momentarily stunned.

“I had sex with Izuna at Hashirama’s 25th birthday party,” Touka says.

“What?” Hashirama says faintly.

“I assumed we were announcing things everybody in the family already knows,” she says in her best faux innocent voice.

“I didn’t know either of those things,” he responds. Loudly. His faintness has already swung around to dramatic tears. “My birthday party!” he cries.

“Forget about the party darling. That was years ago,” Mito cuts in, “What about Tobi’s boyfriend?” Tobirama is not sure if he appreciates her getting him back on track.

Hashirama’s head snaps towards him so fast he’s surprised it didn’t break. “Brother,” he shouts. He throws himself sideways at Tobirama, crushing him in a hug. “Your heart’s unfrozen,” he sobs.

“It was never frozen to begin with.”

“You’ve discovered love,” Hashirama continues without pause, ignoring Tobirama’s attempt to interrupt. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Be happy for me without getting me wet, and crushing my ribs!” Tobirama responds. “Stop crying all over me and let go,” he hisses quietly, “You are making a scene in public.”

“Sorry,” Hashirama says, sniffling as he switches into dramatic whispering mode. Kagami is giggling, and Tobirama really wishes he could be angry at that laugh.

“We shouldn’t all linger,” Tobirama says. The bill had been successfully paid during the commotion, thank you Itama. “We’ve got to go,” he adds, heading towards the exit with Kagami. He may be running away. At this point he must admit ‘running from social situations’ is his main character flaw. He will definately hear about this from Itama and Kawarama later, in a traditional younger sibling fashion, and he’ll have to mail Hashirama the key. Oh well.

#kagatobi #tobikaga #tobirama #kagami #hashirama #mito #touka #kagami uchiha #fanfic #naruto #my writing #unnamed modern ageswap

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writinganiki · 7 years ago

Text

Greed x Reader 9

Crickets and cicadas chirped in the hot summer night air, giving a muffled cover to your footsteps and movements. Greed and Ling led you down a previously scouted path, optimizing keeping your movements inconspicuous and ordinary while also optimizing a route out of the city. Your heart pounded in your chest as your ran from street to street, anxious with the knowledge, or possibly lack thereof, of being attacked or intercepted. Much to your annoyance, Greed hadn’t really bothered collecting much intel on the group that he swindled the philosopher’s stone from being too caught up in the excitement of the find. The most the two of you had to run on was that they were skilled alchemists with enough knowledge and resources to create both a philosopher’s stone and at least one humanoid chimera. You were still trying to wrap your brain around even the mere existence of chimeras as more than just something in research and rumor, but you shrugged it off for now attempting to stay focused on the task ahead. With all of the variables it was nearly impossible for the three of you to be prepared for an attack, and with only two bodies, even with your mutual metallic augmentations, their numbers also remained a mystery leaving an overwhelming force not entirely out of the equation.

You glanced over at your companion walking swiftly alongside you, he was moving calmly but with purpose, his eyes focused straight ahead, obscured slightly in the darkness of the night. Looking down slightly, you assumed it was Greed currently in control, catching glimpses of the dark gunmetal coating hiding just beyond the edges of his sleeves, ready to extend of his hands to become weapons at a moment’s notice. Though you couldn’t see his eyes, Greed wore a determined look on his face, his lips lightly pursed in a balance of focus and thinking. He was clearly managing to both keep a strong watch around for danger while also coming up with constant plans for attack or escape, even if it was aided by the extra ‘head’ he had with him, it still amazed you. Unexpectedly, he turned his head, nearly catching you staring a bit, but you managed to quickly switch your expression to a more concerned and inquisitive one. “You’re anxious about an attack aren’t you? Don’t try and strain yourself keeping an eye out, I can easily take care of that, just be ready in case of something happening, ok?” To your surprise, it was Ling who spoke despite your assumption of Greed being in control due to his power being active.

A brief moment of surprise passed along your face before you nodded in affirmation. Catching that Ling had noticed your look, you spoke up first, “I was surprised to hear your voice Ling, I had thought Greed was taking the lead.” You motioned slightly towards his arms.

“Oh! My apologies, I guess I didn’t explain it properly. Greed and I kind of share everything in a way, abilities, ideas, body, not much hidden between the two of us.”

Before you had a chance to respond, Greed spoke up, “And the kid’s right. Don’t worry your head over keepin’ watch. We’re friends now and I don’t let anything happen to my friends.” He gave you an enthusiastic pat on the pack, complete with exaggerated arm swing, the force of which caused you to stumble a step.

You giggled, not minding the action, “You know Greed, you’re a pretty nice guy once you drop your whole tough guy shtick, I think I like this side of you a lot better than the one from our first time meeting.”

Greed grumbled a little bit, “Yeah well maybe I like actin’ that way, huh?!” He responded excitedly, but not angrily, like the two of you were long time friends who were just sharing an old inside joke that was a rib at his expense. He was without mistake still a jerk, but not in a bad way, and as much as he’d try to deny it when confronted directly, he was a really caring person.

You were clutching yourself with laughter when Ling chided in with a laugh as well, “He’ll never actually admit to being nice, don’t bother trying. Also, keep your voice down idiot, you’re supposed to be the one with the most experience on this little team and here you are getting all worked up over a girl teasing you.” He chuckled again, giving a little smile and wink over at you that you couldn’t help but turn slightly flush at. Greed crossed the pair’s arms and just grumbled back like a husband in an old married couple knowing he’s lost an argument.

The two of you continued to walk, mostly in silence save for the occasional comment back and forth before Ling stopped and held out an arm in front of you. He looked around surveying the surrounding area. The buildings in the city had long faded in the darkness, with very few lights towards the edges of the city flickering softly and dimly in the distance, most likely no more than some fireplaces and desk lamps shining through the windows of those who enjoy working or learning through the night. From this distance they were but tiny dots, almost hard to separate from the stars hanging just above in the purple-black night sky.“Do you hear that?” He turned to ask you.

You focused your hearing, trying to zone in on all the different directions around you. The usual insect chirps could be heard off in various directions, the loudest coming from the lightly wooded area close to the east. “No, I don’t think I hear anything besides the usual sounds of the night.” Ahead of you was the dry terrain the surrounded rush valley, flat save for the many rocks and sudden steep mountain formations all around. Not even the wind blew through the natural channels laid out by the stony terrain, the night was calm.

“Exactly, I think we’re far enough out that we can find a place to hole up for the night.” The response and the smile could have come from either of the two boys, and at this point, to you, it didn’t really matter which. Greed was brash and loud but absolutely put his all into everything and everyone around him, and Ling had a heart of gold but still knew when to turn face; they were a reliable pair for sure, and you had started to grow quite fond of traveling with them even with the current circumstances. The pair of you scouted around the area, looking for a good spot to set up for the night when you found a small overhang caused by a large flat rock that had fallen at an angle off of another creating a small tent-like structure. Greed walked up and checked for any signs of it being a wild animal den, and after the coast looked clear, you crawled in first, huddling underneath it up against the flatter wall. Your companion followed shortly, reaching into his pack and pulling out a small lantern and setting it up. He sat down next to you, one leg on the ground as though he was going to sit cross-legged and the other’s foot planted flat on the ground with his knee pointed upwards. There was a silence and stillness between the two of you, the tension in the air feeling a little awkward as the many emotions of the entire situation hung thick between you. You still had so many questions about what was happening, many of which wouldn’t have answers until the two of you continued further. The expression on Ling’s face showed the same, wanting to discuss the plans, the future, each other. Deciding to break the silence, your voice popped up quietly, “Thank you again, for everything you’ve done for me, and I really mean that. While this whole thing, top to bottom is mostly because of things that you did, you could’ve just ignored me and traveled right to Central or even back home.” You found yourself talking much more than you anticipated, words that you had been holding back in the chaos spilling out freely, “But you didn’t, you kept an eye on me and stepped in to save me even when I could have defended myself. You listened to me honestly and openly multiple times and you haven’t hid anything from me that I know of. Even leaving for this trip, I felt like an actual partner and part of the plan, not just someone who needs to be escorted or protected. And do you know what the funniest part of all of this is?” You held your fist to your mouth for a small giggle. “I don’t even really know which one of you I’m talking about right now.”

Your head turned to the side, finding the man next to you much closer than you thought. He looked back at you, those same soft kind eyes were there, burning ambition and determination right behind them, not hidden, but conveying a man who had seen extreme pain, suffering, and sadness but still continues to fight on and counter everything bad that he can. Without even a thought in your head, you found yourself leaning in, closing your eyes slightly as your chin pointed slightly more towards him. The moment your eyes shut, almost as though he had swooped in suddenly and slowed at the last moment, you felt the gentle softness of another’s lips on yours. As you leaned into the kiss, a smile couldn’t help but peek across your lips slightly as you pulled away slowly, how many girls dreamed of growing up and kissing a prince from a storybook, something most grew up to never believe to be possible, and here you were. You couldn’t help but let out a pure happy laugh as you pressed yourself lightly against the body beside you, your lips moving back to his, his lower lip gently pressed between the two of yours, the both of you opening your mouths slightly on the kiss. He pushed in a little more aggressively and passionately at this, kissing you deep as his arm wrapped around your back pulling you closer. At this put you had full lost yourself, both arms wrapped around the man’s neck, as his free hand reached up and carefully held your cheek. His kisses came both rough and caring, passionate but careful with each one, making it uncertain to you who even was in control between the three of you at any moment, but that just made your heart pound all the more in your chest as the revelation came that you didn’t even care.

Pulling away for a small breath, a moment of your senses returned to you and you felt your face burn red hot as you quickly buried it in your hands. “I’m… I’m so sorry I don’t know what came over..” Before you had a chance to finish, a warm hand pulled your own away from your face.

“It’s okay, I think there was a lot unsaid between us that we both felt.” Ling’s smile slowly came into view as your hands left your face, the infectious genuineness of it setting you at ease a little as Greed chimed in as well.

“Don’t worry girly, we’ll take care of ya, and we ain’t goin’ anywhere either. When I make somethin’ mine, I don’t ever let it go.”

You felt tears begin to well up in your eyes, throwing yourself against their shoulder and wrapping your arms around tightly. A soft, “Please don’t” was muffled into Ling’s coat as both his arms wrapped around to hold you tightly, one gently stroking your hair.

“Like I said, ain’t nothin’ to worry about.” Greed’s voice was quiet and soft this time, his words holding a weight of promise as you sunk further into the pair’s hold, the events of the last few days finally catching up to you as you drifted off with the both of them holding you.

#fma #greed #fic #MAN IVE BEEN WAITING TO GET TO THIS PART #THIS FIC WASNT GOING TO BE MORE THAN A FEW PARTS #BUT THEN I HAD PLOT IDEAS #AND FELL IN LOVE WITH WRITING THESE TWO #I'M PROBABLY GIVING HER TOO MUCH PERSONALITY FOR A 'READER INSERT' BUT OOPS #TOO MANY FUN IDEAS IN MY HEAD

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