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seancekitsch · 4 years ago

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Duty: A Cahir x Reader fic in the Intended series

Warnings: oral and penatrative sex, butchering of the tale of lady ragnell and sir gawain bc i remembered it wrong from my childhood, the slightest twinge of angst if you squint, hints to book canon events, 3k of unedited smut as literally always

You shiver has Cahir pulling the blanket up over your shoulders as you snuggle closer to him. Instead of east which proved two years ago to be completely unfruitful, you head north now, having heard something on the road about the Nilfgaardian army heading north. Wherever they were headed, you both figured your cousin might be. How excited you think she’ll be to see you alive. A family member not lost to the flames. Maybe she wouldn't recognize you anymore, now that you wear trousers and travel with a fugitive. Though you never felt hot summers in Cintra, going even farther north set the chill in even longer into the year. You figure it will be the height of the summer before you stop shivering. You wonder how Cahir handles it. Sweet Cahir who grew up in the south, the tropical heat of Vicovaro.You love the stories of summers by the Alba river, the warm summer nights under the stars. At this point, it seems like you'll never see it for yourself, so you vicariously live it through the stories he tells you. You ask him to tell them all the time, probably something he’s extremely tired of repeating, but it keeps away the chill, at least for a while.

He pulls your naked body a little closer to his, something he always says is that body heat helps to warm your bones. You think it might just be something he says to stay naked in bed with you a little longer. Since being able to pick up a little work on your travels, finding a room at an inns that the innkeepers would look the other way when you arrived, you can now afford to do this with him, rather than laying beneath the stars. You almost forgot what a bed felt like, but now every night your back thanks you for the new sleeping arrangements.

Your arm snakes around his waist, giving him as squeeze as you press a quick kiss to his pectoral. Contented sighs are common between the two of you, these relaxed nights frozen in time where you can be your most vulnerable on a continent that works its hardest to beat the vulnerability out of everyone.

Your eyes catch sight of the sword on the chest of drawers. Your sword. Not the dagger, not the sword Cahir lent you for practice. The sword he bought you and specifically had made for you. A weapon as an act of true love that means the world to you. He seems to catch the sight as well, you assume with his next words.

“What shall you name your sword?” he plays with your fingers, tangling your hands together. Your hands are soft compared to his, but he suspects that won't be for long.

“Ragnell,” you answer without hesitation.

“Ragnell?” he repeats.

“Yes, it's from a story that I heard as a child. There was this man that told stories the elves knew in the library.”

He presses a kiss to your knuckles, then realizes, “Aren’t the stories of elves taboo?”

You chuckle, and press a kiss to his chest.

“Oh I’m sure he would lose his keep if I squealed. Good thing I can keep a secret,” You hum, recalling the story, “There was a knight, and he was the nicest knight. And he fell in love with this woman who was cursed to be very ugly. She did not think he would actually love her, but he did and he married her. On their wedding night half of the curse was lifted, and she said: do you want me ugly during the day when others see me? Or only at night when it's just you seeing me? The knight, I forget his name, says: You may choose, I will be a good husband and love you either way. That act of love and freedom frees her from the curse and she can choose how he looks. It was my favorite story.”

Ragnell was the cursed woman, and he realizes it's the perfect name for the sword. A beautiful piece of metal but used for ugly purposes. He stares up at the gauzy canopy above your heads, the mauves and dark blues swirling together like the night sky. Like so many nights he spent with you in his arms next to the campfire.

Cahir wishes he knew you when he was younger. Knowing his fair share of stories of Nilfgaardian knighthood and bravery, he was as much a storyteller as a rambunctious child who used to run around the grounds of Darn Dyffra with a wooden sword in his hands. Had he met you earlier, you might have grown up loving one another. Maybe already married, living as count and countess of Darn Dyffra, destiny wouldn't need either of you in what it has plans. If only. He knows that even when he was young, he dreamt of you. Your features blurred and distorted, but it was always you. It took seeing you in the flames of Cintra that night to see you in focus, but it was always you. For a man who valued his pride, his accomplishments, he cannot help but to see his failures now as blessings. The intuition he felt in Cintra, the failure of what was to be his most important mission, utter failure but it was all to bring him to you.

“Ragnell it is,” he repeats your words, the name sounding nice on his tongue now that it has meaning, “May she serve you well.”

And then he kisses you on the mouth, lips capturing yours, open and eager. His tongue quickly finds yours, passing through your mouth like a promise, the sealing of a contract between your lips. He shifts to be on top of you, slotting his legs between yours as the hand not supporting him above you roams your body. After two years, affection like this doesn't feel stolen between the two of you, not rushed and fumbling like it used to feel. He moves from your mouth to your jaw, to your neck and then to your collarbone as his groping and fondling continues, spurred on by your soft moans and your skin feeling oh so hot under his touch. He kisses at your collarbone, licking and sucking a mark there, but before he continues you stop him.

“You don't have to, my love,” You lazily assure him, “You're tired.”

“I do,” he says, kissing down your body, from your chest, the valley of your sternum, your navel. You gasp sharply as his tongue darts out of his mouth to lick a stripe up along your hip above the bone. He continues farther, scooting to the edge of the bed, parting your thighs, pressing a lewd kiss to the inside of each of them.

“What kind of a knight would I be if I did not fulfill my duty to you?” There's playfulness in his tone that makes your heart race, and you prop yourself up on your elbow to look him in the eye. You feel as if you’ll combust if he doesn't touch you more.

“So this is your duty to me? This specifically?” The image of you looking down at him, chest heaving and eyes wide is all he needs to want to dive headfirst into your heat, to spend the rest of his night between your legs.

There's something devilish in his eyes as he chuckles and presses another kiss to the inside of your thigh, nipping at it gently as you gasp.

“It is my duty to keep my lady satisfied, or else she chooses to leave me for another,” he mumbles as his lips move up closer to where you want him.

“Cahir,” your breath hitches as he tests the waters, licking teasingly at your clit, almost silencing you, “You have to be the only person I’ve chosen in my life.”

That's music to his ears. He licks again, this time with more precision, more purpose, earning him the ghost of a moan, the first of many. Each lick earns him a moan, but they’re nothing compared to the shaking moan that turns into a closed mouth whine as you head falls back into the sheets, his lips coming around the bud to suck on it.

“Cahir,” his name falls from your lips with a sigh. He watches you intently, giving your cult another harsh suck before dipping lower, licking you open and tasting your arousal.

“Better than the sweetest honey that exists,” he hums, mostly to himself, but your breath hitches again in response. He licks up as much as he can, tongue as deep in you as he can manage. One of your hands finds his hair as you chant his name, first running fingers through it gently, then starting to rake and pull as his ministrations pick up the pace.

Every time Cahir’s tongue is inside you, it's a dedication to your pleasure and your pleasure alone. You’ve long since forbidden him from apologizing again and again for the circumstances of your meeting. All in the past, you always say, but he hopes every time you come undone on his tongue he repents just that much more for the harm he caused you so many months ago. Cahir drinks you in, indulging and loving every second of it. Your back is arched off the bed, legs thrown over his shoulders as you grasp at his hair and the bedsheets. He loves the sting of your nails against his scalp.

It’s when he adds two fingers that your body reacts like lightning, replacing his tongue and again his lips attaching to your clit. There are tears, beautiful tears in the corners of your eyes as he watches you start to lose yourself. That’s right, he thinks, fall apart for me love. Your moans are beautiful, ragged from breathlessness and sounding like a prayer of his name and only his name, and he pulls them from you with every thrust of his fingers. He feels your muscles going taut under his touch, he can feel you ready to come.

“Give it to me, love, let go,” he urges, his free hand reaching over to grab your hand. He holds your hand as you come, shaking with a silent scream from your lips. His mouth and fingers work you through your peak, letting you down gently; his mouth licking up every last drop of your wetness.

“But what about you?” you ask as he comes back up to lay with you.

“You needn’t do anything tonight love,”Cahir whispers as he kisses you, mouth still wet from you. You taste sweet on his tongue, delving into your mouth as you regain your breath, body pliant beneath his gentle touch. But as much as he can say that, you can feel him hard and straining against your thigh, body begging for you even if he won't voice his needs.

“No, Cahir, let me reward you for taking care of me,” you break the kiss, a mischievous smile gracing your lips, “Think of it as MY duty to you.”

Your hands grab his shoulders and push him back onto the bed, now it being his turn to lay back and enjoy himself. You kiss him again on the mouth sweetly while you maneuver your legs over his hips to straddle him, soft hands cupping his cheeks as you do. Those stormy blue eyes watch your every movement as you start to move, rubbing yourself against him. The noises that tumble from his lips are beautiful, little whimpers and moans from someone who anyone but you would consider fearsome and formidable. To you, he's just Cahir; Cahir that’s oh so reactive to your touch, Cahir that’s so very vulnerable. A low, throaty moan reverberates from his chest as you line him up with your entrance and sink down onto his length inch by inch.

“Beautiful,” he sighs as his hands find their place on your hips, holding you against him. You lean back down, kissing him again as you start to rock against him, catching little moans of his on your tongue as you slowly bring him to the edge. His warm hands hold you tightly, gently guiding your hips as he thanks you through kisses. You take such good care of him. You kiss him again, and then pull away.

“I’m close.”

“Again?”

You nod, and he squeezes your hips a little tighter, your head dipping down, almost close enough to kiss him, resting all of your weight on your arms as your hips pick up their pace, thrusting yourself onto him as you chase your high.

“With me?”

He nods, and starts to buck his hips up into yours, meeting your gyrations. You fall over the cliff into ecstasy together; sweet quiet moans of each other's names as you watch each other's faces contort with the pleasure.

You tumble onto the sheets next to him, thighs aching and panting for breath. Cahir’s arms are immediately pulling you back in, against him. He kisses your hairline, your eyebrows, and just holds you there, allowing you to catch your breath on his chest and regain your bearings. He feels every breath in your lungs with his palm against your back. In, out, in, out. He feels every muscle in your body tense and relax under his touch, welcoming him in as embraces you, the way you think the kind knight might have embraced his wife, if they even existed in the first place. You sigh, face stretching into an easy smile, wishing this moment could just remain.

He will never get used to this, he thinks. No matter how many nights he gets to fall asleep by your side, no matter how many mornings he gets to wake up with you in his arms, he will never feel broken in. Not with you, and Cahir finds he doesn't want it to.

You let yourself be pulled in by Cahir, gladly molding yourself to his chest and lazily smiling at the feeling of his soft lips against your head. How strange it is, to feel love as a verb. To actively radiate it and push and mold it in your hands against another person. Perhaps that’s what the kind knight had in mind with his cursed wife. Your tired fingers flex against his sweaty chest. You want to get used to this. To have his touch feel like second nature, to fall into a routine of waking and falling asleep next to him. You want it all to feel like you’ve always had it, and you always will.

“I should marry you as soon as possible,” he mumbles into your hair, an admission of his desires as much as an admission of guilt. In his mind he’s thought of himself as yours forever since he learned your name. It’s been far too long— over three years— that he’s known you and hasn’t been officially yours. His hand runs along the flesh above your rib cage, smoothing out a muscle there. It’s not so much he wants you as a wife, he does, but it’s not his wish to possess you, more for you to possess him. He wants to be yours, and shout it from the peak of the highest mountain. He should have asked you sooner, in a more elegant way. Grand romantic gestures would embarrass you, but this seemed almost shameful to blurt out at this hour.

“We should get married.” He says it again, a fool for love. As much as he doesn’t think this is proper, he wants it to be known his intentions with you.

“Not yet,” you whisper, hoping you aren’t being careless with his heart. It isn’t that you don’t want to marry him. You do. You have since Brugge. Every fiber of your being wants to be his, only his, forever. While you sleep beside him you dream of doing it until you’re old and frail. You dream of retiring from a life of adventure happy to know your remaining family is safe, not in Vicovaro unless something drastic happens with the war, but somewhere nice. Somewhere warm where you can see the sun tan his skin and there can be a garden. But your gut is telling you destiny won’t let it happen just yet. Like if you marry him tomorrow like you so desperately want, everything will come crashing down. Marriage or celebration right now would be a harbinger of doom. You feel him stiffen beneath you.

“Not yet, you handsome thing, but soon. We have a cousin of mine to find. Once we confirm her safety, then we can be husband and wife. Maybe open up a shop to keep ourselves; become farmers together,” you sound pleading, wanting him to understand you without telling him of your gut feeling. You don’t want to scare him with your superstition.

“I can’t give you much,” he begins, but you lean up to silence him with a kiss.

“It’s not that, Cahir. You already gave me Ragnell. That’s more than a wife could ever want. Soon. Once we find Ciri.”

He understands now. Destiny and duty first. He nods, and kisses you back.

“Then I will belong to you,” he promises. You press one more kiss to his jaw, and then he pulls up the sheet around you and you settle in to sleep, tangled up in one another.

He falls asleep hoping you find Cirilla tomorrow so he can marry you the day after. He falls asleep with you soundly in his arms, holding him like you’ll never let go.

#my work #intended series #cahir x reader #cahir the witcher x reader

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stayextrafrosty · 4 years ago

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I’m Dying for a Taste of You: Chapter 2

Chapter Title: Go On and Tear Me Apart

Roswell New Mexico Malex Vampire AU

A/N: Everyone really seemed to like this and I couldn’t get it out of my head so have another chapter. This chapter has a lot more sex and some sprinklings of plot. Some more niche kinks are explored. I don’t expect consistent updates so I’ll never leave a chapter on a major cliffhanger. Again, PLEASE READ WARNINGS

Warnings: Dom/sub, cock warming, consensual non-consent, anal fisting

Read on AO3 // Masterlist

What was Alex supposed to do now? Could he walk back into the office saying he failed a mission so spectacularly that he even ended up getting claimed by his target? Somehow he figured that wouldn’t go well.

Michael had snuck him out the back door of the blood ball. He drove them both home in an old pickup that didn’t at all fit in with the usual aesthetic of vampires. Most of them were all about luxury and flashy possessions. The only thing Alex could think about on that ride was how hot it would be to fuck in the bed under the stars.

His whole mind was nothing but dirty thoughts. Whatever Michael did to him, there’s no way it didn’t involve the constant horniness. It wasn’t even this bad when he went through puberty. Not that Michael wasn’t fully prepared to satisfy him. Alex hadn’t gotten a good look at the outside of his house before he was being dragged inside and shoved up against the wall.

Michael’s mouth was all over him. He sucked at the mark on his neck while grinding his hips into Alex. He couldn’t help but try to tug him closer. He hadn’t thought his body could handle anymore but he was rock hard by the time Michael was pulling his jeans down along with his slacks. He had spun him to face the wall and pushed into him again. Alex was still open from their earlier activities.

Michael had his forehead pressed to the top of his spine and his hands worked Alex’s cock. Neither of them had lasted long, both grunting out the other’s name as Alex came over the wooden floors and Michael filled him again.

And now sunlight filtered in from the edges of the blackout shade. Alex was naked and covered with soft cotton blend sheets. He could distantly hear Michael in the shower. He wanted to join him but he didn’t think he could handle any more sex. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table to check the time.

He was late. There were already missed calls from his partner Kyle, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave yet. He wanted to take a sick day that he rarely ever used but with the importance of the mission, it wasn’t an option. He needed to at least report back.

His stomach rumbled at him and he briefly wondered if Michael would even have food. He buried his face in the pillow and groaned. Then he finally pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. He ran his fingers over the area of his thigh Michael had bit yesterday. There was nothing. Not even a hint of it having ever happened.

Then he ran his fingers over the bite mark on his neck. Why hadn’t that healed? He grabbed his pants and underwear from the floor. He could get away with it today but he needed new clothes. After pulling his underwear on, he worked on his leg. Jeans took a little longer to put on but he couldn’t go to work in sweats.

Alex stood and walked out of the room, retracing his steps from the night before. There weren’t many stairs but the lack of a hand railing made it more complicated. He let his fingers drag over the wall for stability. He hated building standards sometimes.

The kitchen was a room off from the front area they had walked in last night. It wasn’t huge but certainly fancier than any kitchen he had been in before. The appliances looked new but the theme was more rustic. The appliances were all matte black but most other things were wood and granite based. Alex guessed the cabinets were cherry but couldn’t be sure. The granite was black but sparkled with white, making it look like stars.

He pulled the fridge open, happy to find it fully stocked with normal food. There was also a corner dedicated to bags of blood. He had never thought about vampires not drinking from a human. Every depiction they had been shown in the academy showed them as gorging from the necks of humans.

He picked one up and turned it over in his hand a couple times. There were labels signaling the type and a ‘best by’ date, but no other information. Had he been expecting a name? Maybe. He supposed it wasn’t necessary information.

“I think that’s mine. Unless you’re curious,” a voice materialized next to his ear. Alex jumped what felt like a foot in the air and he spun toward Michael, who had an amused grin on his face.

“Christ, would it kill you to make some noise,” Alex scolded. Michael just chuckled and took the bag of blood from his hand to set it on the counter. He was shirtless with sweats that still showed off the outline of his cock.

“Sorry.” He openly ran his eyes over every part of Alex. He blushed under the intense attention. “Do you make a habit of walking around shirtless, because I approve.” As he worked his way back up, his gaze lingered on the mark. Alex watched him smile and run his fingers over the mark.

He shivered even as a warmth spread through his body. His eyes fluttered shut and leaned back against the still open fridge. His head rolled to the side as Michael pressed his body against him, running his mouth over his neck. His one hand joined the other on Alex’s hips.

Alex lifted a hand to his hair, the damp curls tangling around his fingers. He heard Michael inhale deeply and then groan quietly. He kissed up and down his throat, occasionally nipping at the skin. Alex felt his fingers dig into his hips.

Then he was pulling away, causing Alex to almost stumble forward after him, as though Michael had been holding him up. He turned away from Alex and grabbed the bag of blood from the counter. He opened up a cabinet on the other side of the kitchen and pulled out a glass.

What just happened? I thought…

Alex had to catch his breath. His mark almost throbbed. As if telling him exactly what he was supposed to do for Michael. But he had been rejected.

“You just going to stand there with the door open?” Alex blinked himself back into reality. Michael had a raised eyebrow and a teasing smile. Alex blushed and turned to look for something easy to make. He settled on eggs, pulling three from the package.

“Um, do you want me to make you anything,” Alex asked? Michael chuckled and he realized the stupidity of the question.

“No. Don’t worry about it.” Alex grabbed the hanging pan and placed it on a burner.

“Why do you have all that food if you don’t eat it?”

“For you.”

Alex stopped in his movements to look back at him. His smile had transformed into something soft and his head rested in his palm. Another blush rose to his face and he cursed himself. Since when had he become so damn sentimental?

“What do you mean for me,” he asked instead?

“After you fell asleep last night I went shopping. I did drag you back here without much warning after all. Besides, the least I can do as your Sire is take care of you.” Sire?

“What does that mean?” His eyebrows drew together, smile falling to a slight frown.

“Last night I was joking, but now I’m serious. What did they teach you in the academy?” Alex turned back to his eggs. Less than he originally thought, apparently. “Sire is one of the nice ways of saying I’m the one who claimed you. A lot of other vamps use words like master or mistress. I never cared for those terms much.”

Alex’s eggs snapped in the pan as he scrambled them. He supposed he would have to get used to those terms. Certain vampires weren’t exactly appreciative of humans. They viewed them as food and nothing else. He had thought Michael was one of those not even a day earlier.

He dumped his food on a plate and sat across from Michael at the table. He pushed the eggs around with the fork. He was hungry but he needed to know more about the world he had jumped headfirst into.

“When will this mark on my neck fade?” Michael’s fingers twitched to half close his fist.

“It won’t. At least, not completely.” Alex met his eyes seeing the hurt there. He reached for his hand, wanting to take back the question.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that. It’s not that I want it gone or anything it’s just in a kind of difficult spot to cover.” Michael squeezed his hand back.

“It’s alright. I’m sorry I didn’t think about that last night. I couldn’t think of anything except making you mine,” he said leaning in, smile returning to his face. Alex glanced down at his mouth. Was it ok to kiss him? What was their relationship exactly? Sure Michael was his… sire… but what else?

Michael apparently made the decision for him. He stood and closed the distance between them, pressing his mouth to Alex’s gently. His free hand held his face. Alex tested the water and licked his bottom lip. Michael opened up for him easily as he ran the tip of his tongue over his canines and then massaged his tongue. They both moaned quietly.

Michael’s fingers moved from his face to his hair. Alex knew his food was getting cold but it was just a passing thought. His mark throbbed lightly as Michael kissed him. The prick of his teeth warmed him and his cock started to respond. Michael groaned and pulled himself away.

Alex felt the cold as soon as he was gone. He watched the muscles in his back as he left the kitchen. He clenched his fists and shoved his chair back, hurrying after him. What was his problem. It was like he didn’t want him anymore.

Alex caught up to him in the front room before he made it up the stairs. He yanked him back to face him.

“Why do you keep doing that? Do you not want me or something?” Michael pleaded with his eyes before turning his head away.

“Alex please,” he begged. He could have easily broken away if he really wanted to.

“No. Explain it to me. I’m not a mind reader Guerin.” He shook his head, eyes squeezing shut. He pulled his arm away and ran his hand over his face and jaw. He tried moving back. Alex grabbed him again, thinking he was about to run.

Michael grabbed him instead, shoving his hips against the nearby couch. His teeth bared to Alex’s face. Alex saw the anger and pain but his body reacted anyway. His mark seemed to scream at him to submit but he didn’t want to back down. He never broke eye contact even as Michael snarled at him.

“I can fucking smell you. I’m aware of every change in your body and it’s driving me mad to control myself.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he started, looking away first. He let his head fall to Alex’s shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you. With lust comes hunger. And I know your mark is telling you to offer yourself to me but I could easily drain you.”

Alex didn’t move. Oh. He was worried.

He lifted his arms slowly to wrap around Michael’s neck. He pet his head gently. He could feel Michael panting and gripping his hips. His lips pressed to his shoulder and the moved up slowly. His teeth scratched him but never drew blood. He kissed the mark, whimpering with need. Alex’s heart broke. He had to do something.

He pushed Michael away from him gently. When he finally looked at Alex again, he lifted his arm, pressing his wrist against his lips. He could control him better if he needed to.

“I’ll be fine. You seem to forget I’ve been trained to fight off vampires.” His eyes were wide, searching his expression for any sign of hesitation. He wouldn’t find any.

Michael slowly ran his hand over his arm, gipping it gently. He turned it so the angle was better. He let his eyes flutter closed as he licked the soft skin of his wrist. Alex sighed at the feeling and wrapped his free arm around Michael’s shoulder.

The pinch of his teeth was quickly becoming familiar. The sensitive nerves in his wrist complained but not enough to make him want to stop. The warmth burned through his body and his fingers dug into Michael’s back. He let a small moan slip and Michael pressed his hips against him, showing that his condition wasn’t much better.

Alex watched him as a drop slid down his arm. He seemed to sense he was being watched and opened his eyes, meeting his gaze. Alex had never seen a more alluring sight. All he could do was smile. The dizziness returned far quicker than the previous night. He would need to stop him before he became too weak to do so.

It never actually got to that point. Michael was pulling his teeth out and running his tongue over the wound. He ran his tongue down his arm, collecting the drop that spilled. Michael didn’t stop there. When he got to his elbow, he started pressing kisses up his bicep and shoulder. He stopped short of his neck, instead lifting his head to kiss his lips.

The kiss was lazy and sweet. Alex could pick up the taste of his own blood but he didn’t want to stop. Michael’s hands moved to the waist of his jeans, popping open the button and pushing them down. Alex moaned against his lips.

Michael pulled back and grinned at him, fangs not fully retracted. He proceeded to drop to one knee, pulling his pants down with the movement. He lifted Alex’s good leg and pulled the jeans off quickly so he wouldn’t be balancing on the prosthesis for too long. He repeated the action with the other leg more carefully.

After he stood back up and kissed Alex again. He ran his hands over his body, making Alex sigh at the gentle caresses. He moved his hands to his lower back, then down over his ass, squeezing firmly. Alex chuckled. His hands continued their movement down to the back of his thighs.

“Wrap your arms around me,” he ordered. Alex didn’t hesitate and pulled him as close as possible.

Michael kissed him again. He hardly registered that he was being lifted into the air and set down on the back of the couch. “Legs.” Alex could easily figure what he meant. He wrapped his legs around his waist. He was being lifted again, Michael’s lips still pressed against his own. He felt his back hit a wall.

Alex tugged at his hair, earning him a groan and a quick bite on his lip. He felt Michael pressing against his hole. He hazily wondered when he had time to remove his sweats. Not that it mattered.

Michael spread his cheeks and pushed up and into him. Alex yelped, half in pain, half in need. He was still prepped from the stretching yesterday but without lube, it was rougher than he was used to. He scratched Michael’s back, making him hiss and thrust his hips forward roughly.

Alex broke the kiss and let his head fall to his shoulder, moaning loudly. Michael thrust again, more gentle this time.

“I’m gunna cum in your ass. Then you’re going to sit on my cock ‘til I’m hard again and can fuck you properly.” His own cock jumped in anticipation. He nodded wordlessly and he heard Michael chuckle. “Fuck you’re perfect.”

Then he was fucking into him again. He could feel the desire coiling in his gut and he was so close. Michael’s name tumbled from his lips then he felt his hips stutter in their movement. The throbbing in his ass signaled him to Michael’s orgasm. He was wound so tightly and he just needed a bit more.

“Fuck… I didn’t…” he started.

“I know. And you won’t either. Not until I want you to,” Michael said next to his ear. He groaned and tried to rock his hips. No such luck.

Michael carried him to the couch and sat, adjusting Alex’s legs so they were kneeling on either side of him. Alex whimpered at how deep he was, completely filling him. He felt the cum leaking out around his hole. Natural lubricant.

Michael held his hips still and kissed his chest and shoulders. Alex was digging his own nails into his shoulders.

“I will never get tired of seeing you stretched around my cock. It’s so hot. Squeeze that ass around me.” Alex did as he was told and he regret it immediately. He felt every inch of him as though it was being burned into his body’s memory. He tried to grind down unsuccessfully.

Michael released his hips but he didn’t dare move. He wrapped a hand loosely around his cock and stroked him. He leaned up and nuzzled his throat.

“You let me feed from you even though I said not to. That wasn’t smart. I’ll punish you like this when you needlessly put your life in danger.” Alex whimpered. If this was punishment then what were the rewards?

His thumb teased the head of his cock, rubbing the precum around. His mouth dropped open. It wasn’t enough to bring him over the edge but he was definitely on it. His legs trembled and his whole body was coiled tight. One thrust and it would be all over. He heard Michael chuckle.

“I never said you couldn’t try to speed up this process. But keep those hips still.”

Alex grabbed his face and kissed him. His hands wound through his hair and pulled. Michael sighed happily. He squeezed his muscles around him again, somehow managing to keep himself from grinding down. He took his bottom lip and bit down, tugging on it. Michael’s hand squeezed him briefly.

Biting. Duh.

Alex smirked and tore his mouth away from Michael. He kissed over his jaw, nipping gently. He groaned quietly. He kissed down his neck with an open mouth, licking and sucking at the skin. He found the spot where his pulse thumped against his lips.

“Fuck Alex. You’re playing with fire,” Michael warned. His cock was starting to harden inside of him again.

Alex flattened his tongue over the spot just as he did when he was about to bite him. He licked and then kissed. He bit down. Not hard but enough to get the job done. His cock jerked inside of him, making Alex moan.

Michael grabbed his hips and pulled him down while thrusting up. Alex’s jaw clenched at the surprise. He tasted blood. Michael pulled him off and back down again. His hips rolled, trying to take him deeper.

“Look who’s a fast learner. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Michael taunted. Their hips fell into a rhythm and Alex was spiraling. He had been kept on the edge for so long it was like he couldn’t get off it. He gasped and moaned with his face buried against Michael’s neck.

He grabbed his throbbing cock firmly, so every roll of his hips had him fucking into his fist. Michael groaned watching him. His fingers dug into his skin and he shifted his angle. The head of his cock rubbed against his prostate. He called out and his entire body spasmed.

White ropes spilled between them. Mostly over Michael’s chest. Alex found himself on his back, bent in half and legs spread wide. He chewed on his lip, sure he was stretched open for Michael’s eyes.

“You are probably the sexiest man alive,” he said, slipping himself back in. “And all. Fucking. Mine.” Every word was accented with a rough jerk of his hips. Alex saw stars, back arching as much as he could with Michaels weight on top of him.

He kissed him then. Michael thrust into him roughly and erratically. Their mouths fell open and they breathed each other in. The man above him grunted and shoved himself in a final time, painting his insides.

Michael rested his forehead against Alex’s as he released his legs and collapsed on top of him. He pressed lazy kisses to his face. The sweetness was broken from Alex’s stomach growling loudly at them.

Michael snorted as Alex burst into chuckles. He had planned to eat hadn’t he?

“You better eat. No distractions this time.” He rolled off and walked around to grab his sweats from the floor. Alex watched his ass and grinned.

“I’m going to get you back for all this at some point,” he teased, sitting up. Michael looked over his shoulder at him and winked.

“I look forward to it.” He picked up Alex’s pants and tossed them at him. He just shook his head and began the process of getting them on.

Suffice to say the eggs were cold.

Alex was redressing after his shower when the fantasy ended. There was a knock at the front door which Michael had answered. He assumed it was a delivery. Then there was a gunshot and yelling.

“Manes! Where are you?” Kyle? Alex rushed out of the room, grabbing his gun on top of the dresser as he passed. He lifted the gun as he all but jumped from the last couple stairs.

Michael was crumpled on the ground, teeth fully extended and snarling at his partner. His hand was pressed to his gut where blood was dripping onto the wooden floors. Alex panicked, dropping his gun and stumbling over to him, falling to his knees.

“Alex! What the hell,” Kyle yelled, confusion evident. “That thing is going to kill you if you don’t get away.” His brain hardly registered the words. Instead he pulled Michael close pressing his own hand over the wound.

“Get… Away…” he growled out. Alex shook his head. He didn’t think his body would let him move even if he wanted to. Tears slipped down his cheeks. He couldn’t even give him blood to heal. His mark throbbed but any further blood loss would bring him closer to death than he wanted to be.

Alex finally acknowledged Kyle, turning toward him and begging.

“Please. Help me.” His gun pointed at the two of them, eyes not sure where to focus. His mouth hung open as he tried to process what he was seeing. “Kyle! If we don’t do something he’s going to die.”

“That’s the point, Manes! What’s wrong with you?” Kyle finally seemed to notice the mark on his neck. His anger seemed to resurface as he steadied his gun. He clenched his jaw and glared at Michael. “You did this to him. He can’t even think rationally. All you fucking vampires know how to do is manipulate,” he spat out.

Alex cursed. If he left Michael’s side, Kyle would finish him off. Michael had said he didn’t want him to die but there was no choice. He unwrapped the bandage from his wrist, pressing it to his mouth just as he had earlier.

“Alex no!” Alex felt himself being ripped away from Michael and flung to the ground. Another gunshot rang out. He looked on, horrified as Michael had Kyle’s arm gripped in his hand, aiming the gun at the ceiling.

“Don’t touch him,” Michael threatened, voice low and calm. Blood soaked through the shirt from his abdomen. Alex glanced at Kyle, whose face was overtaken with fear. The gun fell out of his hand and clattered to the floor. “How kind of you to make a donation in his place.” Then his teeth sunk into his throat.

Kyle was stunned. At least until the bullet that had been lodged in Michael’s gut clattered to the wooden floor. Alex couldn’t move. All his training and he would have never let this continue for as long as it did. He’d fought off vampires feeding before. But something about this had him frozen to the spot.

Kyle managed to shove him back but the rough treatment meant the bleeding didn’t stop. Alex shook his head back to reality and scrambled to his feet. Michael snarled and made a move for him again.

“Stop!” Kyle stumbled back, hand pressed to his neck. Michael stood over him, body shaking with rage. Blood dripped down his chin and neck. Alex had never been scared of him until that moment.

Alex’s voice had stopped his rampage but now Kyle was the one in danger of dying. His best friend. Who he had left to be attacked by a vampire. A vampire protecting itself and the one it had claimed.

Alex was disgusted with himself.

He crouched in front of his friend. He pulled his t-shirt off to press it to the wound hoping he could slow the bleeding until they got to the hospital. He wrapped Kyle’s arm around his neck to help him stand. He glanced back at Michael. There was a cold blank expression and he couldn’t look at him for long.

Alex hobbled out the door, half carrying Kyle who was still in shock. He reached into the pocket of his partner’s jeans and pulled out the key to the jeep. He helped him into the passenger side before rushing to climb into the other side.

He felt Michael’s eyes on him as he started the car and pulled out. In the haze of everything that had happened, he had forgotten just how vicious a vampire could be.

Alex refused to leave Kyle’s side while a doctor examined him. No one had called the police yet and Michael could do jail time for attacking him like that. The self-defense plea was rarely taken seriously in vampire cases.

They wrapped his neck in bandages. Despite how much blood there was, Michael hadn’t actually pierced him that deep.

They sat silently in the office. Alex had taken a hoodie from the back of the jeep. It smelled like Kyle. Alex had been interested in him at one point but nothing had ever come of it. He was still comforted by the spice of his cologne.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Kyle turned toward him, eyebrows drawn together, a look of confusion softening his sharp features.

“What happened? How did that thing get its fangs in you long enough to claim you?” Alex wrung his hands together.

“I let him.”

“Let him? He was your target, Manes.”

“It felt right.”

“Right? He’s a monster! He nearly killed me and there’s strong evidence that he killed those girls!”

“I know. And I’ll talk to him about that but—”

“The hell you will! We’re sending an entire squad back there to get rid of it. Then this disgusting infatuation you have will be broken.”

His mark burned. Overcome with the desire to protect.

“You attacked him Kyle! He wouldn’t have felt the need to hurt anyone if you hadn’t shot him!” Kyle gave an exasperated laugh, running a hand through his short hair.

“I can’t believe you’re actually defending it.”

Alex didn’t get a chance to respond before the doctor re-entered the room. He watched Kyle. He had always been on his side and suddenly it was like they had never known each other. They walked out together but he didn’t say another word. He handed the keys back to Kyle.

He didn’t offer a ride.

Alex watched him pull out of the parking lot. The sun beat down on the asphalt. He could see the waves of heat rolling off it. It was far too warm for the sweatshirt but he didn’t want to take it off. If it was the last piece of his friend then he would hold onto it.

He stepped back inside the hospital to call himself a taxi. He had no idea what would happen. He was sure Kyle was going to report everything to the chief. When the car pulled up he gave his own address. The pull back to Michael was strong but he wasn’t sure if he could face him. Not that he even knew his address. There was obviously still a lot for them to talk about. What exactly was this mark doing to his mind?

The driver made light conversation but he really wasn’t in the mood. He gave short responses as he stared out the window. Alex did his best to give a friendly smile as he paid and tipped the driver.

Alex watched him pull away before turning back to the old pickup that was parked in his driveway. He sighed and made his way to the front door. He didn’t bother looking for the spare key, figuring Michael had left it unlocked for him.

He stepped into the front room and the house was nearly silent but he knew Michael was here somewhere. Nothing looked out of place except for the boots that sat by the front door. Alex walked through the house, glancing in rooms.

He finally pushed the door to his own room open. Michael sat on his bed, looking at a picture of him and Kyle when they first graduated the academy. He had changed his shirt and washed his face but a chill still ran down Alex’s spine.

“You’re terrified of me now.” His voice was quiet. There was no surprise but he couldn’t disguise the hurt. He slowly sat next to him on the bed, taking the photo from his hands.

“I did watch you try to rip out my best friends throat.” Michael was silent and still hadn’t looked at him. He set the picture down on the nightstand. Alex reached toward him slowly. He tried to touch his shoulder but he just jumped up and moved to the window. He pulled the curtains closed, flinching at the sun.

He just stood like that. Staring at the curtains as if he could see through them.

“The mark,” he started slowly. “It will influence your thoughts like a reroute. You’re first instinct will always be for my needs until you can learn to shut it down. I’ve seen this take anywhere from a few days to years. And sometimes never.” Alex stood slowly, moving toward him again.

“So what happened this morning. When you attacked Kyle and I couldn’t do anything…”

“It stopped you. Because that part of you knew why I was doing it.” Michael finally looked at him. His eyes seemed swollen. As though he had been crying.

“To protect me,” he confirmed. He nodded slowly.

“I was selfish. I wanted to experience that kind of devotion for a while. I knew it was wrong but I wanted you for myself. I didn’t want to be one of those vampires who kept their claimed in the dark about everything.” Alex tried to touch him again. He didn’t pull away this time as he ran a hand over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around his neck.

“Kyle is probably going to tell the chief what happened. I’ll protect you.” Michael leaned in to rest his forehead against him. Alex wasn’t sure how long they stood like that. He watched as his nose scrunched as though he smelled something bad.

“Can I make one more selfish request?” Alex pulled back slightly. Could he really refuse?

“Sure.”

“Take this off. It smells like him.” He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. When he met his eyes, he found them deadly serious. Heat started to coil down. He stepped back and pulled the sweatshirt off, tossing it on the bed.

Michael pulled him in again, burying his face in his shoulder. He inhaled and the fingers that had stuck themselves to Alex’s waist tightened. A low rumble from his chest made Alex’s groin uncomfortable in his jeans.

“It’s on your skin,” he sounded annoyed. But there was an anger too. The same possessiveness that Alex knew was unhealthy but he entertained anyway because of how his body reacted to it.

Michael kissed his shoulders and chest. In the back of Alex’s mind, he knew this probably wasn’t the right time for this. Knew that it was the mark responding to what Michael wanted. He squashed the voice of reason. One more wouldn’t hurt.

Alex grabbed the hem of Michael’s tee and pulled up. He tossed it to the side and pulled their bodies together. He ran his hands over the muscles of his chest and wound his arms around his neck.

Michael kissed him, tongue delving into his open and welcoming mouth. Alex let out a small moan as he tangled his fingers in his hair. He was walked back until he was pressed against a dresser.

They stood there, making out. Why hadn’t Michael moved to go any farther? Was it like this morning? Would the lust trigger the hunger?

“Michael,” he mumbled out through the kisses. Michael hummed a response, moving to kiss at his throat instead.

“I need you,” he gasped out. He could feel the desire through Michael’s jeans as he pressed his hips against him. He groaned and pulled himself away much to Alex’s disappointment.

“Alex… This isn’t you thinking. I can’t keep taking advantage of you like that.”

“Michael, it’s ok…” He shook his head. “You asked for one more request to be selfish. So allow me one.” Michael watched him and then nodded slowly. Alex stepped up to him and ran his fingers over his abs and slipped them into the waist of his jeans. “I don’t want to think of anything except you. At least for a little while.”

Michael let out a shaky breath. Alex got to watch his fangs extend for the first time. It wasn’t their full length but it was enough to make his mark throb. His hand wrapped around his throat, thumb brushing against the mark. He kissed him again, quick and hard.

“You’re the worst kind of addiction. I know I shouldn’t have you and yet you pull me back every time.” Alex moaned at the words. Michael nipped at his lip, drawing a drop of blood and licking it away.

His grip on his throat tightened as he was pulled away from the dresser and all but dragged to the bed. Michael shoved him down and grabbed the waist of his jeans, undoing them quickly before yanking them down. He was still careful of the prosthesis.

Alex had sat up to remove it himself but the look he received in warning made him lay back. Michael was quick with its removal but gentle, setting it to the side as opposed to throwing it away like he proceeded to do with his pants and underwear.

Alex was naked in front of him again while he still kept his pants on. He tried to grab for them but Michael refused to get that close. His gaze kept him pinned to the bed. Michael was the predator and he wanted to play before enjoying his prey.

Alex was scared but not in the same way as before. His cock jumped in anticipation whenever Michael moved or let a finger brush over his skin. He breathed in deeply and his nose twitched in annoyance.

“I’m going to get that damn stench off you.” He grabbed Alex’s ankle and yanked him to the edge of the bed. He sat up and he was eye level with his groin. Michael ran his hands through his hair gently before grabbing two fistfuls and yanking his head back, forcing Alex to look at him.

“Listen to me. This will get rough and I want you to fight back.” Michael crouched down in front of him. “Say the word ‘red’ if you really need me to stop. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand.” Michael kissed him sweetly for a few seconds. Alex wanted to melt into him but that wasn’t where it was going. His hands left his hair, running down to his throat. He pulled back and stood, looking down at him.

It was when his fingers started to squeeze that Alex tried to shove him back. He was quickly reminded of how strong vampires were. Michael stumbled but his hand never released his throat. An almost evil smiled appeared on his face, making Alex’s cock twitch.

“Let go,” he tried ordering. Michael laughed and shook his head.

“Fight me off hunter. Otherwise it’s no fun when I rip your throat out.” A tingle of fear ran down his spine. The pet name was back, sounding demeaning. And yet…

Alex kicked his leg out, surprising Michael, sending him back far enough to force him to let go of his throat. His eyes flashed red as Alex scrambled as far back from him as he could. He had taken his leg, making it harder for him to fight effectively. He wanted to grin.

But Michael was after him again. He pounced at Alex, who was able to roll out of the way but not far enough. His arm was yanked back, pinned behind him in a vice grip. He felt Michael’s breath on his neck and he shuddered, forgetting that he was supposed to be fighting back.

“That all you got, hunter?” He pushed himself back, smacking Michael against the wall. A low laugh graced his ears. He could feel the danger rolling off him. His body tensed and his groin throbbed.

A whimper escaped his lips and Michael growled behind him. He tucked forward, attempting to throw Michael off him by summersaulting. It half worked and Alex was able to escape his grip. But he also ended up slipping to the floor.

Michael crouched above him in less than a second as he tried to scoot himself back. He grabbed his ankle again, stopping his movements. He sniffed the air and dragged his eyes over his body, smirking at Alex’s erection.

“You sure you don’t want this?” He wanted it. He wanted to let Michael devour him if that’s what needed to happen. He continued playing along instead.

“A vampire could never turn me on.” The smile fell from his face and Alex wondered for a moment if he had went too far. His nose twitched and he snarled, showing off his fangs.

“And yet your body says otherwise.” Alex tried to pull away again, jerking his leg to wiggle out of his grasp. Michael yanked him closer, completely overpowering him. “Why don’t we test your theory?”

Michael fell to his knees, pushing Alex’s legs back and exposing his hole. He wiggled as much as he could but he couldn’t fight when Michael had him bent in half like this. His firm hands ran over the backs of his thighs to his ass. One of his thumbs ran around the rim, making him whine.

“Someone’s been using this well,” he said grinning. Alex put on his best glare but Michael just chuckled.

“Go to hell,” he spat out.

“Only if I can fuck you in the back of the limo down.”

Then he leaned down, tongue running over his entrance. His body tried to rub against his tongue but he was securely pinned. He felt the rumble of laughter as he licked and sucked around his entrance. Alex let a curse slip as his body started to relax.

Michael pulled away, grinning down at him. He dragged one of his hands down and slipped two fingers into him. Alex couldn’t stop the moan as he pressed against his prostate. Michael leaned back down, licking him again. Alex was ready to throw the scene out the window and beg.

Then he slipped his tongue into him alongside his fingers. Alex’s cock jerked, neglected and weeping.

“Did I take the fight out of you already?” He felt the pressure on his legs lift slightly. He could move. His body screamed for release as he rolled away from Michael, fingers being pulled out. “Well that’s not polite.” Alex crawled away but then he was being lifted, literally.

Michael’s arms wrapped around his waist as he was hauled from the floor and instead bent over his nearby desk. He braced himself on the flat surface and then he heard the rustling of fabric and a zipper. He tried to turn himself around but Michael pressed an arm against his back.

“I was ready to make this feel good for you, now I’ve changed my mind.” There was a blunt pressure as Michael pushed into him, his saliva somewhat easing the process. He moaned as he was filled. The muscles in his back tensing as he stretched to accommodate him.

Michael groaned from behind him and he felt him lean over him. His hips thrust froward, slamming against his prostate. The heat in his groin was begging to be satisfied and yet he couldn’t do anything about it. Michael continued like that. Slow and hard. He ran his hands over Alex’s back and shoulders. He grabbed his shoulders as he increased the rate of his thrusts.

“Please,” Alex begged.

“Please? Poor hunter. Being used for a quick bang. To bad I’m just going to cum and be done with you.” He wouldn’t dare. Alex hoped anyway.

Michael’s cock fucked in and out of him. The desk shook from the abuse. He didn’t even try to stop the moans that poured out of him. His hips and leg were starting to ache but he couldn’t focus on it for long.

“So much for all that talk. You going to be good for me now?” Michael was moving him again. Form the hard desk to being tossed on the bed. He half-heartedly tried to crawl away from him, but he didn’t have the fight anymore. He needed Michael inside him. He would take whatever he was given.

His hips were grabbed as he was filled again. He let his head fall forward as his ass was abused. Michael’s thrusts lost their rhythm and he grunted, digging his nails into his skin.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned out. His hips jerked and his cock throbbed inside him. Only once he had completely emptied himself did he pull out. Alex felt it leak out and run down his legs.

“Stop,” he whimpered out, starting to mean it. His whole body shook with unreleased tension. Michael flipped him on his back, pushing his legs open. His ass clenched around nothing as more cum dripped out.

“You look good like this. So needy and well used.” He caught another drip with his finger, pushing it back inside. “I suppose I can treat you a bit better now.” He twisted his finger inside him, pushing the second in immediately.

“Fuck! I need…” he gasped out, unable to even finish his thought. He heard him chuckle and a third finger was working its way in next to the others. Alex couldn’t see anything with his eyes squeezed shut but he felt Michael bending over him.

His teeth nibbled at the skin on his chest. The fangs taunted him as his mark started burning. The fingers inside him moved slowly and avoided his prostate, desperate to drag this out as long as possible. His hands gripped the sheets as he tried to move his hips.

Every nerve in his body was hyper focused on Michael. His muscles jumped at every bite on his chest and every thrust of his fingers made his cock weep more. He felt a fourth finger rubbing around his rim, ready to push in.

“Should we find out how much you can fit in here,” Michael asked, honey dripping from his words. Alex groaned. Anything if it would let him orgasm. He felt his grin against his skin. He worked his pinky in slowly. The burn of the stretch only intensified as Michael pushed to the last knuckle.

Alex choked out a moan, never realizing this was something he had wanted to try. He felt Michael pull back and shift his position on the bed. He cracked his eyes open to watch him. He sat on the edge, completely focused on his fingers inside his ass.

“Michael,” he pleaded. His eyes snapped toward him as he smiled. It was almost kind.

His thumb traced him as the other fingers spun and pushed. His knuckles slipped in, making Alex moan loudly. The small open space was soon being filled. Alex’s moans turned into small hisses of pain.

Michael shifted again, pulling Alex with him so his ass was on the very edge of the bed. An arm wrapped around his waist, forcing him to sit up. A kiss was being pressed to his mouth and the stretching resumed. He wrapped an arm around Michael, scratching at his back. He nibbled his lip then kissed down to the mark on his neck.

Alex didn’t have time to consider that this was bad. He was locking his mouth over the mark and biting. Alex hips jerked, forcing his hand in farther. Warmth spread from the mark, making his body relax. The venom. His hips rolled again, easing his thumb past the first knuckle.

Alex’s eyes fluttered closed as he moaned. His hips refused to listen to him as they rolled and Michael pushed into him. He was so stretched out and he loved it. He felt full and needed Michael to move. There was a pressure against his prostate and it needed more attention.

The teeth were leaving his neck and he kissed the mark. Then his hand started moving. Pulling out slightly then jamming back in. Alex called out as his back arched. Gibberish spilled from his mouth as Michael fucked him like that. The arm wrapped around his waist disappeared and he fell back. A rough hand flipped him onto his hands and knees, never letting up on his ass.

“Look at you taking it so good. I know you wanna cum. Go ahead. Cum with a hand shoved up your ass.”

He did. Finally.

It ripped through him, making him scream. Hot spurts shot out onto the sheets. It was only prolonged by the assault from behind him. His face was buried in the mattress, muffling his moans of ecstasy. His cock jerked as it ran dry, still trying to cum.

Michael pulled his hand out carefully. His ass attempted to return to a more normal state but he was being filled by his cock again. Michael held his hips up as he fucked him roughly and then came in him again. The throbbing in him made him twitch but he had nothing left. The pressure was gone shortly after.

Alex was rolled away from the mess he made before he collapsed. He panted and let his eyes drift closed. He didn’t know where Michael had gone but soon he was curling around him, pressing gentle kisses all over his shoulders. He ran his fingers through his hair, his other hand kneading his muscles.

“Alex, talk to me,” he said softly. Alex turned to face him and smiled.

“You’re an animal.” Michael let out a sigh of relief and nuzzled into him.

“Do you need anything? Wet wipe? Back rub? A nap?” Alex chuckled and pulled him up for a kiss. Or rather multiple little kisses.

“A shower,” he suggested. Michael laughed and nodded.

“Anything for you. Let me help?” Alex rolled his eyes but nodded anyway. Then he was being swept up into his arms, making him yelp in surprise. He carried him to the bathroom and set him on the counter while he turned on the hot water.

Alex had splurged on the bathroom when renovating. The shower was easily big enough for two people, even three. There was no step to get in and was surrounded by fogged glass. There was a shower head above and on the side. Sometimes he turned on both if he was really stressed.

Michael stepped back out and stood between his legs, leaning in to kiss him gently. Alex ran his hands over his shoulders and up his neck until they wove through his hair. They kissed until he could feel the steam from the water. He felt his hands slip under his thighs.

Michael lifted him again, never breaking from his mouth. He felt the spray on his back and then over his head. The water ran between them, making their lips slip over each other more easily. They separated after a moment, both panting.

“I’ll set you down now,” he warned before slowly lowering Alex to the built in reclining bench. He ran his fingers through his hair and down his neck, lingering on the mark. Alex sighed, letting his shoulders drop and relax, eyes drifting closed.

He heard the snap of a bottle and felt Michael sit beside him. He pushed on his shoulder gently, letting him know to turn. He began rubbing soap into his skin, digging his fingers into the muscles for a massage. Alex groaned at how nice it felt.

“Hey, I’m trying to work you down. Don’t go making those sounds or I might take you again,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the spot below his ear. Alex chuckled and turned his head to look at him.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t,” he said, kissing him quickly. Michael’s smile was beaming as he resumed his massage.

Alex knew things were bad in the real world and about to get worse. But in this bubble they had created, it was bliss.

#malex fic #malex fanfiction #vampire au #michael guerin/alex manes #smut #Roswell New Mexico fanfiction #roswell new mexico fic #feedback always appreciated

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angryhausfrau-writes · 4 years ago

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Dammit, Amos, I’m a Botanist Not a Doctor

Prax's first aid skills are really not equipped to handle the kinds of injuries Amos keeps coming to him with. And he's getting pretty mad that Amos keeps needing that sort of medical attention. Wishes he'd start taking better care of himself. And in the middle of his lecture about Amos doing just that, feelings get revealed.

“You know that I'm a botanist and not a medical doctor, Amos. I don't know why you keep coming to me with this kind of thing.”

They're standing in the harsh lighting of the mechanic shop rather than the sterile med bay and Prax is peering dubiously at the cut on Amos's chest, a cotton swab with disinfectant held in his unsure hand. Exactly how Amos had gotten cut is a mystery – and a mystery that Prax doesn't really need to know the answer to, if he's being honest with himself.

After Jules-Pierre Mao, and Dr. Strickland, and everything surrounding Mei's rescue, he's more than aware of just what kind of man Amos Burton is. Just how far he's willing to go to protect those he's chosen to follow, to guard. And for whatever reason Prax and Mei have fallen into that “protect” category. And there's nothing Amos won't do to see them – and the rest of the kids – safe and shielded from any form of harm.

Including the protective form of harm Amos has been dishing out as the Roci crew attempts to eradicate any remaining pockets of Protomolecule left hidden away by Jules-Pierre Mao or Dr. Strickland and his scientists.

��It's cuz I trust you, doc,” Amos says, clapping a big, rough hand onto Prax's shoulder. “And it's just a little cut anyway – nothing to waste the autodoc on.”

That's not, strictly speaking, true. The cut's deep enough that Amos needs stitches – which he'd opted for over the cellular regen, for reasons known only to him. And it's a wound that falls right at the edge of Prax's limited first-aid skills.

But Amos has this way of looking at Prax – blunt and direct and so full of trust in him. It's almost frightening in its absoluteness. Prax never wants to see that look turn to distrust and betrayal. So this – Amos standing in the mechanical bay, stripped to the waist, while Prax patches him up - has turned into something of a ritual for them whenever Amos comes back from a mission.

And it is every time Amos comes back from a mission, Prax thinks as he starts disinfecting the cut. Because Amos will bodily put himself between his crew and harm every. Single. Time.

And it's a little bit infuriating and a lot concerning. But being infuriated is easier to concentrate on as Prax works to bring the broken edges of skin back together. He needs his hands steady and his head clear of worries about what if.

What if this is the last time they do this? What if Amos gets hurt too badly to fix next time? What if...?

So Prax thinks about how mad he is at Amos for dragging him away from his plants or his daughter or his reading to patch him up, over and over again. Because he has no regard for his own safety. His own worth.

“You should be more careful, Amos,” Prax says, an edge of steel to his voice as he pulls the needle through Amos's tender, breakable – oh, so breakable – skin. “You're not indestructible, you know.”

The point is underlined by Amos's sharp breath as Prax pulls the first stitch taught.

And he can't keep up the steely disapproval. Not in the face of Amos actually hurting. But he has gotten pretty good at gentle chastisement through his being a single parent to Mei. And heading an entire department of younger scientists. So.

“I know you like to go charging headfirst into danger, like to put yourself in the line of fire. Like to protect people. But you're human. Flesh and blood. And you can't – you've got to start being more careful, Amos.”

Prax runs his hand gently over Amos's chest, soothing Amos's flinching at the sting of the needle and steadying himself and making sure – to the best of his limited ability – that his stitches are even and won't scar.

“There are people who care if you come back, you know. Mei would be devastated to lose her new uncle. And the rest of the kids.”

A pause while Prax makes the next stitch. And thinks about his next words.

“And me too, Amos. I – I wouldn't have made it to Io without you. Wouldn't have found Mei without you. And I don't. I can't say what would have happened with Dr. Strickland without you there. But more than that, you're my best friend, Amos.”

That's not. That doesn't come close to describing how Prax feels about him. But it's all the words he can find right now – when he's scared and mad and so, so full of concern for the man who's standing there so still and patient and, and nonjudgmental under his clumsy attempts at doctoring.

“And I don't want to lose you because you were being reckless or, or not valuing just how important you are to us. To everyone on this ship.”

Prax makes another stitch. Almost done, now.

“But mostly, I don't want to lose our friendship. Is that selfish to say?”

Not that Amos has ever cared about things like that. It's one of the things Prax values about their friendship – with Amos, he doesn't need to apologize for how he is or what he feels. Amos takes it all with equanimity. Takes Prax as he is, even at his worst.

And true to form, Amos shrugs – broad chest shifting under Prax's hands.

“It's true, regardless. So you'd better start taking better care of yourself.”

Prax ties off the knot on his suture. It's not professional by any means, but it ought to hold. He wipes away the blood, and he can already see where Amos's flesh is purpling in vicious bruises along his ribs and he runs his fingers over the flesh, pressing in, testing for bruised or broken ribs.

“You'd better come back to me, Amos.”

There's a hitch of breath that doesn't come from Prax pressing at Amos's ribs. And, oh God. What is he saying? What has he done?

After that first gasp, it doesn't feel like Amos is even breathing, he's standing so still.

He's messed everything up, that's what. Messed up his friendship with Amos – as new and tenuous as the tender green shoots of the soja hispida growing in his room. And this. This has to be the end of everything between the two of them. Prax has gotten too clingy, too desperate sounding. And Amos won't want that, won't want his baggage, won't want to come to him for this anymore.

Prax wants to turn away in shame and misery, curl in on himself like the mimosa podica does when touched, so that he doesn't have to face Amos and his look of betrayal. But he finds whatever courage brought him from Ganymede to the Rocinante to Io in search of Mei, in search of vengeance if he couldn't find her, and he steels himself and looks up into Amos's face.

And Amos is looking back at him with such deep emotion, such blunt trust, such naked warmth, that Prax feels himself open up like a helianthus to the sun and before he knows what he's doing he's reached up and cupped Amos's bristled cheek in his hand. And when Amos presses into it, just barely, Prax kisses him.

It's soft and tentative and everything that Amos Burton isn't. So Prax isn't all that surprised when Amos cradles the back of his head in his big hand and pulls him closer, deepens the kiss, until Prax is drowning in it – couldn't think about anything else even if he wanted to.

Eventually, they break apart, Prax gasping for breath, overwhelmed. But Amos is there to hold him up, to keep hold of him, to guide him through this, too.

And Amos is smiling down at Prax, eyes still boring into Prax's soul.

“I was wondering when you'd get the picture, Prax. For a smart guy, you can be a little slow on the uptake.”

“What?” Prax gasps, still feeling breathless – though that probably doesn't have anything to do with lack of oxygen at this point. “What are you talking about?”

Amos laughs. “What, you really thought I had'ta strip half naked for you to patch up a bullet wound on my shoulder? Or this cut?”

And Prax lets his gaze trail down down down Amos's chest to where his jumpsuit is just barely clinging to his hips, riding low enough that Prax isn't even entirely sure he can call him clothed. And yes, Prax can see that it's all a little unnecessary for the kind of wounds he's been tending.

“You were coming on to me?”

Amos shrugs one shoulder. “Yep. Glad the interest's mutual – I thought maybe, but then you didn't do anything. So I'd kinda given up on it.”

“To be fair, I was a little preoccupied with finding my missing daughter at the time to realize that you were hitting on me.” But Prax can feel himself smiling as he says it. Because everything worked out ok and Mei is alive and here on the Rocinante with him and Amos is standing here, steady as a rock, patient, waiting for Prax to catch up with him.

“Well, she ain't missing anymore,” Amos says, matter of fact.

“So what now? We fall into bed together?”

Amos shrugs again. “If you wanna.”

Prax thinks about it for a second. But really, there's not that much to think about.

“Yeah, ok.”

And after, when they're laying together in Amos's bunk, sweaty and a little gross, and very, very happy, Amos turns to him and says, “You're my best friend, too, Prax.”

#the expanse #praxos

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forallyourikemensengokuneeds · 5 years ago

Text

Something every person should read.

Tonight was one of those waking moments when my daughter came to me to go over a moment she was writing about for her English class. They read a book I do not know the author, but the name of it was “Stranger in the Village.” All I could think about when she told me was the weird coincidence that I was writing a story titled the Village. Weird, I know, but this is my life.

She went on to explain the paper was a time when they, the students, felt like they were a stranger in the village. I thought how apt. She is the oldest child of a military family. She more than the others moved around, had to start new schools, had to deal with being a stranger in a new place many times. She chose to go a different route. She went to the fact she is a taxidermist. How the online people went after her for being one. How she had to deal with the masks of people calling her horrid names and even calling her a serial killer to be. This was a difficult time for her, but I do have to say she handled it with a grace that I am glad I inspired. I told her that it was a good paper and that she should be happy with it. It did meet the requirements that her teacher asked for.

I told her after she explained to me why she chose to do that instead of the cliché moments of being that military brat I, of course, laughed and said I was surprised she didn’t chose her freshmen year and the events that unfolded near the end. She looked at me and said I didn’t even think of that. She and I talked about those few months we lived in terror, and she went off to write a second essay, which included the series of events that made her an outsider in a place she should feel safe.

As we discussed the events, one thing kept coming up. The fact she didn’t want to tell me what was going on. She repeated it over and over again. The reason she didn’t want to tell me was she thought she did something wrong. It was somehow her fault any of this happened.

She went upstairs of course with the knowledge that she didn’t do anything wrong, that it wasn’t her fault, but even knowing it, it took a few years for it to finally sink in.

This is personal, and I do have permission from my daughter to share this. It has to be addressed, and I know I have many younger followers, so this needs to be said. Any of my followers should read this. It does have some touchy subjects, but here is the thing, if you don’t read this, if you don’t hear this, it will always be something that haunts you.

*Names changed*

Alex came home from school and didn’t want to leave my side. I had a few errands to run, and they usually came with me but that day was weird. They were almost clinging. Alex never clung. It was a joke between us that she never wanted to hold my hand since she had become a teenager. I never expected her too, she was after all fourteen going on thirty. For all the differences we had we were close. Alex wanted to speak, I could see, but like me she could not be pushed. She had this tell that warned me that something big was going to be dropped on me at some point in the next few hours. Something that she thought was huge in her fourteen-year-old mind but was probably not a big deal. She had a boyfriend. She had a girlfriend, she was failing a class. These were the things that ran through my head. I was not prepared in the least for the words that came out of her mouth.

“Mom, Hypothetically…..” Alex began, and I stopped her about halfway and asked if her friend that hypothetically was really her. I told her it was more important that I had the details from the start so I could help with whatever was bothering her.

“Yes. Mom. I am scared.” She said. That was my first warning. This was not going to be a typical nor a straightforward teenage problem. The words started pouring from her mouth as we sat outside and I simply listened as I tried to piece together from the ramblings of a teenager that did focus on all the wrong things. A boy in her school, another freshman, was stalking her. She had turned down his advances repeatedly and politely, but he could not accept the words for what they were. That by itself was bad enough, but then she started to go into more detail, and things started coming up that she was glossing over. I would ask questions and pry more information out of her which lead to more questions. After hours of talking I sent her to bed. She was tired and the weeks of worry that she had dealt with this on her shoulders alone had taken their toll. Now it was on my shoulders.

The reality was my firstborn, my headstrong look-alike daughter, had stumbled headfirst into a nightmare. Now it was my nightmare as well. As a parent you are somewhat prepared to deal with bumps and bruises, cuts and scapes, broken hearts, bad grades, and a whole host of other things but never this. I sat on the front steps of my house, smoking a cigarette trying to figure out what my next step was. How was I going to fix this for her? There was no answer. I had nothing. I was now scared in a way I did not know could happen. My daughter was a target of not only a stalker but a highly delusional boy who was making death threats toward her and the school. It was not just about my kid anymore but hundreds of kids.

She had told me she had proof, but somehow I neglected to ask her for it. So I walked up to her room to find her next closest sister, putting a blanket over her as she was asleep. Her sister then told me she hadn’t been sleeping and she was glad that her sister had finally told me and she now could. I left her and went back downstairs comforted that she had told me, and she could now sleep, knowing full well I wasn’t getting any that night. Instead I made a phone call. One of my good friends was the one person in the world who could help me, and he dropped everything and raced over to my house, and we sat outside and discussed every possibility and what I had to do. Fifteen years as a cop and a child task force officer he was now a lawyer and my personal advisor on all things in the legal system. He was a blessing.

The next day I asked her to send me every screenshot, every conversation, every detail she could gather to me. As the day unfolded and the more I read, the more I knew what I had to do. By the last screenshot that was forwarded to her by a friend I was already on the phone with the school and the police in that town. After dealing with that for a few hours I waited until she got off the bus and had printed out the screenshots and we went to the police in our town. It seemed there was a disagreement on whose jurisdiction it really was though it was clear there was something very wrong. The school was also notified by me in both an email and a very long phone call from the principle and the vice principal. Two people I will be forever grateful for in the next coming weeks.

Now we had two soon to be three police districts involved, the school was actively involved, and at this point, only one police officer had seen the proof. He was also a godsend. He questioned her for over an hour, realizing this was not a he-said-she-said thing, and he began the report. He also made it so she could get a restraining order in the morning. I already had the paperwork because of my friend, who was waiting for me to say the word. I called him, and within the hour, he had a closed chamber meeting, and she was granted a special order of protection.

Everyone saw the same thing I did. Sandy Hook happened a few years before that only thirty miles away. The idea of another tragedy like that was simply too much when there was this much evidence at hand and a mother who would fight this hard to get people to listen. The school’s part was the most critical and I was hoping that they would take it seriously. I know had the backing of a few other friends behind me who were telling me everything would be fine. Everything was going to fine. I knew everything was not going to be fine. This was my kid. My demon child. It was words people could say, but nothing can express the fear I had those days. My husband was more laid back about it. He is always laid back out things like this. It is his military training. Don’t panic. Don’t react. I had the same training. That flew out the door when I hear that my baby has a bulls-eye on her back.

The next day was nothing short of walking into hell. Alex, upon arriving at school was whisked away into the office to hand over the proof. She was then locked away in a closet while the administration had the police there, members of the school board, and her. They kept the boy micheal**Not real name** away from her. He gave his statement, and whatever he said was determined not to be the truth. His parents refused to come and get him and refused for him to be questioned by the police further.

The school then came up with a detailed plan to keep Alex safe while in the school. This was nothing short of a miracle in itself. They had a guard with her at all times for the next three weeks. She was given a map of the school with all the “Hidden” rooms students aren’t supposed to know about. They were her safe places. Micheal was suspended for the rest of the school year after a week of looking further into him, due to active threats made to the school. He was taken out yelling they all would pay.

We had the schools backing. We had the help of the PD, we had the PO, but we still lived in fear for a while. It wasn’t until after the school year ended, and that principle retired that I found out more when he called to tell me so I would be aware. Michael had been expelled from the school, but they had to wait till after the school year to do it for some reason from the school board. The police had been called in after a few days after the major breakthrough again because of threats being made online towards the school. This was his second offense for doing this, and they got a search warrant. What was found when they searched his house still send chills down my spine.

They found fourteen handguns in his room. They also found pictures of her plastered on his wall with his blood dripping down the pictures. He had taken her eyes out of most of them, and they found those next to his bed. He had an article that had been written about her for a local newspaper the year before and it had not only our address but also pictures of her sisters and brother under it. He had a notebook. It was not a manifesto it was a record of his stalking and everything about her.

EVERYTHING. Her shirt size, she dress size, her pant size, her ring size, her friends, her classes, her likes, her dislikes, my name, her fathers name, her siblings names, her birthdate, her classes, and the most disturbing thing, her period cycle “So he could make sure to get her at the right time.”

It also had the routes drawn out to her classes, when she would go, who she talked too. The days she had not spoken to him was tallied. This was all the proof they need to charge him with stalking, threats to a school, plans of discharging a weapon in a school, and the arranging online for the kidnapping and torture of a minor.

He is locked up in a juvenile facility. One that is supposed to focus on mental health as well. We are okay with that. She walked away alive, and though she has her moment, she is mostly normal though she can’t be in crowds for long. she is also hyper-aware of who is around her, and she will not go out of her way to make friends.

The point is she somehow thought this, all of this was her fault. It is not. It never was. If you or someone you know is going something even remotely like this IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT or THEIRS. Do not try to go through this alone. Find someone, anyone to tell. A teacher, a friend, your parents, a friends parents, hell me just tell someone.

That day we went to the police, the school, and everything else we did probably prevented a school shooting. He was prepared. He had a plan. He was doing everything step by step. He was only two steps away from his ultimate goal. Two steps. She prevented a school shooting. She had to live it. No one at the school knew the full extent of what was going on. No one knew what she had done for them. To this day, a lot of those kids are alive because she had the realization to tell me this was going on. She is really my hero.

Don’t be afraid. Say something.

#stalking #possibly school shooting #real life #this happened #everyone should read this #it is not your fault

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tuwam · 6 years ago

Text

talk.

‘what’s this?’

june’s silent for the most part. if nothing else it’s to let julee observe. if anything it’s to let the lack of words fill everything else in a way different than usual. usually, unfortunately so the words that aren’t shared between them get twisted and turned. june who is always so talkative and expressive however clumsy it might be has found himself often speechless around his sister. probably for all the things he wants to say, should say.

the anger that feels a tad juvenile, the anger at her. at himself. why did she leave. why did he leave? why didn’t he find her fast enough. why couldn’t he stop her. why didn’t she come back? things and words that remain pulled at his lips each time he bites at them, each time his face draws up and her greeting is rendered silent. or overpowering.

all julee knows to do is smother him in ways she used to, the more june doesn’t talk about who he is now, who he’s become and how he’s adapted without her. without the hugs and the presence of warm hairs messing up his hair. the color of his cheeks and the immediate pull of a smile on his face. he’s had to live without it, grow without it, and perhaps julee doesn’t know what to do with him now.

he’s never told her. he’s wanted to. he has.

it’s the words that can’t quite come out. it’s the pain of arms that reached out for her in dreams, nightmares of her back turning out the door when he was younger. of june stumbling and stumbling to catch up. stumbling even as he moves through life nowadays. stumbling to reach something. something that was always him reaching his sister rather than a dream. stumbles that have him unable to move forward, or move past wanting the affection, wanting to make up for it all.

even if it couldn’t.

instead he fidgets, suddenly bashful as her eyes scan the sheet he’s given her. a packet really but the important document is on the top. a contract, abc entertainment, and according to seojun, not a bad one. he’d kept it a secret for a while, worked out the kinks with a friend of seoyun’s, mina before deciding if he would sign, commit to it.

‘you received an offer - no - you took an offer?’ “not yet.” his response is too automatic, too fearful.

of what? of julee not approving it, as if she wouldn’t. of julee hating that he’s chosen this path, as their parents have. of what julee resenting his decision and turning her back to him? of the brunt and belief that he wouldn’t be able to handle her back again.

she still holds the paper. she’s had her nails done, pink and white on the tips. she usually doesn’t do her nails - so he smiles at that. it doesn’t show but he feels the tug. her hair’s done too, june thinks he’s missed her growing even though she’s already grown, wonders if that’s how she feels about him. he searches for emotion on her face and sees that she’s reading and scanning every inch of the paper, even filing through the packet that he’d left enclosed.

“jule---” ‘shhhh.’

he gets a finger at that. pointed and apparent in it’s command. to that june feels his back straighten, jules never being one to get too stern with him, always gentle and overbearingly warm. warm as the days he remembers as a kid, by her side and walking down the beach. summers picking fruit and helping out at the house. warm but a little muggy, clogged and humid as he remembers it through bitter lenses.

still, it’s a surprise.

she continues to read and june stays silent, doesn’t even reach for his phone, probably yeoreum asking him how things went as she’s the one who helped him come to terms with talking.

‘it’s not bad. it’s good that they’re providing shelter at the studio to record and access to a cafeteria, that’s new. they’re giving you certain freedoms though, that means you have to be responsible for your own growth. you don’t have a strenuous schedule so i would say implement a somewhat rigorous routine. especially since you need foundation training, but busking would be easy with these freedoms, and ability to practice composing that’s great. it’s lengthy but be careful about the obligations for endorsements and promotions make sure you get someone to explain the details of the money to you.’

it’s information. of that june is sure. important information actually but he’s too stunned to really take it in. he barely notices that she’s making notes outside the packet, he’s just watching, nodding.

since when did his sister get so knowledgeable about -

‘june? are you listening? this is important.’

he snaps back, bashful once again.

‘you need someone to officiate your signing, did you decide on someone?’ “i - no.” he hadn’t thought of it. he finds himself stunned by the intensity of his sister’s gaze, pen now up behind her ear, hair up and focused. focused on him. ‘you need someone familiar with everything on here and to help hold you and the company responsible. did you research them? i haven’t heard of their artists.’ it takes june a few seconds to realize he’s been asked a question. “daire? she’s a soloist.” ‘okay, i’ll look it up later. you need a representative you can’t just sign alone, that’s how issues begin. not saying that there will be issues it’s just a security.’ “i - okay.” he’s overwhelmed, usually when june is overwhelmed he runs headfirst, it seems juvenile to do in the presence of his sister. in fact, it’s her intervention here that’s inevitably prevented that it seems. ‘relax, if you can’t think of anyone i’ll talk to some friends of mine.’

friends?

june’s confused.

“i - okay.” ‘go over the terms and what they mean yourself first, just because a representative checked them means nothing. know what it means, you’re smart so it shouldn’t be hard. i’ve made notes so take a look when you can okay?’ she’s handing the paper back to him, packet and all and june fumbles to hold it. it’s suddenly closer, up against his chest. “okay.” he swallows, unsure about the rush of emotions flooding his chest. but julee’s smiling. smiling soft and fond like always. probably how she always does if he’d been open to receiving it. it may not be the smile from when he was younger, but it still resonates the same. he still feels something blossom in his chest at it. he still feels the pull at his lips when she reaches up - pauses and pinches at his shoulder.

‘relax. you can do this. i’m excited for you.’

without knowing, he may have come asking for her blessing, approval - something. june feels tears pooling and holds the paper high to cover his face.

“i’ll get on it, i have to meet some friends so i’ll see you for dinner later!” ‘what dinner - you’re coming by?’

but june’s already out the door. clutching the paper tight and heading to the flower shop of his comfort.

‘so i’m assuming the talk went well?’ she’s smug, he can tell but his head’s too stuck in his arm to respond. he only reaches forward to hold the tea she’s handing him.

well is an understatement.

#{ w: june. }#{ ft. jules. }#ugh thank god

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rainforestgeek · 6 years ago

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If you lose your strength to stand (I’m gonna reach for your hand)

I got chapter 5 written! Ao3 link here

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4.1, 4.2, 4.3, Part 6

Sneaking onto the ship was the easy part. Pidge landed her undetectable lion on the hull close to the wide-open bay doors of one of the many hangars. The cavernous room was bustling with drones, low-level galra soldiers, and damaged space fighters being repaired, so with all the activity Pidge had little trouble getting past them.

Actually finding the engine room was the hard part. With little knowledge of this particular class of battleship and no way to scan it without the Blue Lion, she was left to take an educated guess of its location. But after half a varga of running around the empty corridors with no results and a handful of close calls almost being discovered, Pidge was about ready to scream in frustration. She hadn’t found any primary access panels, either. The locked doors she hacked easily enough but gave her no access to the central computer. She kicked the wall and was considering risking having her comms intercepted by calling Hunk for help when she heard the steady clanking of a sentry’s footsteps coming toward her from around the corner. She dove for cover in an alcove in the wall and waited, crouching at the ready.

Thankfully, the big metal biped clanked right by without noticing her. Seizing the opportunity, Pidge leapt onto its back and deactivated it with a few swift keystrokes on the control panel below its neck. It slumped to the floor, taking her with it, and she landed painfully on her hip. She bit back a curse then quickly synced her gauntlet to the sentry’s control panel. She uploaded a virus that she’d written based on the data she got from that first sentry she hacked at the Galactic Hub.

If it worked, the virus would hijack the robot’s artificial brain, rerouting the stored and incoming data and the command controls, to her armor. It took several doboshes to complete and Pidge kept a wary eye out for any more patrols coming her way. The robot the way too heavy for her to try and drag it into the alcove she’d hidden herself in before.

The holographic screen from the gauntlet flashed and the sentry’s head-lights glowed red. Yes! I have a minion. It stood up. She pulled up a map of the frigate from her sentry’s data core.

Fucking hell. The engine room was on the other side of the ship.

Pidge followed her robotic minion as it led her to the engine room. She walked backwards at the ready with her bayard out, keeping an eye out on their six while Minion would alert her of anything ahead. It took her in a circuitous route, avoiding the more bustling sectors of the ship. It was a smart precaution but with every tick that passed Pidge cursed her slow progress. She hoped Lance and Hunk had a handle on the situation outside.

Finally, finally Minion stopped at a set of important-looking doors and pressed its palm against the entrance pad to open them. They went inside – and Pidge immediately ducked behind a huge support beam because the engine room was teeming with galra. Sentries, floating drones, soldiers, and even an officer or two milled about the cavernous and noisy chamber. At its center was a glowing engine straight out of a cyberpunk novel that would make Hunk shit his pants.

Quiznaking fucksticks. Okay, Minion. Let’s see how much we can get away with.

Pidge crawled toward a vent at the bottom of the nearest wall, carefully opened it, and slid inside feet first. Her visibility wasn’t great, but it was better than nothing and it would at least help her guide Minion where she needed it. She pulled up a holographic screen that streamed what the robot was “seeing.”

Let’s see if you know the engine schematics. Turns out Minion did. She supposed that made sense – the droids were probably programed to be all-purpose. Pidge studied the mechanisms of the ships energy source.

Oh, holy hell. It uses xanthorium crystals to enhance the power of the weapons and the hyperdrive. Like most of these huge ships, it used a balmeran crystal as it’s primary power source. She was no engineer, but Pidge was sure she found bastardized elements of Altean technology that must have been integrated into Galran designs in the empire’s early decaphoebes.

Minion approached a station (quietly deactivating the sentry manning it) that appeared to direct the current of quintessence-enriched electricity to various parts of the ship. Much of the xanthorium was used in the engine room, but there were also strategically placed chambers of the crystals close to each weapons station. Pidge smirked as she realized she could use this. This whole place was littered with weapons stations. Keeping the explosions at the exact right magnitude required meticulous control over the energy flow throughout the ship’s guts. She had Minion get to work.

The principle behind her plan was simple: blow the ship up using its own power boosters. It was easy to think of each weapon station as a primitive firearm, with the current acting as the spark and the xanthorium as gunpowder. The xanthorium had been cut into uniform sizes that would explode at the brief contact of a tightly-controlled current and direct the resulting energy into the weapons’ mechanisms, giving the galra a nice boost of power behind their attacks. Once a piece had been used and disintegrated, the next one slotted into place to be exploded next. But if the chambers overloaded, all the crystals in the chambers would explode uncontrollable at once. It would completely cripple their weapons and breach the hull in a dozen critical places.

Minion reprogrammed the algorithm that controlled the paths of primary power into secondary channels. She needed at least seventy-five percent of the xanthorium chambers to overload at exactly the same time. It was tedious work, but I thankfully took less time than Pidge had anticipated.

Pidge breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She had fifteen doboshes to get back to Green before her DIY bombs went off. She slowly crawled out of the vent to sneak to the door and make a swift, painless escape.

If only.

She wasn’t as annoyed at getting caught so much as that it was a stupid way to get caught. She didn’t epically fuck up, didn’t trip a hidden alarm, didn’t run headfirst into an enemy that popped up out of nowhere. Nope. All those missions when she had perfect timing, only to now just get spotted for being a split second too slow.

Pidge charged at the nearest sentry – which was not-so-coincidentally her own minion. It blocked her attack easily and bent her arms behind her back, metal hands clamping her wrists together. Discreetly, she whispered instructions to her robot through her helmet comms. Her escape wasn’t totally busted yet.

What appeared to be the ranking officer approached her. He was average-sized for a galra, just under seven feet, and the fuzz covering him erred on the blue side of purple. “What is this? Wearing the armor of the Green Paladin?” He gave her a critical once-over. “This tiny thing?”

Pidge growled at him and struggled against the robot holding her. “Tiny, huh? You wanna fucking go, assface?”

She couldn’t tell if the officer rolled his eyes – given the lack of pupils – but his expression grew irritated and just over it. But she swore his tone was smug, though, when he said, “Escort the whelp to General Sendak. From what I’ve heard, he’ll want to deal with this one himself.” He then turned around like he had better things to do than worry about Pidge – good. Meant he wasn’t suspicious of any meddling. The sentry marched her out the door and through the cold corridor. A squad of other sentries followed, much to her chagrin.

They passed right by the hangar outside of which she’d left Green, but the sentries surrounding her meant she couldn’t make a break for it. Pidge suppressed a frustrated growl. Guess we’re going to see Overlord Fur Face after all, she thought. She’d anticipated that; but why couldn’t things go the easy way for her just once?

Pidge and her entourage of robots walked through corridor after corridor, took multiple elevator-lift-things, and she was getting nervous. She counted the ticks in her head: time was running out before everything blew up, and this escort was taking forever.

Finally a set of double doors swooshed open to reveal they’d reached the bridge. It was a spacious room with a raised command podium in the center and floor-to-ceiling windows (no doubt made from space-grade reinforced glass). Apparently the galra were less fond of view screens than humans. Standing on the island, Sendak turned toward Pidge with a sneer.

“How did you get uglier?” Pidge blurted out.

“Petulant child for a Paladin of Voltron.” Ugh, that voice was terrible on her senses. Somehow like oily gravel and sunburn. Sendak walked closer to her. “You’ve been a nuisance, whelp. I will take great pleasure in killing you.”

“I kicked your ass once. I’ll just do it again.” Pidge’s internal clock told her she only had two doboshes left.

Sendak leaned down, his meaty breath stinking too close to her face. Was it possible for something to smell like flies? “As I recall, it took all of the paladins to even trap me. This time, you’re the one on my ship. You’re the one all alone.

Fifty ticks left. Pidge’s heart pounded with anxiety and excitement. She’d have to be quick for any hope of escape. And the dumbass didn’t have his helmet on.

Sendak straightened. “Initiate a full sweep,” he barked. The attention of everyone on the deck snapped onto his orders. “The girl probably brought aboard accomplices; only two lions –”

Twenty ticks. Minion released her hands. Quick as lightning, Pidge summoned her bayard and shot its electrified blade into the exposed spot between his neck and jaw. The shocks arcing through the warlord jerked about his massive body. He hit the floor with all the grace of a boulder falling off a cliff.

Ten ticks. Pidge wrenched her weapon out of the furry carcass. Behind her, loyal Minion started beating up as many enemies as it could. She took advantage of the crew’s moment of paralyzed shock to sprint for the nearest window, activating her energy shield. She heard blows land, metal creak violently, felt shots collide with her shield.

She raised her bayard. Three ticks. Shot straight ahead. Two. Leapt through the nebula of glittering, shattering glass and into empty space. One.

Obviously, she didn’t hear an explosion. Sound can’t travel in a vacuum. But Pidge sure as hell felt a storm of heat and shrapnel shoot her even deeper into space.

She called for Green desperately in her mind. Everything hurt, and made it hard to think. She was quickly recompensed by the sight of her beautiful glowing lion rapidly approaching. She scooped Pidge up in her mouth, and Pidge landed hard on the cockpit’s floor with a sideways roll. Groaning, she hauled herself into the pilot’s chair.

“Mission accomplished, guys.”

Loud whoops and cheers blasted through her helmet’s speakers. She flinched.

“Pidge, you beautiful, miracle Wonder Woman! That was amazing!”

Adrenaline aready had her heartbeat drumming up a storm. But hearing Lance say that made her cheeks feel even hotter and her very blood vessels jitter.

“Captain Olia? Sergeant Bark? How we lookin’?” Lance called out.

“The remainder of the fleet on this side is retreating,” the seargeant reported.

“We’ve picked off a few dozen squads over here,” Matt chimed in. Pidge felt relieved to hear his voice. “Anyone else are also turning tail.”

“We won? We won!” Hunk celebrated. “Great job, Pidge! You really hit them where it hurts!”

“And you thought it was too dangerous. Hey Pidge, high five!”

“We’re in our lions, Lance.”

“Oh, right. High giant mechanical paw!”

Pidge was so high on adrenaline adrenaline that she enthusiastically acquiesced. Red and Green flew at each other and crashed their right paws with an enormous clang. The impact reverberated violently through the cockpit and gave Pidge a throbbing headache.

“My skull is vibrating,” Lance said. “So worth it.”

The chatter radio chatter in Pidge’s ears began to fade to the background, as she slowly exited fight/flight/freeze mode and weariness set into her bones. “Guys, I’m completely beat. I’ve gotta go back to the Castle.”

“See you down there, Pidge. Go take care of yourself,” Hunk replied.

“Yeah, sure.” Pidge deactivated her microphone and shot towards Olkarion’s surface. With every kilometer she grew more and more tired. The adrenaline drained from her body, leaving behind the deep soreness of whatever injuries undoubtedly littered her body. She broke the atmosphere and her hands started shaking. The Castle came into view and a wave of exhaustion crashed over her. She landed the Green Lion in her hangar and tried to get up; but her body felt made of molten lead. Pidge gave up struggling against the darkness tugging at her consciousness. She submitted to the respite pulling at her brain and her vision went black.

#plance #pidgance #pidge #sendak #voltron fic #vld fic #part 5 #chapter 5 #flirtyrobot #matt holt #lance mcclain #hunk garrett #galra #voltron #voltron fanfic #voltron legendary defender

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hecallsmehischild · 8 years ago

Text

Santa Monica

Ready for another edition of mass-shifts-in-Child’s life?

Me neither. Geronimo!

I’ve kept this really quiet because there’s been a lot of details that weren’t solid, things I needed to wrestle with, and things that needed to be decided. Well, all this has been going on for about a year and a half.

“Child can shut up on Tumblr about something for that long?”

M'yep, if absolutely necessary. Shocking, I know.

Toward the beginning of our relationship, my boyfriend discussed the eventuality of moving in together if things looked like they were working out. My shocked (and immediate) response was, “Of course not!” It was unthinkable to me. I was raised that you date and then, if that goes well, the next step is marriage. Period. End of story. Didn’t everybody know that? Silly boyfriend.

Silly me, people are different! And he grew up with the understanding that living together was the step before marriage, to make sure compatibility was optimal. And that was obvious to everyone, right? Something everyone knew?

It didn’t come up again for quite some time. The next time we talked about this, we had been dating for about a year and a half and I was about to move into an apartment with my middle sister. And I realized, as we talked, that this was extremely important to him, and that I really had to examine this viewpoint I held and decide if it was “a hill I want to die on,” to borrow my Dad’s phrase.

For nearly a year after that I wrestled with the details of the proposed situation, which included (at that point) leaving Los Angeles and moving either much more North or much more East. I consulted and stewed and rationalized and melted-down and recollected myself and generally flopped and flailed about like a fish on the shore. You know, the usual.

And after about a year, I came to the conclusion that fear and paralysis were the worst choices and that I would move in the opposite direction. Granted, that is only one string in the complicated ball of yarn labeled “Why I changed my mind,” but it’s the one I’m satisfied to give for now.

I began talking to my middle sister, Bonnie, about how this would affect her and how we’d start looking for a place for her to live on her own. I began planning how to handle leaving my job. I established a four month clock to wrap up both situations which would start as soon as it was decided whether we were going to the Bay Area (Northern Cal) or Houston (Texas).

That is, as of now, still undecided because a third rather fantastical and fun temporary option has cropped up.

My boyfriend has a co-worker who is doing well enough for himself to afford a house in Santa Monica. For those of you who are not from SoCal, Santa Monica is one of the more affluent areas where I could maybe afford to rent a small square corner of a garage if I really scraped hard and didn’t eat much.

This house will, eventually, be knocked down and entirely rebuilt. But, thanks to red tape, it’s sitting empty for 6-8 months, waiting for the wrecking ball. So the owner has invited my boyfriend (who has, in turn, invited me as well) to live there.

If I’m being technical, we aren’t living in the house. We’re living in the guest house out back. During this last week we stayed there as a test run. He needed to see if the neighborhood was quiet enough for him to sleep well, and I needed to see if I could deal with the lengthier commute to work.

One of the funniest things about coming back to Santa Monica every day is my car. I drive slowly down a manse-filled street with BMWs and Chryslers parked in every driveway, then I pull my battered black ‘98 Toyota Corolla parallel to the curb. To top it off, because my driver’s door handle recently broke off, I have do a Redneck Exit through the passenger door or the backseat driver side door.

But, Redneck Exit aside, the test week was fabulous. Because there’s very little parking in Santa Monica, I have to walk most places–you know, forcibly get the exercise I avoid most of the time?–and the walk is a beautiful one. I hate Los Angeles (San Fernando Valley area) beyond measure for its cramped, dry, cracked, grimy feel and the constant tension and hyper-awareness I’m supposed to have walking down the street, unsure how safe I am at any given moment. But Santa Monica is right by the sea and there is space and light and the air feels clear. It reminds me of summer in Seattle.

I can walk to a library (my visit there Tuesday night yielded a library card and six book selections within twenty minutes). I can walk to a bead shop. I can walk to a movie theater. I can walk to a Lush. I can walk to any number of coffee shops, self-serve froyo joints, and a Jamba Juice. Meal options range from $ to $$$ and I can walk to those too. I can walk to the ocean, and also the Santa Monica Pier (where, due to the high volume of lures dropped, there are Pokemon Go safety warnings posted. I find this funny) and its perpetual carnival.

“But Child, you’re a flaming introvert. Don’t you spend most of your time inside?”

Yes. And though I do hope to improve my health with a good deal of walking, there’s also an opportunity in the guest house that has captivated me with its potential and I am so very, very excited.

You see, that place is going to get knocked down in 6-8 months. So it doesn’t matter what happens, say, to the walls. So if, hypothetically, a crazy chick decided she wanted to try her hand at creating murals on the biggest canvas she’s ever had the opportunity to work with… well then, it wouldn’t ruffle anyone’s feathers now, would it?

There’s a lot of newness to this whole thing. I’ve never had the chance to live in a place, or area, this nice, and I am both humbled and grateful for this opportunity (and also wrestling with panicky I-don’t-deserve-this feelings, but those bouts are getting less frequent as I start to accept this gift) and I’ve never lived with a man I’m romantically involved with. We will still, eventually, be leaving for either the Bay Area or Houston, but for now Santa Monica is home base.

So I begin the four month clock, working with my middle sister to find a place she can hold down on her own. Until then, it will be a week in the valley and a week by the beach, back and forth until Bonnie and I close up shop in our apartment permanently.

Expect to see a lot of WIP images and probably videos about the murals in upcoming weeks, as well as brief reviews of the books I will be plowing through and any oddball stories that happen in this unique situation. I am both terrified out of my mind and thrilled to tears by this chance so I am going to dive headfirst into the experience.

Geronimo.

#rlchild

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doublenuzlocke · 8 years ago

Text

Entry #12: "Saving the Lost" (Zombie AU Contest Submission)

All they could do is run.

Every second was a race for survival. Straying from safe areas was always a risk, but Crystal had no choice. New Bark had fallen once again and with it, Johto’s only chance at survival had died. Professor Elm, the only man who made any progress with discovering and understanding the virus responsible for the apparent zombification of the general population, had been killed when the small town had been suddenly attacked by a second wave. His wife and young son had been able to escape and reach Violet City’s safe zone. The rest… they weren’t so lucky.

The family had arrived empty handed. Elm’s research had been stored on his personal laptop, but they had to leave it behind in order to avoid certain death. Crystal was a fool, she knew that very well. However, she couldn’t leave such important knowledge to be destroyed or lost. Instead she ran headlong back to New Bark Town, praying that the laptop was still there. Zombies tended not to care about technology. Only living things were of interest to them. They had a chance.

She wouldn’t go alone. Silver, a boy around her age with a ridiculous amount of deadly weapons stashed in a golf bag, was running right behind her, a metal baseball bat in his hands. They had met a year prior, back when the infestation had first began. They managed to become friends within that short time, which was something she was thankful for. When she had first run from New Bark back then, she had lost so much. Her best friend had given his life so she and her mother could get away.

That was what drove her to recover Elm’s laptop. Gold had given his life to save as many in the town as he could from the first wave. She owed everyone who they had lost the chance to find a cure. Even if there really wasn’t a way to bring back the dead…letting them finally rest instead of turning and killing the very people they had loved was enough. Not to mention her personal stake in a cure…

“We’re entering New Bark,” Silver warned her as they passed through the acrid landscapes, passing through what had once been a thriving forest. Now, everything had withered and turned a sickly shade of greenish yellow. The scent of death appeared to change even the plant life. “Brace yourself. You still remember where Elm’s house is, right?”

Crystal pulled out the steel rod she kept on a sling behind her back. Apprehension made her bite her lip. “Of course I remember where his house is,” she replied. “I used to spend every summer there working part time. I’d never forget it…”

Silver jumped over a fallen tree and hesitated for merely a moment, his namesake eyes glancing around wildly for any sign of movement. “You gonna lead the way, then?”

Crystal stepped beside him and scanned the area as well, making sure to look opposite of him at all times. “Might as well. Make sure to watch my flanks. It's—”

“Don’t say it,” Silver interrupted with a growl. “Never say that.”

Crystal hissed as she took the lead and walked through the barren streets, Silver right on her tail. “Jinxes are the least of our worries, Silver.”

They passed through the familiar dirt streets, leaving behind houses with broken windows and doors hanging off their hinges. The girl with blue hair had to pace her breath and avoid dwelling on her surroundings. New Bark had been a small town. Before, she had known every one of the thirty residents by name. After the attack, only six had survived. The town was now deserted and dilapidated. While Crystal and her mother stayed behind in Violet City, Elm and his family had returned to continue his research. She had been foolish enough to allow her cousin Kotone to join them.

She had thought it was safe.

Now she was most likely dead. It was all her fault.

She stopped when she heard a familiar sound. Silver paused beside her, still scouting for the source of the sound. Low, guttural growling periodically echoed in the air. They had arrived at Elm’s two story home and research center, but it seemed the intruders never left.

“What floor do you think his laptop would be on,” Silver asked over his shoulder. His thin jacket slapped her in the back as a warm wind cut through them.

“I…I’m not sure,” she admitted. “He never left the room without it.”

“So you’re saying that it’s in whatever room he…died in?”

“Most likely.”

“A scavenger hunt for a laptop among zombie scavengers,” he said with a faint chuckle of disbelief. “This mission sounds worse and worse as we go.”

“Just follow me,” Crystal huffed.

Just then, a terrible crashing sound echoed out a shattered window on the second floor. The growling erupted into deafening snarling before another crashing sound made the zombies inside howl with outrage.

“Sounds like someone’s already in there,” Silver exclaimed. “And from the sound of it, it’s someone who's alive.”

Crystal didn’t hesitate. She scrambled for the outdoor flight of stairs in a frenzy. “Then we can’t waste time! Grab your bat and get up here!”

She scurried up the steps, taking them two at a time before reaching the deck on the second floor. With a mighty kick, she broke the door down and rushed inside. Silver swung in behind her, his bat ready to swing in an instant. The sight inside made Crystal’s heart stop beating. Her eyes widened and for a moment, she let her guard down.

A girl with warm brown hair wearing a red shirt and overalls stood tall with a wooden chair in her hands. A zombie rushed up from the flight of stairs in the corner and she loomed over it with a fierce glare. With a shout, she brought the chair down over its head. The wood shattered in her hands and the monster collapsed, bringing down the few that were trying to crawl over it. The girl backed up and headed towards a disheveled kitchen before stopping in her tracks.

She was out of chairs.

She snapped her head up and looked in amazement at Silver and Crystal. Her mouth nearly fell open before Crystal rushed forward with tears falling down her face. “Kotone,” she sobbed. Her body shook with sorrow and joy. “Y-You’re alive! I thought you were dead!” She paused just long enough to pull away, leaving a puddle on her cousin’s shoulder. “H-How…how did you survive the attack?”

“Elm gave me his laptop and told me to make a break for it,” Kotone admitted. “When I realized that the zombies never followed me, I ran back to see if he had—” She stopped and shook her head. “I found him yesterday. Did…Did his wife and son make it?”

“Elm’s family is safe in Violet City,” Crystal told her as she wiped away her tears. “You…You were the one who didn’t come back.”

Kotone breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. His laptop is in here,” she explained, swinging a tan computer bag into view from behind her back. “I’ve been trying to see if there was anything else I could take, but the house was a little occupied.”

“I’m happy that your cousin’s alive and all, but could you two wait until we get back to Violet City,” Silver asked impatiently. Crystal and Kotone looked to find him inspecting the stairs down to the first floor. “They’re getting angry down there.” He backed away as another hoard of zombies rushed up the stairs with a discord of rage.

Kotone bounded over and snatched the bat out of his hands. “Hey,” he protested angrily. “I’ve got plenty of weapons on my back and you take my bat?”

She ignored him. As soon as the leading zombie’s head came into view, she took a half step back and swung with all her strength. The metal bat cut straight through their ranks and sent them tumbling back in a broken heap. Silver looked in awe before glancing down the steps. The zombies remained motionless.

Silver raised an eyebrow. “Wow.”

“Five years in softball,” she told him proudly. “It’s great to finally hold a bat again. So much better than using the chairs.”

He stared at her for a few moments before shaking his head. “You can use that one for now. You’ll need it on our way back.”

“Speaking of which, we should probably leave,” Crystal said reluctantly. “It’s a long way back to Violet City. We need to hurry to get back before nightfall.”

Kotone nodded and started walking towards her cousin. Silver gave the first floor one last glance before pulling a shorter wooden bag out of his bag. He gripped the handle and took up the rear. “Well, are you leading us back, Crystal,” Silver asked.

“Might as well,” she said.

The group carefully made their way down the outside stairs. They didn’t wait to see if any zombies would pursue them. Once they were down the steps, they made a break for it. The metal rod in Crystal’s hands turned cold as she ran headfirst to the woods, her cousin and her friend right behind her. She could hear Kotone’s heavy steps behind her as she vaulted herself over the log blocking the main path. Her side burned but she kept going, unable to stop.

Something smashed into her side. Crystal was sent sprawling on her side, the earth churning beneath her body as she plowed through the dirt. The girl quickly forced herself up, her knees shaking. Then, she saw him. Oh, of all the people to see as a zombie, he was the very last that she had wanted to see. Her heart felt like it was breaking but she tried her best to steel herself, her hands clenching her weapon.

He only had one eye. She couldn’t bear to look at his face. He had been dead long enough that his undead body had started to decay, but thanks to that accursed virus, he was trapped in the early stages. She could hear the others catch her. She was thankful. They needed to run. She couldn’t fight him. Never.

The husk of her former best friend lifted his head, his jaw contorted in a smile. Crystal’s stomach swam. Had he died like that? Had he died with that smile? She stepped back, her emotions swimming in her stomach. She had to do something. But…why hadn’t he attacked her?

“Crystal,” the zombie chirped in his voice, Gold’s voice. “You’re alive!”

She panicked. With a terrified scream she swung her steel rod, slamming it into his stomach. Gold lurched back with a gurgle before clutching his stomach and glaring up at her. “Ow! I may be undead, but I can still remember what that feels like,” he exclaimed angrily. “Why would you hit me?!”

“Because you’re dead and you're talking,” she screamed.

Kotone skidded to a halt beside her, Silver right beside her with wide eyes. “Crystal! Crystal run! He’s a zombie! He's dead!”

Gold cast an angered look towards the brunette. “It's undead, thank you. Oh, and it’s nice to see you, too. I didn’t think I would see you again after you broke a chair over my head and knocked my eye out.”

Silver looked at Kotone with respect. “You knocked his eye out with a chair? Nice.”

“Not nice! Now I only have one eye,” Gold protested. “I don’t even have a cool eyepatch to cover it with. How is that fair?”

“How…how are you not attacking us,” Crystal asked after a moment, her eyes wet once again. “When the others were bitten, they lost their minds immediately. You…You still act human.”

“Because I’m too awesome to become a mindless scavenger,” Gold answered without a missed beat. He focused on her side before smirking at her. “I’m surprised you’re not turned too, seeing as you have a giant bite on your side.”

Crystal felt her temper flare with outrage. Typical Gold. Near death did nothing for his subtlety.

“Giant bite,” Kotone asked in a panic. Her bright hazel eyes focused on her cousin. “When were you bit?!”

“Did he bite you,” Silver asked coldly, his bat pointed directly at Gold before he pulled back, prepared to swing. “I’ll knock his head off. Let’s see him bite anyone then.”

Gold gulped and gently clutched his neck. Crystal shook her head. “No, I’ve…I’ve been bit the entire time,” she admitted. “I was bitten back during the first wave. I just…never turned. There’s a scar and the skin looks like death—”

“Nice pun,” Gold praised.

She ignored him. “But I’m fine.”

“How,” Kotone asked in amazement.

“I’m not sure. That’s why it was so important to get Elm’s laptop. If we can understand what the virus is and how it works, we might be able to cure it,” Crystal theorized.

“Maybe there’s antibodies,” Silver suggested after a pause. “If it really is a virus, then there could be antibodies capable of destroying it.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Kotone said grimly, her hand reaching for the strap of her computer bag.

“Let me come with you,” Gold pleaded. Crystal stared at him and found his lone eye filled with determination. “If there are antibodies…maybe I have some. That would explain why I’m like…this.”

“We can’t take him back to Violet City,” Silver said in exasperation. “Taking a ‘friendly’ zombie to a safezone is the worst possible idea, ever.”

“Then we’ll make our own safezone,” Crystal said quietly.

“What,” the others asked in unison.

“We’ll go back to Violet and tell everyone what we found before going out on our own and continuing Elm’s research. It’s our best chance for a cure,” Crystal explained.

“I doubt telling everyone that we found a zombie with half a brain will go over well,” Silver mused with a frown.

“Then we’ll leave that part out,” Kotone said. “Now then, are we gonna leave New Bark before we meet unfriendly zombies, or what?”

Crystal nodded before taking a step away from the group. “We don’t have much time. We have to run. Now.” She turned to Gold. “If you end up turning…” She stopped. She couldn’t bear to say it.

He shook his head. “I know. Let’s go before we get more company, like your cousin said.”

Crystal took one last breath before rushing ahead, leading the way towards Violet City. Kotone and Silver immediately ran after her, hands squeezed on their bats’ handles. Gold went to follow them before slowing down and looking over his shoulder at the remnants of his childhood home.

“…We all don’t have much time,” he muttered grimly. He then ran after the group, leaving the ruins of New Bark behind.

#au fanfic contest #submission #IllusionsOfInsanity

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pisati · 5 years ago

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I had a moment today. I had a few moments. when I was walking to my car after work today, I noticed I was smiling. it was kind of a weird day; we had some dull moments and some moments when there were 3-some clients in the lobby with their pets, they were short-staffed in the back so they were running a little behind, and we were being overwhelmed with calls (and I’m still not comfortable answering client calls because I’m not well-versed in anything yet; I’ve been putting people on hold). but I get to talk to people every day and see their pets.

we had this one guy bring in his cat today and he was telling us about his tattoos, told us what tattoo shops he goes to, he said he loved the line work on my snake and I told him that the line work is why I picked the artist I did. like... even though being a receptionist is kind of stressful for me, I leave the clinic every day thankful that I get to interact with people and I have so much to learn and do, so many things pulling my attention and getting me out of my chair every so often. I’m still learning how the clinic works and I’m kind of struggling with my memory. first of all there’s SO MUCH to take in, so that’s kind of not surprising, but I’m also forgetting names and basic information I should have closer to the front of my mind. like a dog named Rex that I checked in this morning; couldn’t remember his name for the life of me until I heard his owner say it as they came up to the counter to check out. thankfully we do have a button on our computer program that tells us which clients are currently in the clinic, but that wasn’t really helpful when I couldn’t remember which pet’s name I was looking for among the handful of others. even so, I know I’ll free up more space in my brain once the rest of the procedures become more habitual.

when I got home later I thought back to my first day as an intern at my last job. it was early july 2017. I’d actually tried that day; I’d gotten up early, pulled on dress pants and a cardigan, had on ballet flats; typical business casual. even put on a little makeup. it seemed like that all was the expectation, even though the guys often wore polos tucked into jeans. but it really hit me as I was driving to the office; just that feeling. I managed to dig up the post I wrote about it:

I had a moment this morning while I was driving, though. I was in my car during the morning commute. I didn't feel completely like death; I even woke up before my alarm and got everything done that I needed to before I left. I had a protein bar in my bag and a refillable water bottle to take in with me. I wasn't feeling well this morning so I didn't put in terribly much effort into my appearance, but I still stuffed myself into work pants, a nice shirt, a pink cardigan, and ballet flats. I had my music on kind of loud, but nothing obnoxious. My driving playlist is starting to wear on me. It feels extra bland now. Just floating on the surface of indie rock so I can keep myself awake on drives. Here I was, driving to an office building in one of the local tech areas, listening to REM's Losing My Religion. Just another person, just another boring song on the stereo. I didn't even feel like me. I felt the way I always imagine Charlotte feels driving to work. I didn't feel quite as self-important, but I sure as hell felt like an adult. Not in a good way. I had to force the thought out of my mind before I started crying. I don't know what the hell I want, but I'm afraid that was the moment I realized that this isn't it. I watched my entire life flash by behind a desk. This feels like I'm walking headfirst into my worst nightmare. I can't turn down this opportunity or any others I currently have; I can't afford to. I have no choice but to keep going. But I don't have any energy anymore and I don't have any friends. Nowhere to be but work and home. So far, it's exactly what I was afraid of. I really fucking don't want this to be my life. God. I know I don't handle new things or big changes very well. Maybe I just need to adjust better. I don't know.

---

I forced myself to ignore that feeling, and I really shouldn’t have. I’m incredibly lucky to be in a position now where I can pay attention to my gut screaming at me that this isn’t what I want instead of forcing myself through it because I need the money that badly. it’s actually amazing how I knew from day one that that wasn’t where I wanted to be. I just ignored myself. I know a lot of people who force themselves into things they hate, because “that’s just life”, so they say.

I still can’t quite place that feeling I had that morning. I thought I described it well when I wrote it out then, but it also had a twinge of I know this isn’t who I am. I felt like I was putting on a costume that didn’t fit, putting on a mask that I felt people could still see through. business casual still makes me cringe. I know I’m capable of being professional (obviously you have to have some degree of professionalism to be able to interface with clients, and I worked long enough in academia to know what to take seriously when), but that was all too much for me. that government job I was waiting on would’ve required me to wear that mask day in and day out and I know in my heart I couldn’t have done it. not for long. I would’ve ended up right where I ended up with my last job. I can’t take shit like that seriously for very long. I can’t be all business all the time. I broke the first rule the feds told me many times: don’t tell anyone where you’re applying. it’s a big deal that you keep that shit a secret, but maybe I’m just mentally in a state where I think government agencies and the things they do are kind of bullshit products of a society that thrives on fear. it didn’t seem like that big of a deal to me. but it’s a major thing to them. I’m just not that serious of a person I guess.

I actually like being able to joke around sometimes with some clients, being able to talk to my coworkers about personal affairs without feeling like I’m going to get caught wasting precious time. I like feeling more relaxed, feeling like I’m getting things done rather than plodding through a neverending stream of word lists and ‘improvements’. being hands-on, even (hopefully soon) actually being able to get my hands dirty. this is the kind of person I’ve always been. I knew that, but I was scared to acknowledge it. where I live, it’s just expected that you’ll either move away or get some big-deal professional job like the one I had. growing up I thought that was what was expected of me, and I’d be a failure if I landed in anything ‘less’. I remember being a kid (can’t have been older than 5-6) and pretending to type on the keyboard on the computer we had in the basement. a little office lackey, just like mommy. I already saw that as my future and I didn’t know why. that was just What Adults Do. and I wasn’t given any other options. my mom never discouraged me, per se, but she would look pained when I’d talk to her about careers I was considering that weren’t “profitable”. I know she had the best intentions (and she’s not wrong, it’s really hard to get by at all if you can’t earn enough), but it hurt. I was never taught that I could make my passions work for me, if I loved them enough and wanted to pursue them enough. you just have to be able to be creative and market yourself right, which is a skill I unfortunately didn’t have. but the option was always there; I was just kind of pulled away from it. taught to stomach the “best” option, even if it wasn’t what I wanted. mom did; she stuck with jobs she hated too. if I had to suffer, you do too.

it’s sad I’m only learning these things about myself now. or, rather, getting better acquainted with them and not shoving them down to be able to stomach things I feel like I have to do. I’m still worried about the financial aspect of all of it. but I honestly hit the lottery thanks to my dad. I feel like I can breathe. I remember in 2017 before I got that job I was so stressed; I had maybe 1-2k in my bank account that I’d managed to save up from the record store and my lab scholarship but it was going fast. I really did need whatever job I could get. that mindset left me in a pretty desperate position, which I think might be why I’m more comfortable just exploring my options now. more comfortable with saying, yeah, I can work as a receptionist for a bit, get some animal care experience, even if this isn’t where I want to be long-term. I don’t know what’s down the road, but I feel secure enough to give myself the time to think about it. imagine a world where everyone could say that.

I was stressing out last week about how I was afraid I was already burning out on this job; I was afraid I couldn’t see myself doing it for long. it can be hard to push through the days, and there’s still so much I don’t know. there’s so much to take in, sometimes it feels like I’ll never get a handle on all of it. but I know it takes time. I think it helps to know that now they’re going to even have me working another position in the clinic, rather than just reception. I’ll be able to be in the back, not really having to interface with clients, but getting to still work with the techs and doctors and being able to actually help with the animals. I’ll actually be on my feet and doing something hands-on, and that’s exciting. I want to learn proper restraint techniques and medication administration and all that.

I need to work on reminding myself that, even on the bad days, the hard days, it’s still better than where I was. I feel so much more like a person at this job. I get to be a human being interacting with other human beings. that might be a weird thing to say, but it’s a drastic contrast between an office environment and a client-focused environment. we’re not trying to be the faceless, all-business-all-the-time developers of a product that just... performs a task. we’re people who care about the wellbeing of our clients’ pets. it’s an environment that demands human emotion. I think I’ve talked about my rats every day, just in stories to relate to clients. mostly how my boys also get super nervous when they have to go to the doctor, and did you know rats get the nervous-poops too?

I just have to hope that one of these days I’ll feel like I know myself a lot better, and I hope I’ll stay true to who I am going forward. I’ve only got this one life, I’m not about to waste it being so unhappy for money. I said that same thing before I started that last job and I felt kind of like a hypocrite, but I also felt like I was just going to have to force myself to be miserable forever, for money. that was my only option. I got a year’s worth of misery fresh out of college and I’m just glad I got it out of the way early. some lessons I guess you do have to learn the hard way.

#blah blah #musings

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