#i’m going feral clawing at my screen over that bit of skin on his side that’s visible

[wildsaltair]

one night, Maximus! one night and then a lifetime PLEASE I am begging you

[sailtoafarawayland]

Walk Me Through The Dark (1/1) Alpha/Omega one-shot

Summary: There are no guarantees that life will be easy or happy, but Emma had finally found all that and more in the form of Killian Jones, her best friend, her alpha and mate. She’d forgotten what it was to fear, to run, to have the hope knocked from her body, but she’s about to remember, and so is he.   

Rating: Explicit, read through A/N for trigger warnings, or skip to after the cut for spoiler-free

A big thank you to @the-darkdragonfly for beta reading and supporting this story! 

AO3 or FF

Author’s Note: This is a hurt/comfort omegaverse based fic for CS. It is rated E for a reason. Tags/Trigger Warnings are as follows: Attempted rape/non-con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Heavy Angst, Sexual Assault Recovery

-Walk Me Through The Dark-

Emma hung onto the rail above her as the subway lurched into motion, her long curls falling around her face and giving some sense of privacy in the crowded car. She stared down at the screen on her phone, a soft smile on her face. Tapping a quick reply to Mary Margaret with one finger, she swiped back to the previous screen, selecting Killian's name and letting go of her hold on the rail so she could send him a message. The train swayed and she widened her stance, regaining her balance. Her stomach churned slightly at the motion and she frowned. She shouldn't have eaten the curry from the food truck for lunch, it never sat well.

She tapped send and reached for the support of the rail again.

E: What are you doing for dinner, babe?

Her eyes traveled the length of the car as she waited for his response. He'd mentioned earlier that his latest overhaul may keep him at the ship yard for some late nights, but the picture Mary Margaret had sent – something simmering in red sauce with a crispy layer of cheese – left her wondering what her mate would be doing to feed himself that evening.

Her cell vibrated in her hand.

K: If I'm lucky, there will be some takeaway left in the work fridge, though I'd much rather be enjoying the evening with you, love.

Heat rushed into her cheeks as she read his words, the echo of his voice in her head. He loved his work at the ship yard, and though it had taken her a long time to realize the sincerity of his words, she knew now just how much truth was in them. Despite having a job that he'd long dreamed about, his favorite place to be was always at her side. The way he made her feel, loved and wanted, was a far cry from how she'd felt her entire childhood into her adult life.

E: I miss you too. Don't forget there's leftover alfredo at home, if you end up not staying too late.

E: Looks like MM is making lasagna.

Their apartment wasn't too far from his office, and she hoped the idea of fresh food would lure him away from whatever dried out leavings had been abandoned by his coworkers.

K: Both of those sound very tempting at the moment. Give MM and David my love.

Emma smiled and slipped her phone back into her pocket, settling in for the rest of the ride out to the Nolan's. Friday night dinners had become something of a tradition between the four friends, but things had been so overwhelming at the ship yard lately that Killian missed them more often than he liked. Luckily, his latest overhaul was coming to an end soon, and they were both hoping things would be a bit more manageable.

The car rocked again and Emma swallowed, a sudden wave of nausea creeping up her throat as they moved, something about the steady creaking of the wheels and the sway of the train making her feel sick. Honestly, that was the last time she went with spicy food, it always made her feel off, despite how delicious it was. She closed her eyes and wrapped her fingers, sweat beginning to dampen her palm, more tightly around the rail, wishing she were anywhere else as the nausea worsened, her stomach churning and cramping. A tingling warmth worked its way up through her body, spreading along her arms and legs. Another cramp twisted deep in her abdomen, and that's when it hit her.

Her heat was coming on early.

Panic surged beneath the burning heat and nausea as she sucked in a deep breath. It was too early, by a week and a half at least. She would have never dared take public transit if she thought there was even a chance...and now she was stuck on the T with a crammed car. Her eyes darted to the digital map above the door, the light that indicated their position creeping along slowly to North Quincy station. They were only a quarter of the way along, and she cursed her luck.

The doctor had warned her more than once that she could end up suffering from unmanageable heats down the road due to her early use of suppressants, but so far she'd escaped having to deal with any of that. She'd thought she was in the clear.

She could feel the instincts that became heightened during her heats start to spike, the panic only making them sharper. She needed to get off this train, the locked doors and windows and the sheer press of people triggering an instinctual need to run, to get to a place that was warm and safe, a place that was familiar – their bed at home with the blankets piled high and smelling of her mate.

She needed Killian.

She needed her Alpha, but he was already too far, and she was stuck on a train heading in the opposite direction.

Another sharp cramp twisted her insides and she bit back a whimper, adrenaline pumping through her veins and sweat beading on her skin as she shifted, stealing a glance at the people surrounding her. Almost everyone seemed unaware of her predicament, which made sense. Her heat was only just at the beginning of its climb, and it was unlikely that betas would notice much difference in the pheromones her body was producing – not this early on. Only alphas and omegas possessed the hyper-sensitive ability to pick out those scents from the air at such an early stage.

Then her eyes fell on the far corner of the car, and she saw him.

He leaned casually into the corner, but his eyes were narrowed and hard, his lips touched by the start of a smile as he realized that she knew he knew. Flexing his shoulders, he lifted his nose to the air and drew in a deep breath, his mouth twisting into a feral grin.

Emma's eyes widened with fear and she snapped her head back down, breathing heavily as a shiver washed over her body, the hair on her neck prickling. That had been a mistake, she realized, looking away – too submissive and sure to goad the strange alpha into action. She should have stared him down, and normally she would have, but somehow, being stuck in a confined space so far from her mate, her heat bearing down on her in a way that was faster and worse than normal – she was utterly terrified.

The man staring her down – she could feel it, even if she refused to look back in his direction – seemed to be a typical alpha from what she'd briefly seen. He wielded his large, bulky frame with the ease of someone used to getting their way and being obeyed, looming over the people beside him with an air of authority. He'd made a show of scenting the air when she'd laid eyes on him, and the fact that he was so blatantly displaying his interest had the taste of bile stinging sharply in the back of her throat.

She wanted to be anywhere but here.

She wanted it to be yesterday, before her body betrayed her and she was stuck in this nightmare.

Another cramp twisted in her gut, longer and sharper, her teeth digging into her lip as she tried to hold back the whine she could feel building in her throat – a call that was always answered by the reassuring rumble of her mate, except he wasn't here.

He was too far, and despite the flush of heat consuming her, she was so cold, her body insisting that she needed the warmth and security only he could provide.

She wanted to call him, the urge to do so almost irrepressible, but she knew he'd be a frantic mess, worrying for no reason. As long as the alpha in the corner kept his distance, she'd be fine – and it's not like he was crazy. Her claim mark would have been clearly visible when she turned toward him, and she knew that her scent gland was in overdrive, producing copious amounts of not only her own signals for heat, but the potent scent of her mate as well, broadcasting to any other alphas in the area that she wasn't a free omega. The guy had to know, so she felt reassured that he'd leave her alone.

She had to believe it, because the alternative was too frightening to consider.

No, there was no reason to call her mate and worry him over nothing. She had time. She'd jump out at North Quincy and grab a car straight back home. Then she would call Killian and let him know that he'd need to cut his work night short. If she was lucky, he'd already be there, drawn in by the promise of chicken alfredo.

Sweat slid from her cold grasp on the rail down the inside of her wrist in into her jacket.

She had to believe that everything would be fine, and for a few minutes it felt that way. It was the movement in her peripheral vision that betrayed that hope. The stray alpha was leaving his place at the other end of the car, people parting around him as he made his way closer. His body was tensed as he took another deep whiff of the air around him, a look of impatience on his face.

“Sorry,” Emma stammered, apologizing to the woman she'd accidentally pushed against in her futile effort to put more distance between herself and the threat the man posed.

Another shiver racked her body, adrenaline amplifying every normal inconvenience that her heat brought out – the cramps, the chills, the clawing need for her mate, and with that, the steady rush of slick that was just starting to slip from between her thighs. She wrangled with her own body, fighting for control and losing, her attention so caught up in maintaining some sort of normalcy that she didn't realize the alpha had moved closer until she felt his hot breath against the back of her neck, the air around her thickening with a sour, deep musk that was simply wrong.

She wanted to scream, but when she opened her mouth nothing came out, instead she fell forward, nearly on top of someone in the seat. She'd just managed to pull her feet back beneath her when she felt a firm hand wrap itself around her bicep, hauling her backward.

“Now, now, Omega,” the man chuckled close in her ear, the heat radiating from his body making her want to vomit. “Seems like you need some help.”

“No,” she ground out, almost unable to hear her own words, the hammering of her pulse in her ears drowning them out. “No. I'm claimed.”

She tore herself out of the man's grip and moved quickly toward the small circle of space near the door, uncaring of the people she elbowed or pushed aside to get there. The map above her was starting the blink, the little bulb beneath N. Quincy Station finally lighting up.

Thank god.

With any luck the man had taken the hint and wouldn't risk making a scene. At this point, there had to be at least one or two others on the car aware of what was happening, and there was no way any sane alpha would risk the trouble he could get into for pushing himself on a claimed omega. She hoped – but her heat always gave her tunnel vision, and the only thing she could think of was Killian, of how badly she needed him and how she'd never felt more vulnerable than in that moment.

The train finally slowed to a stop and the doors slid open. She'd never moved more quickly in her life, shoving aside the few people that tried to cut her off as she bolted from the train, never even hearing the muttered curses a few commuters send her way.  

Her vision blurred in time with her heart, pinching and expanding as her heat slipped into the next gear. She stumbled forward and leaned heavily against a concrete support not far from the train as another cramp jolted through her core, leaving her nerves tingling in pain. She chanced a look back through the thinning crowd as the doors slid shut, but she didn't see him in the station.

Fearing what she might not see, she looked into the window of the car, but she couldn't make out his bulk there either. He wasn't on the train, but she hadn't seen him in the station either. She would have noticed.

The wave of nausea and cramps passed and she pulled out her cell, punching in Killian's number, her breathing echoing in her ears as she waited for the call to connect. He was at work, and she hardly ever called him there, so of course he picked up immediately, concern tainting the voice she'd needed so desperately to hear.

“Emma, is everything alright, love?”

Hearing his actual voice broke something in her, the wall she'd been holding up out of sheer determination, needing to believe that everything would be fine, that the alpha on the train was just going to forget her – but there was a small, niggling part of her brain warning that she would have seen him in the car if he'd stayed, if he hadn't followed her out.

“Killian,” she whimpered, every bit of that fear communicated through the tremor in her voice, in the way her breath fell in short pants as she moved farther out of the station, her eyes darting to the dark corners around her as she hurried toward the back parking lot.

“Emma,” he rushed, his voice laced with dread. “Emma, where are you? What's wrong?”

“My heat, it's early,” she muttered. “I was on the train when it hit. It's bad...”

“I'm coming to get you. What station?”

She nearly dropped the phone as another cramp rocked her, more slick cooling her thighs and dampening her jeans, her breath cut short as she struggled upright again.

“Emma!” Killian snapped just as she brought the phone back to her ear. “What station, Emma?”

“North Quincy. Killian...there was an alpha on the train.”

She could hear the sharp intake of his breath, something in the background dropping to the ground.

“Emma, I'm coming. Can you stay where there are people?”

“I don't know if he followed me,” she admitted, finally saying the thing she hadn't wanted to confront aloud. She hadn't seen him as the station emptied out around her, but there was no denying the odor of his musk that still drifted toward her occasionally. She wanted to believe it was lingering from where he'd wrapped his sweating hand around her arm, but she couldn't be sure. “There's no one here,” she whispered, blanching when she finally realized how far she'd walked in her daze. “I'm in the parking lot. I was gonna grab an Uber home.”

“Are there any cabs? Any cars, love?”

“No, it's so empty, Killian. There's no one here...”

“Stay on the line with me, Emma. I'm coming – right now. I'm on my way.”

Her mate's voice was wrecked, cracking with fear that she knew he was trying to keep at bay. In her gut she knew he was probably more frightened than she was, because she at least had the luxury of her heat muting everything it didn't deem important, but he didn't even have that. Entwining with hers, his fear only made her desire to burrow into their bed that much stronger, everything other than her need for him and a safe place dimming slightly. She wanted home, nestled in warmth with his weight on top of her. She'd be so full and sated, content with him curled around her back...

“Emma.”

Killian's voice broke through the fog, strained but firm, and she found herself humming in response, his voice sending a pleasing vibration through her body.

“Omega!” he snapped, and her purr turned into a whine at the sharp tone of displeasure, but his attempt to pull her back to reality worked, and some semblance of clarity came back to her as she hurried further into the parking lot.  

“I'm here – I just...it's bad, Killian. It's coming fast and hard.”

“Just stay with me, love. Look around, do you see the alpha from the train? Did he follow you?”

She turned in place, trying to focus on her surroundings, the sidewalks and the slight glow of the lobby in the empty station, the parked cars and streetlights that cast wide circles of light across the pavement. She didn't see him, but there was this feeling, this warning in her gut that she'd learned to trust.

“I don't see him, but I think...oh, god, I think maybe he did. I don't know. I'm scared, Killian.” She stumbled backwards over the concrete lip of a planted median and grabbed onto the mirror of a car to steady herself. She needed to get farther from the building, someplace dark and hidden and safe – someplace he wouldn't see her. “I have to get out of sight. Maybe he'll just give up...”

“Can you get somewhere with people?”

“Not without going back through the station to the front...there's no one here,” she whispered, the tiny, logical part of her brain still working thinking how insane it was that the parking lot was this empty, like all of her bad luck had saved itself up for one day. “He could be inside still, if I try to go back.”

Just as she was threading her way between two vehicles, her eyes still locked on the station, she saw the silhouette of someone large approaching the doors she'd left mere minutes before, and she knew it was him. Before he could spot her, she dropped to the ground in a crouch, ignoring the sharp cramp that twisted in her gut with every ounce of determination she had left, gritting her teeth and moving farther through the parking lot.

“He's here,” she whispered, sliding her back against the front wheel of a car, her already soaked jeans pressed against the damp pavement. “He's here.”

Everything slowed, her heart beating like a dying drum against her chest, her breath shallow and drawn out on a tremble. She tightened her grip as her phone nearly tumbled from her sweat-slicked hand, her mouth dry with the taste of bile and metal.

He was going to find her. He would find her, and there would be nothing she could do.

The pain in her stomach had doubled, her body caught between fear and desperation, and she knew she wouldn't be able to stand, let alone run.

“I'm coming. I'm almost there, I promise. I'm not going to let him hurt you, okay? Just stay quiet, love. Please, just stay with me, Emma.”

He was too far, so far.

“I'm here,” she breathed. “Killian...I'm so scared.”

For a moment there was nothing more than the sound of his wrecked breathing and her quiet pants. Her hearing was sharpened, but she didn't hear any footsteps, didn't know if she even would over the rapid flutter of her pulse in her ears. There was a chance, if she had any luck left, that he'd glanced out the door and hadn't seen her. Maybe he was gone.

She exhaled and the air around her finally shifted, a gust of wind sweeping over the lot and cooling her heated skin. She almost sighed, the relief it brought making her forget for a second that she was drenched with slick, feverish and freezing at the same time – but then she smelled him, the alpha from the train.

He was close, the scent strong and just starting to deepen with notes of an alpha in rut, but nothing about it was heady and intoxicating like her own mate's. It was all wrong, and something feral in her snarled, wanting nothing to do with the male following her.

“Killian,” she broke, her whispered words nearly a cry, tears mixing with sweat as she realized her time was up, her vision blurring.

If she could smell the alpha, then he could smell her.

He would find her.

“Emma, I'm so close. I'll find you, I promise.”

“Killian, I love –”

Her phone clattered to the pavement at her feet, her words stolen as a strong hand grabbed her arm, ripping her up from where she'd been hiding. A pained yelp flew from her mouth as her shoulder twisted painfully, the world spinning as she was pinned against the hood of the car, a heavy body covering her back.

Her attacker's face pushed roughly into the crook of her neck, scenting her with a groan. She shuddered, squirming beneath him, her cries muffled as the suffocating weight of his arm pressed into her face. She sucked in meager, burning gulps of air, vomit rising in the back of her mouth as his tongue swept over the claim mark on her neck.  

“You really gave me a chase,” the alpha groaned, his hips rutting against her backside, thrusting her own sore and cramping body into the wheel well. “I like a good chase though, and I've never smelled anything like you before.”

Twisting as much as she was able, she latched her teeth into an exposed section of his hand, her stomach lurching as the taste of blood filled her mouth, his angered snarl cutting across the dark parking lot. For a brief second the pressure eased and Emma hoped she might have a chance, but before she could even draw in a full breath he was back on her, changing his hold and wrapping his bloody fingers around the back of her neck instead. Cold air whipped between their lower bodies and she screamed as his other hand moved to her jeans, her knees banging against metal as she struggled.

“You don't know your place, Omega,” he growled, enjoying her whimper of pain as he pushed her more forcefully against the car, the sound of his zipper making her freeze. “I'll teach you. You'll thank me too. By the end you'll be begging for my knot.”

He kept talking, but his words were slipping away, everything moving farther away – even the piercing noise that Emma thought might have been her own screams, but she didn't know. She couldn't breathe, let alone scream. His fingers were tugging at her zipper, the wet, stubborn material of her jeans scrunching slowly down her hips.

She fought, struggled through the heavy fog settling around her. She didn't want this. It was all wrong. Not her mate, not Killian.

Then the world collapsed around her, lights and sounds finally folding into nothingness like a house of cards as her attacker grew more impatient, her body rocking against the car with each jerk as he struggled to lower the soaked material down her body, her position making it near impossible for him to get the jeans low enough with one hand.

Everything felt so distant, her breath on the hood of the car spreading like smoke and then fading away.

Then in a sudden rush the world snapped back to her, the hot weight against her back and fumbling hands torn away – the sound of something crashing into metal. The sound of a struggle as something was dragged across the pavement, grunts and curses and the sound of a fist hitting something over and over. There were voices now, shouts that come to her like a light through the fog. The sound of her jacket dragging against metal as she slumped to the ground. The sound of her sneakers pushing back gravel, and then the sound of her own voice as her knees hit the pavement.

“Killian,” she rasped, smelling him before she saw him, movement and light and clarity returning to her just as he rushed to her side, his blue eyes shining with tears and his hand, bloodied and swollen, moving to cup her face as he pulled her from the ground, as if she weighed nothing.

To him she never had.

She wanted to cry, finally enveloped by the heat and the scent and the person she needed, her hands twisting in his shirt as she strove to somehow get closer. Sensing her need, Killian shifted her carefully, juggling her in his arms as he shrugged his jacket off, draping it over her and shielding her in safety and comfort. His sweat and musk were soaked into the material, his scent flooding her, calming her frayed nerves and the part of her that still wanted to jump and kick at every noise reaching her ears.

His body was shaking with adrenaline, the tremors vibrating through her. She nestled against him, rubbing her cheek and neck along his skin in the way she knew would stir her own scent gland, easing his worry and calming him. She felt him settle around her, but then he started to move, growling out something unintelligible – it was then that she realized there must be people standing nearby. He paused and she clung to him tightly, his arms responding in kind. Fear crawled along her spine at the thought someone might be trying to separate them. From a gap in his jacket she could see the flicker of lights, red and blue against the metallic sheen of the cars. She knew he must be talking with a cop, that help had come, but she couldn't focus on the words.

Now that she was where she should be, the reality of her heat was falling back over her like a familiar weight.

The gentle swagger of his body resumed and there was the sound of a car door opening – a brief moment of terror when he let her go, her response immediate and frantic, but then he was back at her side, scooping her from the seat and back into his lap as he barked their address at whoever was driving.

The car pulled away, the fog of fear lessening and eventually falling away from her entirely as she basked in the comfort that was her mate, his arms wrapped solidly around her as he whispered her name over and over into her hair, his fingers caressing her sweat-soaked skin and soothing the writhing need inside of her, wordless promises that she wouldn't feel aching and empty for long, that he would take care of her.

~ * ~ * ~

She isn't sure how long the trip back home takes, but every moment she slides further away from the trauma she'd been put through and into the instinctual need that feels like it just may rip her apart. She's bathed in the scent of her mate – the deep, spicy musk heavy on his skin, laced with notes of sea salt and sweetness and something unique only to him. It's everything she's ever needed. Adrenaline and fear had triggered his rut in the same way they'd worsened her heat, and the familiar intoxicating tang that it edged his scent with was driving her wild with need, slick pooling once more between her legs as she core throbbed violently.

Her attack seems so distant, and far less important than finally getting into the privacy of their own home, to the place where her mate can soothe her and give them what they both desperately need. She wriggles in his lap, unable to hold back the needy plea that she presses into his skin, delighting in the low growl vibrating through his chest as he tightens his grip. Words are snapped at the driver and then Killian is tipping them both to the side as he digs into his pocket. A moment later the car slows to a stop and he's tossing something onto the front seat before easing them outside, her body still caged tightly within his arms.

His jacket is still draped over her, his arms holding it in place, but the collar had settled around her neck and she looks up into his stormy eyes, his pupils blown-wide, just as surely as her own are. There's an unquenchable need there, but below it she sees the fear, the regret and guilt, the anger. Her fingers drift up and cradle the tense line of his jaw, stroking until his muscles unclench, hoping he understands that everything is alright, everything will be alright.

They're together, and she's never felt more safe than she does right now.

He doesn't put her down, not once, despite the struggle it gives him in getting into the apartment, but she doesn't want him to, doesn't think she could stand to be separated for even an instant. She knows there are a lot of things to be said, to be asked, to be cried over, but right now she can't think past tearing off all of the layers that are keeping them apart.

They don't make it farther than the entryway, the door slamming shut behind them as he fingers the offending material of her jacket, the stench of the other alpha still wafting from the wool into the air. When he peels it carefully from her body, clearly resisting the urge to tear it from her, she sighs in relief, shrugging off the weight of it as he tosses it violently across the room.

Killian normally loves taking his time with his mate, using his fingers and mouth to bring her to completion before finally giving in to the crushing need to fill her and knot her, but her need is too great right now, too desperate, and his sudden rut is making it near impossible for him to walk her to the bedroom, let alone take care of her in the way he wants – to sit her down and ask what he can do, what she needs – he knows that she needs this, and he'll give it to her, to them both.

“Alpha...” she begs, suddenly falling to the floor at his feet, her chest pressed against his legs as she rubs her cheek against his crotch, her fingers trembling as she struggles to undo the button of his pants “...need you, Alpha.”

The air between them is thick with the mix of their scents, his blood pounding in his ears, need and fear and desire rolling together like some wild thing, the sweet scent of her slick so strong he can taste it on his tongue, wants to taste it on her soaked flesh.

“Omega,” he rasps, his vision sharpening to see her and only her, his cock hard and throbbing and every instinct in his body telling him that his omega needs him, that only he can give her what she craves. His hands settle tightly on her shoulders, turning her gently on the entryway carpet. “Present for your Alpha.”

Small, expectant whimpers tremble from her throat as she drops to her belly and slides her knees up behind her, her fingers hastily grabbing her rumpled jeans and pushing the sodden material over her ass and down her thighs, wriggling her legs to get them to her knees as an overpowering wave of her scent plows into him.

The sight of her sex, swollen and exposed, presented so wantonly in the air for him has his knot swelling at the base of his cock, his pulse racing as he shoves his jeans down his own legs and kneels behind her, holding the beast in him at bay so he can snatch one last human moment before he's lost completely, burying his mouth in her folds and greedily lapping her juices up, his tongue sweeping every inch he can reach before he pulls back with a growl, images flashing through his head – another alpha's hands on her, another male scenting her, imagining what she would feel like.

Somewhere in the back of his brain he knows that this isn't about that, but gods he needs to feel her to know that she's really there, that they're both here and he made it to her in time, that he didn't let her down completely when she needed him most, that she needs him in this way just as urgently as he needs her.

“Emma,” he whispers, her excited pants driving him on as he pulls back and hovers behind her, the swollen head of his cock throbbing against her scorching folds as his hands settle on her hips, “my Omega...”

“God, yes, yours, Alpha, always yours...”

“Mine.”

And then he's burying himself inside of her, her walls seizing around him the instant he does, her cries of his title and name muffled in the carpet as she gyrates her hips, trying to impale herself further. He wants to savor that first, heavenly wave of pleasure that sinking into her always brings, but the beast inside of him is unrelenting, needing to remind the both of them that she is his, and he is hers. Everything other than the ecstasy of their joining and her delicious noises falls away from him, lost beneath the haze of instincts he can't escape – his hips pistoning as he drags his cock from her grasping channel and thrusts back in, slick running freely from his omega and soaking the floor beneath them as she begs and pleads for all of him.

“Is that what you want, Omega,” he pants, the wet sounds of him pulling out and driving back into her filling the air, her firm ass bouncing as he rams into her again and again. “You need your Alpha's knot?”

“Please, Alpha, please, need it so bad,” she mumbles, her words running one over the next as she lets out a moan and shudders around him, so close to falling apart, but needing the fullness of his knot stretching her. “Just yours, just yours, Alpha...”

She tries to struggle upward, unable to shake the urge to feel her alpha covering her completely, his chest pressed against her back as he thrusts into her, claiming her entirely and leaving no inch of her body unmarked by his firm hold and powerful scent. She's shaking, her limbs barely able to support her own weight as he continues to plow into her, his knot fully swollen and catching the edges of her opening with each push deeper, but he senses what she needs, that the separation between them is too much, and he pauses for a second to move his hands from her hips, grabbing her arms and yanking her upper half closer, their two bodies bent together as he pulls her tightly against his chest, swallowing her small frame entirely as he holds her up, his rut bringing with it a strength that doesn't answer to weariness, but only to need.

His grunts are hot and rhythmic against her neck as he moves within her, his teeth sharper and gently razing the swollen gland that already bears his claim mark, sweat running from both of their bodies and sliding between them. Still riled by the threat to his omega, the beast inside of him is wild and frenzied, driving him to mark her again, to claim her once more – the only thing that will sate him. Beneath him her whimpers spiral into something keening and primal, her legs trembling despite the fact that he's holding both of them suspended as he thrusts, and he knows she's almost there, can feel her swollen walls spasming around him.

He slides one hand down her stomach, changing their angle and forcing himself deeper, his knot brushing further within her swollen walls as they begin to pulse around him.

“Mine, Omega...” he growls, completely lost to the beast as she keens beneath him in answer.

She is his, always his.

“Need it, need it, Alpha, please,” she cries, her walls pulling at the throbbing edge of his knot with each teasing thrust. “Need to feel you fill me up, make me yours, please...”

“Open up for me,” he pants against her skin, his teeth gliding down to clamp around the swell of her shoulder. He moves his hand lower and rubs against her clit, his calloused fingers pinching roughly, his words like liquid sin rolling over her, his cock thick and hard and stretching her in all the right ways, everything flowing and surging together in a brutal wave that crashes over her all at once, her vision fading and slipping into darkness as she shakes beneath him – the familiar sting of his teeth marking her shoulder a vibrant shock of blinding light beneath her lids, drawing every last pulsing moment of rapture from her body.

He thrusts into her one final time, his own peace finding him as he forces the swell of his knot into her tight sheath, the coil in his gut snapping and exploding outward as pleasure rocks his body, her walls milking every last drop of his seed – the beast inside of him quelled.

They come down together, Emma collapsing as he releases her shoulder and cushions her fall with his arms, stifling a groan at the pull between them where he's tightly joined with her still. He carefully maneuvers them to their sides on the damp carpet, Emma's breath leaving her in a gasp as the movement shifts him within her slightly, her walls shivering around him and drawing a last spasm from his still hard member.

“Killian,” she whispers, her voice tired yet serene, her head rolling against his chest so their lips can find one another. “Alpha...”

There are a few blissful minutes where their bodies breath as one, sighs traded between their lips and fingers tracing heated skin, but then the fog of need disperses and the weight of the evening falls back onto them, her body shaking in his embrace.

“Oh, love,” he murmurs, wishing he could pull her more comfortably into the safety of his arms, or that he’d spared a thought to getting them to the bedroom before they’d joined. 

She reaches for his hand, pulling it to her lips and pressing small kisses into his skin, her tears running along her cheeks and into his palm as she weeps. He tries to hold and comfort her as best he can, his own tears darkening her hair as he presses her closer, whispering soft noises between them. He wants to tell her how sorry he is that he wasn’t by her side, that he hadn’t been able to prevent that monster from ever laying a hand on her, but he knows saying the words won’t make them true, and the last thing he wants to do is burden her with his own failings. With no words strong enough to soothe the hurt that’s been done to her, he simply offers what he can with his presence. As soon as their bodies slip apart, she’s turning into him, burying her face in the warmth of his chest and sighing into his embrace, neither of them sure of the next steps to take, or where those steps might take them.   

~  * ~ * ~

It was never going to be easy – taking broken things and making them resemble what they once did never is, but its almost impossible when a new, jagged memory sits among the rest, waiting to find its place.

It wasn't easy the first week that swung violently between frantic couplings and emotional upheaval, a man and woman in uniform sitting opposite their couch as Emma recounted what happened, her hands gripping Killian's like a lifeline. He sat on the edge of the cushion, his body slanted between her and the police. Still mid-rut, his instincts to protect and shield her were at war with the man who understood she needed to tell her story, to do what she could to put the monster who had assaulted her behind bars.  

It didn't get any easier the next week when her body finally gasped and released its need, her heat dissipating and leaving her an empty, broken shell that every happiness seemed to run straight through, spilling on the floor.

And none of the hours, or days, or weeks that came after were better. She'd wake at night with the memory of hands on her arm, pressing against her neck – the wrong hands – but there was never more than a second of panic before she was wrapped in the rightness that was her mate, her fears soothed if only for a few moments.

It wasn't easy when she sat on the couch with her therapist, sometimes talking, and sometimes saying nothing at all, but always wondering if those pieces she'd been broken into would ever amount to the strong, capable woman she used to be, or if that one dark piece meant they'd stay forever on the floor, waiting for the next blow that would crush them into an even finer dust.

It wasn't easy for Killian either, not the first week when he bent to the instincts they were both driven by, man warring with pure, primal need, unable to do anything but give in, but fearful that it was too much too soon – both the man and the beast left rabid with fury when the police informed them that while they suspected her attacker had a similar history in other cities, without corroboration or a record, he'd most likely be able to bargain down to a slap on the wrist.

It didn't get any easier after their rut and heat ended, reality slipping through their doorway as they searched for a new normal that didn't disturb the broken pieces that littered the floor and met them each day in the mirror. Killian confided that he'd decided to walk home for dinner when she mentioned the leftovers, that if he hadn't, if he'd decided to stay at the office, he was terrified to think of how much longer it would have taken him to get to her – how one little decision had meant so much. What other decision could he make that would be the wrong one?

None of the hours, day, or weeks that followed were better, waking from his own nightmares to comfort his mate, images he'd never forget still etched behind his closed eyes as Emma shuddered in his arms – the police holding him back from a scene he didn't want to see, Emma bloodied and broken on the ground because he'd taken too long to reach her, because she was a fighter, because he'd failed her.

He'd finally agreed to see someone, to try to find a way just as Emma was, but even then the weight of fixing things felt like a burden he'd crumble beneath, one infinitesimal crack away from shattering. How could he take the guilt, the anger, the resentment, the fear and wrap them up neatly into something that wouldn't drag him down with each step he took? How could he be there for Emma if he couldn't hold himself up? How could he forgive himself?

It wasn't easy, and it took more days and months than they could count, some of them passing in moments of brightness and others lingering like a sickness they couldn't shake, but they had each other. They had help, and gradually, like seasons shifting, the minutes between dark moments grew a little longer, the days between nightmares stretched.

It was months before they took anything but a car to get around Boston, and even then never alone. Emma still hated confined spaces, leaving the doors open to every room she was in, even at work or home, and neither of them were as comfortable with long absences than they once were. When Killian mentioned a transfer to a small ship yard in New York, Emma could see through his reassurances that he would be happy there. She knew his heart, and she also knew hers, so she knew it wasn't right for them.

This was their home, and she wasn't going to let that monster take it away from her, from Killian, from the future they'd always envisioned here.

So they fought for it, through the days that were easy and the ones that weren't, which a year later were few and far between, and on the day that Emma told Killian they would need to move his office out of the spare room, it had never been easier to forget that brief moment of darkness in the face of so much light and promise.

And on the day they painted it a beautiful sea-blue that peeked through the slats of the crib Killian had put together himself, they barely ever thought of all those broken pieces – the few that still lingered were familiar and softened by time, as ingrained into the foundation of who they were now as anything whole – instead, they chose to look ahead to where there was a happy beginning to a new story – and above all else, there was Hope.

[dawnwriterimagines]

This is Real: Nick Jakoby (1)

Nick Jakoby x Human!Reader

Imagine: It's not common having a human mate, as an orc, even while being the first, and only orc police official. Nick begins to recall some events that with his human mate that reminded him just how dangerous their relationship was to his human.

Warning(s): Smut, angst, rough handling during sex, Violence, etc.

Your fingers looped around his slowly, the warmth of your fragile skin ran through his palms, a tantalizing brush of your lips ran across his lips, grazing the edges of his dulled down lower fangs. Hardly able to help the shiver running up his spine, his hand came up to cup the side of your face lovingly. Your soft lips curved upwards, creating a beautiful smile he knew he was blessed to be able to wake up too. He let's a rumble roll through his chest, his arm's around your waist in an instant, devouring your lips passionately.

"Somethin' funny, Orc?"

Nick blinked, once, twice, before realizing he had been startled out of his own daydream. His head raising from the screen of his phone, where a vibrant picture of you, wearing his grey hoodie and a smile illuminating your face, stood out on the screensaver. His eyes connected with Pollard's, whose eyes hardened at the sight of him and he could already see the sadistic smirk on his face growing.

Nick huffed faintly through his nostrils. "No," he mumbled before, noticing him glance down at the phone in his hand.

He shut off the device quickly, shoving it into his pocket. Pollard only proceeded to straighten and smirk viciously, "Oh don't let me stop you," he began, Nick mentally sighed awaiting the mocking banter of his colleague. "Please, continue, I'd like to see what else she's sent you."

Nick shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, his nails digging into the fabric of his uniform, tearing into it as he glanced at the locker room where his partner had yet to step out of. "I don't want any trouble, Pollard."

Pollard shrugged, a heavy breath escaping him like a taunt. "I just wanna see what other pictures you've got of that fine girl you got back at home," Pollard chuckled watching the way the unblooded orc's hands scrunched up, knowing he wouldn't be able to do anything about the rage building up inside him. "I've always had a thing for brunettes. My last bitch was a brunette, not as great of a looker as (y/n), but--" he made a grunting sound, knocking his shoulder into Jakoby's roughly. "She sure had a tongue on her."

Nick kept his eye's on the locker room doors, willing it to open and have his partner step out. But, his wishes were in vain as Pollard only continued with Ward nowhere in sight.

"So, what's she like?" In bed.

Nick's nostrils flared, he knew what he was asking. "My wife is a wonderful woman," he answered, "and I don't think it's any of your business to know what she's like." He bit back the urge to growl, his eyes never meeting Pollard's, afraid if he did make eye contact, the humans eyes would be no more.

"Well, I was just wondering anyway," Pollard ran a hand down his facial hair before pulling out a piece of wrinkled paper from his uniform pocket. "Does she feel tight? I bet she does, but then again she takes it from an orc, you guys have been reported of killing human prostitutes during your mating seasons, haven't you?" Pollard smirked, watching as Nick tenses up, before the orc finally starts walking off. "Bet you can't even touch her without her flinching off you." Pollard followed behind the orc.

The look on your face drove him to thrust his hips harder, the way your fingers curved around the sheets of the bedding made his grip on your hips tighten. Your loud moans were music to his ears, your hair messily layered around your head like a halo gave him the urge to run his claws through it before tugging it back to force you closer. Your back arched off the sheets, your breasts lifting as if beckoning him which he quickly obliged too. His mouth latching onto your left nipple before using his right hand to pinch the other, fondling your breasts sensually as he needily drives his thick member in and out of your warm pussy.

"Oh, (y/n)," he groaned, his hands snaking to your backside, lifting you into his lap as he buried himself inside of you. Your arm's wrapped around his neck, clinging to him as your body spasms in pleasure, pain erupting from your sides before fading. Nick let's out a feral growl as your right hand presses into his shoulder as an orgasm rocks through your body along with a sting of pain.

"N-nick, baby," before you can finish, your back hits the plush surface of the mattress beneath you, his head buried into the crook of your neck as he thrusts his hips forward into your throbbing pussy, his hands pressing into your back to meet his rapid movements. For the first time in a long time, you find that the pain overrides the pleasure, but your too lost in the moment to tell him. "Break, I-i need a bre--" as if he doesn't hear you, his pace increases as he growls.

Nick let out all his frustration, his anger, his rage into this one moment, having hardly seen his loving wife in the few weeks he had been busy working. To caught up in how he felt to notice the way your hands pressed into his wrists in resistance or the way your head went back as you let out a gasp of pain. Or even the faint bruising he left from his harsh touch, how his clawed fingers gradually dig into your thighs leaving a multitude of abrasions against your fragile skin.

Having never hurt you before, it never registered that he could be doing so now. Or that mating season had begun just today, and it being the first day he was to spend it with you, never having been around you to feel the effects at the time.

Nick let out a pant, his eyes wild and feral as he began speaking in orkish. He only forced himself into you harder, rocking his hips into yours violently, almost uncontrollably as precum leaked from his member urging to spill his seed deep within you. Although he had done so, a few times since he had started his mating with you a few hours back, but it wasn't enough he had to give you more. He wanted you to know you were his, and with that mindset, he slowly felt himself losing the battle of Nick Jakoby and his own inner Orc.

Your hand found its way into his chest as your eye's squeezed shut in agony, you couldn't take the burning sensations across your body any longer or the numbing around your hips. Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, "I-i can't--god, Nick," you opened your eyes, unable to focus them as you stared at the swirling ceiling above. "I can't take it--please, Nick," your hand pushes against his chest now, but it's no use, he hardly notices as he only proceeds, driving you over the edge as your eye's roll back as his hand roughly cups the back of your neck, and with a single heavy thrust into you, he empties his load inside of you.

You gasp from the sudden feeling of your womb swelling inside of you, but as Nick, lost in himself, slowly turns his hips, rubbing against yours. His throbbing dick settling between your sticky inner walls, his thick, white substance dripping from between your legs. Nick was still for a few minutes as both your pants died down until only your spasms and whimpers were left. But, when your body didn't stop, he pulled away, the effects of his mating season dying off and way he regained his own tame persona.

"Baby..." he paused at the way your head was angled to the opposite side of him, your eye's leaking with fresh tears as your collar bone was riddled with bruises, running down to your ribs. "(Y-y/n)..." he placed both hands on the sides of your face turning you towards him, your eye's flashed with pain and you could hardly meet his eye's.

I'm...I'm fine," you answered his silent question, your eye's were half open, his fingers reaching up to wipe the tears from the corners of them. You turned, with your hands on your sides as if that would alleviate some of the pain, but you whimpered painfully and Nick noticed the bruises around your sides and thighs. The bite marks he had left surrounding your neckline, and the indents he had left in your skin from his claws, hints of blood staining them.

Quickly taking you in his arms, he rushed over to the bathroom, running you a hot bath while whispering broken apologizes into your neck. Never hating himself more than he did in that moment, he whined against your neck as you didn't respond only to notice you had already fallen asleep. Exhausted from the day, he couldn't even he say he was sorry in time.

After that day, for weeks, Nick didn't dare touch you unless you were still in pain or it was a simple kiss of the forehead. He couldn't bare seeing the marks he had left in you still so prominent on your skin. The guilt never went away. You had tried to make him see that it was ok, but he wouldn't listen, because he knew it wasn't.

Now, it was months later and you had waited long enough, you and Nick were attached to the hip again and you both were touch starved. Now, he couldn't bare to let go of you, the months away taking a toll, but you didn't mind.

"That's enough, Pollard." Nick grunted, shoving the doors open, ignoring the dirty looks from his coworkers.

Pollard, however, followed. "Oh, I touched a nerve didn't I?" He snickered, "What was it? Mating season? It had to be, you Orcs can never seem to control your own damn hormones." He sneered and Nick paused in the middle of the locker room, "I bet she's got the scars to prove it. You're all just some fucking animals, aren't you?"

Nick's fingers twitched, his claws piercing his calloused skin as they curved into his palms. His eyes locked with a Pollard at his crude words, the man straightening, stepping forward in challenging interest. "Ah, so I am right?" He snickers with a smirk, licking the upper row of his teeth with a hum of acknowledgment. "So, you really are no better than the rest of your kind, huh?" Nick's eyes flashed, "Your wife's got to be thinking that by now. But by now she's an Orc Whore for your entire community, right, buddy?" Pollard slapped his hand against Nick's shoulder and it was only a second...

Nick had his clawed hands balling up around the collar of Pollard's uniform, dragging the man up onto his toes as he spun on his heel, slamming his back into the metal lockers behind him. The room shook from the brute strength, the bolted lockers rocked for a moment, startling everyone still inside causing a buzz of panic.

Pollard held onto Nick's wrists, his eyes wide in terror, his face twisted in a type of crippling pain that must be blistering up his spine. His mouth opened but the shock was getting to him, instead, while growling maliciously, Nick leaned in close, baring his blooded, sharp canines.

"Don't you ever talk about my wife that way," he snarled as some officers finally rounded the corner, immediately rushing over, despite being hesitant of the snarling Orc, who was usually so level headed. "I'll rip you to shreds."

He swore, now allowing himself to be pulled from the stunned man. Ward, coming around the corner, his mouth agape in confusion and glancing down at Pollard, eyes narrowing in brief understanding.

[notyetneedcoffee]

Do Not Call

Part of the Calling Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: NSFW, 18+, Loads of lovely smut!

Somewhere between the DNA sequence string comparisons and the genomic polyprotein readouts a hot twisting knot of pain began to grow between your shoulder blades. Shifting in your seat, rocking your head from one side to another, caught the attention of one of the other team members in the lab.  

“Y/N, why don’t you call it a day? How long have you been here? You got here before I did.”

“I just want finish logging the results of this test.” You looked at the clock in the corner of the screen. “And I’ve been here for, ah, just over eleven hours.”

“Go home. You’ve been pulling long days for the last couple weeks.” He stuck his face back into the microscope before muttering. “And don’t take this wrong, but you look like shit.”

“Fine.” You rubbed at your sore neck. The test would run for several more hours and you really didn’t have it in you to stay. It would be here in the morning. Not even bothering to go back to your office, you just shut down and headed to the elevators. Bucky’s apartment was just upstairs.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t.  

He and Natasha were on a mission somewhere in Russia. The usual fun and flirty phone calls violated the strict communications black out required for the job. Even though disappointing, it didn’t change the work to be done. It didn’t even change much about your normal routine. You worried a little more, but quickly remembered they were two of the most capable survivors on the planet.

After nearly three weeks, however, everyone else noticed your tension levels.  

“Hey Doc, you interested in calzones?” Sam called out from the communal kitchen as you came off the elevator. “They’re from Mickey’s”

“Thanks, but I think I just need a hot bath.” You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

Steve snagged your hand as you passed where he was sitting. He looked concerned “Did you have dinner?”

“No, but I’m fine.”

“You look beat.” He frowned.

“Gee, thanks.” You sighed. “I have a headache, that’s all…and knot the size of a mac truck in the middle of my back.”

“You’re missing out on all those sexy endorphins.” Sam laughed as he lowered himself on to the sofa, big plate of food in his hand. Steve shot him a look, but you just chuckled. Sam set the food on the coffee table and tossed a throw pillow on the floor in front him. “Come on over.”  

Your eyebrow rose in question, but he just patted the front of the sofa between his spread knees. “Now, woman.”

With a rueful smile, you sat down and tucked your legs under the table. Sam moved your hair aside and dramatically rubbed his hands together. Steve rolled his eyes with a grin. The two men pretty much adopted you as theirs to take care of whenever Bucky was away. You found it really endearing, especially because Bucky bounced back and forth between being thankful and annoyed by it.  

Immediately, Sam’s thumbs found the knot and you yipped. Telling you to breath, he used pinpoint pressure then rubbed out the muscle. He knew exactly what to do. You groaned as the pain released.  

 “Chill out, Barnes. There’s no use being a dick about it now.” Natasha leaned against the wall of the elevator, arms cross.

“It’s bullshit.” He glared at the closed door. “Fine. The extraction team got us to the jet and they debriefed us on the flight. Sure whatever. But after the debrief, or even once we landed stateside, keeping us on communication black out is bullshit.”

She just let him rant. Listening to reason when anger spooled him up like this just didn’t happen. Nat watched his agitation level grow higher and higher over the last couple weeks. Teasing about being a whipped boyfriend even stopped being fun. He had it bad.

The elevator doors opened and he nearly bolted for his apartment.  

“Oh damn, yes, right there.”  

Your moaned words stopped him in his tracks.

“What the fuck?”

Three very different responses happened at the same time.  

“Buck!” Steve hopped up happily.  

“Ahhh!” You let out a delighted squeal and tried to get up.  

“Hey, man.” Sam’s hands went up in the air like he was being held at gunpoint. 

Bucky gave Steve a back-slapping hug, but his eyes stayed on Wilson. Steve stepped aside as soon as you came close because you launched yourself at Bucky, arms around his neck. Instinct took over, he wrapped you in both arms, face burying in your neck. He lifted you off your feet, squeezing tight, before pulling back enough to look at you.

His blue eyes drank in every detail, from the smile on your face to darkness under your eyes. Warm fingers of his right hand push through your hair. His mouth closed over yours, heated but restrained. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he rested his forehead to yours.

“Missed you.” You breathed against his mouth.  

“He missed you, too.” Natasha laughed. “What a bear.”

“How did things go?” Steve asked from somewhere behind you.  

“The trail was tough to follow and the intelligence targets were well trained, but that’s when our particular skill sets are useful.” Natasha gave Steve a blank face stare, silently saying don’t ask questions when you know you won’t like the answers.

“I don’t even want to know what you mean by that.” Sam commented.

“I’m not ready to hear you speak.” Bucky growled out, even though his face was still focused on you. Rolling your eyes, you pulled away a little. His harsh stare landed on Sam. “Wanna explain why you were touching my girl?”

“Cause she needed someone with two good hands to make her feel better.” Sam threw back.

He literally growled. You laughed, so did Sam. After a beat, Bucky rolled his eyes. A possessive hand rested on the back of your neck. Smiling up you explained, “I’ve had a knot in my back that just won’t go away.”

Bucky pressed his lips to your temple, speaking low. “Then we should take care of that.”

You still could feel the coiled tension in Bucky’s body. He practically vibrated. “Are you all done? Can we go?”

“Guys,” Bucky clapped Steve on the shoulder. “We’ll catch up in the morning.”

As soon as Bucky led you around the corner towards his apartment, he pinned you against the wall. Strong body pressed against yours, the heat of him soaked into you. You smiled against his lips as his mouth captured yours. Nipping your lower lip, the kiss deepened, becoming heated.  

“Take me home.” You breathed.

Bucky led you into the apartment, pushing you back against the door as soon as it closed. His mouth crashed against yours, demanding, wet and desperate. Both of his hands cradled your face, as he pressed his forehead to yours. You could see him try to rein himself in.  

Breathing deeply, his voice came out rough. “Have you been okay?”

“Yeah,” you kissed his full lips. Bucky’s blue eyes bore into you. “I’ve been working too long, because I missed you.”

He kissed you, deep and wet. “I need you. Now.”

“I’m here.” You nipped your way along his jaw, soft lips on rough stubble.  

Bucky pulled you tight against him. Powerful hands pulled at you, fingers digging into your hips. Fingers slid through his soft hair. With a growl, Bucky lifted you so your legs wrapped around his hips. The evidences of his arousal pressed to your core, and you ground into him.  

“Fuck,” He rumbled against your lips. “I missed you.”

“Missed you, too” You panted, pulling at his shirt as Bucky’s mouth ravaged your neck, biting, licking, and sucking. The desperate clawing at each other’s clothes, left a trail across the room.  

He fell forward on the bed, you beneath him. Taking your nipple between teeth and brutally sucking lips, Bucky caused your back to arch. A cry escaped your throat. You pulled at his hair. He licked and bit his way down your body.

“Oh fuck!” His touch felt so good, hot and desperate. You’d missed this.

Bucky’s hands roved down your thighs. They fell open for him, exposing how soaking wet you were. He inhaled deeply before lapping at your cunt. Your hand tangled in his hair. A cry ripped from your throat we he sucked hard at your clit.  

Fingers delving into you, he nipped along your inner thighs.  His voice was heavy, deep as Bucky crawled up, leaving nips on your belly, your neck. “Mine.”

Bucky pushed your knees up to your armpits, your breath rushed from your body as he buried his cock deep, setting a fevered pace. Panting, your legs shook against Bucky’s arms. His head drooped, breathing through his mouth.  

“Feels so fucking good.” Bucky growled out. Skin slapped against skin. His cock slammed into your wall, making your cunt quiver and clench. “Yes.”  

Pleasure dancing on the edge of pain, your eyes rolled back. Fire exploded at your core. Legs tensing, cunt flooding, you clawed at him. Feral, desperate noises escaped your throat as you came apart.

Bucky growled, riding out your orgasm before pulling out and flipping you over. He pulled your hips up, ass high, and slammed into you hard. Burying your face into the mattress as you cried out, he fucked you hard and fast, setting a brutal pace.  

“Yes!” You shook a second orgasm smashing over you almost immediately. “Fuck! Oh shit!”

His fingers dug deep. “Ah! Fuck!” He growled. “Gonna fill you up.” His hips slammed into your ass. “My girl.” Bucky shuttered as he emptied himself. “Mine.”

You both collapsed into the mattress, panting and sweaty. He stretched out on his side, trailing his fingertips over your skin as you lay on your stomach. Bucky’s lips pressed against your shoulder.  He knew there would bruises on your hips.  

Humming contently, you lazily smiled at him. You'd lost all other ability to move. “Are you okay?”

Bucky sighed, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “I am now.”

“I was worried.” You whispered.

“You know I can take care of myself.” He smiled.

“I was more worried about,” the words were a little hard to say, “how employing your special skill sets might affect you.”

Bucky’s eye grew distant for just a moment, but he refocused on you. “I’m okay.”

A yawn over took you, and you hid your face in the blanket. “Sorry.”

“What do you say I run you a bath, then we’ll sleep.” Bucky rested his forehead against your shoulder.

“Sounds perfect.”

Bucky wondered into the communal kitchen for coffee.  Few others were up, the hour still early. After a very long bath, and making love slow and sensual, you feel into a deep sleep. He’d lain awake studying you face, noticing the dark circles. Whether from the time change or his over active mind, he didn’t sleep for long.  

“Hey Pal.” Steve came up behind Bucky, slapping a hand on his shoulder.  

“Morning.” Bucky held up the pot. “Coffee?”

“Yeah.” He took the cup. “Didn’t really expect to see you up yet.”

“Couldn’t sleep and Y/N looks like she needs the rest.” Bucky sat down at the counter. “Did she stay here the whole time?”

“I think so.” Cap shrugged. “She works a lot when you’re not here.”

Bucky frowned into his cup. They’d both been working too much. Since becoming part of the team, he’d taken on more and more. At first, he wanted to do whatever he could to be of use... to be accepted. Then the jobs came his way to lighten the load for Steve and the others. They deserved a little breathing space.  Unfortunately, he really never worked out giving himself a break.  

“Morning Cap, Barnes.” Bruce Banner shuffled in, scratching his head and still wearing sweats and a tee shirt that were rumpled from sleep. He pulled a bottle of some sort of fruit smoothie from the fridge and cracked it open.  After downing a third of the bottle, he leaned against the counter. “Hey, tell Y/N her simulation failed. I don’t think she was really expecting success on this run, but she’s being chasing this solution for weeks.”

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded. “I’ll let her know. Steve, I’ll talk to you later.” He poured himself another cup of coffee and went back to his apartment.  

Peering in the dimly lit bedroom, he saw you curled on your side, clutching his pillow to your chest. He pulled the door partly closed and went back to the living area. Even though he was home, even though holding you soothed him, he still felt a bone deep weariness.  

He reclined back on the sofa, locking every image of you in his memory so during the times away he could call them up and see your face, hear your voice, lose himself in the memory of how you feel. Only this morning, he saw the tiredness he felt echoed in your face. You told him you were fine, but you always said you were fine.  

Bucky drank down the last of his coffee. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Please reduce volume, Y/N is sleeping.”

“How may I help you?” came the AI’s voice at half volume.

“How many hours has Y/N worked in the lab or in her office this week?”

“Docton Y/L/N was on the 32nd floor for 89.6 hours over the last seven days.”  

Bucky rubbed his forehead. No wonder you were just as tired. “Thank you.”

“You checking up on me?” Your sleepy voice mumbled from the bedroom door.

“Always.” He stood and wrapped his arms around you. Snuggling into his chest, you slipped your hands beneath his tee shirt and skimmed your palms over the flesh of his lower back. He pressed his lips to your temple. “It’s still early, why don’t you get some more sleep.”

“Come with me.”  

“There’s something I need to do first.” Bucky cupped your face, kissing you gently. “Go back to sleep, and I’ll come wake you up soon.”

“You’d better be naked when you do.” You kissed him back.

“Promise.” Bucky smiled. He walked you back to bed and actually tucked the covers in around you, kissing you sweetly. “I’ll be right back.”

He left the apartment and luckily found his target in the kitchen with several of the others. Good, he didn’t need to go hunt him down. “Stark. I need to talk to you.”

 You studied the results of your latest test simulation when the phone in your pocket buzzed. Pulling it out, you smiled at the image waiting. It was a pile of Bucky’s tactical gear on the floor of his bathroom, as if he’d just stepped out of them.  

‘That looks promising.’ You texted back.  

‘Come home.’  

You wanted to, you really did. Looking around the lab, you tried to think of excuses to leave. Shifting to your calendar, you examined everything for what could wait. Part of you knew you didn’t need an excuse to take time off. There were no crisis or deadlines looming.  

“Wow! Is it always this bright in here?” The voice of Tony Stark drew everyone’s attention. “Hey Doc, got a second?” He looked around the lab, absently picking things up and putting them back down. “I’ve got a, um, side gig for you.”

“Sure,” You stood up. “My office?”

Once alone, Stark buried his hands in his pockets. “Go home.”

“What?” You turned on him.  

“I know you’re chasing something down the rabbit hole. I get it. I do. But I did some checking any you’re pulling some major league burn out hours.” Tony leaned into you.  

“But,”

“No buts,” He shook his head. “I’ve read your reports. You are on to something, but for the last ten days you’re running in circles. You need to step away. This isn’t anything that won’t wait. Take some time off, and come back at it with a fresh mind.”

“Tony.”

“Doc,” He opened the door to leave. “This isn’t a request. I’d lock out your access to lab, but think Barnes will get a hold of you before that. Go home.”

Bucky. Shit. You never responded to his text earlier. “Alright. You win.”  

When you got to Bucky’s apartment, he was leaning against back of the sofa dressed in jeans and a hoodie. A duffel bag rested at his feet. He did not look happy.

“Buck?”

“You’re late.”  

“I was working until just a minute ago. I’m sorry I didn’t return your text.”  

“Stark had to show up.”

“Ah,” You took a deep breath, of course he would know. “Yeah.”

He nodded. “Alright, then. We’ve got a car waiting. Let’s go.” He picked up the bag and took your arm.  

“What? Bucky, what’s going on?”

“We’re taking off.”

“Well, let me tell...” You pulled out your phone to redirect your lab communications to your cell. Bucky grabbed the cell from your hand. “Hey.”

“Not this time, Doll.” A wicked smile crossed his face. “Neither of our number will reach us for the next couple days.”

“So this is what...”

“A kidnapping.” Bucky grinned.

“I was going to say vacation.”

“Nope.” He lunged at you, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Bucky!” You half laughed, half screamed.

He picked up the duffel bag and left the apartment with you over his shoulder. Even as you passed the common area, you continued to plead to be let down. Steve, Sam and Wanda all watched with amusement.

“Dammit, Buck! Please!”  

“Have a good time.” Wanda waved.

“Stay hydrated!” Sam shouted. Steve laughed.  

“Thanks. See ya later.” Bucky didn’t put you down until you got to the car.

For the entire drive, Bucky’s hand kept slipping over your thigh. His fingers would deep between your legs, rubbing over your cotton covered core.  “How long until we get there?”

“Anxious, Doll?”

“It’s all your fault.” You giggled as his hand massaged your inner thigh. “You’re the one who went all caveman and carried me out of there.”

Bucky laughed, a deep and hearty laugh. “Oh, you liked that?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Bucky drove faster.

A short time later the car pulled up in front of a modern steel and wood small house nestled on the shore of a secluded lake. Running around to get your car door, Bucky took your hand and led you inside. He dropped the duffel bag just inside, barely allowing you the opportunity to look around before kissing you deep.

Bucky began to walk you to the bedroom. You pulled your shirt over your head. He smiled, a predatory look, pulling his own shirt over his head. He reached for you, but you backed away. He lunged. You squealed with laughter as he swept you up. He threw you down on to the bed, where you landed with a bounce.

You unzipped your pants, smiling playfully. Buck snagged up your feet tugging your clothes off. A wide smile lit his face and a playful glint burned in blue eyes. Stretching out naked across the bed, back arched, you bit your lip as he unbuckled his pants. Damn, he was gorgeous.  

Rolling over onto all fours, your reached for him. He kicked his pants aside and stepped closer to the edge of the bed. With a smirk he held out his cock. “Is this what you want, Doll?”

Wetting your lips with your tongue, you returned the smile. “You know I do.”

Running your tongue around his head, taking him in your mouth, your hummed in delight. Bucky’s hand wound tight in your hair. His hips rocked into your mouth. “Oh, shit, yes!”  

Tugging you by the hair, Bucky pulled you away from his cock and up onto your knees. He kissed you hard, wet. “You’re all mine. No distractions.” He nipped at your lips, tongues battling. His left hand squeezed your breasts, metal fingers pinching the taunt nipple. “Fuck, you’re amazing.” He fingers slid between your wet folds.  

Curling two fingers into you, he pumped your pussy while you whined into his mouth. He held your head by the hair, kissing you desperately as you began to shake. Moaning and whimpering into his kisses, he smiled against you.  

“Shit. Bucky.” You panted.

“Oh yes.” His hand moved fasted, making wet sloppy sounds in you cunt. “That’s it.” He nipped you ear. “Come for me, Doll.”  

You flushed. The tension breaking free, making you shake. Coming apart under his hand, you moaned as you collapsed onto his shoulder. Bucky smiled, bringing his fingers to his mouth to lick them. He cupped your face, kissing you slow.

Bucky nudged you back on to the bed. He laid you back, trailing wet, open mouth kisses down your body. He nipped at your side and you twitched, giggling. He chuckled, tickling you again. Attacking you with more enthusiasm, you squirmed, laughing out loud, pushing at him.

He crawled between your legs, taking your hands in his and pining you down. Your wide smile matched his. Bucky nuzzled your neck. “Damn, I love your laugh.”

His hips rolled into yours, the length of him sliding along your core. You curled a leg up and over his hip, tilting until you felt him at your entrance. Bucky slid into you, burying himself in one thrust. You both moaned.  

Your fingers entwined with his, Bucky held his weight on his elbows. He plunged into you deep, filling you, body rubbing along body. Your hips tipped, his cock rubbing deliciously along just the right spot. Lost in the intensity of his blue eyes, your heart filled as heat coiled in your core.  

“Buck, oh, you feel so good…” You purred. He released your hands, rolling you both over. His hands dug into your hips as you rode him. Your fingers dug into his chest. “Fuck, yes!”  

Your body quivered, tightening around him. Bucky growled hips snapping up into you hard. You came with a violent shutter. Practically holding you above him by the hips, he pounded up into you. He lost his rhythm, pressing into you hard, following you over the edge. “Oh, fuck!”  

You fell forward onto him, boneless, as your breath returned to normal. His mouth kissed along your neck, up to your ear. Your fingers traced down his sides.  

He twitched. You giggled and dug your fingers in.  

“No!” Bucky laughed, wiggling beneath you. Laughing, you tried in vain to hold on. He flipped you over, pinning your hands over your head, still chuckling.

You smiled up at him, so happy he’d swept you away. “I love your laugh too.”

TAGS

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[fangmaw]

misc vampire bf scene #2

"That's it. We're going to the farm."

Hex lifted his head from the arm of the couch to frown at Caleb, currently standing two feet in front of him, arms crossed.

"You heard me. Get your vampire ass off the couch and grab your coat." He jangled his keys and watched Hex bury his face in a throw pillow with a groan.

"Don't wanna."

Caleb softened, but stood his ground. "You've barely moved the past three days. Last time you fed off me, I practically had to drag you away."

Hex tilted his head enough to make eye contact and regarded him for several seconds before he spoke. "I'm sorry, Caleb. I didn't mean to hurt you." His voice wavered slightly as he turned away again.

"No, I didn't mean-" Caleb fumbled as he stepped up to the couch and knelt alongside his boyfriend. He slid an arm over his chest and pressed his own torso to the man's back, enveloping him. "I'm fine. I know you'd never hurt me." He felt Hex murmur in agreement. "I brought it up because it illustrates my point— you're getting hungrier."

Hex sighed and held Caleb's outstretched arm to his chest before leaning down to place a kiss on the back of his hand. "Still don't wanna."

"Well, I can't bring a sheep into the apartment without someone noticing, so it looks like we have a dilemma." At that, Hex made an effort to roll over, and Caleb quickly hopped back to his feet. 

"How do you know your aunt won't care?"

Satisfied that he'd won, at least for now, Caleb turned to hunt down a warmer jacket as he replied, "It's a massive farm. Ranch? Not important. What matters is that I know where it is, I have keys to most of the gates and outbuildings, and there's enough livestock that a couple heads can be chalked up to animal attacks without ruining anyone's livelihood."

He disappeared into the bedroom and soon returned, bearing his own fleece-lined windbreaker and a sweater for Hex. As he shrugged into the teal behemoth, he watched Hex rise and stretch his back. His face looked drawn, and the skin above his collar more taut. Before Caleb had a chance to pity him, the ghoul saw that he had returned and grinned, exposing dual rows of jagged teeth. Hex thanked him and tugged the garment on over his head.

The turtleneck hid his collar from view; unfortunate, but Caleb still had the satisfaction of knowing it was there. Since Hex didn't leave the house much, Caleb had chosen something a bit more obvious than he would have otherwise - a lovely strip of black leather, fashioned into a choker as clasped with a petite silver lock. Hex was delighted to receive it —though not surprised, as after Caleb mentioned the idea, he had to measure Hex's neck to get it fitted, and at that point the gig was well and truly up. He wore it with pride nearly every day, and frequently Caleb caught him admiring how it looked in the mirror, or absently reaching up to touch it.

Looking at the collar always stirred that needless protective instinct in his head. Hex was more than capable of destroying any possible bodily threat that came his or Caleb's way, but seeing the clear mark around his neck, bold and unabashed, he felt that responsibility anew. He wanted to care for what was his.

Idly, he wondered if Hex felt something of the same for him. They'd never explicitly talked about it before, but Hex was always so tender with him after a bite, even just a nibble. Caleb was hesitant to broach the subject. He knew Hex struggled with reconciling biological necessity with kink, but it probably wouldn't hurt to ask. Eventually. Right now, they had other priorities, and they'd all be happier and more relaxed if Hex was fed properly first.

Hex was still a bit tense in the car. The Minnesota back roads were treacherous this time of year, and it was pitch dark beyond the headlights, so Caleb was focused mostly on the asphalt ahead of them. Even so, the restlessness of his passenger was hard to miss.

Out of the corner of his eye, Caleb caught him chewing at one of his claws and swatted in roughly the right direction.

"Quit that."

"You're not my mom," mumbled Hex. He did stop gnawing at the nail, though.

"No, I'm your chauffeur."

"Should've found a different driver. I always forget how small your car is." Though he couldn't see Hex's expression, Caleb could hear the smile on his voice.

Caleb chuckled a bit, and the pair fell into a silence. Caleb took it upon himself to slay the elephant in the room.

"Are you nervous because it's live animals?"

Hex didn't reply for a moment, so Caleb chanced a glance at his face. He was looking down at his hands, toying with a loose stitch at the hem of his sweater.

"I guess."

Caleb kept watching the road. They were less than twenty minutes out at this point, plus some time to find a good parking spot. He heard Hex sigh.

"It's been a really long time since I was feeding off animals regularly. I'm not sure- what if- it was different before. I was different." Hex breathed heavily. "Does that make any sense?"

With a nod, Caleb replied, "I think so. What if you think of it this way: you're always on my ass about eating something and drinking plenty of water after you have a treat; this can just be me getting payback. You don't even have a choice. I want you strong and healthy, so you'd better do as I say, or else." With a smirk, he flicked his eyes back to his partner, who was considerably more relaxed and currently mid-eyeroll.

"I hate how much that works on me."

"My psychic powers are unparalleled. And we're getting close. You had better start planning out your menu."

Turns out, cows have a lot of blood. Like, well over a gallon. Not that Hex seemed to mind.

The ghoul had whined about the cold the entire time they spent sneaking around the pasture, but now he was on his knees in the muddy snow, hunched over a limp heifer that quit kicking a good five minutes ago.

Caleb was nervously checking his phone, both for time and in case he got some last minute text from his aunt that she was coming back tonight. They were beyond the reach of the sparse lightposts framing the pasture, so even if there was someone nearby, they were as good as invisible. By the light of his phone's lock screen, Caleb could get a better view of Hex.

It was fascinating to watch. His face was magnetically pressed to the soft skin under the animal's jaw, while his hands roamed aimlessly about the body. Occasionally he would take a deep pull, struggling against the dying heart, and dig his claws into the nearby flesh, reflexively. Caleb bent lower, close enough he could see Hex's jaw work as he adjusted his grip, nosing along the stretch of muscle and making a fresh wound.

Though Caleb was tempted to place a hand on his back, he thought better of it and maintained his distance. He knew enough about animal behavior not to disrupt a predator while it was feeding. Even domestic dogs bite when they're approached incorrectly.

Caleb settled for taking a squat on the opposite side of the cow, a good few feet away, but close enough that his pathetic light permitted him vision. For a handful of further minutes, the only sounds were muffled breaths against wet fur and the crunch of Caleb's boots as he shifted his weight.

It took him a second to realize Hex had gone still.

"Hey." He would never use the word "feral" to describe Hex to his face. It was good that he was able to relax so much, especially with Caleb around, but it was always wise to test the waters after something intense like this.

"Mmph." Hex's face still hung limp off his shoulders, pressed to the animal's neck.

Caleb smirked. "You good?" Dork.

"Mm. Good cow."

With a short laugh Caleb got up. "I'm coming over, okay?" He could just discern the outline of Hex nodding against his expired dinner. Caleb surprised himself by throwing caution to the wind and kneeling in the slush. He lit up his screen and balanced the device on the massive shoulder to his left. The greenish glow let him locate Hex's hand and cover it with his mittened own. "Well, I'm glad you liked it. I'm impressed by your capacity."

Hex finally sat up, just enough to brace his forearms on the beast's back and allow Caleb a full view of the gorey mess. The animal's neck looked as though it had been run through with a garden rake, the flesh thoroughly tilled by Hex's greedy mouth. The ghoul in question tugged his hand out from under Caleb's to swipe his fingers across the dark blood cooling on his face. He laved his tongue over the digits before he looked to Caleb, grinning.

"I live to please." His suave demeanor buckled when his gut audibly complained about the rapid influx of fluid it was dealing with.

"I suppose I've never seen you really pack it away before." Caleb’s eyes widened as he watched Hex delicately push himself the rest of the way up off the animal and sit—or rather, try. The waistband of his jeans was giving him some trouble. Caleb watched him swiftly unbutton and unzip the garment with his slobbery fingers and bite back a sigh.

"Holy shit," Caleb gawked.

Hex narrowed his eyes, but he looked far too satisfied to actually emote irritation. "I'd like to see you drink a fucking cow and not bloat up a little bit." He tugged self-consciously at his sweater, now clinging tight to his midsection. He muffled a hic behind his sleeve. "Ugh."

"Swallow some air?"

"I will bite you."

"You can't possibly still be hungry."

As though it had gained sentience, Hex's stomach growled angrily.

"No way."

Hex stuck out his bloody tongue. He was always far more playful after he fed, even if he had glutted himself beyond all human decency.

"It's a freak biology thing. Eating makes me hungry. It's like snakes and stuff." Hex leaned back on his hands, far too proud of himself.

Caleb frowned slightly as he thought. "Do we need to get you another cow? Because I'm not sure I can swing that, and definitely not again next week."

"It wouldn't be much of an animal attack if they just found this lady dead and bloodless.” Hex gave the cow’s head an affectionate pat. “A good carnivore would take advantage of all that precious organ meat before abandoning its catch."

"I'd argue I caught this one," Caleb huffed.

"We can both take credit. You can barely see out here." Hex fell out of the banter to eye the soon-to-be carcass.

"You're drooling, dumbass."

"Sorry," Hex mumbled.

"Don't be. I'm happy for you. But, uh, I'm not sure I want to watch, if that's okay." Hex tried to hide his dejected expression under a guise of wiping saliva and cow off his face. Caleb's heart sank. "If I go now, I can have the car all warmed up by the time you're finished, so it'll be nice and cozy when you immediately fall asleep."

This seemed to reassure Hex, as the dopey grin was back. He stifled another soft burp. "Uh, will you be okay to get back by yourself?"

Caleb picked up his phone from its bovine perch and waggled it. "Flashlight." Hex nodded, but looked dubious. "I'll be fine. Promise." Caleb got up and did his best to brush the unmelted snow off his now slush-soaked pants.

Hex nodded and waited until Caleb was within the range of the lamps before tearing open the heifer's belly and burying his head in its chest cavity.

[redpandaramblings]

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

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

Content Warning-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s get out of here, babe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kinda-iconic]

36 & Adrian and MC😛😛😛

Hey! First I’d like to apologise for the lateness of this response, but then I got too invested and this ended up writing quite a bit for this one. 

Prompt #36: ‘I think I’m in trouble’ from the angst/fluff prompt list for Adrian x MC; please note that this does contain violence.

Words: 2′430

Tagging: @shelley-parah @bloodboundismylife @bbchoices @bellaraines @elinechoices - there’s no punching I’m afraid, as I ended up editing it out... but there’s Adrian just being, well... Adrian!

Warnings: Violence, brief depiction of injury (slightly)

It’s not the best, but I hope you like it all the same!

Adrian looks down at his watch, sighing in frustration as he returns his attention back to the board; his campaign team had scheduled a late-night meeting, but what started as a simple briefing had turned into a constant loop of nit-picking and one-sided arguments. He stares blankly at the screen, rereading the same paragraph that had been initially projected 15 minutes prior as the team continue to bicker amongst themselves; however, his focus is soon broken by a sudden buzz in his jacket. He reaches for his phone, glancing down at the screen to check who was calling.

Amy.

He looks at it for a moment, but a sudden silence urges him to look up. The group have stopped arguing, their gazes now trained on him.

‘Senator? Is everything alright?’

‘I have to take this,’ he holds up his phone, ‘excuse me for a moment.’

He turns his chair toward the wall, ensuring that his face is not visible to the others before answering the call. He opens his mouth to speak, but a soft voice quickly intercepts him; her voice shaky and uncertain.

‘Adrian?’

‘Sweetheart,’ he looks to his counterparts, who give him a knowledgeable nod before continuing on with their business; he turns away from the conversation, putting some distance between himself and the others before continuing, ‘I’m in a meeting right now, Amy. I can’t speak for very-’

‘I think I’m in trouble.’

He narrows his brows in confusion, his collected expression soon dissipating into one of concern.  

‘What?’ He rises from his chair, peering over his shoulder as the others regard him with curiosity. Once he is sure that they are not listening, he continues, his tone firm yet soothing. ‘Has something happened?’

‘I think I’m being followed.’

His eyes fade into crimson for a moment, though it is not long before he remembers his present company; he pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if to calm himself.

‘Are you certain?’

‘I can hear them… whoever it is, or… whatever it is,’ her pace quickens as she makes her way further into the park, her breath hitching in her throat as her uncertainty begins to get the best of her, ‘they…they seem to be getting closer-’

She stops abruptly, for a loud clatter from somewhere in the treeline startles her into silence. She holds the phone closer to her ear, and Adrian can sense the fear in her voice, her words frantic and rattled.

‘I don’t like this, I…I don’t like this at all.’

‘I know,’ he exhales slowly, ‘but I need you to listen carefully, alright? Just do as I say, and you’ll be fine.’

Amy responds with a curt nod, somewhat forgetting the measure of their communication. He speaks shortly afterward, his voice taking a worrisome tone after her noiseless response.

‘Amy? I need you to answer me, alright? I need to know that you’re safe…’

‘Yes I… I’m sorry.’

‘Good,’ he bows his head slightly, glancing down at his watch, ‘now I need you to tell me exactly where you are, as well as why and how you came to be.’

Her heart begins to beat erratically in her chest, her breath quickening with every second that passes. She pauses by the entryway to the bridge, her figure shrouded by the shadows of the night.

‘I…I’m not sure where to start,’ she stutters slightly, ‘I left Lily’s shortly after 10, and I know I shouldn’t have but I… I took a shortcut through the park.’

‘Amy…’ he sighs despondently, the grip around his phone tightening, ‘Kamilah and I told you to stay clear until we were completely sure that it was safe.’

‘I know I just… I guess I thought that it would be okay to. It was almost deserted, I…’ she pauses for a moment, closing her eyes as she tries to focus on the sounds around her, ‘I didn’t think much of it.’

He runs a nervous hand through his hair, his palm lingering at the nape of his neck.

‘Is there anywhere that you can go? To hide until I am able to get there.’

‘I…’ she looks around, scanning the park for anywhere that she can conceal herself; her eyes befall a cluster of trees, their shadows blanketing anything that crosses their path in darkness. ‘There’s a few trees that I can hide in. If I can find a good footing, I should be able to climb one of them.’

‘Good,’ he reaches for his briefcase, gently placing it on his chair, ‘stay hidden and don’t come out for anyone, regardless as to who it is. Wait until I am there.’

‘O…okay…’ she takes a step towards the trees, but as she approaches, a guttural growl from beyond the treeline forces her to reconsider. She remains silent for a moment before she speaks, her voice slightly unnerved.

‘Looks like the trees are no longer a safe option.’

‘Why?’

‘Because there’s something over there,’ she takes a step back, her footsteps light on the cobbled stone, ‘and whatever it is… does not sound very friendly.’

He exhales sharply, closing his eyes as he thinks of what to say.

‘Okay. Is there anything near you that you could use to protect yourself?’

She looks around at her surroundings, but it isn’t long before she has to stop herself, her gaze fixating on a pair of dark, red eyes staring back at her from the shadows. The figure slowly draws closer, a deep, guttural growl escaping its lips as the creature emerges from the darkness, its ash-grey skin illuminated by the moonlight.

A feral.

Amy takes a step back, causing the creature to jolt its arms; it bares its fangs, its sharp claws dragging across the tree bark as it approaches her.

‘I… I think I know what was following me now.’

‘What is it?’

She keeps her eyes on the creature, watching closely as it creeps towards her.

‘It…it looks like a feral…’

He exhales sharply, his voice taking a firm tone.

‘I’m leaving now,’ he turns in the direction of the team, his brow furrowed in anger and worry, ‘I’ll be with you as soon as I can; just stay on the phone. I won’t be able to talk for a moment, but I want you to know that I am there with you, okay?’

‘O…okay.’

He smiles faintly, as if to reassure himself that she will be alright before he continues, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper; one that only she can hear.

‘I love you, Amy.’

‘I…I love you too.’

He places his phone against his chest, taking a brazen step towards the group as they continue to discuss their tactics. Once he is within range for them to hear, he speaks, instantaneously gaining their attention.

‘I’m afraid that I must depart, Gentlemen,’ he gives them a charismatic smile, tipping his head in acknowledgement, ‘there’s been an emergency at home, and I must return to my wife.’

One of the attendees looks up at him, subconsciously tapping his pen against his coffee cup.

‘Is everything alright, Senator?’

He nods in response, placing his phone back into his breast pocket.

‘Yes, it’s fine.’ He retrieves his paperwork from the desk, carefully placing it into his briefcase, ‘I just need to be with her; I apologise for having to leave so suddenly.’

‘Oh no of course,’ the man waves his hand dismissively, ‘I understand the pressures of impending fatherhood first-hand, so I know how worrying this time can-’

‘I’m sorry?’

The man tilts his head in confusion, his brows furrowed.

‘It…it’s true is it not? That your wife is in the family way...’

Adrian closes his briefcase in haste, shaking his head.

‘I don’t know who may have told you that, James, but I’m afraid that you’ve been misinformed; my wife is not pregnant, as vampires such as myself cannot have children.’ He pushes his chair underneath the table, ‘now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way.’

With no time for goodbyes, Adrian rushes out of the conference room. Once he reaches his car, he slings his case on the back seat before sprinting in the direction of Central Park.

                            ___________________________________

Amy watches the figure closely, her heightened senses picking up on every sound that it makes as it drudges closer to her, its elongated fingers shifting abnormally. She continues to back away, her body subconsciously falling into the defensive stance that Jax had taught her many moons ago; she soon finds herself addressing the creature, her own eyes darkening as they fade into crimson.

‘I wouldn’t try it if I were you, mister,’ she places her right leg behind her, her arms bent at the elbows, ‘I might not look like much, but I sure as hell can take you out.’

The creature snarls, it’s blood-stained fangs now visible in the light of the moon. Without warning, the feral makes an advance towards her, swiping at her side with its ripper-like claws. She dodges with ease, spinning herself far enough so that she is out of reach. She recovers swiftly, forcing a brutal jab into the side of its ribs.

‘Hrahh!’

The creature staggers back, seemingly more infuriated than before. It goes for her again, this time a lot more tactful, striking at the spot right above her thigh. She manages to block his attack, forcing its arm away from her, but as she focuses on defending herself from being cut, the feral grabs hold of her neck, its brittle fingers wrapping tightly around it, slowly cutting off her airways.

‘Was…’ she gasps, struggling for breath, ‘was not expecting that...that’s for…for sure.’

His grip tightens, and Amy soon finds herself being lifted off the ground. The creature snarls, its rancid breath filling her nostrils before it launches her into a nearby tree. The trunk splits on impact, showering Amy with pieces of bark and discarded leaves. She grimaces from the pain, a fresh stream of blood trickling down her cheek from a newly formed gash on her forehead. She looks up at the feral, her teeth gritted as the cut slowly starts to knit itself together.

‘You just had to do that, didn’t you?’

She rolls onto her side before trying to regain her footing, forcing herself to stand. She staggers to her feet, beckoning for it to come at her once more.

‘Come at me then!’

The feral lunges towards her, its face contorted with hatred and hunger, but before it can reach her, a sharp, jagged branch is driven through its chest. The creature looks down at the wound, letting out a piercing shriek before crumbling to ash in front of her. As the ash settles, a familiar figure steps out from behind the cloud of falling dust, his hands coated in a mixture of ash and black blood. He reaches into his pocket, retrieving a freshly folded handkerchief to wipe the remnants from his hands.

‘Now then,’ he focuses on his hands for a moment before looking up, flashing her a mischievous smile, ‘what did I tell you about having fun without me?’

‘ADRIAN!’

She leaps over the pile of ash, giddily bounding over to him; she wraps her arms tightly around his waist, nestling her face into his shirt. He embraces her simultaneously, running a soothing hand from the nape of her neck to the small of her back, as if in an attempt to calm her. He kisses the top of her head, resting his chin against her temple.

‘I told you I’d be here, didn’t I?’

She smiles up at him, inclining her head slightly upward before capturing his lips with her own; the kiss is soft and sweet, with a hint of relief.

‘You sure do know how to cut it fine, Raines.’ She bops him on the nose, ‘any longer and he’d have probably thrown me into the bridge!’

‘I’m quite surprised you let him get that close,’ he reaches up, placing a gentle hand to her cheek, ‘is everything okay? Were you hurt?’

‘Besides being launched into a really big tree? Yeah… I’m grand.’

‘Why didn’t you zap him?’

‘I’m not a laser gun!’

He chuckles, planting a tender kiss to her forehead.

‘I know that,’ he tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his voice taking a worrisome tone, ‘but in all seriousness… why didn’t you?’

‘I haven’t fed today, and using my powers drains my energy. If I were to use them on an empty stomach, I wouldn’t be able to defend myself for long.’

‘I can’t fault that.’

His arms tighten around her, pulling her closer to his chest. He holds her like that for a moment before pulling away, putting some distance between the pair.

‘So… now that this has been dealt with,’ he holds out a hand towards her, gesturing for her to take it, ‘I think that it’s about time that you and I head home…don’t you, Mrs Raines?’

Amy responds with a curt nod. She goes to take his hand, but a sudden growl causes her to pause. Adrian looks at her quizzically, a cheeky smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

‘Now I know you said you were hungry, but I wasn’t expecting tha-’

‘That wasn’t me.’

Another growl can be heard from within the shadows, its tone deep and ragged, followed by a series of snarls and hisses; five feral-like creatures emerge from the darkness, their blood red eyes staring soullessly back at the pair as the encroach upon them. Adrian quietly ushers Amy backward, using his arm almost like a blockade.

‘Adrian?’

‘Stay quiet for a moment…please.’

His eyes scan the group as they advance, his gaze unyielding. Once he is sure that there are no more, he turns to Amy, removing his arm from in front of her. He cautiously bends down, retrieving the jagged branch from the ashen floor.

‘If you don’t feel like using your hands today…’ he tosses the branch back to her; she catches it mid-air, turning it over in her palms, ‘you can always stab it.’

‘What about you?’

‘Me?’ He glances down at his hands, which have since balled into fists, ‘I’ve got my weapon of choice right here.’

The pair watch them for a couple of seconds, but as the ferals draw nearer, Adrian turns his attention back to Amy, completely unfazed by the scene in front of him. He reaches up to adjust his tie, greeting her with an excitable grin.

‘So… who’s going first?’

[earth-ambassador-jim]

A Bad Reaction: Chapter 2

Summary:

“Changelings call it "Gravesand”. Derived from the pulverized bones of fallen Gumm-Gumms, gravesand aids us changelings in shedding our human form and embracing our more trollish nature…“

Strickler is a little off in his calculations and the gravesand draws out an unexpected response from Jim. Hopefully he can figure out what is wrong and how to fix it before it is too late.

AO3 - Fanfiction

~~~~

Barbara wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when the pink rock monster had kidnapped her and brought her to an underground bunker but meeting her ex-boyfriend had not been it.

The moment she set eyes on him anger had eclipsed fear as the ever growing feeling of betrayal she’d been brooding on for the past few weeks reared its head in full force.

 “What. The. Hell.” Barbara said slowly -but with great feeling- as her hands clenched at her sides.

The sharp pain in her skull that had just started up was not helping. For some reason the painting she had been working on surfaced in her memory.

“Sorry to interrupt,” The pink monster said in what sounded like an amused tone. Barbara jumped. She’d forgotten about it for a second. “As much as I want to see you beat up Strickler, there are more important things to deal with right now.”

It was then that Barbara saw who was in the table in the middle of the room. A sharp gasp escaped her and she rushed to her son’s side.

Her fingers immediately went to his throat, feeling for his pulse, and then to his forehead before she turned around to stare at Walt. She had been angry before, but it was nothing compared to what she was feeling now.

“What have you done to my son?” Barbara practically growled.

Walt… Strickler swallowed audibly and held his hands out, open and palms facing her, in from of him.

“It was an accident…” He started to say slowly.

“An accident?!” She yelled. “Is that why you have him tucked away in this secret base? You lured me out here with his phone! And what’s that?!” She added pointing at the monster.

And why did she feel like she should know the answer? Barbara drew in a sharp breath as pain lanced through her skull again.

“Please let me explain. You may yell at me all you wish later,” Strickler said.

Barbara grit her teeth and drew in a breath to start yelling again.

She never got a word out.

At that moment Jim jerked upright on the table. Barbara turned toward him and felt her heart skip a beat. His eyes, now open, were glowing a sickly red and gold. He made a low guttural sound in his throat and his lips pulled back in a snarl. She stumbled back a step.

He drew in a shallow gasping breath. His still glowing eyes widened and he clawed as his chest for a moment before collapsing back on the table.

For a sickening moment Barbara couldn’t move, then the symptoms she had just seen registered and she lunged forward with a string of curses. She pressed two fingers to his neck and felt a calm fall over her as her years working in the ER asserted themselves.

“Is there an AED here?” She asked Strickler sharply as she pulled Jim’s shirt up.

Some part of her mind vaguely registered a series of branching scars that she hadn’t seen before but, as they were currently unimportant, she mentally filed them away for later. Strickler ripped something off the wall and hurried over to her. She received the machine, noting that it was an older model than the hospital’s, and then with quick efficient movements placed the pads on her son’s skin.

“Get clear,” She said sharply.

Jim’s body jerked as the electricity coursed through him. Barbara checked his pulse. It was weak but the rhythm was now regular again.

She let out a sigh of relief before turning back to Strickler. The underlying protective rage layered over with her professional calm made her feel like she was floating outside her body.

“Explain what is going on now,” She said coldly.

~~~~

And so her ex-boyfriend explained how humans weren’t really the only intelligent species on earth, that magic was real, and that her son had been drafted to fight giant rock creatures.

It turned out there was a bit more to those images and dreams that had been flickering through her mind since the accident than she thought.

“Let me get this straight,” Barbara said as she kneaded the skin of her forehead. “You decided that it was a good idea to give my son, a minor, some sort of troll heroin to ‘hone his feral instincts’… you didn’t see any way that could go wrong.”

She was also rather disappointed in Jim for going along with this. They’d had the drug talk. Just because it was magic did not make it any less of a drug.

“How do you still have your teaching degree?” She wondered out loud.

Off to the side the pink changeling snickered.

“That’s not important right now,” Walt… Strickler said. “Right now I need your help to keep Jim stable while I figure out what exactly is causing this.”

Barbara really wanted to argue that Jim should go to a hospital to receive proper treatment, but she doubted they would know what to do with gravesand poisoning, or whatever was going on. She was also not foolish enough to expect that they would just let her leave. Not without a fight that she couldn’t hope to win. She drew in a slow breath and counted to ten before blowing it out through her nose.

“So you haven’t found anything in your files about why this might be happening yet?”  She asked.

“No,” Strickler responded. “But I still have a few more to go through.”

“And these other trolls that Jim is helping can’t help?” Barbara would really like to have someone else here. Wal… Strickler had dropped completely off the bottom of her trust list. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the other changeling. “There isn’t any kind of troll-doctor?”

“Unfortunately Trollmarket’s healer was one of the first casualties according to Young… Jim. There might be other healers but it’s unlikely they will know how to take care of a human and even if they did they would not be familiar with gravesand.”

Barbara sighed.

“Okay, you keep searching your files.” She turned to the pink changeling. “I’ll need you to…”

She paused eying the changeling’s sharp claws with trepidation. It seemed to catch on and in a flash of pink transformed into the museum curator Ms. Nomura. Barbara jumped but otherwise didn’t react.

“Okay,” She said with a sharp, shaky breath. This was fine. She was fine. She could do this. “I’m going to need you to assist me. Follow my instructions exactly.”

Ms. Nomura moved to stand beside her and they got to work.

~~~~

“Any progress?” Barbara’s voice was something that could have loosely been described as professional.

Strickler looked up from the file he was currently reading.

“Nothing yet I’m afraid,” He said shoving down a pang of longing.

Barbara made a quiet frustrated sound and turned away. She and Nomura started talking in low voices. Strickler rubbed his eyes and glanced around the room. How long had they been here now?

Jim was now hooked up to a heart monitor and oxygen. He looked bad. Rashes had appeared on his skin and he was sweating profusely. Something in Strickler’s chest twisted involuntarily.

He had done this. He should have known better. Humans reacted differently to even regular medications. Why did he think having a child inhale magic sand was going to be okay?

What if they couldn’t save him? What then?

The more analytical side of his mind was already trying to come up with contingencies for dealing with a new Trollhunter this late in the game. The more pessimistic side suggested that between Barbara and Nomura he wouldn’t live long enough to have to worry about that. He’d deserve it too, he supposed.

He grimaced and pulled out his pen to fiddle with.

Focus.

He needed to save Jim. Failure was not an option.

He opened the next set of files, a series of experiments that had been ran by a changeling scientist back during the Cold War.

He started reading and froze for a moment before reading faster.

It wasn’t possible…

~~~~

“A question Barbara,” Strickler said. There was something stiff and deliberately level about his tone that made Barbara wary.

“Yes?” She asked without turning around.

“Do you have any pictures of your… of Jim’s father?”

That did make her turn around.

“Why would you need that?” She asked suspiciously.

“I will explain if my hunch proves correct.”

Oh she didn’t like that at all…

She studied his face. The lines around his mouth and eyes were tense.

“Please… it’s important.”

She made an irritated noise and glanced at his computer.

“Can that connect to the internet?”

“Yes…”

She wasn’t really in the habit of carrying pictures of James around. In fact, she’d gotten rid of most of the ones in the house as well. Both she and Jim generally preferred to pretend he didn’t exist when they could.

She brushed past Strickler and started tapping away. In a few minutes she’d pulled up an old finished projects page from a company website.

“That’s him,” She said pointing at one of the men in the picture. She pushed down the old ache in her chest as well as the strange feeling that rose when she realized how much Jim as starting to resemble him.

Barbara moved out of the way and Strickler settled down into the chair. In a few quick moves he’d downloaded the image and cropped it down to just James Senor’s face. Then he opened the image in another program. Immediately the computer pinged. The word “match” appeared on the screen.

A few more clicks and a new window was opened up on the screen.

“Barbara? Is this him?”

Barbara leaned over his shoulder. He twisted slightly in his seat to watch her expression. Her eyes tracked across the page and her lips moved slightly as she read through the words before she froze.

“Why…”

“It would appear that your ex is a changeling,”

“What?!”

Strickler moved back as she pushed forward to read the file more thoroughly.

“This explains Jim’s unusual reaction to the gravesand,” He continued. She could just barely hear him through the roaring in her ears. “Normally, in humans gravesand would only serves to draw out their feral instincts. It makes them angrier and their eyes glow. Long term use may have other side effects, but one use should not result in something like this.”

“So why is it causing this?”

“Because the gravesand is trying to activate Jim’s dormant changeling traits.”

“His changeling traits?” She echoed.

Strickler nodded and pushed a hand through his hair.

“Yes, but since Jim was… I assume he was conceived while James was in human form?” Barbara didn’t appreciate the question there but nodded anyway. “The only genes he has from his father are the ones that would allow him to shift not the biological template he needs to have a trollish form to shift into.”

“Which means..?”

Strickler grimaced.

“To put it simply the gravesand’s magic is causing Jim’s latent shifter magic activate, but as there is nothing to shift into his cells are basically tearing themselves apart.”

That wasn’t good. Understanding, mixed with new fear, settled in Barbara’s chest.

She turned away from him back toward her son frowning as she took off her glasses and polished them on her scrubs. This seemed to be one of the situations were knowing what was happening was not going to make thing easier…

She wasn’t even sure if she could use conventional medicines on Jim with the gravesand in his system.

Strickler was frowning as he continued to leaf through the file.

“It looks like all recorded cases have been fatal…”

Barbara whipped around, her heart lurching sickeningly in her chest. Across the room Nomura stiffened.

“But!” Strickler said before either of them could say or do anything. “The scientist in charge of the trails theorized that if a sample of changeling blood and stone was enchanted and then injected into the hybrid it would give the sifting magic something to latch onto and pattern a trollish form off of.”

“Did they test this?”

“No,” Strickler said. “It seems that the changeling in charge of the tests met an untimely death before he could find anymore test subjects.” There was an odd tone to his voice that Barbara could not quite pin down. It vanished quickly as he moved on. “I do however have the groundwork and necessary ingredients listed for the spell here.”

“What are the chances of success?”

Strickler sighed.

“I can’t really say. I doubt they are high… but what choice do we have?”

“You said that none of the… half-changelings… survived the gravesand?”

“None recorded.”

“Did they try removing the sand from the lungs? Or any similar measures to stop the reaction?”

“Yes and they all failed.”

Barbara stood quiet for a moment, acutely aware of the two changelings waiting for her response. She hated everything about this situation. She had a short moment of time to make a decision for her son that would at best be life altering and at worst fatal and the only information she had was from shady people that she didn’t trust.

But if she didn’t do anything…

Barbara glanced at Jim. She clenched her jaw and sucked in a breath through her teeth.

“Then I think we should take the route that still has a chance even if it is slim,” She said finally. “What do we need to do?”

Strickler took in her straightened posture and determined expression with a wistful expression. A jolt of bitterness passed through her.

“I am going to start running over the runes and layout for the spell to make sure there are no errors. Nomura…” The magenta changeling straightened up. “I will need you to retrieve some things from my office.” He pulled his pen out of his pocket and hesitated a moment before tossing it to her. “The lock is behind Landmark Thucydides.”

He paused for a moment and then pulled out his notepad and quickly scribbled out a list of what he would need and where she could find it.

“I’m also going to take a quick run to my apartment and retrieve the rest of my magic supplies.” He turned to Barbara. “I should be about a half hour. Can you handle that?”

She nodded.

“Good. Let us go.”

Barbara watched as they left.

Gradually their footsteps faded from hearing.

It was just her and Jim now.

She walked over to him and gently smoothed his fair out of his sweaty face. Even without touching his skin, she could feel the heat radiating off of him.

His eyes remained closed.

Barbara blinked furiously as a lump began to form in her throat.

How had it come to this? She’d known something was wrong.

Her vision blurred and she sucked in a harsh breath.

Why didn’t he tell her? Why hadn’t she…

Barbara’s hands clenched around the edges of the metal table as the first sob broke free.

~~~~

~~~~

Author Notes:

I am going to go into a little more into the specifics about what is going on with Jim's reaction to the Gravesand in the notes next chapter, so be sure to read those!

We’ll get a little more on Barbara’s thoughts on the situation next chapter, but right now she really just needs a good cry.

I was a little rushed on editing this chapter (Just started a new job this week!) so let me know if anything needs clarification.

[smallmediumproblems]

They’d been gone too long.

Jon knew it in such a bone-deep, paranoid way that he almost discounted the feeling out of hand. He didn’t have instincts anymore, just information, and anything that he might have called a “gut feeling” was more likely to be coming from somewhere distant and cobwebbed than inside him. He shuffled farther away from Daria’s corpse. Towards the inside of the store. He could no longer hear Static Man carving through whatever had attacked Morgan, and, as he had observed previously, silence was not a good thing to hear from him instead. Morgan was gone, gone to get them a quick escape route when they were ready to leave, and if they weren’t fighting, it meant that one or the other party had been defeated and something was holding up the survivors.

What it all added up to was simply that they had been gone too long.

Jon examined the entrance. The corn snake from earlier, having been dislodged from Jon’s tape recorder, now observed him from near the door.

“I’m not totally helpless,” Jon informed it. “I can buy them some time. Enough for them to escape.”

A wave of nausea bubbled up through him as he spoke. “It’s not like I used any serious amount of energy, fighting that spider woman. I certainly didn’t overdo it to get back at her.”

The corn snake regarded him impassively.

“Look, I can still cause a distraction,” Jon insisted. “I’m not just the Archivist.”

The corn snake didn’t disagree.

“Right,” Jon said quietly, taking a step towards the door, and then another. “Right.”

The interior had been a very cozy workshop at some point in the recent past. Long, low tables were overturned over the splintered remains of wooden bench seats, and several plush armchairs had been eviscerated across the room. The place smelled of raw wood and thick leather. In the center of the chaos, a large green orb was embedded partly into the floor. Jon could just barely make out something that looked like a human inside.

“Nick,” he called out, running to the orb. The room was deserted, with no sign of whatever had caused the carnage. “Nick, is that you?”

“What-” Nick whirled around to face him. He didn’t look in as bad shape as Morgan had, but had clear scratch marks digging all the way through his shirt into his skin. “What are you- Get in! They’re still here.”

A clacking, rustling sound filled the air, and from underneath the destroyed furniture dozens of bodies began to emerge. They were only barely recognizable as the clerks from the fabric store. Some looked freshly made, with tattered gingham skin and crisp, clean aprons, while others were more plant matter than fabric. Jon was extremely distracted by one that had several googly eyes pasted over its face. Nick seized his wrist and dragged him into an opening in the orb, which closed up as soon as he was inside.

“Congratulations,” said Nick, “Now we’re both trapped. For as long as I can keep this barrier up, at least.”

“What happened to-”

“Gone,” Nick growled, “He’s gone, we’re on our own. They ambushed us just as we were about to leave.”

“...shit,” said Jon.

“Yeah,” Nick agreed. “I take it there’s nothing you can do to get these things off us?”

The swarm of clerks was growing larger as more and more of them emerged from hiding. The first wave had reached the barrier, but seemed unable to break through.

“Not this many,” said Jon. “There was someone out front I had to deal with. I’m a bit worn out.”

“Did Morgan make it out?” Nick asked immediately.

“She’s fine,” Jon assured him. “She put the finishing touches on that particular conversation.”

Nick nodded, doing some mental calculations. “Good. That just leaves us.”

From the looks of it, Nick was already well into brainstorming his escape plan. He had a fistful of small papers that he was now folding methodically and stowing into a shopping bag. Under his jacket sleeve, Jon could make out something that looked like runic symbols scribbled onto his skin in smudged marker. He didn’t take the time to See what they meant. It was safe enough to assume it wasn’t anything good.

Whatever stage his planning had gotten to, he seemed to think that Jon would be an addition to his resources rather than a drain on them. “You’re out of juice, so… The stories, you said you’re powered by stories.”

“Nicholas,” Jon said warningly.

“You know what I have,” Nick cut him off. The statement was back - Capital ‘S’, for Nick, his most valuable one - but Jon bit back his hunger and simply glowered at him. “Will it be enough?”

“Yes, but-”

“Do it,” said Nick. “Ask me about my father.”

Jon took a deep breath, trying to rationalize how this conversation would surely go. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I won’t do it,” Jon repeated. “Especially not that one. This is hurting you, whether or not either of us admit it, and I won’t do it anymore. Two is too many as it is. I should never have agreed to this in the first place, and neither should you.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Nick. “You know there’s more where that came from.”

“You’re not a bloody vending machine!” said Jon. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Okay. This is cute, and all?” said Nick, “But now is not the time to feel bad for me. I don’t really get what you want out of this, this whole sappy-”

“I want to apologize,” Jon said over him.

Nick’s expression tightened. He took a step back to lean against the green, glowing barrier. It took Jon a second to realize that he was waiting.

“I’m sorry,” said Jon, not reluctantly but with no small amount of difficulty. “For trying to hurt you just to make a point.”

Nick stared into the open air over Jon’s shoulder rather than making eye contact. Jon took this as a sign that he shouldn’t be finished yet.

“I didn’t want-”

“You weren’t wrong,” Nick said at about the same time. They both stopped short, waiting for the other to continue, until Nick broke the silence again. “You and Morgan. She had a point. I should have told them. I got impatient, and I told myself I could protect them. No matter what happened.”

He waited for Jon to say something smug. There was a time not too long ago when Jon absolutely would have. Now, though, the whole thing just felt too familiar, and he could only think of what he would want to hear if he admitted the same thing. He settled on nothing at all.

“I’m sorry I called you a ‘thing,’” said Nick. As far as Jon could tell, this meant that nothing was exactly the right thing to have said. “You’re not, and I know that. It’s just easier to say than admitting I… Well.”

“You don’t trust people,” Jon finished for him.

“Yep,” said Nick, “That’s the one.”

Nick rested his head back against the barrier. If he was at all bothered by the half-dozen feral plant monsters clawing away inches from his face, then he didn’t show it.

“It’s not easy,” said Jon. “The whole trusting people thing.”

“It’s also not safe,” said Nick. “Some of us have people we need to take care of.”

“Some of us can only wish we still did,” said Jon.

They sat in the dim glow of Nick’s shelter in silence. Slowly, eventually, the clerks started to slow down to conserve their energy. Several of them shambled back into hiding, awkwardly pulling bits and pieces of debris over themselves.

“I’m so sorry about your friend,” Jon added. “You seemed very close.”

Nick lifted his head to give him a blank look. “Static Man? What about him?” he asked.

“Er… Isn’t he, um… dead?” Jon said.

“Oh. He’s fine,” said Nick, looking relieved.  “He’s probably going to be less dead than us when all this is over.”

“What?” asked Jon, “You said he was gone.”

“Yeah, back to his- It’s hard to describe. Back home, I guess?” Nick explained. “There’s a place you can summon him from. In order to have a corporeal form, Static Man needs to be recorded. They crushed my tape recorder, so -” Nick made a cartoonish popping noise with his mouth.

Jon started to laugh.

“What?” Nick asked.

“Can you get him back?” asked Jon, still grinning, “Here, right now?”

“Not really,” said Nick, “I can call him, but we don’t have a - oh! ”

Nick remembered Jon’s tape recorder at the exact moment that Jon pulled it out from his jacket pocket. The cashiers renewed their frenzy at the sight of it.

“You might have wanted to keep that hidden,” Nick pointed out.

“Trust me,” said Jon. “It’s not going to be a problem.”

Nick fumbled for his phone, jabbing in a few numbers on the screen. “Hey,” he said softly into the microphone, “It’s me.”

“Well, hi there, ‘me.’ I’m Static Man,” Static Man boomed from directly behind them in the bubble. His companions swore loudly and scrambled to make room for him, an effort that was complicated when he wrapped an arm around both their shoulders and hugged the whole group into a mound on the floor. “You’re alive! We all good? No more mind battles?”

“How are you this heavy ?” Jon wheezed.

“It’s- No, we’re alright now,” Nick laughed. “He was right.”

“In all fairness, so were you,” said Jon.

“I do that a lot,” said Nick.

“I’m so proud of you guys,” said Static Man, pulling them back to their feet. “Now, what’s popping?”

“This shield, in just a second,” said Nick. The break in his concentration had caused it to dent in several places under the clerks’ fists. “Get ready. Archivist, keep ahold of that tape recorder.”

“Really, it’s fine,” Jon insisted.

Static Man squared up at one side of the bubble, the edges of his barely tangible body fuzzing with anticipation. He was through almost before Nick had created an opening, and managed to tear apart a clerk before the lot decided to give him a wide berth. The three made slow progress toward the entrance. Static Man divided his attention between threatening the crowd in front of him and keeping the occasional straggler at bay. With every step there seemed to be more plant monsters pouring from their hiding places, and with every nervous scan of the crowd they appeared to be getting closer.

A hand closed around Jon’s ankle.

In an instant, he was ripped from the company of his friends and into the swarm. Hands tugged at his arms, his clothes, his hair, but - as he expected - didn’t move to harm him. He hurled the tape recorder away from him, and the distraction gave him just enough of a window to escape. All three of them looked on as the recorder was ripped to shreds.

“Welp, it’s been real,” Static Man said grimly. “Don’t know how you guys are going to get out of here without me.”

There was a short pause as Static Man realized that he was very much not discorporated.

“Wait,” he corrected himself.

The swarm looked around in confusion until one of them pointed to an overturned desk. They fell over themselves to retrieve a second tape recorder from underneath it, tearing it to bits. They looked expectantly to Static Man, who, to their collective disappointment, once again failed to disappear.

“Are you doing that?” Nick asked Jon.

“You know, I’m not sure,” said Jon. He pulled a third tape recorder from Nick’s shopping bag and tossed it to the crowd as well. “I’ve been blaming it on my boss, but at this point it seems far too helpful for that to be the case. Shall we?”

Half a dozen tape recorders and a couple especially aggressive clerks later, they emerged to find Morgan waiting for them with transportation. They were ushered into the cab of a ferret, and did not relax until Jon had punched in a destination and settled into a seat. Morgan started to dole out supplies to herself and Nick from the first-aid kit she’d retrieved from their bags. They moved quietly, but it felt more relaxed than solemn. There was a certain relief inherent in being alive to have injuries to recover from. Halfway through, something occurred to Nick, and he reached into his pocket.

“Oh,” he said awkwardly, “Should probably give you this back.”

He offered Shirley across the cabin to Jon. A large circular flake had been chipped out of her surface, on the side opposite her dark spot.

“No! What happened?” Jon gasped. He snatched up the rock and inspected the damage tenderly.

“It’s part of the ritual, from the tailors,” said Nick. “We needed a piece of a pet rock. I meant to ask you when we got there, but… Yeah.”

“Well, now you’ve gone too far,” said Jon, frowning. “Knocking me unconscious was understandable, but bringing an innocent rock into it is just cruel.”

As the others tried to figure out whether he was joking, Jon retrieved a band-aid from Morgan’s kit and applied it over the chip. Morgan was the first to laugh, although it was short and pained through some well-concealed injury. Static Man followed suit, then Jon, and finally even Nick contributed a smile.

“Do you want to see what they made?” asked Nick.

“Of- Of course!” said Jon, leaning forward eagerly. “I thought you said it was personal.”

“Consider it part of your payment,” Nick commented. He reached into a shopping bag and pulled out a large bundle of tissue paper. As he unwrapped it, Jon tried to formulate a way to tell him politely but forcefully that there was no way he was going to hold them to the original terms of the agreement. Maybe stress the point that he was getting quite tired of being just the Archivist. Consider reminding them that he hadn’t been entirely joking when he said that he needed a nap and some real, honest food. While he was at it, perhaps mention that the statements hadn’t been remotely as satisfying as just having something resembling a normal, human conversation with people who - in spite of all the pretense - seemed quite intent on treating him like a normal human.

Jon had distracted himself quite thoroughly by the time Nick revealed the contents of the tissue paper. He held a stunning green leather knapsack, constructed simply but very elegantly. It had one large pouch, and Jon recognized a piece of Shirley set into a bronze fixing on the flap that covered the top. To Jon’s continuing surprise, Nick held it out for him to examine. The leather was soft, and the silk-lined seams glistened slightly in the light of the directory screen. The whole arrangement was surprisingly lightweight.

“It’s a gift,” Nick explained. “We’re going to visit my sister in a few days. She’s pretty hard to get to, and I think I’ve finally found a solution. Watch.”

He pulled out a second, identical bag, dropped a roll of gauze into it, and gestured for Jon to open the one he was holding. Jon reached in and pulled out the very same gauze.

“You know, she’s always wanted to write you letters,” Jon commented. He tossed the gauze roll once in the air, then across to Nick, who fumbled it spectacularly. “She’s done it a couple times, when things were hard. Just thrown them out to sea. It did make her feel better, if it’s any consolation.”

Nick’s smile shifted tenor. Jon had startled something more genuine out of him, softer and less considered.

“Sure,” Nick said warmly. “Yeah, let’s call it that.”

By the time they were delivered to their destination, everyone had recovered enough energy to look forward to leaving. There was no lengthy walk this time, or even a storefront to navigate. Jon led them directly to a plain metal door set into the wall between two buildings, labeled simply “EXIT.”

A hand settled on his shoulder as he reached for the door handle. He turned to see a very concerned look on Nick’s face. Morgan would have looked much the same if she hadn’t been so exhausted. Static Man was barely watching, instead scanning their surroundings for any new threats.

“It’s alright,” Jon said gently, “We’re nearly there.”

The first thing that hit them was the smell. It was soft and sweet, like something beautiful had passed by leaving only the barest trace. It wasn’t rotten, although it was most certainly dead. Directly inside the door was a mountain of flowers so old and dry that they could have been made from paper. They were interspersed with sympathy cards that called out things like “I’ll miss you!” and “May you find comfort.” Despite the withered quality of the whole arrangement, the colors were still very vibrant. It probably hadn’t seen the sun in a while. At the center was a large stuffed bear giving structure to the flowers, its arms safety-pinned crudely together around a bundle of daisies. It held a sign that looked like someone had scrawled in crayon on the top of a cardboard takeaway box:

For the lost.

“Oh,” Static Man said flatly.

Nick didn’t comment, pushing past into the corridor. Morgan and Static Man left Jon to linger at the shrine a little longer. The corridor itself was unremarkable, as was the door at the end of it. If it weren’t for the shrine, it would also have been fairly unremarkable that the door was locked.

“What did we miss?” Nick muttered. He and Morgan approached to examine the door critically. “Were we supposed to buy a key somewhere?”

Jon crouched down and lifted one of the flowers, drinking in the history. The offerings had been left piecemeal over a long time. Some were from groups that had to leave their friends behind. Others were put there by people who lived and worked in the Arcade, witnesses to deaths that they didn’t like to be complicit in. The shrine didn’t belong to the Arcade. If anything, it existed in spite of it. It was equal parts protest and comfort against the grinding, bloody machinery that made this place - and places like it - function. A very familiar machinery.

He looked down at his mug.

He knew who it belonged to, of course. He’d known ever since he became the Archivist - properly and truly the Archivist, not just someone with the title. He knew she’d kept it after her first university roommate left for grad school. They both agreed their brief relationship wasn’t anything serious, but she could never bring herself to ship this last remnant of her out to Norwich after finding it in the cupboard. And so she kept it. She kept it when she moved into her own flat. She kept it when she started a job at the Magnus Institute. She kept it when she moved into her new office in the Archive, which was not the office she deserved, and in the back of her mind she even planned to keep it when she found somewhere new to go. After the Archive took that chance from her, it kept the mug instead.

Jon knew all about Sasha James. It made it even more hurtful that he didn’t have any memories of her.

He placed a few flowers in the mug and settled it next to the bear. From the far end of the corridor, he heard the unmistakable hiss of a door opening, and the shrine was lit with the soft, tentative first rays of a sunrise.

“By all technical measures, I’d say you’ve more than held up your end of the bargain,” Nick pronounced to Jon once they were outside. He looked nervous, and without being prompted he explained why. “There’s still the matter of what I owe you. I think I’m up to two more statements?”

Jon made a grandiose show of thinking this over.

“Strange. Not by my count,” he said lightly. “We did two, plus the one about your sister. Counting this one, that brings us up to four, which I believe was the number we agreed upon.”

“This… what?” Nick asked. Jon gestured broadly at the Arcade behind him.

“This whole mess,” said Jon. "I wouldn't believe any of this unless I'd seen it myself. I'm still not entirely convinced that this hasn’t been some massive hallucination.”

“That doesn’t sound-”

“I’m sorry, are you the Archivist?” Jon said petulantly. “I think I know what a statement is.”

“Fair enough,” said Nick, smiling.

“I do actually have one more question,” said Jon. “How did you all get here?”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” said Nick. He paused to acknowledge that Jon hadn’t made him answer, although none of them commented on it. Instead, he pulled out his phone and offered it to Jon. “Let’s get you home.”

Jon accepted it hesitantly, as though it might disappear from his hands in some further expression of his supposed madness. It remained solid and real when he punched in a phone number. Nick, Morgan, and Static Man watched with bated breath to see what terrible power the Archivist would call to his aid in this dire time of need. Jon did his best to ignore them while he waited for someone to pick up the phone. A curt, guarded voice answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Basira, it’s Jon,” he said. “How are things?”

There was a pause, and a confused response. His audience exchanged a reverent look at hearing his name. “That’s actually what I’m calling about. Do you think you could send Helen to come get me?

"That’s a bit complicated. The short answer is, I have no idea.

"It’s not- I mean, technically, I was abducted, yes.

"Again.

"No, no I’m alright.

"No, they’re right here. We're, er, friends now.

"They took me to a cafe? They did try to feed me some chips that were, frankly, unspeakable.

"Help with their shopping.

"They appear to be some kind of Americans.

"Yes, I know that's n- No, they’re not affiliated. Not with any of them. One is, ah… he’s something, but not our kind of something.

"Weird does not begin to describe it.

“Erm, hang on-”

He tucked the phone out of earshot and looked to Nick. “How did you get me out of the Archive?”

“Magic,” Nick said, as if this should have been obvious.

Jon looked at him like Nick had unexpectedly punched him in the face.

“Listen,” he returned to the phone, “Just- could you find Helen? I’ll explain everything when I get back.

"I don’t know. Wherever it’s narratively relevant for her to be. She might already be here.

"Sure. Thank you, Basira.”

They stood in silence for a few moments after he’d hung up, until Jon remembered to pass Nick back his phone.

“My name’s Jon, by the way,” he said awkwardly.

“Nice to finally meet you, Jon,” said Nick.

“So, Helen’s going to summon you back?” Morgan asked.

“That is not a thing,” Jon said, “If we’re lucky, she’ll find her way here and you’ll get to meet her. She’s… extremely interesting.”

“Dude, we gotta do this again sometime,” Static Man insisted.

Jon grimaced. "You all are lovely, really, but I would appreciate a bit more advance warning next time."

"Well, you’ve got my number now,” said Nick. “Next time you can call us.”

"That might be nice," said Jon. “I could use an excuse to get some fresh air. If you're ever in London, look up the Magnus Institute. You would legitimately be the first visitors I've had who haven't tried to kill me."

“Wait,” said Nick, stifling a laugh, “Just- London? You’re just, in London?”

“Where did you think I lived?” Jon asked, confused.

The others exchanged an apprehensive look. “An extraplanar prison, like the genie from Aladdin?” Static Man suggested.

“Some kind of library-based hellscape?” said Morgan.

“I thought you were a tulpa when you first showed up,” Nick admitted. “For at least half an hour.”

Jon scoffed. “Please. Some people live normal lives in normal places, like London.” He caught sight of a battered yellow service door in the side of the Arcade behind them. “Perhaps I’ll meet one of them if I stay there long enough. Now, if you’ll excuse me, that’ll be Helen.”

He strode over to open the door for her, and Helen unfurled from the corridors into the dusky sunrise of the parking lot. Her hair billowed as though underwater, and she adjusted her pant suit casually - or was it a pencil skirt? No, definitely a jumpsuit, the romper kind. It was more of an aesthetic concept than an outfit.

“We keep meeting like this,” she said, grinning, “I’m beginning to suspect you only like me for my intangible relationship with time and space.”

“Helen,” Jon said primly, “Good to see you, too.”

“Basira mentioned that you’d made some friends,” said Helen, towering over his shoulder. Jon followed her gaze to see the others huddled together, already reaching for various weapons. “So very lively! It’s nice to see you getting out of your shell more.”

Jon whirled around to face them. “It’s- It’s alright, she’s alright. This is Helen. Helen, this is Nick, Morgan, and…” He knew Static Man’s name, of course, but he hadn’t considered the possibility of saying it out loud until just that second.

“Static Man,” he said reluctantly. His tone, plus how much he appeared to relax once Helen had arrived, put the others at ease.

“Whatever, mister ‘I put a definite article in my name because I’m fancy and important,” Static Man scoffed.

“But I am the- There’s just the one. It’s not like-” Jon’s argument started to putter in a different direction in lieu of asserting that he was both fancy and important. “Look, Static Man is a fine name, it’s just excruciatingly American. You sound like you’re from a comic book.”

“Literally, you are the most British person I’ve ever seen,” Static Man said flatly.

“...yeah, that’s fair,” Jon sighed.

“Charming,” Helen said graciously. “Everyone’s quite cross with you back home. Are you sure you don’t want to go on the run for a while? You’ve got the right shoes for it - goodness, those are hideous, I’ll have to come back for some.”

“I’ve had enough running for today, thank you,” said Jon. "It's time for us to go home."

After their guests had left, Morgan moved to put a comforting hand on Nick's back. "You gonna be okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" He took a second to parse the look Morgan and Static Man were giving him, and contributed a disapproving frown. "Hey. No."

"Hey, yes," Static Man rebutted. "You got it bad."

"If by 'it' you mean a completely professional relationship with a guy I met literally hours ago," said Nick, "Then yes, I absolutely have got that."

“Please,” said Morgan, “‘You’ve got my number?’ You should have just written it on his arm.”

“Yeah, those were some pretty professional longing stares,” Static Man added. “Dude rescues you one time and you’re ready to take him home. I thought I was gonna have to distract him while you looked for a ring.”

“Look,” Nick started to argue. “I think I’m allowed to be a little impressed by a demigod of secrets and forbidden knowledge.”

“That’s it, buddy, let it all out,” Static Man said reassuringly.

“Which I might have been attracted to,” Nick continued, ignoring him, “If he didn’t - and I quote - ‘have someone he wanted to get back to’.”

“Duel them,” Static Man jeered. “Fight for your star-crossed monster love.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you both checking out his friend,” Nick countered.

“She was so tall,” Morgan said wistfully.

“I already got one phone number out of this field trip,” said Static Man. “I’m not that kind of guy.”

“Hey, serious question: I wasn’t going to ask in front of him,” said Morgan, “But how are we going to get home?”

Nick did not reach for his bag, where the Spiral-bound travel pamphlet was safely nestled. Instead, he led a very leisurely charge towards the opposite end of the parking lot.

“I told you, it’s fine,” he reiterated, “Don’t worry about it.”

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 19

Table of Contents Go to first. Go to previous. Go to next.

Drugs, decomp, insects/parasitism, myiaisis, emeto, myso, copro TW’s. I’m pretty sure this is the grossest thing I’ve ever written. Enjoy

Skin tight hypoxia gripped Melancholy’s scalp. He wheezed for breath, jerking upright in a coughing fit of salt and rancor. Face still coated in a thick grime, his eyes and nose burned almost as bad as his lungs, and he pulled off his glasses to claw the muck off his face. A rasping coughing fit seized him, only for his stomach to lay out its objections to his activities right into his lap. Everything crawled inside-out with haptic echoes of a phantom myiasis. His diaphragm continued to spasm, adding hiccups to the mix of torture.

The second time he vomited, blood spotted the rejection.

“Fuck, it took you long enough.” Jared snatched him up by the back of his collar and threw him into an office chair. He jammed a shop rag into his hand with bitter, mocking pity. “Does the chemist need some water?”

“--’Zhemoy,” ‘Choly choked out, breathing still unsteady. “I could have-- I could have died.”

“But you didn’t.”

A jar of water found the chemist’s hands, and he immediately without hesitation squinted his eyes and mouth taut and poured some of it down his face. He then poured out a bit into the other side of the rag and did his best to work the ordure loose. Unable to smell anything but the penetrating musk of brahmin dung, he distrusted his ability to gauge the safeness of the water he’d been handed, and did not use it to try to drown the hiccups. Once he got his eyes rid of enough rheum-muck, he opened them, and used the remaining water to wash off his glasses. He dared not look to Jared, to confirm his appearance.

“Look, chemist. You’re going to retain your value to me. I’ve invested too much in you. What’s a more potent dose than the raw source itself? I watched you just now, writhing like the insect you are. That had to be the most intense flight I’ve seen in my life. --Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

‘Choly trembled and shook his head, wringing his hands in his lap and feeling very small. Attentive flies crawled all over him, and diligent maggots did their best to rid his clothing of grime. He squinted his eyes shut and tried his best not to fall into hyperventilating.

“Please, no. No--”

“Do you at least know where you are, you little fuck? You’re sitting in my office. At my terminal. And you’re not going anywhere until you write down everything that you just experienced.”

He slowly picked up his head in the direction of the desk, and stared hollowly at the computer screen. Loathing overwhelmed him in the moment and he shrank from the terminal with a low whine, only to force himself to square up to it, and shrink away, several times. At last he put his glasses back on his face, and recognized at least his hiccups had resolved.

Jared glared at the back of his head until he was goodly confident ‘Choly was committed to the journal entry.

Flies. Flies on everything. Cleaning everything. Righting it all. Devoted. Diligent. I don’t know where they’re coming from. Are they coming from Jared? Jared’s face... He became the largest bloatfly I’ve ever seen. Drooling, adamant mouthparts. Piercing compound eyes. His bloated body teemed with lichinka. Ready for my supplication. Everything was so tight. Flesh sluicing from my belly as they wriggled out to crown my pudenda like a coronation of sex. Appetent. Purifying. Perpetual. Purulent. I was so purulent. But I wouldn’t be for long.

They took me with them when they transfigured into mature bloatflies. A piece of my consciousness arose in each of them, a cloud of rapture. I was present in everything, humble to debride the world of its entropy. Multiplying in a golden mean forever. Everything could be clean.

Sweat drenched him in hard loathing, and he heaved as he saved his draft. He couldn’t get more explicit than that. It hurt his head too much to try to put to words what he had seen. Every time he took Jet, it seemed the conjugating theme was maggot therapy. This was the first time it had brought him a genuine state of entheogeny, and he rubbed at his upper arms in displeasure of coming down from it. Everything felt so... lifeless as the halo of activity faded away. His head hurt. His everything hurt.

In the time it had taken for him to compose the journal requested of him, he found that Jared had excused himself. The wheelchair was still out on the assembly line floor, and divorced of it ‘Choly couldn’t muster the faculty or energy to get himself to it. And he was a combination of too tired and too filthy to simply doze off. So, to keep himself entertained, he turned again to the terminal, only to realize that Jared had left it logged on as the administrator.

He’d never read Jared’s journals before, and he wondered if anyone in the outfit had. Absently biting his lip refreshed the rancid tang that stained his face, and he flinched. He looked over his shoulder to make sure Jared wasn’t even out on the foreman’s mezzanine that overlooked the assembly floor, then went into his journals. He jumped around basing his choices on the titles of each file, and began with one called ‘Setting Up Shop.’

Gunfire’s finally quieted down. Suppose that means either Lonnie or Gristle wiped up the last of the feral ghouls or they’re currently serving as someone’s meal.

But Lexington is secure, I can finally get to work.

Well, ‘Choly thought, somebody sure became the ferals’ meal in the Super Duper Mart. They didn’t look at all the part to belong to Jared’s outfit, though. He opened ‘Subjects.’

It’s not the chems.

They’re just a trigger for the sight. It’s me. I’m the problem. Wish I’d realized before my arms looked like pin-cushions, but at least it’s a new lead.

I need subjects.

The chemist squinted. Jared really did believe that psychedelic drugs could make people legitimately psychic. But injections? 'Choly thought all this nonsense revolved around Jet, an inhalant. ‘Walden’ came next.

The pharmacy across the way lit up like Christmas last week. No clue how that fucker got in my town without anybody noticing, but color me impressed that he managed to restore electricity to that place. I had Jerry case the building, top to bottom, and every way in requires either a key or a password. We’ll have to arrange a little rooftop meeting next time our little showman comes up on the roof to dole out chems with his--rifle? That still slays me.

The part that really gets me is, my outfit tells me he’s in a wheelchair. I’ve only ever seen one other person in the Commonwealth use one. It can’t be a coincidence. I have to talk to him.

Skimming a few more entries, he got a few laughs out of confirmation that Jared didn’t genuinely hate him. At least, not before today. Most mentions of him in Jared’s journals involved wanting desperately to flip ‘Choly’s ‘vision’ the ‘right direction.’ Then there was ‘Experiments Continue,’ and his face slacked.

Still no successes but the rumor of free chems has brought plenty of new recruits. Ranks are nearly back up to where they were before we cleaned out Lexington. Lonnie thinks entertaining the chemist is a waste of time, says we need to spend our time building up our defenses.

But Lonnie doesn’t make the decisions. I do.

She does seem to be enjoying her new position, though. Maybe another dose of Psycho will get her visions firing.

‘Choly’s hand went to his mouth at the mention of cyclomorphine, and he sank back in his seat. Jared had access to Psycho, and was trying to jog hallucinations with it as he’d done of the Jet. The raider leader had told the chemist he’d had no interest in branching out into other drugs until they’d done comprehensive work with Jet first. Knowing what Jared had told him before this most recent trip, had the raider simply gotten impatient without any results yet, or was something more sinister taking place here? Holy God how did he get his hands on that stuff... He hadn’t wanted to find anything compelling, incriminating or otherwise, and he pressed on, haunted, with the most recent entry: ‘Stumped.’

Nothing is working. The old woman, she used to just huff some Jet, pop some pills, then she’d start babbling, spouting vision after vision. And they all turned out true. The Raiders burning the town, killing the parents, stealing the kids. Stealing me. I remember the look in her eyes when she saw my fate. “Kid, you’re gonna be a monster.” All true.

If I could get that sort of power, that sight, the Commonwealth, the other gangs. No one would have a prayer.

But nothing’s working. Maybe I need to try upping the dosages. I’ll have to talk with the chemist and see how potent we can get.

“You’re gonna be a monster,” he mouthed, his soul flying from his body.

There was no other explanation in ‘Choly’s haunted grey matter, than that this soothsaying junkie had seen ‘Choly’s hallucinations of Jared becoming a bloatfly. Of course Jared’s interested in developing psychic abilities for power alone. Of course he is.

'Choly backed out to the main screen, and returned to the ‘Melancholy 8′ entry from the holotape in the disc deck, so the terminal would be open to it. The more rational explanation was that this woman had indicated a monstrosity of character, but ‘Choly just couldn’t quit the thought as he reread what he’d written. Context meant everything. Over... and over... and...

“Hey, chemist, you’re still at it? Fuck, you’re taking forever.”

‘Choly jerked in his seat, snapped out of his lucid horror by Jared’s return.

“I, yeah. Yeah, I’m done.” He looked to Jared, to find him still entirely human, and he sighed out his relief a little too readily. The raider had brought the wheelchair, folded up. Pushing away from the desk in the rolling chair, ‘Choly began, “I very much hope this stuff doesn’t come true, and very much hope it’s ridiculous that it ever could.”

Jared leaned down to skim what ‘Choly had written, and his features alternated from hardened to ridiculous. He barked a laugh and slapped ‘Choly in the head, only to continue laughing, almost in tears.

“You are a horny little fuck...”

“I haven’t gotten any in over two centuries.” He let out a small laugh, realizing he’d inadvertently referenced facts which had precipitated Jared’s prior behavior. “I suppose that has a lot to do with it.”

With a delirious sigh, Jared smiled at him and gesticulated emphatically as he spoke next.

“I’ve been thinking, and I have to ask. In some of your other journals, you’ve talked about using some pistol in the same way you use your rifle. A... Nagant? I know it’s total bollocks that you’d have these... bloatfly maggots or whatever you hallucinate every time. Those things are like a dick joke. Having ‘em in the gun’s like, a metaphor for fucking everything under the sun or something. And you getting intimate, up close and personal, with that thing. Real raunchy. ...Is that a real gun you’re talking about? Or is it a vapor just like everything else in that fucked up little head of yours?”

The chemist straightened, and thought how to reply as he slowly wrung his hands in his lap.

“I... yes, and no. The gun is real, but the ammunition and its ability to fire them aren’t.” He stopped making eye contact. “It’s a Russian revolver I found, some vet’s war prize I guess. Takes 7.62′s, but fuck if you’ll ever likely put your hands on any. I can’t think of any regular issue American guns that use it, and the military only let vets have the weapon itself as a trophy--the ammo itself was considered contraband. I only really know the basics when it comes to actually breaking down and futzing with the mechanics of a firearm, but I suppose it’s... entirely plausible to make it work like my syringer rifle.”

Jared squinted at him, unsure whether ‘Choly was being an idiot.

“You can’t put darts in a pistol, revolver or not. Just the combustion in the chamber will destroy it.”

“The Nagant... is different. It’s a gas-seal revolver. It fires the ammo through air pressure, and relies only partly on combustion. I would imagine there’s a way to rig it to rely completely on a pneumatic mechanism. 7.62mm isn’t too far off from the ammo a syringer rifle uses, either.”

“Where is this... Nagant.”

‘Choly made a funny face and shook his head in a vague confusion. Suddenly, it didn’t feel like Jared was trying to confirm facts about a Jet journal.

“I have it stored someplace safe. What, why?”

“I’m very good with metalworking equipment, and very good with firearms. Been playing around with the assembly plant amenities for close to a year, and I grew up in Quincy. You’ve seen how good I am, from how we cooperated putting together the Jet rig. I could take a look at it. And I could probably make it happen. Give it ammo it can use. Make it proud again.”

‘Choly stiffened, recalling that Jared’s journals indicated he had access to Psycho--at least at one point--and he couldn’t imagine a worse outcome. But gradually, his judgment got the better of him and he nodded, then nodded eagerly.

“I’ll bring it tomorrow. So you can look at it.”

The moment the words came from him, he regretted it. And yet, Jared seemed more pleased with him than he’d ever been. With his help ‘Choly transferred over to the now unfolded wheelchair, and Jared escorted him down the mezzanine ramp to meet Angel.

“My stars you’ve gotten most filthy, Mister Carey!” Its tendrils flailed about in utmost concern before taking up the handles and motoring him along. “Shall I help you bathe upon arriving home? I scarce would think you could scrub all that away on your own.”

As they exited, Jared called out after him, “Melancholy! Don’t you forget your promise.”

He shot Jared an o-kay with one tired hand, not looking back.

“Angel, I... I think this warrants a dip in the river. We’ll stop at the pharmacy for the toiletries, I guess.”

“But Sir, you’ll be soaking wet all the way home. You haven’t come across a change of clothes. I should know. You deserve a freshening up.”

“I... have a change of clothes,” he began, almost reluctantly. “Don’t worry about that much. It’s in your storage compartment, actually.”

They fell silent the rest of the way back to the Lexington Walden, to limit any likelihood of stirring unwanted ghoul attention. On the way to their pit stop, all ‘Choly could wonder was whether Jared were more pleased with the journal entry, or with the promise of a new toy for his inhumane scheming... and he couldn’t help but wonder why he was so attentive to gain the favor of this abomination.

He’d given Melancholy everything he could have wanted. But at what price?

Go to Next »»»

[imaginexmarvel]

Loners Together [Logan/Daughter!OC, Potential Quicksilver or Kurt/OC]

I’VE BEEN ON THE HUGEST X-MEN KICK RECENTLY AND ABSOLUTELY LOVE THE IDEA OF LOGAN ADOPTING A FERAL MUTANT (LIKE HIMSELF) BEFORE HE FOUND THE MANSION or did the mansion find him??. SO, THIS IS THE PRODUCT OF THAT. TAKE IT AS YOU WILL.

INFO ON MY OC: HER PARENTS WERE NOT TOO ACCEPTING OF THEIR DAUGHTER’S ENLARGED AMBER EYES (LIKE A WOLF’S) AND POINTED EARS (A LITTLE BIGGER THAN KURT’S), AND EVENTUALLY SHE COULDN”T TAKE IT ANYMORE AND RAN AWAY. SHE LIVED NEAR CANADA, SO SHE LEFT THE U.S AND HAPPENED TO HITCH A RIDE IN LOGAN’S TRAILER. WHILE NOT TOO THRILLED ABOUT THE IDEA, LOGAN EVENTUALLY REALIZED SHE HAD NOWHERE ELSE TO GO AND LET HER STAY WITH HIM. 

HOPE YOU ENJOY!

~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER

Dad was the victor. Again. 

He cage-fought for money and to let out some steam. He’d been at this for about a week now, quickly earning the title of champion and staying there, pissing a lot of people off, but earning a decent amount of money.

I just hated it because I knew, sooner or later, someone was going to put two and two together and finally conclude that Dad’s a mutant. It’s bad enough I get stares because of my large amber eyes and constant bandana around my head to hide my wolf-esque ears, but Dad’s healing factor would be noticed eventually.

In fact, it’s nothing short of a miracle that he hasn’t been exposed yet.

=#=#=#=#=

The bar’s TV was reporting news about the upcoming summit, where mutants and our impact, among many other topics, would be discussed. Great. Can’t imagine what they’ll decide. Ugh.

I look around to find there was only one other patron in the bar as Dad orders a beer and a soda for me; a young woman that looked underage with a hooded coat and gloves on. She’s looking at us curiously, noting our attention to the screen as I sip my cola and Dad smokes a cigar. Just when I was about to strike up a conversation with the girl, two idiots decide to approach.

“Hey!” One of the men growls, tapping Dad’s shoulder as we sat waiting for our money to get counted and given to us.

“Have fun, Dad. Be right back.” I grumble and go to pick up his payments, dodging past the morons. Dad had earned that money. After all, it takes a lot of willpower for Dad to not use his claws in a fight, particularly when the idiots fighting him decide to go after his, ah, manhood, the one thing the manager of the fights warned each contender not to do.

“You owe me some money.” The guy’s growling as I pocket the money and head back. The slightly smarter thug tries to dissuade his companion, only to be ignored. “No man takes a beating like that without a mark to show for it.”

“He’s taken a lot worse than cage fights. He’s got tough skin, is all.” I growl. “Look, just go.”

“Yeah, man.” The other guy adds. “This isn’t gonna be worth it.”

“Exactly. You chose to get in that cage, seeing what Dad did to the other contenders, and you lost. And, I mean, come on, what’d you lose? Ten bucks?” I press, realizing a second too late that it was the wrong move.

“Try fifty, bit- -”

“That’s enough!” Dad snaps, suddenly standing. Shit. They’d insulted me. They were so in for the claws now. “You lost your money; keep this up, you lose a lot more.” Things get tense as we wait for the guy to make a move.

“I know what you two are.” The man growls. Dad bares his teeth, fists forming. I pale.

“Dad, stop. Let’s just go. This isn’t- -”

“Look out!” The girl screams.

“Dad, no!” I bark as the guy’s hand goes for a knife and swings toward me and Dad instantly responds with the claws, growling and pinning the guy to the nearest pillar with his arm. In the chaos, my bandanna has slipped enough to show that my ears weren’t normal. I adjust it back, but the damage was done.

“That is it!” Dad roars, the two side claws making sure the guy didn’t move his head as the middle one slowly extends. “You can insult me, threaten me, hell even hit me, but you swing a knife at my little girl, and you’re gonna pay!” The scene gets infinitely worse as the bartender cocks a shotgun, touching it to Dad’s ear.

“Get out of my bar, freaks.” He growls. I sigh.

“Look, we didn’t want trouble.” I muse.

“Well, you found it. Get out.” The bartender replies. I sigh again, gulping down the last of my cola. Just then, Dad slices through the shotgun and glares at the two men on either end of his claws before putting the claws away and taking my arm.

“Let’s go.” He growls. We walk out of the bar and head into our trailer. I groan as I close the door and fasten my seat belt.

“Well, least we got paid this time.” I note, counting up the nearly $300 Dad had made tonight. “This’ll get us somewhere far enough away, I think.” Dad sighs.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t just let them get away with treating you like that.” I nod.  “I know, just like you know I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can. I taught you how. I just…whenever something like that happens, I just…I lose it.” I smile. I knew he loved me, even though I was not his actual daughter.

“Least I know you care now.” I tease. “Remember when we first met? At the train station? Thought you hated me.”

Dad laughs. “Oh, yeah? Well, I did tell yah I was just grumpy because you hitched a ride in my trailer.”

“And ate your beef jerky.” I point out. I had just run away, sneaking aboard a train to Canada and then hitching a ride in some random guy’s trailer. Seemed homey enough and I was cold and hungry and tired. I’d just been kicked out of my house because my parents saw my eyes and ears. I was only 10 at the time, 9 years ago. It was a testament to our fondness of each other that how we met became such a recurring inside joke with us.

“And not to mention, kid, you tracked mud into the carpet.” I laugh, but Dad then frowns and sniffs the air, halting the trailer. I sniff a bit, too, hearing it and smelling it.

We had a stowaway. We get out and walk over, finding the tarp moving a little. I sigh as Dad pokes it and then I pull it back to reveal that girl from the bar. I frown.

“The hell are you doing?” Dad snaps.

“Sorry. I needed a ride.” She mumbles, sitting up. “Thought you might help me.”

“Sorry, but you shoulda picked someone else’s trailer, kid.” I reply, smirking. “We’re full.”

“Get out.” Dad adds. The girl deflates a little, but does as told.

“Listen, I am sorry, but we really don’t have room. We barely fit in the trailer as is.” I tell her.

“Well, where’m I supposed to go?” She asks and I swear she had a Southern accent. Just where had this girl come from?

“I dunno.” Dad replies tersely, watching the girl climb out of the bike trailer.

“You don’t know, or you don’t care?” She asks grumpily.

“Pick one.” Dad replies, equally as grumpy, dumping her duffel bag in the ground. We leave the girl there and get back in our trailer. I have to force myself not to look back, telling myself we really didn’t have room in the trailer.

We pull away, but not even a hundred yards down the road, we both deflate and groan, and Dad stops the trailer again. I roll down the window. “You comin?” I call. “We’ll drop you off somewhere, but you can’t stay with us.” She gets into the trailer in less than two minutes.

“Thank you.” She says, rubbing her arms and setting her duffel bag on the ground.

“Don’t mention it, but like I said, we’re just dropping you off somewhere. You know where yer going?” I ask. She shakes her head.

“Just…wandering.” I smirk.

“A runaway, huh? Or just a rebel?” She huffs.

“I…it’s complicated.” She sniffs. I nod.

“Ah. I see.” I reply. She deflates as her stomach growls softly.

“You don’t have anything to eat, do you?” I hand her beef jerky I’d hoped to eat myself in a few hours when we stop for gas. “Thanks.” She says and takes off her gloves to eat it.

“No problem. Name’s Autumn.”

“I’m Rogue.” She says. I nod.

“Nice to meet you.” She looks at Dad, expecting his name. Her eyes then catch his dog-tags curiously. I swallow. That was a bit of a touchy subject. I’d asked the same thing, repeatedly, and it wasn’t until we’d grown closer that he told me he couldn’t really remember serving, but clearly, he must have. Those dog-tags seem military-esque, at least. “Were you in the army?” She asks, and I swear I hear 10-year old me’s voice asking that same question. “Doesn’t- -doesn’t that mean you were in the army?” She asks. I sigh.

“It’s complicated, Rogue.” I explain as Dad tucks them away in his shirt. I sigh and sit on the couch-sofa convertible. Rogue’s eyes then take in all of the trailer.

“Wow.” She says.

“Like it?” I ask, smirking. She shrugs.

“Suddenly, my life doesn’t seem so bad.” She teases, smirking. Dad frowns.

“Hey, if you prefer the road- -” He grumbles, acting like he was going to pull over.

“No, no!” Rogue amends. “It looks great.” She swallows. “Looks cozy.” I roll my eyes.

“It is, but look, Rogue. I like you and all, but I already told you; we’re full as is. There is literally no room in here for you.”

“No, no, I wasn’t- -you think I- -I was just making an observation, is all.” She stammers awkwardly.

“Sure.” I muse, smirking. I then notice that Rogue’s rubbing her hands together, trying to warm them up as she continues eating the beef jerky. “Here.” I call, moving up to turn on the heater. “Put your hands on the heater.” I reach over to direct her hands, but she flinches away. I sigh, hanging my head. And we’d been getting along so well. “Look, neither of us are gonna hurt you, Rogue.” I point out. “I was just trying to help.”

“It’s really nothing personal.” Rogue explains. “It’s just…when someone touches my skin, something happens.” I tilt my head. Interesting.

“What happens?” I ask.

“I don’t know. They just get hurt.” Dad nods.

“Fair enough.” He replies. Rogue’s eyes follow Dad’s hand.

“You’re a mutant?” I ask before she can say anything about the claws. She nods.

“Are you?” I nod, taking off my bandana and letting my claws out a little.

“I am, but I don’t have any abilities beyond a healing factor, like Dad.” I reply, the claws going back in.

“You’re claws.” She begins, looking at Dad’s hands again. “When they come out, does it hurt?” Dad’s eyes darken a little.

“Every time.” He replies.

“We feel pain same as anyone else, really.” I add. “We just heal really fast.” A few beats of silence linger before Dad says anything else.

“So, what kind of a name is Rogue?” He asks. She shrugs.

“I don’t know. What kind of a name is ‘Wolverine’?”

“A made up one, obviously.” I grumble. This girl could sure be nosy. Then again, thought, I was, too. Dad smirks a little for a second.

“Easy, Autumn. My name’s Logan.” He says.

“Marie.” Rogue returns.

“If I have to make up a name, I usually go with Lupa.” I muse. Rogue smiles.

“I like that.”

“Thanks.” There’s another beat or two of silence as I sit back down on the couch.

“You know, you should really wear yer seat belt.” She muses. I chuckle.

“Look, I don’t need advice on auto sa- -” Suddenly, a tree trunk slams into the hood and the car comes to a sudden stop. I’m sent flying with Dad threw the windshield, but I only slide about ten feet. Dad goes about twenty to thirty. I groan and shakily sit up, popping my neck and spine back into place before standing.

“What was that about auto safety, Dad?” I ask wryly, standing as Dad does the same.

“Shut up, kid.” He growls, popping his own neck. “You okay?” I nod.

“Few cracked ribs, couple gashes, concussion, and whiplash. Nothing major.” I report. He nods.

“Kid, you alright?” Dad asks Marie, who’s watching dad and I’s cuts and gashes heal. “You alright?” He presses. She tugs the seatbelt.

“I’m stuck!” She calls back and we move to help her, stopping when we catch a weird scent in the air.

“Wait a second…” I mumble. “We’re not- -gah!” There’s someone suddenly tackling Dad, who crashes right into me and we all go tumbling into a pile, me on the bottom. “Well, those ribs are broken now.” I wheeze, trying to get the two bodies off me. The guy stands and throws Dad like a sack of flour into the snowbank, Dad’s back hitting a small tree as he goes flying. I extend my claws and slash at the guy’s face, but it does nothing. He heals almost as fast as Dad and I would as he grabs me by the throat. Dad charges him, but he just throws me at Dad then whacks us over the head with the tree Dad had broken. I land under Dad and this time, I black out from the pain of both my dad landing full-force on me and my head being sandwiched between Dad’s head and the corner of the roof of the trailer.

I remember smelling smoke as I went out, but that was it.

LEMME KNOW IF Y’ALL WANT MORE!!!

[marblesarelost]

Some Things You Have To Work For (don’t give up on the Dream)

(Author’s note: I honestly had no idea that changing my Tumblr name would make this disappear.  My humblest apologies.)

(Author’s Note: I love soulmate tropes. In this universe, there are two types of soulmates: platonic and romantic.  Platonic soulmates’ words are written in silver on one’s skin once activated. Romantic soulmates have golden words, once said.  This will be a serial, updated on the last week of the month.  Hope you enjoy!)

 The only sound  for miles around was that of the night birds and bugs, and Kurt’s soft humming as he did the supper dishes.  Logan settled a little better into his lawn chair, fishing pole in hand, beer between his legs.  Yep.  Things were good.

“Is this what you always do?”  Nightcrawler called through the screen door.  “When you go off on your rambles?”

“Not always,” Logan admitted after a minute.  “I like this best, though.”

“Ja.  I can see why.  It is beautiful here,” Kurt replied softly.  

“Peaceful.  It helps with…things.”  Logan shrugged, sitting up a little; the slouch was starting to hurt his back.  “Mind bringin’ me a fresh beer when you come back out?”

“Almost done,” came the promise, and Logan settled back again for a second before a new scent crossed his nostrils, bringing him up and out of the lawn chair in an instant, a low growl rising in his throat.

“Logan?”  He heard Nightcrawler say, but he didn’t respond, holding his hand up instead in the team sign for wait, quiet.  He sniffed again, tested the wind, judged the angles, then gave the sign for come, quiet, trusting that Kurt would sneak instead of teleport, since there wasn’t a way to dampen the noise.  A minute later, he felt the give of the dock behind him.

“Somebody’s down the shore,” Logan said quietly.  “I can smell their adrenaline, they’re trying to work themselves up into something, but they’re scared.  They’re real scared.”

“So you would frighten them more by having me come outside?”  Kurt whispered.

“You only look scary, Elf. You got a better way with folks than I do,” Logan replied.  “Come with me an’ do the talkin’.”

“Mein Gott.  How do I let you talk me into such things?”  Kurt grumbled, but he followed Logan down off the dock onto the path beside the lake, both of them well able to see in the dark.  They moved quickly and quietly, Logan leading them up into the patch of underbrush and Kurt careful to put his feet precisely where Logan had as they went.  Logan held up his hand again, and crept forward, a little further, little further…

The girl leapt at Logan like a wild thing, fists flying, kicking, biting, but the old brawler whirled her around, picking her up and holding her as she writhed and struggled. "Calm down, little bit, we ain’t gonna hurt ya,” Logan said, before that telltale sound rang through the forest.  

SNIKT.

“Logan, no!”  Kurt shouted, bursting through the underbrush as Logan dropped the girl, blocking -- “Mein GOTT!”  

Two blades gleamed in the half-moon’s light, swinging wildly at Logan, whose own claws rose to block hers. She stopped then, backing away, looking at Logan with a face neither man could read.  “Shiny, sharp,” she muttered.  “Shiny sharp.”

“Oh, hell,” Logan said, and dropped to a knee.  “No. No, I won’t kill another. No.”  He retracted his claws, watching the girl.  “Hey.  Hey there.”

“Hey,” she repeated. Kurt got a good look at her then; her cheekbones were  sharply accented, her cheeks sunken.  Her shirt was at least three sizes too large, and she held the waistband of the pants she wore tightly, the pant legs raggedly cut, and she was barefoot.  She was at least a teenager, he thought, but he wasn’t precisely sure.

“Hey.  You got -- you got writing on you, honey?  Words?  Written words?”  Logan asked softly.  “Can you tell me your name?”

“Words?”  She said, and Logan nodded, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on her.  

“Yeah.  Words.  Writing.” He reached down with one hand, tugged his shirt up over his belly, exposing the silver words written there. “See?  Like this?”  The girl dropped to her knees, crawling forward slowly, looking up at Logan with wary eyes every other second.  “I won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt me, baby girl,” he rumbled.  Tentatively, the girl reached out with one finger, tracing the words on his skin.  “You know what it says?  Can you read?”  She shook her head, sitting back on her haunches.  “It says, shiny, sharp, shiny, sharp,” Logan told her.  “Your first words to me.  Do you have words?”  In answer, she tugged up her left pant leg, showing Logan’s scrawling handwriting winding around her leg.  “Yep. Those are my first words to you. Silver, like mine,” he said. “Means we’re gonna be real good friends. You know what friends are?”

“Friends,” she repeated, still sitting there in a pistol squat position.  “Friends.  Not hurt.”

“Yep,” Logan agreed. “Can you tell me your name, little bit?”

“Name?”  She cocked her head to the left.

“What do people call you? I’m Logan,” he said, pressing one hand to his chest.  “Logan.”

“Not doctor.”

“No, baby,” Logan agreed, his lips curling back from his teeth in a feral snarl.  “No doctors.”

“Doctor talk.  Doctor talk, X-23 successful.  X-23 weapon.  Doctor talk X-23.”

“The doctors called you X-23?”  Logan asked in a low growl.  “They didn’t even give you a goddamn name?”

“X-23.”

“You ain’t a number. You’re a person,” Logan snarled. “Did you run?  From the doctor?”  She nodded fiercely.  “Did you get’em, baby girl?  Did you make’em bleed?”  A snarl to match his own crawled across her face as she nodded again.  “Oh, good job, dolly.”  Logan swallowed.  “Okay. So.  You want somethin’ to eat?”  

“Yes…” her voice trailed off as she looked to the side.  “Please?” She added uncertainly.

“Yep.  Come here, I’ll carry ya over these rocks, some of’em are sharp as hell.  You like fish?”

“Fish?”

“Swimmies.”  Logan pointed to the lake, made a side to side motion with his hand, and she smiled.  

“Swimmies, fish. Yes.”

“Okay.  Come here,” he held out his arms.  “Promise, we’ll get you some fish, let you take a bath with bubbles, get you some clean clothes, you can sleep in a nice soft bed.” Slowly, she crept forward, and Logan picked her up like a princess, leaving her hands free.  “Jesus, you’re too skinny, dolly.”  He turned to where Kurt stood at the edge of the forest. “Go get Chuck, Elf.  I think we’re gonna need him.”

“Jawohl,” Kurt agreed. “I think you are right.  Take her to the cabin, I do not wish to startle her with the noise and smell.”

“Good plan.  Come on, dollface.  Let’s get some food.  You like chocolate?  I think I got some Oreos, too,” Logan said, and began to make his way down the lake shore back to the cabin, its lights gleaming in the dark.  Kurt waited until he heard the screen door slam, then

BAMF!

Jumped

BAMF!

Back to

BAMF!

The mansion, appearing in Professor X’s study.  “Charles, there is -- we need you,” he said quickly to the man behind the desk.

“What is it, Kurt?” Charles asked.  “Should we rally the team?”

“No.  No, just you, look,” Kurt offered, and felt the slight tingle as Charles Xavier touched his mind telepathically.

“Oh my God,” the older man said softly.  “They did it again.”

“I think so.  And this time, they have made the gravest of mistakes; she is his soulmate, platonic, but --“

“Yes, I see.  Well, if you wouldn’t mind, Kurt?”  Charles asked with a wry, small smile, wheeling himself out from around his desk.  With a nod, Kurt picked up the older man from the chair, and

BAMF!

Jumped again

BAMF!

Back to

BAMF!

The cabin in Saskatchewan, arriving beside the lake.  “I would have jumped into the cabin, but I am afraid I will frighten her, the noise,” Kurt offered as he made his way up the shoreline path to the house.

“A very good idea. Yes, I can feel her.  She is…oh, the poor child,” Charles said softly as the back door opened, Logan stepping out.

“I’m fuckin’ glad ta see ya, Chuck,” Logan said, his eyes wet.  “I don’t…she’s…”

“Feral, or nearly so,” Charles agreed.  “I’m already picking up on her fear, and her pleasure?  She’s eating?”

“Fish, we had lots left over from dinner.  Won’t touch the goddamn green beans,” Logan said, a tiny grin pulling at his whiskered face.  “The hell did they do, Chuck?”

“I’m not sure yet, Logan, but I have a bad feeling,” Charles admitted as Kurt carried him in through the open door.  “Easy; easy, child,” Charles said as the girl looked up from the table, and in the light…

“Gott im Himmel,” Kurt murmured, taking Charles to the couch at his gesture.  She was filthy, long brown hair matted against her back, and she was desperately thin.  Logan hadn’t even tried giving her silverware, her plate containing half a piece of fish yet and a handful of fried potatoes, one slice still between her fingers, hovering over a puddle of catsup as she watched them come in, scowling.

“It’s easier here than to try to sit up at the table.  Thank you, Kurt.”  Charles sat up, staring at the young stranger, who stared back, one claw popped in defense for a long moment before it slid back into her fist, much -- no, exactly like Logan’s.  She looked around, then back at Charles, shook her head, put her fingers in her ears, took them out again.

“Most of her memories seem to be of a facility of sorts,” Charles murmured.  “White coats.  Metal tables. A collar around her throat, shackles on her feet.  She has claws on her feet, as well.  I’ll have to have Jean or Moira look at her to be sure, but I think she’s about sixteen. Perhaps a bit older.  She has no name.”  He winced suddenly, and shook his head before looking up at Logan.  “Happy Father’s Day, Logan.  She’s yours, or at least, a clone.  There are memories of men talking about the original Weapon X…and what she will be capable of, since she has been created and treated differently.”

Logan’s jaw worked for a moment before he gave a sharp nod.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I figured when I seen her claws.  And our scents are real similar.”

“Well.  And you’re soulmates, Kurt said.”

“Yep.”  Logan crossed his arms over his barrel chest.  “You find’em, Chuck.  You find’em.”

“You will not go on a suicide mission, Logan, no matter how good you think your reasons are,” Charles warned him.  “She seems to be highly intelligent; she planned her escape, and she’s been living on her own, scavenging, for at least a year.  I find two different sets of winter memories.”

“Jesus, tryin’ to make it on her own in the winter -- up here?”

“I’m not sure, though there is a great deal of snow.  The facility was, I believe, in the desert somewhere.  She escaped during a transfer.  It was…a common routine, that they would transfer her from one place to another, but she was always returned to the desert.”  

“Course she’s smart. She’s mine.”  Logan puffed up, the epitome of a proud papa, and Kurt burst into laughter, drawing the girl’s attention.

“Lo-gan.  Who?”  She pointed at Kurt, then Charles.  “Friend?”

“Friends, lil’ bit, even if one of’em’s a pain in the ass Elf,” Logan agreed, taking a seat at the table. “That’s Charles,” he pointed. “That’s Kurt.”

“Hello,” Charles said kindly, leaning forward as best he could.  “I’m very sorry to just poke around in your head without so much as a greeting, but we need to know what’s happened to you.  Tell me, would you like for us to give you a name?”

“No number, person. Lo-gan say,” she insisted, reaching and finding Logan’s big hand.

“No.  You are not a number.  You are a person, with a person’s rights.  Let’s see.  I will suggest names, and you tell me if you like them, hmm?”  He asked, and she nodded.  “Excellent.  Jane?” She shook her head. “Hannah.”  She wrinkled her nose.  “Maggie?  Megan? Laura?”  She nodded at the last.  “Laura?  You like that?”

“Yes.  Laura.  My name Laura.”

“It’s the first syllable,” Charles said, smiling.  “It sounds like --“

“Fuck,” Logan, said, shaking his head.  “Yep. I get it.”

“Yes.  You’re like her, and she recognizes that, and you’ve made her feel safe.  I don’t think she’s ever felt safe.”  Charles’ voice and face took a sympathetic tone.  “Poor child.”

“She’s safe now,” Logan growled.  

“So she is.  But she is not safe, herself, to bring to the school. She needs to be…gently acclimated to society.  Taught how to behave around others.  She is rather feral.”  Charles turned his attention to Kurt.  “Kurt. Would you be willing to stay here and help?  I may need to ask you to come and go between the mansion and here, bringing Moira or Jean out to help with checking her over, et cetera.”

“I would be glad to help,” Kurt agreed.  

“Good.  I’ll begin making arrangements in the morning. Would you mind taking me home for now? It’s very late in New York.”

“Not at all.”

  When Kurt returned, he found Logan on the porch, beer in one hand, cigar in the other.  “Where is Laura?”

“Sleepin’.”  Logan took a long drink.  “I’m gonna find the bastards who did this.”

“I know you are,” Kurt agreed, crouching on the porch rail, wrapping his tail around it for balance. “And I will go with you.  Mein Gott.”

“Nope.  You’re gonna stay behind an’ make sure she’s okay,” Logan said, looking up at him from his chair.  “Done told her, Uncle Kurt, he’s an annoying brat, but he’s a good man.”

“Too kind,” Kurt chuckled. “How long do you think it will take to…” he searched for words, and Logan spoke up.

“Tame her? Dunno.  But she’s smart as hell.  Asked why you carried Chuck.  Why you’re blue, except she didn’t say blue.  She don’t even know colors, Kurt.”

“Then what did she say?”

“Asked why you were night sky man,” Logan said with a fond grin.  “An’ why yer fingers an’ toes are different.”

“It will be like having a larger, smarter, easily angered toddler,” Kurt sighed.  “But I am used to being around you, so it will not be so hard.”

“Ass,” Logan said, shaking his head and grinning.  “We gotta do somethin’ ‘bout her hair, that’s a mess.”

“Yes.  It might be easier to cut it very short, to begin with.”

“I was thinkin’ the same thing.  But all that’s for tomorra, I reckon.”  Logan sighed. “Fuck.  I’m a daddy.”

“So you are,” Kurt agreed softly.  “And you missed the diapers, yes?  She is toilet trained?”

“Yep.  Reckon they had one in her fuckin’ cell.”

“So.  You are a daddy.  And you will have the luxury of teaching her all the things about the world, Logan.  Think of it that way,” Kurt offered.  

“I don’t…” Logan looked down at his beer bottle.  “I don’t know if I can, Elf.  I ain’t exactly role model material.”

“Kitty and Jubilation would both disagree with that,” Kurt replied.  “And you know I am right.”

“Yeah, but --“ Logan began, and Kurt jumped down from the porch rail, coming to stand beside his friend, laying his hand on the bulkier man’s shoulder gently.

“Nein.  You are not alone in this; I am here, and I will help you. And we can and will get help from the others, as well.  She is no longer alone.  She has a family.  You have a family.  We will raise her properly and well, Logan, I know we will.”

“Yeah, well.  Say a couple prayers, if’n you would.  Who’s the patron saint of daddies?”

“Saint Joseph,” Kurt responded automatically.  “And I will.”

“Okay.”  Logan nodded with a sigh.  “Okay.  You’re right. We’ll…we’ll raise her right. Teach her how ta not just gut whoever pisses her off.”

“How to read, and write.”

“How ta track and hunt an’ fish.”

“How to draw?  Do you think we should get crayons?”

“How to lay a trap.”

“How to use silverware.”

“Hell.  We got a lot o’work ta do, Elf.”  Logan shook his head.  “Ain’t gonna be easy.”

“No.  But things that are worth having, are worth work.  And I can already tell that Laura will be worth it.” Kurt squeezed Logan’s shoulder. “You were.”

 Next month:  Laura’s first birthday party, and more soulmate shenanigans.

STAY TUNED, TRUE BELIEVERS!

[the-lupine-sojourner]

Stronger Together [LoganxDaughter!OC, potential Quicksilver or Kurt/OC]

I’VE BEEN ON THE HUGEST X-MEN KICK RECENTLY AND ABSOLUTELY LOVE THE IDEA OF LOGAN ADOPTING A FERAL MUTANT (LIKE HIMSELF) BEFORE HE FOUND THE MANSION or did the mansion find him??. SO, THIS IS THE PRODUCT OF THAT. TAKE IT AS YOU WILL.

INFO ON MY OC: HER PARENTS WERE NOT TOO ACCEPTING OF THEIR DAUGHTER’S ENLARGED AMBER EYES (LIKE A WOLF’S) AND POINTED EARS (A LITTLE BIGGER THAN KURT’S), AND EVENTUALLY SHE COULDN”T TAKE IT ANYMORE AND RAN AWAY. SHE LIVED NEAR CANADA, SO SHE LEFT THE U.S AND HAPPENED TO HITCH A RIDE IN LOGAN’S TRAILER. WHILE NOT TOO THRILLED ABOUT THE IDEA, LOGAN EVENTUALLY REALIZED SHE HAD NOWHERE ELSE TO GO AND LET HER STAY WITH HIM. 

HOPE YOU ENJOY!

~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER

Dad was the victor. Again. 

He cage-fought for money and to let out some steam. He’d been at this for about a week now, quickly earning the title of champion and staying there, pissing a lot of people off, but earning a decent amount of money.

I just hated it because I knew, sooner or later, someone was going to put two and two together and finally conclude that Dad’s a mutant. It’s bad enough I get stares because of my large amber eyes and constant bandana around my head to hide my wolf-esque ears, but Dad’s healing factor would be noticed eventually.

In fact, it’s nothing short of a miracle that he hasn’t been exposed yet.

=#=#=#=#=

The bar’s TV was reporting news about the upcoming summit, where mutants and our impact, among many other topics, would be discussed. Great. Can’t imagine what they’ll decide. Ugh.

I look around to find there was only one other patron in the bar as Dad orders a beer and a soda for me; a young woman that looked underage with a hooded coat and gloves on. She’s looking at us curiously, noting our attention to the screen as I sip my cola and Dad smokes a cigar. Just when I was about to strike up a conversation with the girl, two idiots decide to approach.

“Hey!” One of the men growls, tapping Dad’s shoulder as we sat waiting for our money to get counted and given to us.

“Have fun, Dad. Be right back.” I grumble and go to pick up his payments, dodging past the morons. Dad had earned that money. After all, it takes a lot of willpower for Dad to not use his claws in a fight, particularly when the idiots fighting him decide to go after his, ah, manhood, the one thing the manager of the fights warned each contender not to do.

“You owe me some money.” The guy’s growling as I pocket the money and head back. The slightly smarter thug tries to dissuade his companion, only to be ignored. “No man takes a beating like that without a mark to show for it.”

“He’s taken a lot worse than cage fights. He’s got tough skin, is all.” I growl. “Look, just go.”

“Yeah, man.” The other guy adds. “This isn’t gonna be worth it.”

“Exactly. You chose to get in that cage, seeing what Dad did to the other contenders, and you lost. And, I mean, come on, what’d you lose? Ten bucks?” I press, realizing a second too late that it was the wrong move.

“Try fifty, bit- -”

“That’s enough!” Dad snaps, suddenly standing. Shit. They’d insulted me. They were so in for the claws now. “You lost your money; keep this up, you lose a lot more.” Things get tense as we wait for the guy to make a move.

“I know what you two are.” The man growls. Dad bares his teeth, fists forming. I pale.

“Dad, stop. Let’s just go. This isn’t- -”

“Look out!” The girl screams.

“Dad, no!” I bark as the guy’s hand goes for a knife and swings toward me and Dad instantly responds with the claws, growling and pinning the guy to the nearest pillar with his arm. In the chaos, my bandanna has slipped enough to show that my ears weren’t normal. I adjust it back, but the damage was done.

“That is it!” Dad roars, the two side claws making sure the guy didn’t move his head as the middle one slowly extends. “You can insult me, threaten me, hell even hit me, but you swing a knife at my little girl, and you’re gonna pay!” The scene gets infinitely worse as the bartender cocks a shotgun, touching it to Dad’s ear.

“Get out of my bar, freaks.” He growls. I sigh.

“Look, we didn’t want trouble.” I muse.

“Well, you found it. Get out.” The bartender replies. I sigh again, gulping down the last of my cola. Just then, Dad slices through the shotgun and glares at the two men on either end of his claws before putting the claws away and taking my arm.

“Let’s go.” He growls. We walk out of the bar and head into our trailer. I groan as I close the door and fasten my seat belt.

“Well, least we got paid this time.” I note, counting up the nearly $300 Dad had made tonight. “This’ll get us somewhere far enough away, I think.” Dad sighs.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t just let them get away with treating you like that.” I nod. “I know, just like you know I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can. I taught you how. I just...whenever something like that happens, I just...I lose it.” I smile. I knew he loved me, even though I was not his actual daughter.

“Least I know you care now.” I tease. “Remember when we first met? At the train station? Thought you hated me.”

Dad laughs. “Oh, yeah? Well, I did tell yah I was just grumpy because you hitched a ride in my trailer.”

“And ate your beef jerky.” I point out. I had just run away, sneaking aboard a train to Canada and then hitching a ride in some random guy’s trailer. Seemed homey enough and I was cold and hungry and tired. I’d just been kicked out of my house because my parents saw my eyes and ears. I was only 10 at the time, 9 years ago. It was a testament to our fondness of each other that how we met became such a recurring inside joke with us.

“And not to mention, kid, you tracked mud into the carpet.” I laugh, but Dad then frowns and sniffs the air, halting the trailer. I sniff a bit, too, hearing it and smelling it.

We had a stowaway. We get out and walk over, finding the tarp moving a little. I sigh as Dad pokes it and then I pull it back to reveal that girl from the bar. I frown.

“The hell are you doing?” Dad snaps.

“Sorry. I needed a ride.” She mumbles, sitting up. “Thought you might help me.”

“Sorry, but you shoulda picked someone else’s trailer, kid.” I reply, smirking. “We’re full.”

“Get out.” Dad adds. The girl deflates a little, but does as told.

“Listen, I am sorry, but we really don’t have room. We barely fit in the trailer as is.” I tell her.

“Well, where’m I supposed to go?” She asks and I swear she had a Southern accent. Just where had this girl come from?

“I dunno.” Dad replies tersely, watching the girl climb out of the bike trailer.

“You don’t know, or you don’t care?” She asks grumpily.

“Pick one.” Dad replies, equally as grumpy, dumping her duffel bag in the ground. We leave the girl there and get back in our trailer. I have to force myself not to look back, telling myself we really didn’t have room in the trailer.

We pull away, but not even a hundred yards down the road, we both deflate and groan, and Dad stops the trailer again. I roll down the window. “You comin?” I call. “We’ll drop you off somewhere, but you can’t stay with us.” She gets into the trailer in less than two minutes.

“Thank you.” She says, rubbing her arms and setting her duffel bag on the ground.

“Don’t mention it, but like I said, we’re just dropping you off somewhere. You know where yer going?” I ask. She shakes her head.

“Just...wandering.” I smirk.

“A runaway, huh? Or just a rebel?” She huffs.

“I...it’s complicated.” She sniffs. I nod.

“Ah. I see.” I reply. She deflates as her stomach growls softly.

“You don’t have anything to eat, do you?” I hand her beef jerky I’d hoped to eat myself in a few hours when we stop for gas. “Thanks.” She says and takes off her gloves to eat it.

“No problem. Name’s Autumn.”

“I’m Rogue.” She says. I nod.

“Nice to meet you.” She looks at Dad, expecting his name. Her eyes then catch his dog-tags curiously. I swallow. That was a bit of a touchy subject. I’d asked the same thing, repeatedly, and it wasn’t until we’d grown closer that he told me he couldn’t really remember serving, but clearly, he must have. Those dog-tags seem military-esque, at least. “Were you in the army?” She asks, and I swear I hear 10-year old me’s voice asking that same question. “Doesn’t- -doesn’t that mean you were in the army?” She asks. I sigh.

“It’s complicated, Rogue.” I explain as Dad tucks them away in his shirt. I sigh and sit on the couch-sofa convertible. Rogue’s eyes then take in all of the trailer.

“Wow.” She says.

“Like it?” I ask, smirking. She shrugs.

“Suddenly, my life doesn’t seem so bad.” She teases, smirking. Dad frowns.

“Hey, if you prefer the road- -” He grumbles, acting like he was going to pull over.

“No, no!” Rogue amends. “It looks great.” She swallows. “Looks cozy.” I roll my eyes.

“It is, but look, Rogue. I like you and all, but I already told you; we’re full as is. There is literally no room in here for you.”

“No, no, I wasn’t- -you think I- -I was just making an observation, is all.” She stammers awkwardly.

“Sure.” I muse, smirking. I then notice that Rogue’s rubbing her hands together, trying to warm them up as she continues eating the beef jerky. “Here.” I call, moving up to turn on the heater. “Put your hands on the heater.” I reach over to direct her hands, but she flinches away. I sigh, hanging my head. And we’d been getting along so well. “Look, neither of us are gonna hurt you, Rogue.” I point out. “I was just trying to help.”

“It’s really nothing personal.” Rogue explains. “It’s just...when someone touches my skin, something happens.” I tilt my head. Interesting.

“What happens?” I ask.

“I don’t know. They just get hurt.” Dad nods.

“Fair enough.” He replies. Rogue’s eyes follow Dad’s hand.

“You’re a mutant?” I ask before she can say anything about the claws. She nods.

“Are you?” I nod, taking off my bandana and letting my claws out a little.

“I am, but I don’t have any abilities beyond a healing factor, like Dad.” I reply, the claws going back in.

“You’re claws.” She begins, looking at Dad’s hands again. “When they come out, does it hurt?” Dad’s eyes darken a little.

“Every time.” He replies.

“We feel pain same as anyone else, really.” I add. “We just heal really fast.” A few beats of silence linger before Dad says anything else.

“So, what kind of a name is Rogue?” He asks. She shrugs.

“I don’t know. What kind of a name is ‘Wolverine’?”

“A made up one, obviously.” I grumble. This girl could sure be nosy. Then again, thought, I was, too. Dad smirks a little for a second.

“Easy, Autumn. My name’s Logan.” He says.

“Marie.” Rogue returns.

“If I have to make up a name, I usually go with Lupa.” I muse. Rogue smiles.

“I like that.”

“Thanks.” There’s another beat or two of silence as I sit back down on the couch.

“You know, you should really wear yer seat belt.” She muses. I chuckle.

“Look, I don’t need advice on auto sa- -” Suddenly, a tree trunk slams into the hood and the car comes to a sudden stop. I’m sent flying with Dad threw the windshield, but I only slide about ten feet. Dad goes about twenty to thirty. I groan and shakily sit up, popping my neck and spine back into place before standing.

“What was that about auto safety, Dad?” I ask wryly, standing as Dad does the same.

“Shut up, kid.” He growls, popping his own neck. “You okay?” I nod.

“Few cracked ribs, couple gashes, concussion, and whiplash. Nothing major.” I report. He nods.

“Kid, you alright?” Dad asks Marie, who’s watching dad and I’s cuts and gashes heal. “You alright?” He presses. She tugs the seatbelt.

“I’m stuck!” She calls back and we move to help her, stopping when we catch a weird scent in the air.

“Wait a second…” I mumble. “We’re not- -gah!” There’s someone suddenly tackling Dad, who crashes right into me and we all go tumbling into a pile, me on the bottom. “Well, those ribs are broken now.” I wheeze, trying to get the two bodies off me. The guy stands and throws Dad like a sack of flour into the snowbank, Dad’s back hitting a small tree as he goes flying. I extend my claws and slash at the guy’s face, but it does nothing. He heals almost as fast as Dad and I would as he grabs me by the throat. Dad charges him, but he just throws me at Dad then whacks us over the head with the tree Dad had broken. I land under Dad and this time, I black out from the pain of both my dad landing full-force on me and my head being sandwiched between Dad’s head and the corner of the roof of the trailer.

I remember smelling smoke as I went out, but that was it.

LEMME KNOW IF Y’ALL WANT MORE!!!

[kokos-story]

Sports Festival: The final fight

Yamada Hanako sat on a locker room bench, meticulously wrapping her MMA wraps around her hands and wrists. She was glad she had the foresight to request fireproof hands wraps as an allowed tool, despite the committee's initial confusion. "I wanted my bo staff, too, but noooo." She muttered sarcastically. " 'That is a weapon, Miss Yamada, you could seriously injure someone!' " She quoted bitterly, lifting her finger as the snobbish head of the committee had done.  Her hand dropped back into her lap and she gave a huff of annoyance. "But the living flamethrower I'm up against is perfectly safe." She added, resuming her task of wrapping her hands, letting her mind focus on her upcoming fight.

It felt like only a heartbeat later when a knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts. Not looking at the poor soul who was sent to fetch her, she stood.

"Yamada-san, they're ready." Said the girl, who was holding the door for her. Hanako nodded, took a breath, and followed her to the match that would decide her fate here at UA.

Hanako could hear the muted roar of the stadium she was under as she made her way to her assigned entrance. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath before opening them, running out onto the field when told. The once muted noise suddenly grew without the protection of concrete and she spared a brief glance at the Jumbotron overhead, whose feed was panning over the excited crowd. The sudden boom of Present Mic's voice forced her to focus on what was ahead of her.

"AAAALLL RIGHT LISTENERS! The moment you've been waiting for! The best of the newest batch of our future protectors are finally going toe to toe. Who will come out on top?" He said, leaning forward in his seat, "Will it be the dragon that's been draggin' everyone down? Here he comes, the powerhouse of the Heroics Course, Class 1-A's very own: Kanna Tatsuo!" The aforementioned teen flew onto the battle area, landing with his leathery wings flared behind him. He grinned cockily and riled up the crowd some more, a scaled fist in the air.

"Or will it be the fleet-footed fighter who has yet to use her Quirk? Here she is, the mystery girl of General Education, Class 1-C's surprise contender: Yamada Hanako!" The girl stepped onto the field, giving one last look of determination at the camera, which was now displaying her face on the screen.

She looked back at the boy in front of her, slightly narrowing her eyes now that she had a brief chance to study him. He held himself in a deceptively casual stance, but her well-trained eyes saw the ripple of muscles preparing to fight and the smirk of a boy who thought he knew how to win.

Tch, he's only fought with people who abide by the same rules as him. She thought, subtly shifting into a balanced, defensive pose. He doesn't know the free for all that comes with street fighting.

"BEGIN!" Yelled Midnight with a crack of her whip, with Kanna immediately leaping at her with a snarl, claws out to snatch up the girl that was right in front of him.

Only, she wasn't there.

Yamada sprang to the side, rolling with her momentum and turning to face him, a teasing smile on her face.

"Is that your special move? Battering Ram?" She called mockingly, receiving a snarl and a jet of flames in reply, which she smoothly dodged.

"Goodness me! What kind of halitosis caused that?!" She exclaimed, fanning in front of her nose. "Because whew! I think you should see a doctor about that!" She quipped, smirking as she neatly performed a back handspring out of his path, followed by a pivot away from another punch. "What's wrong, Big Boy? Do you need me to paint a target on myself?" She asked, eyes wide with false innocence. "Because all you'd have to do is ask! There's no shame in needing help!" She added, smiling sweetly.

" Why don't you use your damn Quirk?" He snarled, wings flaring.  

"Well, it's much easier to dodge when all you're doing is running at me and acting like Puff the Magic Dragon! Why waste my energy?" She explained.

He growled and crouched, preparing to take flight. "Well, let's see how easy you find it to dodge aerial attacks, you Quirkless freak!" He snapped, shooting into the air and chasing her with a long-range spout of flames from his mouth.

She dodged skillfully, waiting for a break in the flames that pursued her. However, one dodge happened a bit too slow, and the flame caught her on the arm. "Hey! I really liked that sleeve in particular!" Yamada pouted, glaring up at him.

"Then fight me! Or do you not have a quirk?" He taunted. "Why else would you keep dodging?" He asked, resuming his onslaught.

"Because," She said, backflipping out of the way. "Not using a quirk doesn't mean I don't have one!" She explained, pivoting out of the way of another burst. "It just means" She added crouching to prep her leap as he paused his fire to take a breath. "I don't solely rely on it!" She yelled, leaping high in the air as he spat out more flames. The spectators seemed to be holding their breath, waiting to see what she would do. She grinned as she started her descent back to the ground, relishing in the shocked gasps of the crowd as she unfurled her wings and rode the thermals created by the heat.  

"Incredible!" Yelled Present Mic, throwing his hands in the air as the girl soared up to meet the dragon mutant. "Not only has she finally revealed her quirk and shocked everyone, she's throwing him off by being his first rival with a flying Quirk! What a twist, ladies and gentlemen!" He cheered, excited by the turn of events.

The teens faced each other as they hovered in the air, silent as they waited for the other to make the first move. Suddenly, Kanna blew a burst of flames at the now airborne girl, who had no time to dodge and caught a face full of flames.

"Rewind!" She coughed out, unheard through the roar of the flames, and everything reversed to the moment before he struck. This time, she took that second to tuck in her wings, dropping like a stone as the flames shot over her head, the radiating heat still burning her skin and the fire singeing the tips of her hair.

"Amazing reflexes from Yamada! If I didn't know better, I'd say she had a foresight quirk!" Commented Present Mic, turning to Eraserhead. "What do you think of her, Eraserhead?"

"Well, though rare, some mutant quirks have a weaker, secondary quirk that presents itself at the time most kids show their quirk," Eraserhead commented casually. "Even rarer is there being a powerful secondary quirk, so I'd say it's always a possibility." He finished, now focusing on the puzzling girl who had managed to get this far into the fight without throwing a single punch.

Back on the field, Yamada kept dodging, until Kanna managed to successfully feint a punch and catch her in the side with a vicious punch, causing a resounding crack to be heard as he connected with her ribs. She dropped lower in surprise, brushing off the pain, but looked up too late as she saw his feet coming at her. Almost too quick for the naked eye, he shoved his feet into her sternum and kicked down, sending her hurtling back to the ground, the force making a crater when she made contact. The dust billowed up around her, obscuring her from view. Kanna didn't stop there, letting out a swirling vortex of fire that he aimed at the crater, the entire stadium watching in mute horror.

Yamada knew she couldn't rewind again when she felt another crack in her ribs and a snap in her right forearm as she made contact with the ground. My injuries are too severe to be fixed in that little time, they'd ask too many questions. She thought with a grimace, closing her eyes against the grit that swirled around her. The sudden roar of flames above her made her throw up her arms and turn her head away, protecting her torso and face. The flames burned through her shoes and pants, burning most of arms and legs.

After what felt like an eternity the flames stopped and she stood on painfully blistered and burned feet. There was an almost feral look in her eyes as she waited for the smoke to clear.  

Kanna landed a small distance away from the crater and waited for the smoke to clear so he could be declared the winner, an almost manic grin on his face as he began to taunt her. " You aren't so strong now, are ya? You idiot Gen. Ed piece of trash! You're gonna wish you had never tried to join the Hero Class. You'll NEVER become a hero!" He yelled, snarling the last bit. His next words died on his lips as he heard a dark chuckle coming from the crater. The dragon-winged teen's eyes widened in fear as the last of the smoke cleared to reveal Yamada in nothing but her gym uniform top, the arms burned off, and the spandex she had been wearing under her pants. The spectators could see through the fresh burns the plentiful scars that patterned the entirety of both legs, leaving them to wonder what caused them.

" How is she still standing?" Murmured Aizawa, eyebrows furrowing with concern. "Even without the burns, she has multiple broken bones for sure. What has she been through that makes it so easy for her to brush off such serious injuries?" He wondered.

The burned girl smiled darkly. "You'll regret saying that." She growled, shifting to spring into action.

She took a breath.

And when she leaped at him, it was like the world stood still.

To all those who watched, the girl became a blur, hitting the boy from every angle. All he could try to do was block the endless onslaught of attacks. He was suddenly swept off his feet by a leg kicking them out from under him and he fell. She stood over him, bare foot on his chest, smiling sweetly down at him. "I think you should admit defeat and surrender." She said. "Oh," She added when he glared up at her, refusing to speak." I wouldn't try fighting back if I were you. When I was hitting you, I wasn't throwing punches like you might have thought. I was pressing the pressure points that could render you temporarily immobilized." She said cheerfully when he belatedly tested to see if her words were true, his eyes widening when he truly couldn't move. She tsked at him, shaking her head with mock sympathy. "I would press the one that undoes the effects, but ooh," She said, looking down at him, eyes going wide with fake innocence and hand going to her mouth with equally fake shock. "I couldn't possibly know how to do that! I'm just an idiot piece of trash from Gen. Ed! What could I possibly do against the big strong boy from the Hero Course?" She asked rhetorically. Her eyes turned cold.

"Yield and I'll undo it." She said, her face hard. "It's as simple as that!"

"...I yield." He said, and she smiled, picking him up with her right hand and propping his immobilized body against her. " Isn't that nice! Now say it loud and clear so everyone can hear you!" She said.

"I YIELD!" He yelled, eyes closed in shame.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" She said, that smile still plastered on her face as she pressed a spot on his lower back and he crumpled to the ground as his body unfroze. She bent down and picked him back up as they came on the field with a stretcher. Right before she lowered him onto it, she put her mouth to his ear and whispered:

"Who's weak now?"

She straightened back up and looked up at the stunned audience and Midnight called out. "The winner of the first-year tournament is 1-C's Yamada Hanako!"

Snapping out of their silence, the crowd began cheering for the girl who beat all the odds.

Hanako smiled and raised a hand to her bleeding nose as she was ushered off the field and into the tunnels by Midnight, where she was approached by Principal Nezu.

"Miss Yamada, after you're fixed up and finished with the award ceremony, I'd like to talk to you about a change in your class schedule..."  

[nayrusfountain]

Simply Human

His raspy shaky breath caught in his throat, the sensation of pulling air into his refined lungs feeling completely alien to him... His body had shrunk, but that is the least of his worries...Pure white scales molted away as he shifts his appearance against his will, giving way to pale light skin. Every fin on his once shark like body completely phase out of existence, with nothing to replace them. He hesitantly look down at his shaky hands with wide startled eyes as his scales peel off of his fingers, sprinkling the metal floor like flakes of new fallen snow. The fingers shorten with the rest of him, and his blue claws cracked off as new, growing nails push them out forcefully in their place. He felt the sharp teeth in his mouth is all but gone now, instead there were blunted and squared, more suitable to grinding plant matter... Mikau wanted to scream, but his voice came out distorted and horribly wrong in his ears...Wait, what happen to his ears?! He reach to stroke where his dangling fin had been on the side of his head...now there were an elf like ear instead, twitching with a soft jingle as he gingerly felt them. As he did, he grew startled as he felt something soft and furry tickling his scaleless fingers, and he realize instantly that it was hair. His hair. He need not to be a rocket scientist to figure out that obvious trivia. Laughing cackle from all direction, mocking him as he dwell in his confusion. It was at the moment that panic overwhelm his rational thinking. With little regard of his new physical form, Mikau instinctively leaped into the pool of water in the lab, disappearing into its blue depths. He suck in the water through his mouth, and instantly regretted it. His eyes widen, wild with fear as his limbs kick and flail frantically, and muffle screams gurgle out of his mouth as the ex-Zora hurry back to the surface. His lungs scream angrily at him, cursing him for his foolish actions as the reality that his gills are gone ram him hard. An explosion of liquid crystals shatter into the air as he practically jump back onto the cold metal floor of the room. He flop heavily to the floor, trending water and heaving painfully as he heard the people laughing at him again. A puny blubbery creature came forward and tap his shoulder. It was grayish blue in color, with a round funny face, tiny polished pebbles for eyes, and a small dorsal fin on the back of its head with a grin that never shifts. It basically looks like a bipedal Irrawaddy Dolphin. When he glare up at her, she presented him with a mirror, her smile never leaving. Mikau angrily snatch the object out of her grasp and look into its reflective glass. What greeted him was the face of a man. Mikau's eyes grew in size and he nearly drop the mirror in his shock. His head was cover in white hair and side burns cascade in front of his ears, with strings and bangs casting shadows over his now cerulean eyes, rimmed with whites around the pools of blue. His skin tone is a pale light shade, and his inner ears had extended out of his skull in a slender elfin fashion. What in Nayru's name did they do to him...?! "How you like your new look Zora?" "Screw you," he spat, his voice dripping with venom. Oh how he wish he still had his claws, fangs and fins. Then he'll gladly rip each of their insides out and hang them with their own intestines! "Be nice, sharky!" she growl crazily, whipping out a surgical knife to his face. She wave it around as one would with their finger, eyeing the use to be Zora with the same unsettling grin. "Not what we wanted; you should've been dolphin like us, but its good enough! Next is your girly friend. She be a pretty mammal too!" "Touch her and I'll fu-!!" "Shut up fishy!" Slash! "Ah!" Mikau's head's forcefully slam against the floor, stunned as he try to make sense of what just occur. A warm liquid trickle down his cheek under his right blue eye, smearing his skin red. He reach with his fingers and pull back to see it was coated in a thin layer of blood as it continue cascading from his slashed cheek. A growl radiated from his throat, coming off as awkward and nonthreatening compare to a Zora's more animalistic noises. "You son of a..." "Son? You mean daughter," she giggled as she did a little dance, stroking the blood soaked blade nonchalantly. "You stupid shark! Always resorting to violence to solve your problems. 'Oh! I mad! Imma bite people and watch them bleed and die!' You so naughty! We trying to help you! Give you better life and purpose. That's what we're here to do; to correct Nayru's mistake and you came out beautifully. Be a good little human, and no bloodshed from me. Kay?" "Don't call me that! I'm a Zora! And don't say such garbage about my species. Who are you to play Goddess by meddling with her creation? Everything exist for a reason, and sharks are vital to the ecosystem to keep the ocean healthy. Stop spreading racial bullshit about sharks just because of your paranoia." "He has delusion. So sad...boo hoo!" The dolphin like thing gave a loving pet to his snow white hair before trotting happily over a frozen Lulu surrounded by more of the mammalian sea creatures. The Malletila Zora stare straight into his eyes, her voice caught in her throat as if trying to say something. The little dolphin creature stop in front of her with the same insane smile beaming from her rubbery face. "Hello!" "Hey..." Lulu murmur absently, adverting her gaze as a wave of cackling echo throughout the small lab. She cringe and gave a low hiss in response. The last thing she wants right now was to associate with these giggling freaks. "Hissy shark. Very hissy," the she dolphin tsked as she materialize a slender glass tablet in her hands from seemingly nowhere. It pulsed with radiating magic as holographic data file up on the touch screen. "Let's see your species' criminal status so we can fix you, shall we?" "Please don't. All I want to do is be with Mikau right now," muttered Lulu as she look back at Mikau. The poor male seems completely out of it despite his outbursts, trying to get up from his shaky knees as he topple over clumsily. "Nonsense! I need to gather vital information to further help you overcome your breed's psychopathic instincts. We're not trying to be mean at all. We just what you to be happy with yourself." "I do not need help!" Lulu yelled sternly, her beautiful fins flagging in anger as her fangs flash. She caught glimpse of Mikau's reaction, the ex-Zora perking considerably from his kneel position and his new elf like ears twitching to her voice. "Right...Now let's see here. Ah! The marvelous Malletila Zora; descendants of the Hammerhead line, the Sphyrnidae family. Habitats: Tropical waters! Yay! I mean no! That's bad! Anyway...Malletila Zoras are timid shark people and only mildly aggressive when disturbed, but attacks are extremely rare. That's good. Out of the 9 species only three had been known to attack people...Great, Smooth, and Scallop variants...Uh oh." "Oh no." Lulu backed away with a warning glare, aware that her Great Hammerhead lineage is going to get her in deep trouble. "It seems your kind is bit naughty," The freak chuckle deviously, getting uncomfortably close to Lulu's nose. Lulu had to resist the urge to strike her stupid round face away from hers. "What else do I have to say on your evil breed? The fact that you're all cannibals!? Ha! Hammerhead Sharks are known to eat their own pups; what are the chances of their Zoran equivalent preforming the same atrocity?" A crazy grin reveal the creature's sharp conical teeth. "And I bet you eat dolphins like us too..." Swoosh! "AIEEE!!!!" The beakless bipedal dolphin squeal bloody murder as a stream of blood splay out of her now shredded face, covering her wounds with her hands. She drop the frail tablet in her agonizing distress, the magical device shattering into thousands of tiny glass shards and magic bursting in a ball of hot white light. She topple to her side with hard thud, screeching in high pitched squeals not unlike her cetacean brethren. Lulu scramble to her flippers and leaped over the injured...thing....and dash over to Mikau's side, grabbing his arm as she help him to his feet. Her left clawed hand was soaked in glistening crimson, the crazy lady's blood. "Damn...The way you bury your claws into her fat face was satisfying," Mikau whistle as he stumble a bit, pleased to see the creature in pain. His weak legs felt like gelatin, bucking slightly as he fights to stand erect. Lulu allow him to fall into her soft pearly body, the welcoming coolness of her glassy scales easing his troubles. He saw his unfamiliar face reflecting off of her body, shuddering at the idea of being trap in this body forever. He couldn't bare to live like this for the rest of his life honestly. This boring, unimpressive terrestrial creature with an ego bigger then their fully develop brains; there is nothing more rewarding then being born a magically gifted Zora and ruling a magical world many would never dream of. He likes humans enough, for instance Kafei is one of his closest Hylian friends, and he loves hanging out with the Sheikah, his favorite breed for they share a lot in common with Zoran Heroes. But living as one? No thank you!   "Savages!" A male creature howl in fury, coal black eyes blazing. He has the face of a striped dolphin, beak and everything, and his humanoid body is mostly the color of moon frost streaked with rivers of silvers. He is also well build, smooth slick blubber that express a fair amount of muscles. Fairly good looking for someone that looks like he's wearing a goofy, black duck beak. The striped dolphin thing cast a hateful glare directly at Lulu, taking a menacing step towards the Zoran lovers while the rest of the mammal-things scramble for their non lethal weapons such as teasers as they help their downed comrade. "Naughty creature! Bad creature! How dare you mistreat my sweet Lianna, you feral fish brained brute! You need a big time out!" "Hey dumbass, maybe if your annoying girlfriend wasn't being a total b!tch and invading her personal privacy, and committed witch crafting to turn me into a human of sorts, she wouldn't had felt incline to cut her face up! The dumb chick was basically asking to be attacked by us 'savages' at that point. Piss off and leave us alone!" Mikau defended, getting ready take on the male as he stood before Lulu protectively. He tentatively usher Lulu to back up with him as he shield her from the crazed creature's seething glare, and the mob of the mutated beasts juggle over the pair in quick fleeting prances, surrounding them. Teasers and electric prods cackled dancing, explosive neon, their intelligent eyes glowing madly. For the first time in a long time, Mikau felt primal fear shallow his courage as he stood at their mercy, spreading his arms in vain attempt to protect Lulu. His newly refined heart thump heavily in his chest, knowing that as he is now he is no match to challenge these quick and crafty cetacean people. More likely, he will fall, and they'll have their sadistic ways. But he has to protect Lulu. No matter the cast. The dolphin man, blinded by his rage, unleashed an madden feral roar and charge straight into the couple screaming, "This is for Lianna!" "Kill!" Lianna hiss in an almost demonic way, a sadistic bloody grin exposing her rusted tainted teeth. She crane her neck back and laugh maniacally as the blood drizzle down her face. "Kill! Kill!" The air in the room soon echo with the word "kill" being repeated as the rest of the cetacean people chanted out the phrase with her. The dolphin man lunge for the fish folks, his neck outstretch as he intends to ram them with his hard beak. Mikau spring forth, diving under the enrage creature and swinging up into his stomach. The dolphin was violently jerked backward and and the two males roll and tumble across the metal flooring. The mammal spring to his flippers instantly and roar wildly as he leap over the ex-Zora for his female friend. Mikau quickly recover and swiftly swung his leg into the rampaging creature's ankle, causing the craze male to drop heavily to the floor. The dolphin grew angrier, and without warning spun around and propel himself to Mikau instead, his beak open to bite his assaulter. Mikau duck and roll out of harms way and the dolphin was met with a mouth full of air. Growling, unleashed a shrill high pitch squeal, and as if on command, the rest of the cetacean people rush for Lulu in a chorus of loud whistling and obnoxious chirps that sounds more like sick birds being butcher in the slaughter. "Mik!" Lulu cry as she swung her claws and sank her teeth into their blubbery skins, shaking her head wildly to twist the flesh beneath. She yelp and growl, turning and chasing after them as she snap and lash at the offending creatures. They jump at her with artificial shocks of their teasers or ram her with their iron hard beaks, pushing her forcefully into the wall as they dug their own teeth his her scaly skin. Creature after creature hammer her into the without letting her recover, only leaping back when she viciously rake their faces and tear chunks of blubber in between her wickedly sharp fangs. The metal began to indent as they bury her further and harder into the wall, laughing insanely as they listen to her squeals of distress. "No!" Mikau push himself forward as he rush to her rescue, but felt his frail body pinned painfully to the ground as the dolphin man trap him under his grasp. Mikau squirm desperately to break free of his iron grip, but his strength is too inferior in this form to properly fight back. "Release me you freak!" Out of nowhere, the scarlet coated face of Lianna suddenly pop into his view, blood still pouring out of her wounds at an alarming rate. Ugly claw marks plague her shimmering blue-grey face as the crimson liquid drench her chin and jaws, drooling from her mouth as she grin. "Beautiful boy. She is impure. Must be dealt with before she cause more bloodshed. After we beat her to bloody plump, we heal her with enlightenment and perfection. You will understand soon enough." "No! I don't care about this 'perfection' you speak of! Just let her go and keep me instead! Or I'll kill you both in cold blood if I have to." "You still dare to oppose me? After what we've done for you?" her male friend boom as he press down on the scrawny humanized shark. "You are a weak little human; a mistake in our experimental hexing ritual. The way you are now, you're only going to end up seriously hurt or dead. Give up already. Its not worth it." "I don't care. Lulu is special to me. I may have lost my previous body, but my Zoran spirit burns strong. I'll protect her even if it means I'll lose to you. Please let me fight for her. Its too painful to watch..." "And yet you think its fine to spread pain onto others? You think it wasn't painful for me to watch that wretch damage my mate's face? You vile creature! All of you sharks are the same! Only thinking of yourselves and expressing your sadistic, bloodthirsty nature onto other creatures. If anything, this is justice being serve! And what can you do as of now, you whelp? A weak, insignificant little insect that are humans? Until we send you to rehabilitation and preform better spells, you are nothing but a cockroach to us." Mikau stop struggling and look at his free hand, his arm twisted in an odd angle. A small noise came out of his mouth, his gaze anything but happy. No blue claws or winter scales, but in their place weak nails and soft skin which is useless in relation to the situation. The hurting is much more evident as a human, whereas his Zoran self have a higher tolerance to pain, being of a fighting breed. But above all that, he felt an unfamiliar weight to him, and he knew that it was because his skeleton had trade cartilage for bone, which is denser... A spark flew through his cerulean gaze, and as he glance up to notice the pair giggling giddily to themselves as they watch Lulu kick out at one of their demented friends. The cheerful Malletila Zora is no push over; she'll valiantly fight back if she has to and this is clear as day as she grab hold of another dolphin creature in her claws and struck her hammerhead skull against its crown (a weapon often use by her breed.) The humanoid animal squeal as it tumble back holding its forehead, and Lulu gradually pull herself from the dented wall and pants at the now wary cetacean people. After dealing a decent round of punishment to them despite their frequent attacks, Lulu manage to give the mammals second thoughts of blindly charging her. Many of them bled from deep cuts and gashes across their faces and adornment, some were even limping or whimpering. They whistle to each other, clicking out various tones in their strange language. The stripe dolphin holding the ex-Zora down beam, chirping to Lianna as he directed his authority to the pod. "Don't be discourage my friends. She's just one mindless shark while you're an army of highly intellectual beings. Give her your worst." "Yes please," sang Lianna playfully, eager to see the female Zora suffer. 'Now's my chance,' Mikau mentally said. In a flash of a second, he thrust his finless arm backward towards the man holding him captive. His elbow dug into the stripe dolphin's stomach, the bones providing extract force to the impact. The sea mammal gasp in shock and release his hold on Mikau, rolling on to his side in pain. Lianna screech in disbelief and anger, lunging for the white haired human. Mikau duck and sprinted towards Lulu, pushing past the startle creatures as they whine and squeal. Lulu's heart flutter with joy as she open her arms. Mikau jump into her welcoming embrace and nuzzle into her chest, the female Zora spinning him around in their brief moment of bliss together Its funny being the one to be lifted off his feet like this when it had always the other way around, being naturally taller then her (Sylovaakiens are normally a towering 12 ft while Malletilas are 8 to 9 ft, dwarf by the former.) He gave her a quick satisfying peck on the lips before being set back down by her, turning their sights on the boiling rage building up within the cetacean pair. They have little time to rejoice, for they must find a means of escape. Lianna nuzzle her partner, squeaking softly as he dwell in his agony. She turn her hateful eyes back to the Zoran couple, bouncing up and down immaturely. "No fair! You cheat! You dummy dumb dumbs! Now you leave me no choice! I'm going to unleash my super ultra sonic means of wavy doom! Prepare to beeee....nullified!" Mikau and Lulu back away, this time with Lulu standing protectively over her boyfriend's small frame. They had an idea what this "super ultra sonic means of wavy doom" actually is. Cetacean are famous for their echolocation, and they had seem some use it as weapons against shark firsthand...Its most likely how they ended up in these guys' clutches; one moment an awkward face to face confrontation with this psycho specifically while minding their business, and the next thing they knew they woke up with major headaches in their cold lab. The room around once again rang with laughter, and the chorus gradually grew in volume as the beakless female's eyes grew wilder and dark. Suddenly the only door to the room slid open, and a larger dolphin man waded through but stop and blink by the doorway. He looks like a bipedal orca, sharing the coloration and dorsal fin on his back. He stand 14 ft tall, very imposing looking. Unlike the smaller abominations, he seems to be mentally stable as his bronze eyes held a calm and relax demeanor despite his surprise. When he spoke, a row of sharp tawny gold teeth neatly line his mouth, and a spotted tongue lays within. "Lianna, Nixon, what is the meaning of this? This isn't right! You're not suppose to torture our guests! We're here to help them reach a new positive life through healthy means. How would they accept our society with open arms if you treat them so poorly?" The room seem to grow eerily silent. Lulu and Mikau watch as the cetacean people stood there, as if realizing their blindsided mistake. However, they dwell little on the creatures' thought process for they practically flew for the open doorway without a moment's hesitation. They swift darted past the orca and race down the hallway, pressing faster and faster against the hard metallic floor. They ran so fast that their feet barely touch the ground as they merge into a fleeting blur for random cetacean scatter around the facility. Mikau pants as he try his best not to leave Lulu behind, knowing how clumsy of runners Zoras make. As a human, Mikau's feet gain more traction, allowing him to sprint faster then he ever have in his life on land. A rush of icy air suddenly chilled them to their cores, but they press on running, never looking back. They blaze through the snow, slipping through the ice as flakes of frigid breath of winter sheered their faces, but still they ran. They ran and ran, never stopping, never turning. They just blasted through the dark blue woods, startling animals into hiding as they rain through shimmering threads of beautiful frozen dewdrops draping like delicate curtains from the branches. Blue fairies lit the forest as they cluster the crusty shrubs and treetops like fireflies, lighting their way through the night. The glow of the city beam from the distant valley, its Clock Tower emitting a beacon for all who lost their way... *** Mikau and Lulu finally slow to a brisk trot as they trudge down the icy street of a well off neighborhood, the streetlights stretching their shadows as they pass by. The shine of their brightness reflected off the slick black ice that froze over the sidewalk they roam on, causing the pair to slip and slide as they continue marching on. Many of the houses were fairly lit, and plumes of fluffy smoke rose from the chimneys indicating the inviting warmth of the indoors. Decorations for the upcoming holidays grace the houses in bushy greens, ribbon reds, and blinking colors as tiny lights strewn across the windows and hangs from roofs and porches. Snowmen would occasionally greet the pair as they past by the yards, and once in a while a dog could be heard barking into the night. One of the Moons shone crisply like a silver sickle in the black, smoky sky, faith glimmers of stars seen twinkling beyond the flurries next to it. Mikau lag behind as he struggle to keep himself warm, hugging himself feebly as his breath converted into frost laced crystals. The only protection he wore was a old trashy t-shirt with cartoonish dolphins on it and tight, ripped sweatpants the cetacean gave him at some point, mostly after his transformation when he was still knocked out. It looks like something they just dug out of the trash so they can cover his exposed dignity, but honestly he wouldn't be surprise as that is mostly the case base given its appalling smell. Lulu meanwhile didn't seem bothered by the cold, her scales insulating some heat during the sunny day to keep her mildly comfortable. She look back at the under dress human, concern laced in her facial features as she confronts her friend. "Oh Mikau, just hold on a little longer. We're almost at Kafei's house. He'll know what to do." "I-I hope so..." Mikau murmur as he cast his eyes to his buckling knees, ready to to drop from the cold and exhaustion. He cough hoarsely, rubbing his throat in pain. "I'll get hypothermia if-if I don't t-t-turn back to my Zoran self. I don't want to be a human forever." "Don't be so rough on your appearance." She giving him a soft hug. She pet his soft hair as she continues. "I think you're cute as a little human." "Babe, you find everything cute...N-not that I blame you." "I mean it though. You're quite the looker as a tiny person. You're adorable!" "Oh Lu," Mikau sigh as he bury into her, half for warmth, half out of affection. There is truly no other girl in the world that he rather be with then with his mate. But in midst of their embrace, he something was off with Lulu, an eerie silence falling on her as her eyes grew dark and concern. "Lulu? What's wrong? You're not hurting from the attack are you?" "Mikau," Lulu breathe, trying to muster up her courage as she carry on. "When I was being ram into the wall of the laboratory, I heard it; I heard the yells and cries of distress Zoras on the other side." "What?" Mikau pull away from her with such a bewildered expression, such surprise as it flash across his blue eyes. Worry soon wash over him. "Are you sure there were others?" Lulu quickly nodded. "Yes. I heard them yelling and squealing from their side. They said things like 'Another one?!' They're torturing her!' 'Leave her alone you warm blooded freaks!' But what really caught my ears were these one sentences; 'How many innocent shark Zoras in Termina are they going to kidnap and turn into dolphin people? They need to understand that our kind matters just as much as any stupid sea mammal!' Mik, there were more Zoras then just the two of us back there. They are all shark Zoras like us, I knew this much by that last quote. They're trying to erase sharks off the earth by replacing them with their own kind." "Oh Goddesses...Its coming back to me. Sharks and dolphins had been mortal enemies since the beginning of time. The instinctual hatred must've carry over in the cetacean people's own evolution line. That's why they were so eager to put us through their little experiment against our will. They want to 'fix' us to avoid competition. Paranoid freaks. I never thought I'd hate a group of dolphins this much, especially since the ones in our oceans had coexisted peacefully with domestic sharks. We can live in harmony if they just give us the chance." "Sadly, they are too blinded by their mammalian superiority complex to care. They see fish as unintelligent and lacking of any real feelings. They'll only continued committing these unspeakable crimes as they come in contact and collect more breeds of shark Zoras." "All the more reason to find Kafei and turn me back then. I'll give them a good asswhipping and serve them to our pet sharks. Come on. Let's find Kafei' house." *** Kafei lean back comfortably in his couch as he read his book, the fire crackling and popping softly in front of him. Sprinkle of glistening snow flutter down from the outside world beyond the foggy window next to him, the lights from houses across from his barely pouring into his living room. He bundle himself with a velvety raspberry robe that match his plush carpet. The golden flames before him danced and licked briskly at the protective barrier of the fireplace as the sparks and embers glowed with an alien hue. By his bunny slippered feet was a Keaton, resting quietly on the rug as it snore. It had its head on its paws, its face masked with a peaceful expression as is side breathes steady, its fluffy tails curled around its body like a blanket. Kafei's mother was understandably never keen on allowing wild animals into the house for safety concern like diseases or attacking, always telling her son to respect their space and admire them from their backyard. The large yard borders a small wooded area where Clock Town's domestic animal and Pokemon residents (smuggle into the realm for illegal pet trades) likes to hang out with their wilder counterparts. Wild critters would pop up on their property all the time through a hole in the fence his father fail to fix up, and his mommy was quite stern when she wants minimal interacting between him and "vermin". But despite her warnings that doesn't stop him from sneaking his little "pet" in when they weren't around. He known the Keaton for years, remembering when the curious fox approach him and Anju during a festival as he wore the Keaton mask. Obviously it was smitten with him for that reason and began a series of it following him around and asking for attention. He started to feed and play with it, and the two had share a strong bond since. A knock on the door pulled him out of the novel he was reading, and he saw his Keaton sleepily raise its head, its eyes still close as it whimper quietly to itself. Just when he was in the most suspenseful part of the plot too! Annoyed with the abrupt interruption, Kafei speed walk over to the door and try not to glare into the peephole. When he comprehend who was standing outside, cover in shimmering scales that brim like opal, he felt his heart skip a beat and butterflies crashing blindly in his stomach. Immediately he undid the padlock and nearly swung the door open. And swirl of powdery snow wisp into the warm house, chilling his skin as it yank his robe back forcefully, revealing an Indigo-Go's boxers that he wore. Kafei squeal like a startled puppy as he try to hurriedly cover himself, his blood red eyes wide as he smile stupidly in his visitor's direction. Lulu held her hand to her as she struggle to surpass her giggle, watching the little elf eared human quickly cover himself as his face grew a hot red. She felt Mikau huddling up to her, peering into the tempting warmth of his house with a longing expression. Lulu clear her throat. "Oh Kafei! Let's ignore that little moment and get to the point. Can we come in?" "Sure!" nodded Kafei with a bright smile. "Anything for a frie-" His crimson sights landed on the under dress person latch onto her silky smooth frame, the man shivering so violently he could hear his teeth clattering. The poor...Hylian? Sheikah?...had frost lacing his snowy white hair, and his skin had turn pale with a tinge of blue from the cold. "Oh my Goddesses Lulu! Who's this sad bloke? And is he poorly dressed in this weather?" "I-its a l-l-long story," Mikau murmur, struggling to speak as his throat became scratchy and irritated. "Wait, Mikau?!" Kafei blink as he step back in shock, his eyes suddenly wild as he recognize his voice. The only thing different was that it lacked the elegant aquatic trill of a Zora. "What the hell-?" "Y-yes, We know. Looong s-st-story. Please let us in already. I'm dying out here. My ass is freezing off!" "Yep, that's Mikau all right," Kafei commented half humorously as he allow the two into his house. Lulu picked up Mikau and carry him in as Kafei locked the door behind them. In the position he is in now, Mikau felt both embarrass for being whisk around like a little pet. The last time he was carry around like this was several years ago, and before that was roughly a decade ago. It was Darmani who had carry him that last time in response to the daredevil Zora having twisted his ankle after skiing down Snowhead. The Goron had to struggle across the mountain just to get his scaly rear to the nearest hospital. Now, here he is, being cradle like a newborn tadpole as Lulu snuggle him in her arms. She keeps saying things like "Who makes a cute little human? You! You're so cute!" and pet names. Zoras sometimes see humans as pets, and vice versa. Though humans tend to be sensitive with being called animals even if that makes zero sense since they ARE animals like Zoras, though not in the same sense as his fish brethren. Lulu rub her nose against his, and Mikau remember that his electro-sensitivity, a trait unique to sharks of all kind, was no more. He no longer felt the tingling sensation that he pleasures when Lulu and him rub their sensitive noses together. But that didn't stop him from closing his eyes with and trying to purr in delight. He nuzzle into the nape of her neck, curling into a ball as he try to take in the warmth of the living room. Lulu's fins were wrap around him protectively, trying to provide extra warmth as she scooted onto the couch. She carefully lay Mikau on the cushion, stroking his velvety hair as she cuddle onto him. Kafei trotted over the the next room over and quickly reappear with a bundle of blankets in his arms. He usher the female away and cover the humanized Zora under the thick soft covers. Mikau breathe a sigh of relief and duck his head underneath, disappearing completely as he shuffle to absorb its warmth and get comfortable. "Thanks pal," he smiled, satisfied with the comforting blankets as the fire slowly heat him up. He bundle himself up and nuzzle into its cozy embrace blowing playfully at the little Keaton as it came to inspect him. The golden three tailed fox whine happily and it gave him quick licks with a tiny pink tongue as the ex-Zora tickle its cheeks. "No problem. But I have so many questions regarding your little....er..." "Transformation?" The couple both quoted in unison. "Yeah, that. I mean-What the freaking hell? How and why did you become human?" "There was an unusual incident that occurred today," Lulu began as she stroke Mikau's head. "We were 'invited' to participate in a program geared towards Zoras, specifically those of the shark family. Turns out we were abducted to be part of some bizarre experiment to turn us into bipedal sea mammals." Kafei's crimson eyes grew large and held his hand up to briefly silence her. "Wait a minute. Bipedal sea mammals? Were those the freaky things that pop up in Clock Town a few week ago? Nobody would shut up about these humanoid animals since." "Y-yeah. And they're freaking obnoxious," Mikau growl as he was reminded of the dolphin people's unholy existence. "What do you know 'bout them?" "I'll tell you what I know. They are not native here in Termina. In fact the marine biologist Dr. Mizumi found out that they came from the distant seas of a country called Holodrum, which is in another dimension altogether. Apparently there are no Zoras there, and they rule as the dominate species of their ocean domain unopposed. Ever since they found a way to Termina, Zoras had been disappearing left and right at an alarming rate, all who are shark Zoras like you guys. I keep hearing it on the news and work. Many Zoras are on edge because of those creatures." "Another dimension? You've got to be kidding me..." Mikau groan inwardly. "And in an effort to turn me into one of them, the stupid female creature read the wrong spell book and turn me into a defenseless little person instead. If they're going to turn Zoras into members of their own races, at least be competent enough to do their job. Like really. I don't even know what breed of elf-eared human am I. There's Gerudo, Sheikah, Hylian, Lokomo, Cobble and Twili. Obviously Twili are out of the picture since they evolved separately from the main branch and are radically different from any other members of your species to the point they look like aliens. I don't have the sunburned color of a Gerudo, so that's ruled out too. Maybe I'm a Sheikah given the hair? They do traditionally have white and blond hair after all." "No, you're just a Hylian," Kafei said as he point in the direction of Mikau's newly develop ears. "You see, elfin humans have slight variants of our pointed ears depending on the race. Though because of its minor alteration, it is not noticeable among regular humans and non-humans like you guys unless you really look at them. Hylians have slightly broader ears, while Sheikah ears are slender. To make my next statement really count, all Sheikah have blood red eyes. It is a specific trait that only exist among Sheikah and Sheikah hybrids. Its what defines us as the Shadow Folks." He finished off with a gesture to his own almond shaped eyes, the blood coloration betraying his lineage as a descendant of the ninja people. His grandmother from his father's side was a pure blooded Sheikah, and thus Kafei had inherited the traditional eye genetics of her people. Though he still has more qualities of a Hylian then a Sheikah.     "Aw, that's kinda disappointing. Sheikah are my favorite because they remind me of my own species in so many ways. We share some things in common, and it gives me even more of an excuse to kick those freaks' blubbery asses in the most epic moveset imaginable. Not that there's anything wrong with Hylians." "No problem. I recon that since you obviously had a bad day, you want to get back at those guys and turn back into a Zora?" "We both want to get back at them," Lulu nodded. "With the knowledge we learned, Mikau and I agree that with the combine forces of the authorities we shall avenge our fellow Zoras and punish those giggling lunatics harshly. But at the state he's in now, Mikau cannot take them on. He has no defenses, and can easily be overpowered by the much larger dolphin folk. And you know how Mikau is not one to sit back in a fight. That and he is getting sick from the cold. We were hoping you know of a way to turn him back to normal. You are very savvy with how to solve other people's problems." Kafei click his tongue, ruffling the fur of his Keaton as it nudge his hand with its snout. "Well lucky you, this race change, magic or not, is completely reversible, so you're in luck. However there is only one person that I know that has the power to change you back...and I don't think you'll like the concept of the idea very much." "Who is it? I'm willing to meet them if it means turning back into a Zora again," Mikau said with a cough, getting annoyed at the feeble state he's plunging into. Kafei seem to hesitate, then, in a meek voice utter the following. "The Great Fairy of North Clock Town." ... ... ...Silence... "Oh! Um of coarse," Lulu laugh awkwardly, looking at Mikau's direction. His face was a mixture of complete horror and disgust. She never seen such lively expressions on his face before, all thanks to his Hylian transformation which allows his emotions to be that much clearer. "No way. I think I can get use to a human lifestyle instead. Being a human is suddenly not so bad." "Oh come on guys! I know she's famous for being a little...suggestive...flirty and maybe overly skimpy...but she can really help you regain your true form back. Don't you want to be a Zora again? You ALWAYS boast how amazing Zoras are and how proud you are to be born as one. Besides you can't stay like that forever. What about your lifestyle as a musician? Your career and millions of adoring fans? You're a Zora! Think of your friends waiting for you back at sea. Think of Lulu. You can't have any of this looking like that." Mikau took a longing look to Lulu at the mention of her name. Their eyes met, and he knew deep inside that he want nothing more then to be by her side for an eternity and more. Those beautiful, haunting orbs of magenta shining against her pearly white body. The lilac/indigo tinge of her crown and rims of her wing-like fins. Her curvy hourglass frame. The glittering scales that gleam like opal in the light of the fire. She is the definition of perfection and he knew that life would be hard living away from her. He needs her, and he knew that she needed him too. They were more then mere band mates. They were more then simply mates... "You're right. I need to get my form back not only for the ass kicking I'll commit upon those ocean rejects, but for the sake of my friends. When should we go to the see her?" "Tomorrow," Kafei answered pointing his finger to the clock mounted onto the fireplace. The time signified 10:00 pm, a little late to go out and about especially at this time of year. "The snow's set to settle sometime in the night, and the roads should be plowed by the time we head out. I know you're a little ill, but I already been told by my parents to watch over the house for the weekend while they are away, and too not invite people over. I promise though her shrine is in the park only a couple blocks from here. We should arrive there in a few minutes of foot." "Well I guess we're stuck here for the night huh?" Mikau said as he smile at Lulu. She smirk softly, bopping his nose with her own yet again. "I suppose so," confirm Kafei warmly. "My mom and dad won't be coming back til Monday morning. But I don't mind having company tonight; they don't have to know anyway. I was getting a little lonely today and was thinking of inviting Anju tomorrow. I'm glad you guys decided to stop by, though I know for a fact you two must be tire from your little adventure. There's a guest room that you can use tonight. Its down the hall to the left of the stairs." "Thank you Kafei," Lulu bowed politely, picking Mikau up in her arms. He felt heavier with the thick bundles wrapping around his weak frame, but she did not mind. Kafei got up and escorted them to their temporary room, his Keaton padding along besides him. The travel through the dining room and past the stairs where they came across a lovely little bedroom inviting them in. Lulu set Mikau down and brush his hair away from his eyes, planting a soft kiss to his forehead. Never had she kissed a human before, and his skin felt so... Soft and tender. "If you need anything, give me a call ok? In the meantime I'll prepare some nourishing soup for Mikau's cold and a nice batch of milkberry tea." Kafei quoted and the pair nodded delightfully. He smile as he quietly shut the door, and his muffle footstep journey to the kitchen in preparation of the beverages. Mikau invited Lulu to lay next to him, patting on the open space on the queen sized bed. She gladly crawl in and they curl into each other's arms closing their eyes. Mikau felt so much better knowing that Lulu is with him. Even as a human, he knows that their future will remain bright and positive for years to come. The hardships they endure had only strengthen their spiritual bond for each other, and now, as he awaits the arrival of Din's Dawn to smite Nayu's Night, his human heart thump against her beating chest. And he sigh as he drifted off in her embrace. Beating an unbreakable musical rhythm. Between human and Zora.

Oh my gosh I’m sorry this came so freaking late. But I had no choice but to write a Fanfiction out of the blue because the prompt for that day was "human" and trust me my human drawing skills is atrocious to say the least. I had to write something instead, and I just made up this ridiculous story as I went along. I remember reading a Ratchet and Clank story long ago in which Ratchet woke up as human instead of a Lombax and was deeply confused. That became my inspiration and it help me get through this story. I wanted Mikau to go through a similar thing by waking up as a Hylian rather then a simple alternate universe where the characters are just randomly humans. I think it fits better in terms of the Zelda universe. Spoilers!: If Zelda can turn into a Sheikah with magic, why not expand upon the race changing concept? 

Hope you don’t mind!  

[stereksummerexchange]

No More Hiding

@milkysterek | AO3 - it’s not exactly accidental mating and it may have gotten a tiny bit fluffy at the end, but I hope you’ll enjoy it all the same. Happy Summer!

by @fearfrost1211

“I don’t understand why you’re upset with me. What did I do?”

“It’s not…you didn’t do anything! I just…”

“What, Stiles? You just what?”

“I guess…I guess I just never expected it to…hurt.”

“Hurt? Why are you hurting?”

“Seeing everyone else…watching people freaking hit on you…Do you know how badly I wanted to hold your hand tonight?”

“Probably as badly as I wanted to hold yours, but you said this was what you wanted, Stiles. That this was how it needed to be and what? You think I could look at someone else? That I would even want to? You should know better.”

“I do, Derek! That’s not!…Ugh, that’s not what I meant! And yes, I know that this was my idea. I know that….It’s just a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

*** 

Stiles’s eyes feel like someone polished them with sandpaper before he got out of bed. He’s still not sure why he even bothered trying to sleep for all the good it had done. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Derek backing across the room saying he needed to think about some things before disappearing out into the night.

Realistically, Stiles knew that this was just a bump. Just a fight. Everyone had those, right? And now he and Derek were having one. True, it was pretty much Stiles’ fault given that it had been his idea to keep their relationship a secret. He just hadn’t wanted to deal with the drama he knew it would cause when they got together. He’s still seventeen after all, only two months from his birthday now, but they’ve been together for the last four. The freaking best four months of Stiles’ life. Despite the fact that Derek refuses to have any sort of below the belt activity with him until he turns eighteen. He just knows how his Dad would react. How Scott would react.

So, until eighteen mum’s the word, and it has taken every single shred of his less than perfect patience and tolerance to keep it that way.

Stripping the sheets off his bed, a nearly daily activity since despite the no-sex rule Derek spends the night often and frequent washing is the only way to hide anything from a pack of werewolves, Stiles bundles them under his arm and heads down to the laundry room. Honestly, he’s never done so much laundry in his life. He’s lucky he’s pack or there would be no way to explain the lingering scent of Derek in his room, on his clothes, on him.

Pushing those thoughts away, he opens the washer lid and starts shoving his sheets in around the agitator. Maybe someday he and his dad could get one of the new ones that don’t even have an agitator or maybe a front loader. The corner of his mouth curls up and he shakes his head. He really must be sleep deprived to be daydreaming about new washing machines.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he startles so hard his hand smacks the side of the washer knocking the lid closed onto his forearm. “Ow! Dammit!” Throwing the lid back open, he rubs his abused arm for a second then starts digging his phone out of his pocket.

As soon as he frees it, he sees Scott’s name disappear. He barely gets the phone unlocked before it’s ringing again. “Hey Scott.”

“Stiles!” Scott’s voice is high and panicky. “We need your help! Can you look up things that would make a werewolf lose his freaking mind? And how to undo-”

“Whoa, Whoa! Slow down dude, what do you mean lose their mind? What happened?”

“It’s Derek-” And Stiles feels the bottom fall out of his stomach. Gripping the washing machine just to stay upright, he takes a deep breath and forces himself to listen to the words Scott is saying. “-it looks like someone set some kind of trap and the barbs were coated in something. He got out of it, and then he attacked us when we got too close and he’s not shifting back. It’s like he’s-”

“Feral.” Stiles whispers, his stomach going sour. “Where is he?”

“He took off! We’re splitting up to look for him.” Stiles can hear a car start in the background. “I’m going to try to track his scent and the others are splitting up between the old house and the loft. Can you think of anywhere else?”

Forcing in a deep breath, Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and tries to focus.

Where would Derek go? Somewhere he feels safe, right?

Stiles’ eyes snap open about two seconds before he hears the massive thump come through the ceiling directly above his head.

“Oh shit…” He breathes and he’d almost forgotten Scott was still on the phone until he starts yelling.

“WHAT? Do you know where he is? Stiles!”

“He’s here, Scott.” Stiles says as his eyes track the sound of movement through the ceiling above him. It sounds like Derek has already made it to the stairs.

“WHAT! STILES YOU HAVE TO GET OUT OF THERE! HE’S-”

“Listen!” The hard tone of Stiles’ voice cutting off Scott’s near hysteria. “Scott, I don’t have time to explain it right now, but he won’t hurt me. Ok? He won’t. Please just trust me. Get a sample of whatever the hell did this to him and get it to Deaton.”

“How do you know he won’t hurt you?” Scott demanded.

“There’s no time. You’re just going to have to trust me, buddy. When you figure out what did this, call me. I’ll keep my phone on. I’ve got to go.” Stiles hangs up and slowly lowers his hand to slip his phone into his pocket.

Derek’s steps are harder than normal in that Stiles can actually hear them as the werewolf makes his way across the kitchen. He’s emitting a low growl that sounds like it’s coming from deep in his chest and every hair on Stiles’ body stands on end when Derek finally comes to a stop in the doorway behind him. Even with his human nose, Stiles can smell the dirt and blood and sweat clinging to Derek’s skin. The wolf stands there for a moment and Stiles doesn’t dare make the first move. He can hear Derek taking big inhales like he’s scenting the air, searching for something.

Stiles swallows hard, and prays he’s right in thinking Derek won’t hurt him. In the next moment, Derek is plastered against his back, nose buried in the side of Stiles’ neck. Stiles tilts his head slowly, completely exposing the pale column of his throat to the wolf.

He focuses on keeping his breathing even as Derek rubs his face over and over against Stiles’ exposed skin. The hair on Derek’s cheeks is softer than Stiles imagined it would be but he still feels raw as it slides over his skin along with the whisper of fangs. Clawed hands embed themselves in his shirt as strong arms wrap around him pulling him impossibly close, nearly lifting him off the ground.

Stiles grips the washing machine even knowing that if Derek wants to move him there’s nothing he can do to stop it. “Derek…” He tries and is surprised how steady his voice is. “Easy, big guy. I’m right here.”

Derek rumbles and Stiles slowly lifts a hand and places it on the arm that’s got his waist in a vice-like grip. When nothing happens he slowly begins to rub back and forth along Derek’s forearm. Derek shudders against him and Stiles is flipped around and pushed to the ground. Derek covers him with his body and Stiles goes perfectly still when those fangs sweep across his throat again.

The first real tendrils of fear steal his breath for a moment and he focuses on dragging in as much air as he can while trying to slow the jackrabbit cadence of his heart. Sweat has broken out over him - clinging to his lip, gathering in his hairline. He pushes out a ragged exhale and Derek shifts his head and drags his tongue over the dampness pooling in the hollow of his throat, letting out a whine before nuzzling his face back into the crook of Stiles’s neck.

Tentatively, Stiles lifts his hand and sets it gently on Derek’s shoulder. When that doesn’t get him eaten, he runs his fingers lightly across Derek’s shoulder blade curving up the back of his neck until he can bury his fingers in the soft hair at the base of the wolf’s skull. It’s something that Stiles had been delighted to discover when they’d gotten together: Derek loves being petted. Loves to be touched for no other reason than Stiles wants to touch him. It’s the one surefire way to calm Derek down when he’s worked himself up to a spiral or to bring him back when he’s too lost in his own head. Stiles is praying it’s enough to reach him now.

He lets the hand in Derek’s hair explore. Dragging fingers through the dark tresses and over warm skin, lingering on the tips of Derek’s pointed ears when it draws something almost like a purr from him.

“That’s it, Der. Just relax. You’re safe here.” Stiles presses his lips down against the top of Derek’s sweaty head and just breathes for a moment. “We just need to hang tight. Scott and the others will figure out a way to fix this in no time.” Some of the tension seems to ease out of the wolf, his bulk settling solidly on Stiles, pressing him into the linoleum floor beneath them.

Derek has completely relaxed against him by the time Stiles’s phone rings from his pocket causing them both to jolt. Derek immediately starts growling again - grating up from his throat and vibrating against Stiles’s chest.

“It’s okay, it’s just Scott, you remember Scott. He’s pack.” Stiles squirms around, shifting to get his hip out from under Derek enough to squeeze a hand into his pocket. He doesn’t bother to look at the screen before swiping to answer. Scott’s still panicked voice cuts off any greeting Stiles might have made.

“Stiles, are you okay? You need to get somewhere and barricade yourself in! Derek is going to get worse-” Scott’s talking so fast Stiles can barely understand him.  

Derek grunts and licks a stripe up Stiles’ neck, nipping at the edge of his jaw.

“Easy.” Stiles winces and Derek whines, licking at the hurt he’d just caused.

“STILES!”

“Oh my god, Scott! Calm down! We’re fine.” Stiles snaps.

“No, you’re not! The poison is going to drive Derek crazy, like literally crazy Stiles! The only cure is the blood of the wolf’s mate. Look, we’re on our way with restraints and Deaton is looking into alternative cures, but you need to get somewhere safe-”

Stiles feels Derek stiffen, body going rigid and he looks down just as human, hazel eyes look up to meet his gaze. There’s a splotch of blood on Derek’s lip and Stiles watches the wolf’s tongue dart out to whisk it away as his features melt back to human.

There’s a flash of panic in Derek’s eyes and he moves to lift himself off Stiles, but the human holds on - arms and legs locking around him. “Derek, wait-”

There’s a squawk from the phone’s speaker where Stiles let it fall to the floor. Derek lets out one pointed growl and snatches it up, pressing it to his ear.

“Call off the pack, Scott. I’m fine.” His voice is gravelly, but definitely more human than wolf now.

Stiles watches as Derek’s face goes dark for just a moment and wonders what Scott is saying to illicit that response. After a moment, Derek bares his teeth, speaking through the clench of his jaw.

“I’m with my mate.” Derek pulls the phone away from his ear, ends the conversation, and drops it back to the floor. The wolf lets out a huge breath, face still turned away and sits up, bringing Stiles with him, until his back is pressed against the wall and Stiles is straddling his thighs. Derek won’t meet his gaze and the nick on his chin starts to throb with the beat of his heart. It must be tiny, Stiles thinks, like he cut himself shaving. It’s amazing how it’s often the smallest cuts that sting the most.

“I’m sorry.” Derek’s voice is so low Stiles leans closer, hands coming to rest on Derek’s shoulders.

“Der-”

“I know you didn’t want anyone to know, and now we’ll probably have to tell them.” Derek turns his face and looks Stiles in the eye. His eyes look more green than they did a moment ago and so full Stiles doesn’t know where to begin parsing out what he is reading there. Except maybe he does.

“Derek, I am not ashamed of you,” he says, voice strong and Derek drops his eyes. “How could you think that?”

Derek shrugs. “When you wanted to keep it to ourselves…I didn’t exactly think you were ashamed as much as I thought you just weren’t sure about me.”

Stiles gapes at him. “Not sure about you? Derek,” he cups Derek’s face in his hands, forces the wolf to meet his eyes. “I didn’t want to tell anyone just because I didn’t want to have to defend us against everyone who would think the worst. Because I’m selfish and notorious for ignoring problems until they aren’t problems anymore. Not because I’m ashamed of you or because I’m not sure about us. I’m totally one hundred percent sure of us. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.” They spend a few moments just looking at each other before Stiles shifts a bit and asks, “did you know? That I’m your mate?”

“Yes.”

“Were you going to tell me?”

“On your birthday. I…I didn’t want to pressure you.”

“So, we’re both idiots.” Stiles says and Derek huffs a little laugh. Stiles leans in, presses his lips against Derek’s. The tension melts at the first contact and Stiles tilts his head, sweeping his tongue against the seam of Derek’s lips until the wolf opens for him. Derek sits up, arms pulling Stiles closer, sure hands slipping under the human’s t-shirt, sliding over the skin of his back. The kiss gets deeper, each pushing and pressing, reaffirming that they’re still here, still together.

A hungry growl climbs up out of Derek’s chest, and he pulls back, pressing their foreheads together. “Sorry, my wolf is still really close to the surface.”

“It’s ok,” Stiles grins. “Pretty sure the cavalry is going to show up anyway, and…” He picks at a streak of dirt crusted on Derek’s cheek. “You really need a shower.”

Derek growls again, playfully, and runs blunt nails over Stiles’s ribs. Stiles laughs and squirms. The wolf pulls his hands out of Stiles’s shirt and squeezes the tops of his thighs. “So, you’re okay with it? Being my mate?”

“More than ok,” Stiles says, leaning in for another kiss.

“Are we going to tell your dad?”

Stiles doesn’t even need to think about it. “Yes. You should just stay and have dinner with us tonight. No more hiding.”

“No more hiding.” Derek agrees and kisses him quick before standing up, Stiles clinging to him like a spider monkey.