#Needle Felting Time Lapse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

staycalmandhugaclone · 1 year

Text

Arrows (Special Request) - Doc - Part 2

Part 2 of Arrow. If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved!

My dear friend loves the whumpiest of whumps... this is what I have provided. This chapter Hurts. Happy Birthday @arctrooper69!!!

Also: got a new Poll up for your thoughts! Should Doc Have Her Own Blog?

Warnings: Bone/joint injury, profanity, vomiting, heavy whump, medical procedures/language, needles

WC: 2,650

Only the occasional rumble of Wrecker’s voice marked the passage of time as my mind lapsed into a haze of pain and silent pleas and something not quite reality. I wanted him to stop – needed – him to stop, the words begging for just a moment’s reprieve filling my mouth and halting my already choppy breath, but if I had managed to force them into existence, I was too far gone to truly hear it. The growing guilt and fear tensing his shoulders and quickening his stride, however, left what logic flickered within me certain I had spoken them, screamed them as my body struggled against him even now, unable to keep still beneath the relentless hurt coursing through me.

I vaguely saw the way my fingers clawed atop his back plate, felt my uninjured leg strain to find purchase against his hip, his stomach, boot dragging over plastoid in a futile attempt to push myself free of him. My throat felt raw, burning at the very thought of attempting to speak even as cries of pain continued to catch on nearly every breath.

“… seen her hurt before!” He was shouting. “This ain’t just some…!” Fading in and out. “…am hurryin’!” I hated the note of fear in his voice, hated my inability to offer him even a whisper of reassurance as the sickening chill of panicked sweat soaked into my blacks, mind balking amidst the lingering uncertainty that the world was spinning madly around me.

“Wr-eck… please…” Stammered. Broken. As soon as the ruined semblance of my voice choked past the tortured flesh of my throat, I couldn’t say with any certainty that it had ever existed as anything more than one of countless half-formed thoughts flitting too quickly through my mind to find any meaning.

“..ry! Kriff, I’m s… -ost there, jus… on…” I remembered the distant fear that nights on this planet would bring with them a chill, that I should pack an extra blanket for Echo, just in case… but the merciless cold at war with the fire raging through my veins was inescapable. Cursing through gritted teeth, Wrecker came to a sharp halt, sending a shockwave of sickening motion rippling through me.

“…orry-sorry; jus’… argh, just hol…” I tried to focus, tried to find some reason behind the sudden stop. A light thump seemed to echo from somehow just below me followed by the telltale trill of a blaster firing, the shimmer of a blue ring just catching my attention from the corner of my eye, and then we were moving again.

It wasn’t until feeling their hands ease me from Wrecker’s shoulder that I even realized we’d finally reached the others, and I had to fight to hear them over the deafening boom of my heartbeat, the static screaming around me… screaming… I was… I was screaming. Their touch felt like acid. The suffocating humidity from my frantic gasps sat heavily within the too-small hollow of my bucket, rebreather overloaded from how long I’d been hyperventilating, from how long I’d been abusing my vocal cords with ceaseless, shouted pleas, but, body nearly convulsing beneath the fresh torture of nerves shrieking against even the most delicate caress, those too-quick huffs came even faster, chest fluttering in something closer to a tremble than actual breath as they lowered me onto the ground… no… it wasn’t soil beneath me… a cloth?

“..ong with her?!” Hunter demanded. My uninjured arm coiled at my side, fingers burring mindlessly into whatever bit of fabric they’d laid me down on, leg continuing some listless attempt to push me up, to move, to flee this agony.

“-ey, hey, hey; come on, Doc; you’ve got to stop moving.” Some blurred visage of Echo flashed before me.

“…uncertain. I’ll need… remove the proje… test for toxins.” Pressure… pushing against my back, pinning me firmly to the ground… Panic resurging in a rush, whatever broken sounds of hurt caught in my throat turned desperate, body straining to reach for the man before me despite the arm nearest him refusing to even twitch.

“I’m here; I’m right here.” Echo murmured, so nearly stifling the fear from his voice as he quickly caught my hand in his. Somewhere nearby, Wrecker and Crosshair were… arguing? Yelling about something… at something… I tried to look, but someone held my helmet still, tilting it just enough to expose my neck. The sting of the autoinjector should have been a familiar nuisance, but the nerves reacted as though the thin needles gouged through muscle and veins and bone, and shied from it with a barked cry of agony, certain I would find a river of blood pouring onto the ground if I could just convince my eyes to focus.

“..et worse… can’t wait…” Tech’s voice seemed to spin around me, lilting on some faltering orbit as the words fluctuated between near silent and deafening. Maker, my chest ached from the frantic racing of my heart. “…lp hold her… pull…” The weight shifted atop me as something tugged at my armor. The first jostle of my shoulder as they removed the bell sent a burst of white across my vision, stomach heaving against the sickening hurt and fire and wrong as something clicked against bone. My hand wrenched away from Echo to claw uselessly against the joint, body trying to curl onto its side despite that relentless weight holding me down.

“Don’t le… move her arm.” Something tightened around my elbow, locking the useless limb in place. I think I was still screaming. Begging them to let me go. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t fight them. Every muscle lay taut, teeth clattering violently from the terrible tremor wrought from cold and panic and pain.

Only when the wretched thing piercing my shoulder began to move, did I fall silent, throat locking shut in those first few seconds, the entirety of my existence too overwhelmed with that deathly wrong hurt to remember anything else. With a sickening hyperfocus, I felt every shift, felt the faint tremble from how his hands shook, felt the tiny twists as he worked to ease it free without furthering the damage or severing a tendon.

For just those for first few seconds, no sound could escape me, but then the trance broke, and I couldn’t remember how to stop as air I didn’t know my lungs still possessed tore from me in a sound I could barely hear over the static blaring in my ears. I don’t know when the thing finally came free, the vague awareness of Tech calling Echo’s name more akin to a near forgotten dream than reality before a new pressure burr down against the wound.

“Why … still awake?!”

“ …’t know, but …”

The weight shifted atop me, centering over my hips as their voices pulsed in a nauseating dysrhythmia. Hands tightened around my thigh like a vise and, before I could more than gasp at the terror of what was to come, something else settled over my calf, trapping my leg between them.

“-on’t look, Doc,” I didn’t even realize my head had been trying to twist enough to see them, movements halting and unsteady, until Echo’s words rumbled through my helm’s speakers. If he said something else, I couldn’t hear it as Tech began prying the second projectile from my knee. My back snapped up, body thrashing in a futile attempt to unseat them.

The pressure against my shoulder faltered slightly amidst a tiny grunt of pain, just audible above the frenzy of orders being shouted between the others, but my entire focus locked on it. The guilt that twisted through my chest was crippling as I quickly wrenched my hand back, unaware when it had lashed out for something, anything, and found only Echo’s thigh, fingers clenching ruthlessly around the muscle just above his prosthetic.

“Kriff, no-no, it’s okay.” I think he called my name, offered some manner of gentle reassurance, but that brief flash of lucidity was already overwhelmed by the deathly cold slicing into my knee, the certainty that they were cutting through the joint entirely as fumbled pleas tangled once more atop my tongue between the feral keening my screams receded into.

“Tech, yuh … -thing for the pai…” Wrecker was shouting.

“I – ng – I have!” He snapped, and even I could hear the struggle in his voice. “Hunter, hold h…”

“I am!” There was no relief when it finally came free, when the notches of whatever stone was lashed to the tip of that slender shaft broke through cartilage and tissue alike before slipping out from the ruined joint, nerves still aflame in the echo of that agony.

“Need to flush… try to… -oxins…”

Crosshair’s rifle fired twice, followed by a shrill cry from somewhere in the distance.

“More incoming.” There was a sharpness to his words I wasn’t used to. I wanted to see him, to understand why, but I couldn’t move beyond the way my body shook. Something pressed into the wound, stretching torn flesh before forcing liquid into the joint. My torso bucked, writhing against the cold and pressure and Maker, why wouldn’t it stop.

When the same hurt poured into my shoulder, I couldn’t hold back the gag, stomach convulsing as my body seized. Someone cursed and wrenched my bucket off. I didn’t notice the way he paused, didn’t see who dragged the wet gauze over my cheek to clean away the remnants of sick.

“Wh… what the kriff is …” I understood the horror in his voice more than the words, and fought to search for him amidst the churning colors… Echo… Confused, I belatedly realized he wasn’t looking at me so much as my face; my skin. “Tech, what is-”

“Think they want their friend back.” Wrecker called out through an audible scowl.

“Later – we need to move!” Hunter yelled over him. The rapid chirping of a heavy repeater joined Crosshair’s rifle.

“Too bad,” He growled, “That thing’s coming with us.” The cloth shifted beneath me, hugging my form as it began to rise. A stretcher… that’s what they’d laid me down on. Echo and Tech stood at my shoulders while Hunter took the position at my feet. I could still hear Crosshair and Wrecker firing rapidly behind us as we fled.

Every pounding footfall sent tiny percussions rippling through me, but my throat was too raw for anything more than a tortured wheeze. Muscles in my forearm, my thigh, stretching down my back began to lock, too exhausted to make sense of the continued abuse from how violently I trembled. Couldn’t unclench my hand… couldn’t breathe as I merely waited for my spine to cave; waited for that inevitable snap that never came.

“Everybody in! Get the ramp closed!” Hunter’s order boomed. The darkness of the Marauder’s halls granted a comfort at least in its familiarity. Home. This ship was home. Nearly the instant I was lowered onto my bunk, the faint hum of a scanner loomed over me.

“The toxin is blocking acetylcholine uptake as well as a few other autonomic functions,” Tech stated.

“What?!” Hunter barked. Someone’s hand rested over mine, but I couldn’t force my fingers to loosen enough to return that touch.

““It’s preventing her nervous system from self-regulating; she can’t moderate her heartbeat or”

“I heard what you said – what the hell can we do about it?!” He interrupted sharply.

“I… I d…” I could hear how desperately he fought against voicing the answer, how he balked at what it meant.

“Dank farrik!” It was such a rare thing to hear that kind of anger in Hunter’s voice; that fear. Knowing I was the cause sent a fresh surge of guilt twisting through me. “Is that thing awake yet?!” Silence followed by another sharp curse. Something shifted near the IV I hadn't noticed them place in my hand, and I vaguely noted Tech shuffling beside me.

“What was that?” Echo asked, not trying to hide the depth of sadness stealing through him.

“Beta blockers – I don’t know how to cure her, but I can try to treat the most dangerous symptoms.” He answered. A moment later, the daggers of the autoinjector tore into my uninjured shoulder. Despite how my breath caught, nearly hissing through clenched teeth, my throat was simply too raw to form anything near to the scream vying to escape.

“That was the same neural inhibitor she used for me.” He offered without waiting for the coming inquiry. “If her fever gets worse, there are more medications to try, but without knowing exactly what this toxin is, I can’t anticipate how it will interact with them. Until the need is urgent, that is all we should give her for now.”

The muscles in my arm were the first to respond, fingers slowly beginning to uncurl, and Echo’s small gasp held a hope I still couldn’t bring myself to feel. Fire continued to pour from the wounds, rippling through me with each beat of my still racing heart even as that terrible cold forced an occasional tremor from muscles long since driven past the point of utter exhaustion, but I could see… Thoughts once too frayed to grasp now lingered almost long enough to hold, and, as my eyes flickered listlessly before me, I managed to meet Echo’s gaze long enough for him to let out a sigh of relief.

Another touch settled atop my other hand, the sensation strangely numb in a way I would allow myself to worry over later. Gaze shifting wearily, I saw the anxious dread just twisting Tech’s normally sedate expression, saw how the fingers of his other hand tapped nervously against his thigh.

“Hey,” he sighed, thumb dragging softly over the back of my hand. “That stuff helping?” I couldn’t begin to answer him, eyes merely closing as my chest bucked in a weak sob. “Oh, cyare.” The heartbreak in his quiet whisper threatened to break me. When I forced my eyes open once more, straining to find him in the dim light, I ached at the defeated slump to his shoulders, the deep worry in the subtle downturn of his lips.

“I am doing what I can to chemically negate the effects of the toxin, but…” Desperate to ease his frenzy I forced my jaw to move, forced my shredded vocal cords to catch the huffs of air fleeing me in still too-quick huffs. “I would advise against trying to speak. I suspect you’ve damaged-”

“I…it,” I knew what he was going to say, but I didn’t care…. I needed him to know that his efforts hadn’t been worthless. “It… h-helped.” His eyes widened, and the rush of relief that swept through him was worth the razors clawing down my throat.

“Was that,” Hunter’s question died the instant he came back into the room, attention instantly locking on me, and the way he breathed my name still managed to send a tiny thrill down my spine as he quickly approached the bed. “We’re going to get you fixed up. Alright? You just need to hang on.” It wanted to be an order, but the threat of desperation in his voice rendered it into a plea. I tried to respond, lips barely managing to twitch around words my lungs and throat simply couldn’t manage.

“Hey, no-no; none of that.” He said quickly, hand reaching out to settle atop my shin. “Just breathe… okay?” It took a moment to convince the muscles in my neck to move, but I gave a small nod in reply. Hunter’s gaze suddenly turned pointedly toward the main hall of the Marauder, expression darkening.

“Tech. It’s waking up.” Before Crosshair even finished speaking, all trace of doubt fled the distraught man before me, shoulders stiffening as his jaw went taut, brows furrowing over suddenly sharp eyes as he turned toward the medbay door.

“If it has a language, I’ll decode it. They must have an antidote.”

Next Chapter

Click here or message me if you'd like to be added to a taglist!

Click here for my Masterlist.

Taglist: @arctrooper69@@ct-0113@padawancat97 @eclec-tech@kixs-husband @atomickidsoul @jennrosefx @echos-girlfriend @burningfieldof-clover @manofworm @merkitty49 @fives-girlfriend @starqueensthings @idoubleswearimawriter @abigfanofstarwars @chopper-base @daftdarling222 @pb-jellybeans @oldmanwithashield @skellymom @bacta-the-future @rosechi @legalpadawan @pentaghasm @actuallybarb @snow-dragon-rider @like-a-bantha @ew-wtaf @solstraalaa @drummergirl1701 @shersten-the-golden @shewhoneveryields @highlylunar @get-wr3ckered @dangraccoon @brokenphoenix99 @nekotaetae @rndmpeep @blondie_bluue @goddessofcongeniality

97 notes · View notes

spicedrobot · 5 months

Text

what was lost, what was gained ch. 3

Also on ao3! (linked in description 💖) beta by @bluedaddysgirl

The reprieve Cody thought the voyage would bring never came. Maybe he was a little too hard-wired for battle. Extended periods of down time sometimes made clones nervous. But he’d been on long voyages like this plenty of times. And after they dropped the Sith off on Coruscant, they would embark on another one.

No. It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t. And Cody knew who to blame for that.

Sleep did not come easy to him at the best of times. And as the voyage dragged on, it became almost impossible.

Whenever he tried to rest, dread coiled in the darkness behind his eyelids. His thoughts ran on an endless loop. The Sith’s dark eyes, his pointed, needling questions. The general’s gloved touch sliding over Maul’s chin. The expression General Kenobi had worn after that first shift, when he thought no one was looking. Cody had witnessed it accidentally, led by an urge to glance behind him after he’d been dismissed. He wasn’t sure what he had seen in the general’s eyes—sadness, maybe. A lost, unsure gleam. A look Cody couldn’t forget.

All while the general stood, unmoving, gazing at the sleeping prisoner.

General Kenobi was wise, kind, unwavering. But the Sith had done what Cody thought impossible: he had shaken him.

Cody felt helpless. There was nothing he could do. It wasn’t his place. All he had were his orders, so he followed them. He kept his eye on Maul. And Maul… well, he didn’t exactly make it difficult. He hardly moved. Mostly he read, meditated and slept.

But when he did engage his guards… it was unnerving. Even without his connection to the Force, Maul still knew how to take his opponent off guard with a few well-chosen words. Comments as innocuous as You haven’t slept, Commander to Did you know your scent is different from the other clones?

He was dangerous, even in a cell.

Of course he is. He’s a warrior. They use whatever they have at their disposal. Just like you.

Cody didn’t enjoy that line of thought. He was nothing like a Sith, and especially not like Maul. He would rather die than be a blight on the galaxy. Rather die than hurt General Kenobi.

That familiar unease crept over him. After the first night with the Sith on board, the general’s state hadn’t improved. In fact, he seemed more exhausted than ever. But any mention of his deterioration was waved away. Yes, he was taking the time to rest. The extra sleep was helping. That will be all, Commander.

Cody’s hands were tied. The general wasn’t exactly skirting any of his duties, so he couldn’t point to a lapse of productivity or decision-making. It was just enough to torment him. A concern too personal to mention.

“This level of surveillance is unnecessary.”

The comment snapped Cody out of his reverie. It was the first thing Maul had said all shift, which was fine by him. He was happy to let the Sith rot while he tried and failed to file reports on his datapad.

The Sith’s words came again. “I’ve no weapons. No power. No memory.”

Cody blinked away weariness as his mind caught up with his words. He either needed more caf or had already had too much. “True. Still can’t trust a word you say.”

“Why?” Maul asked. “Have I not shown I can be obedient? Obi-Wan had no qualms—”

“General Kenobi isn’t here. And he’s the one who gave the order to watch you. He’d be doing it himself, if he didn’t have more important matters to deal with.”

“Would he…” Maul said. His voice was muted, but there was certain infuriating thoughtfulness to it. “So, as second in command, you have no work more pressing than to surveil me?”

Cody narrowed his eyes. “Double duty.” He lifted his datapad and shook it. “And in case you weren’t aware, you’re a criminal.”

There was a flash in Maul’s dark eyes. “Am I? That’s the first I’ve heard of it.” His tone was light, grating.

“Even if you don’t remember, you still have blood on your hands. You’re an enemy of the Jedi and the Republic. When we get to Coruscant, you’ll be tried for your crimes and left to rot for the rest of your days. If you’re lucky.”

Maul stiffened, his eyes widening fractionally. Not appalled, like Cody had hoped, not angry either. Just… accepting. “So, I have killed. Who was it?”

Cody blinked. The angry heat drained away as realization stole over him. Maul really didn’t know anything. And the general hadn’t told him either.

Why?

Maul hummed under his breath, lips upturned. “Don’t clam up now, Commander. Your general wasn’t forthcoming enough for my tastes.”

“He doesn’t owe you anything,” Cody bit out.

“Is that so? He seems very intent on helping me.” His expression grew softer. “Strange. I sensed no hatred from him, no fear when he first approached me, unlike you and your men. I could feel it all too keenly before my power was lost to me.”

The silence between them hung. Maul nodded. “Wise not to deny it. Perhaps you are in a league above your peers.”

Cody glared. The Sith’s smirk returned, wide and threatening. “Do you want to know what else I sensed, Commander? About you… and Obi-Wan.”

The general’s given name purred in that low, filthy voice made the hairs rise on the back of his neck. It was a name Cody couldn’t speak aloud, not freely, not without self-consciousness.

“What? That I’m his favorite commander?” he spat.

“Hm. More like Obi-Wan is your favorite.”

Maul’s words should’ve been easy to brush off. There was nothing untoward between him and the general, not a single action or gesture that could be misconstrued. Cody had made sure of that.

Only the secret, unanswered longing was there, a scream in his own mind. There was a spike a fear, a knot of anger. Somehow, Maul knew.

“I’m not interested in your lies,” Cody said, after a long, incriminating silence.

Maul tipped his head, grinning wider for a moment. Cody couldn’t shake the image of a preening raxshir, striped, dangerous. The Sith was enjoying this.

“What reason would I have to lie? Especially when the truth is far more devastating.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I grow weary of your denial. Wouldn’t you rather know how I know? It’s nothing so obvious as the Force. It’s far more droll, more… base.”

Cody was frozen, as much of a prisoner as Maul. He couldn’t run. Wouldn’t be able to explain why he abandoned his post. He couldn’t stay either, couldn’t listen to his deepest secret pool like venom from the Sith’s fangs.

Duty, of course, won out. He did not leave his chair.

His skull ached. His jaw twinged. A single word. “How?”

Satisfaction bled out of every line on Maul’s face. “There is so very much that one reveals without thought or notice. It was your own body that betrayed you. Your singular heart, pumping so very quickly whenever your general offered you a kind word or touch. How sweet.”

Cody felt sick with disbelief. Denial was impossible. He couldn’t even form the words. And still the Sith continued.

“And if I can intuit so much, even with this…” Maul touched his collar. “How much do you think Obi-Wan already knows?”

It was out, then. The general had known all this time. Had known, and never mentioned it, never treated him any differently. Never returned that affection.

Of course he wouldn’t. He’s a general, my CO. A Jedi. And I’m a clone. Made for one purpose. Expendable.

He hadn’t realized how much he had been holding onto the hope that one day, the general would look his way. Really see him.

“I never expected anything to come of it,” Cody said. His voice wavered. He curled forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands.

Even if Cody had spoken with absolute conviction, they both would’ve known the lie for what it was.

#fics #obimaul #maulobi #wwlwwg #star wars #darth maul #obi-wan kenobi #commander cody

36 notes · View notes

whispersweetpuns · 4 months

Text

Chapter 1...??? Dare I continue?

She surreptitiously slipped from the nondescript warehouse, the darkness that lay within still clinging to her soul. The weight of her misdeeds sitting heavy on her shoulders, inescapable but necessary. A weary sigh slipped through parted lips as though it clawed its way forth from the deepest parts of her and she ran her tongue along her lips. The bitter tang of blood danced across her senses along with the salty taste of sweat.

Battle weary she slumped against the warehouse door, dropping her head back and staring up into the downpour that offered to cleanse the taint from the city streets. If only it could do the same to wash the taint from her blackened soul or wash the blood from her hands, a thought that had a manic chuckle bubbling in her chest. Dragging the back of her hand across her split lip she raised her hand to view the intermingling of red that painted her skin. Blood. Hers? Theirs? Did it really matter anymore? She was always covered in it, she saw it splattered across her flesh even when she was pristine, even when duty wasn’t calling for hands to paint a picture of violence.

She stood there for minutes or hours, who’s to say really? Time lost its meaning for her years ago. Days dancing into one another, passing through her, around her, over her. Everything had started to blur together and she was a tattered marionette playing her part. Rao, her body felt so heavy as she stood there staring into the starless sky that threatened to swallow her whole, with the flickering streetlights refracting off the chilling rain. A rain that felt like needles against the sensitive nerves of her flesh. Giant droplets cascaded from her hair and carved a pathway over her skin and yet she would never be clean again. If only the roar of the downpour were enough to drown out the symphony of screams continuing to play its rendition across her mind.

Fingers wrapped around wet strands of hair as the sound of tearing fabric pierced the night. The waves of grief and guilt were cresting and breaking over her and she was caving under their onslaught. If tears fell into the mix of rain dancing across her face she would never admit it.

She was crouched, caved in on herself, braced precariously against the door, the flesh of her back exposed, fighting to drag each shallow breath into her lungs when Alex emerged from the obscurity of shadows. Maybe Alex called to her once, maybe it was a thousand times, who was she to say? She was underwater, after all, drowning, why would reality mean anything? It wasn’t until a gentle hand tentatively clasped her shoulder paired with a tenderly whispered “Kara?” that she could pull herself back to the surface.

Alex watched as she finally got a response from the woman before her. Kara jolted and her head jerked up. Wild, bewildered blue eyes greeted Alex as she tried to relate the version of the woman before her now with the one she knew. It had been years since she had seen this version of her sister.

“Supergirl, what’s wrong? Are you injured?”

The blonde shook her head once, both in response to the question and to clear her muddled mind. She rose to her full height and rolled her shoulders back, trying to shake the weariness that had built a home of her bones. Tipping her head back she dragged her gaze to the sky for a moment, allowing the frigid rain to wash away the momentary slip of her mask, the lapse in her assumed persona. It was like a switch flipped and then she was nodding with resolve as she looked to her sister with a twisted smile and hard eyes. Supergirl. Yes, that’s who she was now. How could she forget? How could she be so disgustingly weak to be found in a sniveling heap? It was loathsome really, and dangerous. Luckily it had only been Alex that happened upon her in such a state, as Kara. For it was Kara who felt regret and guilt over the pain she was inflicting. Kara was a name for a person she couldn’t lay claim to anymore. She was Supergirl now, a remorseless woman with steel in her veins. Cool and calculating. Unyielding. Unrelenting. Solitary. A woman cloaked in cruelty, wearing violence like a shroud.

A well-practiced smile slid onto her lips as she assumed the air of confidence she wore like armor. “I’m fine, Alex.” She said waiving a dismissive hand and leasing a condescending laugh. “I’m Supergirl, remember? You just said so yourself.”

Alex’s gaze was searching, assessing, and as if the state she found her in wasn’t damning enough, her eyes zeroed in on the split lip. She gave Supergirl a cool glare and opened her mouth, unsure whether to question or reprimand, but the choice was stolen from her. The words dying on her tongue as Supergirl gave her a cold glare, stepping from the shadows of the warehouse and into the flickering glow of the streetlamp light. The blonde’s demeanor brooked no room for reproach as she stood there amid the dilapidated buildings on the dirty city streets, drenched in rain and blood, and lit by the harsh streetlight, like an angel of vengeance.

There was no space for words as Alex found herself wishing, not for the first time, that she could lift this burden from her sister. The woman standing before her was so far removed from the girl she had helped to navigate the world when they were younger. This was no longer the girl who longed to be close to others, to belong, no longer was she the young woman whose genuine laugh flowed freely, who sang karaoke, and recited the lines of every Disney movie without shame. The sister she had grown up with was gone and had been for quite some time. This wasn’t the life she wanted for either of them, wasn’t the life either of them had dreamed of growing up. The world had other plans for them though, and necessity and selflessness stripped Kara of who she once was and left this Supergirl version in its place. That was why she was caught so off guard earlier by the scene that greeted her when she approached the warehouse doors. It was the first crack in Supergirl’s mask that she had been witness to in years. Something she would have to tuck away and ponder for another day. She was pulled from her reverie by the harsh words of Supergirl.

“They will think twice before trying to cheat us out of the money we are due again. Pretty sure I made it clear that there will be no second warning, that they are lucky I am even giving them a second chance in the first place. You know I’m not much for second chances.” She let a malicious smirk slip onto her lips that no longer felt like her own as she ‘absentmindedly’ rubbed at the blood coating her hands. “You know, I don’t need a babysitter when I do this part of the job, right? As a matter of fact, I think I have made it rather clear that I prefer to work alone.” She leveled a hard look at Alex, “Now that I think about it, I believe I told you to go home and relax because I would be walking home after I was finished. What was unclear about those directions?”

Alex scoffed and sent an indignant look her way. “I find it cute that you think I do anything more than humor your ‘orders’ on a good day. You may be the don but that has never made you my boss little sister. Regardless of any hierarchy, I will always put your safety and well-being first. I know you can do things alone but you don’t have to.” She glanced up at her umbrella, “I also happen to check the weather, which you obviously couldn’t be bothered to do. Or did you intend to walk home in this downpour?” Alex gestured toward all of Supergirl, “As terrifying or badass as you look right now, you probably shouldn’t be doing a walkabout with all of that blood splatter. Not exactly keeping a low profile that way. Plus, the drowned rat look is not in style this season.” She moved toward Supergirl under the streetlight so they were both under the protection of the umbrella. “C’mon Supergirl. Monnie’s waiting for us with the car a couple blocks down.”

Supergirl just nodded and fell into step beside Alex, mumbling about being the boss and what she had to do to get some respect around here. Alex just nudged her with her shoulder, slipped a lolly from her pocket and handed it to Supergirl. She took it and pocketed the wrapper before starting on the lolly.

“You know, working alone gives me more creative freedom. I always do my best work when I’m alone. Created a beautiful picture of pain this evening.” She even wore the mask for her sister and practiced lying to everyone in her life because the hardest lies of all were the ones she had to keep telling herself. It was just easier this way, to try and be as absorbed in the Supergirl persona as she could be, except in quiet moments when she was alone.

See the truth is she hates this part of the job, playing the enforcer. One might even say it was her least favorite part of being head of the House of El. Sure, as don she could easily assign the job to one of the other members of the family. She had their loyalty and their respect, they would do anything she asked of them, and therein lies part of the problem. It felt like an abuse of said loyalty and respect for her to demand they do a job that she, herself couldn’t bear to partake in. She was willing to bear it so that her people did not have to.

Alex watched shadows play across her sister’s face. Though Supergirl wore it well, she could see the weight of this life burdening her strong shoulders. She wanted to ask about the breakdown Supergirl had been in the midst of when she walked up but knowing Supergirl, it would be like it never happened. Just another thing to add to the list that they would never talk about.

As they approached a trash bin, Supergirl stepped from the safety of the umbrella and discarded the lolly stick, then pulled a handful of wrappers from her pocket and deposited them too. “I think, I would like to stop by L.L. Beans on the way home.”

Alex sighed, “Correct me if I’m wrong but don’t you normally have enough trouble sleeping on nights like these, without the added hurdle of caffeine thrown into the mix?” As soon as she said it she wished she could take it back, catch the words in the air, and rearrange them before they reached Supergirl. Alex knew she was dancing dangerously close to the precipice of one of the many topics they do not discuss and she wasn’t sure it would take much to push her sister over the edge tonight.

Supergirl’s already staunch posture went rigid at the words before slowly turning to face her. Alex was greeted with dull, glazed eyes like Supergirl was somewhere a million miles away from here. A haunted look flashed over her face before manic mirth lit her eyes.

“I’m craving some hot cocoa. It sounds absolutely divine right now, to help chase away the chill of the rain,” and with that, she pivoted and resumed the trek to the car, as if unphased by the downpour of cold rain. Alex noted the careful avoidance of the true point of her words. She resigned herself to that being the end of that particular conversation and began to trail after her sister.

As the pair approached the vehicle, Monnie got out and stepped into the low glow of the car's parking lights greeting them with a light smile. “How’d it go boss?!”

“Let’s just say they won’t make the same mistake again,” she chuckled. Monnie’s eyes tracked her as she stepped into the light and an appreciative glint lit his face. Maybe it was her words, or maybe it was her blood-soaked appearance, but his smile turned sinister, almost wicked, the shadows played over his face in the low light.

“Perfect. You know, I would always be more than happy to help you play the role of enforcer.” He was bouncing on the balls of his feet now, vibrating with energy, practically salivating at the thought of tearing someone apart. THIS. This was reason number two for her taking on the enforcer job and not submitting to the desire to delegate. The cruelty. They seemed to revel in inflicting pain, the way she would show up in blood-stained clothes.

Supergirl simply shrugged nonchalantly, “ Oh, I know and I greatly appreciate it. This is my play time though. I’ve always been a bit of an artist and this is when I get to create such beautiful poetry. Call me selfish but this is one thing I simply MUST keep to myself.” The words tasted bitter on her tongue, lies always did.

Monnie nodded in understanding, an almost feral look gracing his face. “I completely understand boss! You work so hard for all of us, it’s only fair that you get to have some fun too! Just know that if you ever get bored with it I would be more than willing to take up the mantle.”

Supergirl hummed her understanding but offered nothing further. Glancing at Alex she said, “Grab my spare clothes from the trunk would you? I don’t want to frighten everyone when we stop at L.L. Beans.” She heard a sound from Alex that was walking the line between acknowledgment and disapproval that she chose to ignore. This was one thing that she wanted for herself. One small moment of normalcy she allowed herself.

Monnie opened the door as Supergirl approached to get in, and flipped her a lolly with a smile and wink before shutting the door and climbing into the driver’s seat. Alex slid into the back next to Supergirl with the spare clothes in tow. “Monnie, Supergirl wants to stop at L.L. Beans before we take her home. Please roll up the partition so she can get cleaned up.” The sound of the partition going up was the only acknowledgment she needed that he had heard her.

Supergirl sat staring down at the lolly in her hands, flashing back to that first night. The first time she had been forced to slip on this secondary mask of enforcer for the family. Her stomach had turned acrid and she lost her lunch. She hadn’t been sick like that since, somehow able to wrangle her body into submission, but her stomach always went sour and the bitter taste always returned. She had turned to lollies to mask her distaste for her own actions, using the sweetness to cut through the harsh reality of her life. The family had noticed their boss had a sweet tooth so they all kept lollies on hand for her. Perhaps they could be kind, or maybe they just wanted to keep her happy. She had developed a reputation after all.

She unwrapped the lolly and slipped it between her lips before beginning to change and clean the blood off of her as best she could in the back of the moving car. She moved as if on autopilot, a woman lost to her own musings. Pondering her own cruelties.

She offered mercy when she could. Went as easy as she could on people as her reputation allowed. She couldn’t let word get around that she was soft though, or she would be deposed and then all hell would break loose in this city, on its people. She could do this, she had to do this. The only line of defense keeping the animals at bay, the only stalwart against the storm threatening to break. She was the only thing standing between outright, cold-blooded murder. The only buffer that could keep the family from engaging in turf wars. Her life was no longer hers but she would have to live with that, suffer in her solitude in order to keep this city from imploding on itself. If she didn’t continue to play the game, if she quit working the board it would take no time at all for the Luthor’s and the House of El to be at war, and National City would be the casualty. What else could one expect when the two largest players in the city's crime syndicate decided they had tolerated one another long enough? She had to keep running interference for as long as she remained in this world. Things were especially tense now that there was a shift of power in the Luthor family. A shift that she had played a hand in occurring.

Lex had been at their throats for years. He was a vicious and conniving genius, but he was playing classical chess and Supergirl was playing three-dimensional chess. He had been coming for El. So, she may have had a hand in organizing for him to have a lengthy vacation at Arkham. In the long run, it was the best decision she could have made for the circumstances, but there is always a bit of a vacuum created when there is a change in power for any of the families. She had dealt with this as well when she was forced into the role of don.

“So I have some news,” Alex broke through her reverie. “Nia has finally reported in with some information. It’s less than I would have liked but more than we had.”

Supergirl ruffled a hand through the mop of short blonde hair trying to dispel some more water, “Oh, boy, this already sounds promising. Just hit me with it,” she said, removing and pocketing the lolly stick.

“Well, apparently Lex has a sister.”

“How did we not know that there were more of them? How did something like this get past us all these years?” Supergirl released a heavy sigh and straightened her clothing.

“I don’t know. Maybe she’s the true gem of the family? A princess they didn’t want to be tainted by the cruel world they helped to create?”

“Okay, so there’s another Luthor. What other information do we have on the woman?”

“Nothing other than that she exists. Though it seems she would be the most likely person to take over. The only other bit of information Nia got was that whoever is taking over goes by The Adjudicator.”

“So, are we postulating that they are one and the same then? This Luthor woman is The Adjudicator? “

“That’s our working theory right now. However, it’s really just a guess since we know next to nothing beyond those few facts.”

“Great,” Supergirl said, not even trying to hide the sarcasm from her tone.

Alex shifted uncomfortably, “There is one more thing.”

Supergirl just turned and looked at her expectantly, her patience wearing thin. “Just spit it out, Alex. It’s been a long day and I haven’t the patience for this…” she gestured wildly with her hand, “dance around the truth that we are doing.”

“Our guys caught one of Luthor’s errand boys wandering across the border into our territory today. Seems he was a messenger from this Adjudicator, and they expect you for lunch tomorrow to go over terms and operations, and the like.”

“So, I get to meet the new boss of our strongest rivals in the city with next to no knowledge of what I’m walking into or who I’m meeting. How exciting. You know I was just thinking that things were getting too easy, too comfortable. I’m so glad that this will spice things up a little.” Her tone was dry and her annoyance was easily read.

“I know it’s not ideal but hey don’t shoot the messenger. I’ll push the details to your calendar after I get home tonight.”

“I know. It’s not your fault.” Supergirl rubbed a hand across her brow, there was a headache coming on. “I’m sorry, I’m just feeling a little worn down this evening. Everything will be fine. Maybe this new Luthor, if that’s indeed who the Adjucator is will prove to be more fun to play with than her successor, Lex.”

Alex reached out and placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Listen, about earlier tonight… I mean, I’m always here if you need to talk. You know that right? You don’t have to hide with me. Are you okay? I’m worried about you.”

Supergirl wasn’t sure how to respond, the concern in her sister’s eyes would have made Kara break with one look, but she wasn’t that person anymore. Thankfully she was saved from needing to reply by a rap on the partition. Monnie signified that they had arrived at L.L. Beans.

Supergirl cleared her throat and gathered her things, she reached across Alex to grab the umbrella they had shared earlier. “I’m fine. I’m going to borrow this by the way. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Alex cut her gaze to Supergirl and opened her mouth to argue. Supergirl stopped her with a look and a dismissive wave of her hand. “I have changed, no more blood, and I have an umbrella now,” she said raising said object and shaking it. “I am going to resume what I had planned for my evening, get my hot cocoa, take a walk home, and then I will see you tomorrow for the meeting with the new leader of the Luthor’s get some rest. I’m fine and will be fine, I just need these few moments to myself. G’night sis,” she said leaning over and giving a quick peck on the cheek before exiting the car. Supergirl opened the umbrella and stepped back waving as the car pulled back out into traffic and away from the coffee shop.

She turned and quickly stepped into the alley beside the coffee shop. Running a hand through her hair once more before slipping on a ball cap and donning a pair of glasses she took a deep breath and tried to settle her nerves. Then she made her way into L.L. Beans.

Kara’s eyes immediately latched onto the brunette behind the counter. The woman hadn’t seen her yet as she had her back turned making an order for the customers in line. Kara slipped into line, doing her best to remain unseen by the owner until she reached the front.

The brunette was finishing up at the register from the last exchange as Kara approached the counter and leaned against it. “Welcome to L.L. Beans! How are you this evening?” The owner offered up in a mildly distracted tone.

Kara reached forward, fingers just barely brushing the woman’s ear as she pulled a lolly out from behind it. “Magical now that I’ve once again laid eyes on you.” Feeling bold, Kara tucked a strand of hair behind the woman’s ear and placed the lolly there before retracting her hand.

The woman turned, registering the voice of the woman before her, with a light blush dusting her cheeks. She giggled, light and airy, “Kara you are quite the smooth talker. You know you don’t have to bring me a treat every time you come in here for an order.” She removed the lolly from behind her ear, “Though I must admit, you always seem to bring in the best flavors.”

As those magnificent green eyes landed on Kara she felt the tingling that had started in her fingers where she brushed the woman’s ear begin to spread throughout her body. She shifted nervously and reached to adjust her glasses, “Only the best for the best, of course, Lena.” Clearing her throat she amended a light flush coloring her cheeks and the tips of her ears, “The best barista of the best coffee shop in National City, naturally.”

Lena’s eyes tracked the blush as it traveled up from the edges of the woman’s loosely buttoned oxford shirt, over the planes of her throat and strong jaw, her eyes catching momentarily on that adorably sweet smile before following it over those high cheekbones and to the tops of those ears barely visible beneath the clearly disheveled hair hidden beneath a ball cap.

Lena’s careful assessment had Kara squirming. Internally berating herself for not going home first to get properly cleaned up before coming here. Maybe, if she were smarter, or had a little more of that self-control that she exerted at every other moment of her life, she would have forgone coming here tonight altogether. This had become her ritual though, coming here after all of those hard nights playing a part inside of a part. It wasn’t logical and made absolutely zero sense, but something about being in this woman’s orbit felt safe, like home. What a way to feel about a woman she barely knew, but she couldn’t help that these interactions, their banter, was some small sliver of normalcy that was keeping her sane.

“You look wonderfully disheveled tonight. Handsome in a wildly unkempt way.” Her eyes lingered on Kara’s before glancing beyond to make sure there were no other customers at present. Then she was raising up on her tiptoes and reaching out, getting closer to Kara.

Kara swallowed audibly. A riot of feelings sent her heart skittering around in her chest. She couldn’t quite place the look she found in Lena’s eyes, mischief and something else. Again, she was mentally chastising herself that of course she didn’t know, couldn’t read this other woman, she didn’t really know her. But oh how she would love to.

Lena quickly removed Kara’s hat and donned it before spinning around to face the machines on the back wall. She felt heat racing up her neck and knew she was sporting a prominent blush. What had gotten into her? What had made her so bold? “I like that hat,” she threw over her shoulder by way of explanation for her shenanigans. “So, what would you like to have tonight?”

Kara stood there dumbfounded a moment before the words caught up to her. She knew what she’d like to have, but she shook those thoughts from herself to respond. “I’d love a nice hot cocoa tonight. Pretty wet out there and a powerful chill in the air.” She quickly ran her hands through her hair again to try and tame it a bit but knew it was no use, she knew there were likely strands of her short hair sticking out every which way.

Lena refrained from the crude comments she would have loved to make and simply gave a curt nod and said “One steaming hot cocoa coming right up!” They had been dancing around one another for months now. Kara was sweet and rather shy. Always so nervous and bumbling in the best way. Lena couldn't help but find her adorable. She would be lying if she said Kara wasn’t attractive, dangerously so. And so very contained. Seeing this rumpled, slightly wild look on the woman had ignited something new in her. The desire to see Kara unbridled, absolutely feral, in truth that was why she had taken the hat, to get as close to the loss of control as she could.

Kara cleared her throat, “So, it’s been a few days, how have you been?”

Lena glanced over her shoulder, “Business has been good, busy but good. I’m pretty content with things. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to take a leave of absence and leave things in the hands of my most trusted employee, Jess, for a little while so that I can take care of some family matters.”

“Oh? I hope it’s nothing too serious?”

“Problems they created for themselves, unfortunately. We’ve never exactly been close but now they need me to come in and clean up their mess. Sometimes I think I am the only one in the family with good business sense.” Lena chuckled as she turned with Kara’s order and a cupcake as a little added treat. “I put extra marshmallows in there for you.”

Kara smiled, “You didn’t have to do that but thank you so much.” She couldn’t help the disappointment that seeped into her tone as she asked, “How long do you think you might be gone for?”

Lena sighed, “It’s hard to tell. I’m not sure what kind of mess I will be walking into or how long it will take to sort things out.”

“Lena, I know we don’t know one another that well, but if there is anything I can do to help out, in any capacity, at any time, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

This was when Lena finally took in all of Kara again and she was not disappointed. Kara’s hair was a wild mess in the most, dare she say, delicious way, this woman was very attractive and she decided that yes, she would very much like to see a very untamed version of this woman in a very different setting. She cleared her throat and tried to shake away the unsavory thoughts she was having for this woman, not for the first time.

“Thank you, Kara, that’s very sweet of you. Unfortunately, I’m afraid this is something that I will have to tackle alone.”

Something passed over Kara’s face then, was it pain, or some deep-seated understanding of what Lena was talking about? Kara was always like a breath of fresh air, her smile was like sunshine, but there was always this otherness, this aura of solitude or loneliness that would sometimes cling to her.

“I understand all too well,” Kara whispered. Then her eyes lit up again as they locked on Lena’s. “Either way, the offer stands. What do I owe you?”

Lena waved dismissively, “I’m keeping the hat, so let’s call it even.” She flashed a smile that had Kara’s knees feel as though they might buckle.

“Well, that seems like a fair trade to me,” Kara chuckled. “All of us regulars will miss seeing you around here, but I hope things go smoothly for you and your family. Until next time.”

Kara waved one last time as she opened the door and then ducked out into the rain, quickly unfurling her borrowed umbrella. She made her way down the street hot cocoa and cupcake balanced in one hand. What she didn’t notice was that Lena watched her with a longing look and a smile, until she was out of sight.

By the time Kara reached her building she had finished her hot cocoa and was preparing to throw the trash in the receptacle when she noted writing on the cup. In beautiful handwriting, Lena had scrawled her name and number with a smiley face. Kara’s smile was instant and she felt the rumblings of feelings she couldn’t afford to have, dangerous feelings. She’s Supergirl, after all, Kara only gets these small, impermanent moments. Even though she knew this, even though logically none of this made any sense, her heart was tripping all over itself.

If she isn’t careful, those green eyes that haunt her dreams might just become her kryptonite.

#fanart #supergirl #supercorp #supercorps #lena luthor #kara zorel #kara danvers #kara zor el #kara x lena #fanfic #lumity #catradora #shera #bubbline #korrasami

18 notes · View notes

aftermathfanfic · 4 months

Text

Jack put the report aside, taking the letter he’d received at reception. He swiftly opened it and took out the message within, giving it a read.

He froze.

I know you’re watching McDuck, it read. If you want to know what McDuck took from Mexico, meet me in Needle Hill Park at 1215 hours.

“Mother…” Jack growled to himself, gripping the letter angrily.

He had a leak.

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

Warnings: References to child violence

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

It had been about five or ten minutes since the cult leader had left to find Scrooge’s family. Goldie and Scrooge were still sitting back-to-back, bound at the wrists and still being watched by the last three cultists. The one watching them the closest held a rifle, though the weapon wasn’t currently pointed at them. The angle they were sitting at, however, had prevented this sentry from noticing Scrooge’s attempts to slowly undo Goldie’s ropes from behind his back.

Scrooge felt Goldie shift her weight slightly as her ropes came undone, and he resisted the urge to smirk. He kept his expression looking defeated and anxious, lest the guards suspect something. Now it was up to Goldie.

“Hey.” Goldie said cockily.

The cultist with the gun turned to her, his eyebrow raised.

“You speak English?” She asked.

Scrooge winced. What was she doing?

“Be quiet.” The cultist replied coldly.

“Ah, great, you do. Just wondering, who did you kill to bring the bulezau here?” Goldie asked innocently.

That gave Scrooge pause.

The gunman walked closer, irritation clear across his face. “O que você tem? Do you not understand where you are right now?”

“What I understand is that ‘bulezau’ is a type of demon.” Goldie replied, smirking with deliberate arrogance. “And demons can only be summoned through a blood sacrifice, can’t they?”

“The missin’ girl from the village…” Scrooge murmured in realisation. He’d forgotten all about her in his fear for his family. The flash of shame he felt at the lapse in memory was quickly replaced by anger. “Murderin’ radges!” He spat at the cultists.

The three men looked at each other, an uncomfortable, disquieted look. “…Filomena was a necessary sacrifice.” The gunman replied quietly. “We couldn’t-”

“Necessary?” Scrooge yelled over his shoulder. “In what world is that necessary?”

“She gave her life to protect Galinha!” The gunman snarled angrily. “One life to save the many is-!”

“’Cept these little clubs are never about ‘saving’ anyone. They’re about power.” Goldie retorted. She wasn’t smiling anymore. “You feel powerful? Did killing a sixteen-year-old girl make you feel like a big strong man?”

The cultist shoved the barrel of the gun into her face, snarling. “If you say anything-!”

Goldie’s hands suddenly shot up, pushing the rifle upward. Surprised, the cultist fired, and Scrooge’s hat flew off of his head as the gunshot echoed through the chamber.

Scrooge yelped in alarm. He leapt up, spinning around to Goldie as she started struggling with the cultist. He saw the other two guards starting to react, and he knew he had to do something. His hands still bound, he charged head-first into the stomach of the closest cultist, knocking the wind out of him. Before the man could react, Scrooge swung his head upward, striking the cultist’s chin and sending him stumbling backwards.

Scrooge pivoted again, just in time to see Goldie punch her assailant right in the throat. She ripped the gun out of his hands as he stumbled back, gasping for air, and then twirled around to point the weapon at the last cultist, the one holding Scrooge’s cane. The man froze in place, all but five feet away from her.

Another rifle shot rang through the chamber.

The cultist fell to the ground with a cry of pain, clutching his bloodied shoulder.

“Ah.” Goldie sighed, her smile returned. “That’s much better.”

“You almost blew me head off, you reckless reprobate!” Scrooge shouted angrily at Goldie.

“Oh, you’re fine!” Goldie snapped back at him. She turned to the one Scrooge had knocked to the ground, a dark grey rooster with a pot belly, and pointed the gun at him.

“Não atire!” The cultist protested, putting his hands up. “Don’t shoot!”

“Not unless you give me a reason.” Goldie replied bluntly. “Now, untie him. Actually, I saw you had a knife earlier. Throw it over there, then untie him.”

Reluctantly, the cultist threw away his weapon. He walked over to Scrooge and slowly undid his binds. Once he was free, Scrooge pulled himself away from him and darted over to his cane, lying on the ground next to the injured cultist.

He realised it was still set to rifle mode, back from when he’d used it in Paris.

He looked at the man clutching his shoulder, another rooster with light brown feathers.

“I don’t suppose I’ll have to fight you for the idol?” Goldie asked Scrooge, though she kept her eye on the cultist in front of her.

“What?” Scrooge blinked, then shook his head, changing the setting on the cane. “Goldie, I dinnae have the time to fight you for it! My family’s in danger!”

“Yeah, thought you’d say that. You should hurry. Bulezaus are among the stronger demons, if I recall.”

Scrooge marched back up to the cultist who untied him, pointing the cane at him and spraying a dose of knockout gas in his face. The man gasped, then fell unceremoniously to the ground.

Scrooge turned to Goldie.

“You could help me.” He told her simply. It wasn’t pointed or accusatory. It was more like an invitation.

“…I could.” Goldie considered. She shrugged uncomfortably, saying with a forced smile, “It’s not really my style, is it?”

“It wasn’t your style to save me back in the Everglades.” Scrooge countered.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Goldie looked at the ground in silence, conflict written across her face.

“…Sorry, sourdough.” She answered him. “I’ll tie up this lot so they can’t follow you.”

“Goldie…”

She gave him a brief kiss. “Stop wastin’ time.” She told him. “Go.”

Scrooge sighed disappointedly, knowing that there was no point forcing her. He turned and ran, leaving her behind. Goldie watched him leave, an oddly sad expression on her face.

“Deixá-lo morrer sozinho.” The wounded cultist muttered from the floor. “Quão nobre da sua parte.”

Goldie scowled. “Oh, shut up.”

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

Jack Nickel stepped into the FBI reception, hoping that if he just walked in nonchalantly then it would prevent anyone from noticing the several bruises and cuts across his face that still hadn’t healed.

It didn’t.

“Welcome back, Agent Nickel.” The receptionist greeted him as he walked up, a young duck woman with short blonde headfeathers.

“Mornin’, Sarah.” Jack greeted in reply. “Sorry I’m late. Car’s still in the shop, so I had to take the train today.”

“You know, you could take another day off.” Sarah told him concernedly. “You were in a car crash, after all.”

“Ah, that was a week ago. I’m fine.” Jack said with a dismissive hand wave. “Car got off much worse than I did, anyway. Any updates for me?”

“Well, Agent Simone delivered a report to your in-tray yesterday.”

“Lovely. Anythin’ else?”

“Just this.” Sarah handed him a letter. “We received this the other day. It was addressed to you.”

“Hm. Old-fashioned.” Jack took the letter, frowning as he inspected it. “Do we know who sent it?”

“It was pushed under the front door just yesterday.” Sarah replied. “Apparently the security team saw someone deliver it on the cams around eleven-thirty last night, but they couldn't get a good look at any features.”

“…Alright,” Jack sighed after a moment. “Thanks, love. Let me know if anything else comes up.”

Jack walked away, feeling a not insignificant amount of annoyance building in his gut. Fuck’s sake, he thought to himself. What now?

He entered his office, immediately sitting down at his desk and grabbing the report sitting at the top of his in-tray. Agent Simone was one of the agents in charge of watching McDuck Manor, and she also had the job of monitoring McDuck’s flight paths. He started reading the report, taking down notes as he did.

‘McDuck and family departed for Portugal’… yes, he knew that already. That was the same day he’d attempted to grill the red-shirted kid.

‘Arrived in Galinha and entered nearby castle’… made sense. McDuck couldn’t resist an old ruin. But what had he been looking for?

He raised an eyebrow at the next part of the report. ‘The locals had heard gunshots from the castle, called the regional police… McDuck had told the authorities that his family had been attacked by a bunch of farmers, who had in turn been shot and killed by an unknown gunman. According to McDuck, the farmers had been worshipping something called a Baphomet’. Interesting.

The report added a bit more context, saying that the castle was once home to medieval knights who’d apparently worshipped the same entity, but what McDuck could’ve been looking for in there was unknown. Apparently, Agent Simone was still waiting on a local antiquarian to get back to her.

It wasn’t much, annoyingly. But maybe there was something here that Hogwilde could use… the police only had Scrooge’s word that those farmers had been cultists, after all.

The hours leading up to his appointment were taken up with phone calls with the various agents he had around the city. They had seen Scrooge arrive back in town, even watched him unpack his plane, but they hadn’t seen him unpacking anything suspicious, or anything that he didn’t bring with him. Jack doubted that the old man had come back empty-handed. He was probably just being careful.

And he’s only going to be more careful after your blunder at the high school, Jack thought irritably to himself. You’ll be lucky to catch him picking his nose from now on.

He put the report aside, taking the letter he’d received at reception. He swiftly opened it and took out the message within, giving it a read.

He froze.

I know you’re watching McDuck, it read. If you want to know what McDuck took from Mexico, meet me in Needle Hill Park at 1215 hours.

“Mother…” Jack growled to himself, gripping the letter angrily.

He had a leak.

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

Two other agents had arrived with Nickel in the park – Agent Lyons, a mountain lioness from Oregon, and Agent March, a taller duck with a perpetually serious expression. Jack looked around anxiously, trying to spot anyone out of the ordinary. There were plenty of people around, mostly parents with young children and picnic baskets. Nobody suspicious at a glance.

“Spread out.” Jack ordered the other two agents. “Let’s not draw attention to ourselves.”

They nodded in acknowledgement, then walked off in different directions. Jack took a deep breath, then started to walk along one of the nearby walking tracks.

It was a nice park. Tall trees offered plenty of shade, with rolling hills to break out the landscape, and it even bordered the nearby Mudhen Lake. It was hard to appreciate the natural beauty of the area when Jack was looking over his shoulder every five seconds. The letter hadn’t mentioned where exactly to meet or what this mysterious stranger even looked like. Jack suspected that this stranger would be finding him, rather than the other way around.

It was as he was wandering down the footpath beside the lake when he heard a voice go, “Señor Nickel?”

Jack turned. Sitting on a bench, within the shade of a tree, was a muscular jaguar man, dressed in cargo pants and a khaki button-up shirt. His eyes were obscured behind a pair of aviators, his expression inscrutable.

“…Aye.” Jack replied uncertainly.

The jaguar gestured to the other side of the bench, inviting him over.

Jack’s eyes darted across to the other agents, both hovering about sixty or so feet away. There were plenty of civilians around too, so Jack felt reasonably sure that this man wasn’t going to try anything.

Reasonably.

He cautiously approached the bench and sat down beside the jaguar, facing the lake and clasping his hands together in front of him. “Who are you?” He asked quietly, seeing no reason to be coy.

“You can call me Pedro.” The jaguar replied calmly.

Jack hesitated. He needed to be careful what he said here. This ‘Pedro’ obviously knew about his investigation, but there was no telling exactly how much he knew. “Your letter…” Jack said slowly. “It said-”

“Who are the other two?”

“Huh?”

“Those two, the ones who came here with you.” Pedro elaborated, gesturing over towards where Agent Lyons was.

“…They’re, uh… just some friends I brought along to make sure this goes smoothly.”

“This is a public place, Señor, with plenty of witnesses. That did not guarantee your safety?”

“You can never be too cautious in my line of work. Now, what the hell do you want?” Jack demanded impatiently.

Pedro sighed, leaning back into the bench, spreading out his arms across the back of the seat. “I what to know why you’re spying on McDuck.” He told him.

“And who told you that?”

“Nobody. I discovered you by accident.” Pedro replied flatly. “I am watching him too, advenedizo. I noticed that there was a plane that seemed to be passing over McDuck’s house multiple times a day. The same plane. Struck me as odd. I followed the plane to the airport, then the men who came out of it, and they led me to you.” He shook his head, chuckling, “You Americans… never as clever as you think you are.”

Jack glared at the man irritably. “…Alright.” He muttered, rubbing his eyes. “And why were you watching McDuck, exactly? What’s your stake in all this?”

Pedro said nothing for a moment.

“I grew up in Durango.” He began. “In Mexico. Beautiful place. I lived in my father’s estate in the mountains, far away from town. Just me and him.”

“…Okay?” Jack replied uncertainly.

“My father was a mercenary.” Pedro continued. “The powerful men of my country, they respected him for his effectiveness. He trained me to be like him, to continue his legacy… but he was a cruel man. I endured beatings from him whenever I would disobey him, whenever I did not perform to his standards. He made me kill my first man when I was ten years old. And though I never witnessed this, I am all but certain that he murdered my mother.”

“…Alright.”

“When I was sixteen, I learned of one of his contracts. He had been hired to kill this… police officer. He was a Federale, senior officer. Refused to take bribes from the cartels, so they wanted him dead. My father knew this man was well-protected, that he had surrounded himself with loyal men. He could not kill him himself. So, what he did,” Pedro leant forward, his voice dark. “Was that he approached this child, who was a friend of the officer’s son, and he threatened him. Told him that if he did not do as my father told him, that his parents would be murdered, and he would be left to fend for himself on the streets. He told this child, the next time that he was at his friend’s home, to take a gun and shoot that officer. And shoot him, that child did.’

Jack didn’t say anything.

“My father killed the boy anyway.” Pedro murmured. “Wanted to ensure his silence. Yet, though I should have felt fear, knowing now what my father was capable of, I instead felt… determined. This was the last straw, the last act of evil that I could not let pass. When he and his friends were killed two nights later, poisoned by sodium cyanide mixed into their wine, everyone thought it had been an act of revenge from a rival cartel. But it wasn’t.

“It was me.”

“…Alright.” Jack said slowly after a moment. “That… was a horrifyin’ story. I’d love to know what the point of it was.”

“The point, advenedizo, is that three years ago… or maybe four… I met someone who reminded me of my father.” Pedro replied. “Despite my best efforts, I had found myself a mercenary, leading a small team. We had been hired to retrieve a relic from a Mesoamerican ruin. Our employer called it the ‘Crown of Xoacatzin’.”

“The what?”

“A magic crown, supposedly. I did not ask what it did… maybe I should have. Regardless, we were not the only ones who were seeking this crown. There was another, an American businessman and antique collector… with a reputation for seeking danger.”

Jack blinked. With a frown, he asked carefully, “Hold on… you’re talking about McDuck?”

“We entered the ruin before him.” Pedro continued, not answering him. “We disabled each trap we came across until we got to the final chamber of this… temple, or vault, or whatever it was. There, we saw traps that were beyond our abilities, so we hid and waited for McDuck to arrive first. He would disable the traps, take the crown, and then we would take it for him. That was the plan.”

Pedro’s face darkened. “But we had not done enough research into him. We did not know that he would bring children, his own flesh and blood, to shield himself.

“We were discovered. There was fighting. We held back, not wanting to harm the children, but in the chaos, the green-shirted child, and Ainara, one of my own, fell into a pit trap.” Pedro sighed, lamenting, “I did not see what happened down there. But I can guess. Knowing Ainara, once she realised there was no way out, she would’ve tried to buy herself time. She would’ve taken the little one hostage to frighten the family into letting us go. The child, not knowing it was a bluff, would’ve panicked. He killed her, Señor. Pulled a knife and punctured her throat when she got close. He would’ve been no older than thirteen.”

Jack stared at him in stunned silence. “…The… the green kid…” He clarified slowly. “He killed your…?”

“Do not misunderstand me – the child is not to blame.” Pedro told him. “The man responsible is the man who put that boy in that situation. The man who dragged him into that temple to begin with. The viejo who knew that he was putting his family in danger, the man who knew what was waiting for him, and took them anyway! That is the man who is to blame!”

Pedro’s voice came out as a snarl by the end. Jack stayed quiet, looking across the lake as he processed all of this. “…Right…”

Pedro looked off to the side, sighing. “…The rest of my team parted ways about a year later. There were… issues back in Mexico. Unrelated to this. I came to this country, kept an eye on the viejo as I did. I don’t know why. It was… somewhat of an obsession. He had not gone on his ‘adventures’ since that day… I thought that perhaps he had learned his lesson.” He looked back at Jack, a sour expression on his face. “Until about a month ago, when he took his family to a temple in Lebanon.”

“…I see.” Jack replied slowly.

“Throughout April, he continued to risk their lives for his own purse – as I’m sure you know already. After I heard about the Paris attack, I decided to follow McDuck and his family on their next expedition. I kept my distance. I followed their flight in a private jet, followed them to a castle in Portugal. And, like before, disaster struck. They were attacked by this monster, controlled by a pair of men-”

“What do you mean by monster?” Jack questioned him.

“I mean a literal monster, advenedizo.” Pedro replied bluntly. “Fifteen feet tall, with the head of a bull, the tail of a scorpion and the body of a starved drug addict. It was like the Devil given flesh. Had I not intervened, it would have killed all of them.”

“…And ‘intervene’ in this context means?”

Pedro cocked his head. “What do you think it means?”

“…You were the gunman.” Jack murmured in realisation.

Pedro nodded. “I was. I did not want to kill in front of the children, but if I had not, then their situation would have been much worse.”

“…You could’ve… just shot to wound.” Jack suggested hesitantly.

Pedro snorted amusedly. “There was no ‘wounding’ with the weapon I had.”

Jack stared warily at the self-professed killer sitting before him. “…Why are you telling me all this?”

Pedro seemed to ponder the question for a moment.

“…Because I want to take him down.” Pedro answered him. “Because I believe that he is an evil man, ruining his children’s lives for the sake of his own. Because I’m hoping that your intentions are good, and that you see the same thing that I do.”

“You want to work together.” Jack translated.

“I want to ruin him. I’m a killer, Nickel, but death is too easy for a man like McDuck. Death makes him a martyr. But you… you’re trying to destroy his name. That is a far more fitting punishment.”

“I’m not destroying anyone.” Jack said defensively. “I’m trying to expose him as a threat to national security.”

“Your methods would have him arrested, brought before your leaders and humiliated before the world. You would attack his reputation, strip him of his wealth. What is that, if not an attempt to destroy him?” Pedro argued. Leaning back, he conceded, “True, it is unlikely he’ll see the inside of a jail cell… but if you are successful in your mission, it won’t matter. You would mark him as an enemy of your government. He’d be watched every waking moment of his life. He’d never be able to adventure again. But achieving this, with what you have now… I would say it is impossible.”

Pedro looked over at him. “So, let me help, and I can make it possible.”

Jack sat in silence for a while, frowning as he mulled over the offer.

“What do you get out of this?” He finally asked.

Pedro shrugged. “The knowledge that he will not be able to harm those children again.”

Jack took a deep breath, then sighed.

“Alright, look.” He started to explain. “I get that you want to do good and all, but…” He tutted in fake disappointment. “I’m afraid the FBI doesn’t do business with foreign agents.”

“But you do business with a woman who robs banks and scares people out of their money?” Pedro challenged.

“…Maybe that didn’t work out so well for me.”

Pedro’s expression was impassive. Almost disappointed. He slowly stood up, reaching into his pocket, and Jack felt a twinge of fear – but he was only taking out his wallet. He took a business card out from it, handing it over to him.

“…What is this?” Jack asked confusedly as he took it.

“When you realise that you need my help,” Pedro instructed him. “Call the number on this card. Say that you are waiting on a package from Salto del Diablo. The operator will ask how long you have been waiting, you will say ‘eighteen days, twelve hours and counting’. Then, he will put you on to me.”

Pedro took off his sunglasses and looked at Jack dead in the eye. The intensity of his glare made Jack flinch.

“Do not make me regret coming to you.” Pedro warned him.

With that, the jaguar left, leaving Jack alone on the bench with nothing but the business card and an uncomfortable sense of foreboding.

#ducktales aftermath #aftermath #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #scrooge dt17 #scrooge mcduck #goldie o'gilt #fanfiction #cw: child death

13 notes · View notes

thelavendercatalogue · 2 months

Text

Wrote something for my LJ series that wont be posted on my AO3 for a while cause we're not up to this part of the story, but this was an attempt at writing 2 characters that are being introduced into the story and I figured I might as well share it cause I actually like how it came out

Characters belong to @pavlien

"Keep walking" Someone mumbled, breathing warm and harsh and that voice was the only thing grounding Kaz to his own body. He felt sick, his muscles burned and chilled and there was an acrid aftertaste in the back of his throat like nothing he had tasted in years. How many times has he gotten sick so far? He didn't know. It was all spinning hard and fast around him...

...there had been so many dead bodies. So many corpses with no reason to be dead. People he knew. . .people he once knew. Why did it ever get this bad?

He should have listened.

He should have listened to Oliver, Oliver always was the smarter one of the two of them. He knew better. Kaz hated him for leaving, but now he understood why he did. Now he understood and it took everything in Kaz to keep from sobbing for the first time in such a long time.

Sobbing. Vomiting. Cursing his own name.

Oliver had never steered him wrong before. Why on earth would he have ever thought that he would do it now? Why did he never say anything when Don labeled him a traitor. . .when they. . . he knew better. . .why did he. . .

God. Why was it so fucking hot.

It was supposed to be winter for god-fucking-sakes, the season of falling leaves and frosty mornings. Instead, it felt as if he'd just walked out into a blazing, relentless sun that pierced through his eye like needles and made his head ache.

He'd never been thirsty and hot like he had been now in such a long time. . .

"Kaz."

He tried to say something but his throat was too dry to do more than give a thin whine. Someone grabbed his shoulder roughly and shook. A shock-wave of pain raced down his side and he let out a hoarse cry, practically curling in on himself.

“You gotta stay awake. C’mon, stand up straight-” It was an order, rough but with the smallest bit of shake underneath. Enough to force the man back to reality.

He blinked and forced his eye open. He had been wrong. . .It wasn’t the sun overhead that greeted him with needles forced into the only eye he had left in his buzzing skull. It was instead a blindingly bright overhead fluorescent lamp against a bruised blue sky, flickering and buzzing and making spots dance in front of his vision. A cold breeze blew around him, bringing with it a bleak winter chill, but it didn’t bother him much. He was hot anyways. He was warm, the cold didn’t bother him. Instead something else did. Something sharp pricked his chest and he squirmed. He ached, waves of pain still rolling through him every time those rough, calloused hands touched him.

Kaz’s breathing lapsed in little spasms and waves and there were so many things wrong with this that he couldn't keep his eye open for more than a moment without feeling the need to retch in the nearest bush. The voice that spoke to him sounded warbled, like he was hearing it through water. His head spun. Maybe it wasn’t Oliver. . .maybe it was someone else.

The hands grabbed him again and lifted for a better hold. “Damn - dang it, you’re heavier than you look.”

No it couldn’t be Oliver. . .there was a shake underneath that tone. Oliver never did scare easy. . .besides. . .he was gone. . . Oliver was never coming back. Don had seen to that. So who was this holding onto him with such desperation?

He doesn’t have time to think before his knees buckle under his weight and he hits the floor, the sharp concrete underfoot driving deep against his kneecaps. Someone else falls with him, knocked off balance. The pain, hard and jarring, seemed to galvanize Kaz for a moment and with a sudden snap back to reality he looked up. Sweat dripped in his eye and Oliver was already getting up and was yanking him on his arms to pull him back up.

It was Oliver. . .

oh god it was him.

Wait. . . Wait.. . .when had he come back. . .why did he come back. Why was he here, what was he doing here. Don was going to kill him if he knew he was here. Oliver was a traitor. Don would have him killed. . .

But he was here. Oh god he was here and he was yanking him to his feet and Kaz’s head swam and dipped and turned and tilted and whirled. . .

And Oliver was indeed very much silent but there was a fear in his eyes that even Kaz couldn't begin to describe even if he could think long enough to do so. But Oliver remained warm and present and rough, a solid weight against his bad side, grounding him to reality. That's all he wanted, that presence. Even after all that had happened, even after all that he did, Oliver had come back to him.

Maybe people were right. Maybe they were indeed inseparable, in both life and death it seemed.

“Kaz, c’mon.” Oliver shook him again and he blinked, trying to focus. It wasn’t hot anymore, but the pain in his side was growing, a throbbing burn in his stomach that stretched across his side and down his leg.

“On your feet,” he commanded this time, throwing Kaz’s arm over his shoulder. “I can’t drag you Kaz.”

“Let me sleep,” Kaz rasped, even though he knew the answer would be no.

“You need to walk…”

So much damn pain over so much shriveled useless tissue. Why was it getting worse?

"Shit…"

Kaz felt something warm and wet against his stomach. His fingers trail down, but Oliver slaps his hand away.

"Don't touch it, you idiot. C'mon, keep moving."

Kaz was pulled upright suddenly and a shock of pain traveled down his side. The wet warmth on his shirt spread, so hot he thought it might burn him. His fingers tingled and the lights began to spin. He didn't really feel hot anymore, just...confused. Why was Oliver here? Why did he come back. . .why didn’t his feet want to move properly?

"Ollie, I can't do this."

Oliver visibly winces at the familiar nickname and God Kaz absolutely despises how he sounded. He didn't want to give up, not again. Not after...He didn’t want to sound weak. . .but why was he hurting so much. . .what was going on, why was his head swimming and burning and cold and. . .

And was this what dying felt like. . .it had to be, he remembered a similar feeling from years ago and it still scared him how much he remembered about it. . .but. . .this felt

different.

"We need to leave, Freak," Oliver finally rasped, exhausted and Kaz never thought he would ever hear that nickname flow from his lips ever again. But for the first time Kaz could hear it shake just so and he was sure now that something was indeed very wrong. "Walk with me, that's it."

They walked. Half walked, half ran, stumbled. Tripped, fell, got up again.

There was silence between them. Quiet, and Kaz felt his heart in his throat, legs sticking and movements jarred as Oliver ushered them both on.

And on, and on, and on.

"But what about Don..." Kaz rasps suddenly. . .because he still remembers Don’s orders. . . Oliver was a wanted man. . .what if Don found him. . .what would they do? But Oliver doesn’t sound too worried. . .

“Don’t worry about it. . .just keep moving”

Something was wrong. . .Kaz knew that. . .but what.

"But Ollie. . .Ollie where will we go?" Kaz whispered finally.

At that, Oliver stops suddenly. Kaz holds his weight on a numb leg as best he can and opens his eye, and Oliver is bright and shiny in the heat encompassing his vision. Oliver’s brow creases in a way Kaz never thought he would miss seeing. And Oliver thinks before he starts moving them again.

"I don't know, Kaz," Oliver answered just as quietly.

Kaz didn’t question it any more. Sometime later, they hear sirens rumbling in the distance, blue and red flashing rapidly down the road. Oliver curses. He pulls Kaz close to him and holds him tightly against him, pressed hard against a concrete wall out of sight. A breeze blows, rustles the bushes they hide behind. The cold of the air seemed to lift him bodily. The moon was in the sky.

The police cars turn a corner and head straight for the Docks. Oliver waits a few moments till they're all out of view before they start moving again.

On the slope at the end of the road, a car seemed to sit in the moonlight. Like a savior in the night, a boat to a drowning man lost at sea, and pressed against him, Kaz could suddenly feel Oliver’s heart begin to give off tremendous explosions like a rifle,

bang bang bang.

Oliver leaves him pressed against the cool metal of the car's passenger door while he goes to jerry-rig the other door open. He still talks to him; he mentions something about Vincent but Kaz doesn’t really hear him anymore. By then his body had been giving it its all, but his vision and hearing had slowly started to fail him. When he finally got a good look down at himself, he noticed how bloodsoaked his shirt and the front of his jeans were; the wetness bright red and warm but almost inky black in the night.

He also noticed how his leg looked near mangled and laid at an awkward angle from just below the knee. The sight should have frightened him, and the sudden chill should have done worse. But when the encroaching darkness finally encompassed his failing vision, and all he could hear was Oliver’s rough and accent-touched voice suddenly start calling his name with a frantic sense of urgency, Kaz’s only thought though, was how happy he was to admit to himself and only to himself. . .just how tremendously joyful he was to have Oliver’s stone-like presence beside him once again.

#lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin the 3rd #Lupin III: The Lavender Jacket Series #lupin iii oc's #Kaz n Oliver #my stories #my writing

10 notes · View notes

bodyalive · 3 months

Text

When I mentioned the macabre, bituminous door to Chris, whose demeanor is something like a time-lapse of spring—brutality and kindness cycling in rapturous color—she did not have much to say. She had ministered to me while I lay in so many different kinds of crises, her face said; she had tried to help me in so many ways. Cupping and moxibustion; lancing and needling; something experimental called battlefield acupuncture, which involved her piercing my auricular cartilage with needles that stayed there for a week. Had I forgotten the months I felt hunted—by thoughts of death and risk, illness and drowning, accident and suicide, and by a particular secret of my childhood, which I had confessed to her as though I had just learned it? Chris, whose belief in qi had so often embarrassed me—there! she would shout, hearing what she claimed was my blood finding motive force—wanted me moving in the direction of life.

It was as if she understood that the door would magnetize that dark dimension of my thinking, the death drive that had made me alternately brave (or pathologically reckless) and clinically sad, and which I had always explained, perhaps a little too easily, with a constituent history: when I was young, before my brain had quite finished forming, my family died. I had struggled with how prominently, on the hierarchy of personal identifiers, this fact was meant to sit, even as I bitterly understood, and wished others would understand, its separative effect. The door, in its static defeat, was a palliative: proclaiming a past that would always be happening to those who had experienced it, as well as the sovereign right never to discuss it.

[...]

Kathleen Alcott: “It shatters me to understand how much of our behavior is just a rejoinder to an old question, like something shouted down the hall at some delay, the hall being all the time we hurried down, the shout being the noise we make once we think we’re safe.”

#trauma #bodywork #safety #Kathleen Alcott #quotes #bodymind #Body Alive #Harpers Magazine

5 notes · View notes

black-quadrant · 1 year

Text

Happy Holidays @nugatories !!

I hope you enjoy my humble offering of joshneku fighting and flirting for @twewysecretsanta

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43818006

It didn’t occur to Neku back then that Joshua’s maneuvers could be anything but attempts to get under his skin. His incessant teasing, needling, and undermining meant to rile him up. Why? Because he could? Because he’s a prick? Neku didn’t question it; arguably he had bigger things to worry about than why his partner was such a sadist.

Neku made no attempt to downplay the fact he’s not a fan of Joshua’s, but Joshua gave him no reason to be from literally Day One.

But more than all of his little ploys to goad him, what really rubbed Neku the wrong way from the start was how Joshua was always watching him. It felt like, even with his eyes closed, he still saw Joshua.

None of it made sense until Joshua dropped the bomb and revealed the purpose behind the Game – Neku’s purpose.

Neku spent a long time replaying his experience, pouring over three weeks of footage, like he’s rewatching a series with the new perspective of knowing how it ends.

Yes, he concluded, Joshua was flexing his advantage to try to color Neku’s vision of the world, to further isolate him from it and thus push his own agenda, anticipating that Neku would make the same moves as him.

It’s clear then and now that Joshua was also poking and prodding at him for kicks. He mulled over the many different come-ons he batted away as just another way of toying with him. But was there some truth to it? Has Joshua been… flirting with him?

That whole time?

If he weren’t now so close to Joshua three years later, the realization would have infuriated him.

Joshua still teases him, albeit without the flexing. His comments are subtle and could easily be dismissed as playful banter, but there’s an extra layer of physical element that blurs the line between platonic and flirtation. Playground antics Neku had dismissed as simply Joshua – bold, presumptuous, overweening, all qualities any normal being should be ashamed of, but Joshua wore these unsavory traits like he wore Dragon Couture. Flawlessly.

Everything’s starting to add up at an alarming rate. Most important of the revelations is the discovery that Neku’s not all that unattracted to Joshua.

Well, if Joshua wanted to engage in playground antics, Neku would give him playground antics.

And maybe Joshua’s never had a taste of his own medicine. Only way one to test this theory.

The first experiment is a small one. Joshua’s texted a request to meet him at the fabled Phone Booth of Love, and he’s got the perfect opportunity to sneak up on Joshua while his back’s turned. He may be omniscient (so he says), but Neku’s learned that Joshua’s awareness of his surroundings lapses when he’s immersed in his phone. That makes it easy for him to sidle up and blow a puff of air in his ear. Joshua immediately whirls around with an affronted gasp to meet Neku’s twinkling gaze. Finally, a chance to turn the tables -- for him to be smug.

“You’re rusty, Composer.”

“And you’re close enough to steal my breath away.”

Neku figured he’d have some snarky retort, but this one works in his favor. He plants a hand against the glass and leans in, just a little bit but it’s closer than he’s known to get to Joshua’s personal space. To anyone but Neku, Joshua looked unfazed, but that single blink betrays a hint of surprise.

“Do you actually need to breathe?”

Joshua’s eyes sharpen, and his head slowly tilts, sizing him up.

“You know I’m not just going to tell you, but I can show you… if you come closer…”

And just when it looks like Neku’s about to oblige Joshua’s coquettish invitation, he thrusts out a hand to assault Joshua’s flanks, and the other hand braced on the booth springs into action to join in, ruthlessly tickling Joshua’s sides. And Joshua, so thoroughly caught off-guard by the outlandish move, squeals and squirms, trying in vain to push Neku away. His former proxy’s got some hidden strength, however, which he’s using to pin the Composer between his body and the booth. It’s not long until Joshua’s laughter devolves into choking and wheezing, and only then does Neku let up and push back.

“I’d say that’s a resounding yes.”

He’s living for how flustered Joshua looks, all disheveled and pink in the cheeks.

“What?” Feigned innocence. “Was that not what you were suggesting?”

Before Joshua could respond any which way, Neku’s backed up out of his reach, and although Joshua did not retaliate, his set jaw and level stare told Neku, without words: challenge accepted.

From then on, the boundaries between fighting and flirting begin to blur. It’s all-out war. Joshua’s doubled down on his vamping, with his bedroom eyes (which almost cave Neku, to be fair), open buttons and lingering touches. But it’s Neku who’s teasing him, letting their mutual attraction bring them within inches of kissing before playfully bullying him, sometimes literally wrestling him into submission. Tension’s been a natural part of their dynamic, but now it’s straining from something much different. The unrelenting physical contact is no help whatsoever, even though they’re both thoroughly reveling in it. Somewhere along the way Neku’s experiment’s morphed into a game; it’s now a battle of wills.

The holiday season rolled in, and inevitably they find themselves together at a homey Christmas party among their friends. Alcohol’s pouring, but Neku’s abstaining. He needs to be alert in case his favorite rival decides to pull a fast one on him. If he’s honest with himself, he hopes he will.

Joshua lies in wait until everyone’s split off, as tends to be the natural progression of soirees. Joshua suspected Neku would remain solo, and just his luck, once groups begin to form, their eyes lock across the room. He takes a few steps back to stand just shy of being completely obscured by the tree, and crooks a finger in beckoning. Neku meanders over, glancing about to make sure no one’s paying attention, before circling around the tree.

Neku can’t help but take a moment to appreciate how the multicolored lighting brings glitter to Joshua’s eyes, and tints his skin with a warm glow. But it’s that brief moment of weakness that leaves him open to attack.

“What’s up, Josh–”

He never finishes the question, for he’s been interrupted by a mistletoe to the face and his mouth claimed by Joshua’s. A rush of endorphins storms his brain, and just like that, his defenses collapse. But if he’s to lose, he’ll go down fighting; unsurprisingly, their kiss is as violently passionate as the buildup. Neku, wresting the upper hand, slams him against the nearest wall (like he wanted to that day at the booth), which just so happens to be within close proximity of the tree. Joshua’s flailing sends it toppling over magnificently, to the tune of uproarious applause and whoops and hollers of finally.

"I echo their sentiments," Joshua all but purrs. "What took you so long?" And Neku contends with his sass by putting him in a very festive kimura submission hold and nibbles Joshua's arm while he screeches hilariously.

#joshneku #joshua kiryu #neku sakuraba #twewy #nugatories #twewysecretsanta2022 #h writes

23 notes · View notes

karihigada · 1 year

Text

just as sweet

for CubScar Week on Tumblr @cubscarweek

day 6 - cookies

Read on AO3

a sweet breakfast and a little mischievousness

Having Cub move in with him had been a delight. It was just like old times, the two of them together. Helping each other out, or teaming up to terrorize their friends. Just like old times. Cub was ever the rapscallion as he'd always been, and Scar himself wasn't spared from it.

First siphoning off from Scar's smelter. Then when he got caught, filling all systems with magenta terracotta. Scar loved it, it kept him on his toes.

But his favorite were the shared meals, especially breakfast. Being able to spend more time with Cub was wonderful. Starting the day together before going off to their respective projects. His theme park, and the monstrosity Cub was building out in the desert. Scar couldn't wait.

And breakfast was a constant wonderful game in its own right. Scar, the head elf and chef of the cookie empire. Cub, co-founder and advocate for GigaPies. The eternal (new-found) rivalry of who had the superior sweet delight.

(Excluding cake, of course.)

Every day the table between them was stacked with glorious foods. Not just cookies and pies, but also cut fruit, honeyed bread, jam, and yogurts. A feast every day.

And every day they tried to convince the other to give in to their sweet temptations.

In-between talking about projects or plans, banter was filled with playful words and silly little teases. Needling each other up over everything and nothing at all, before lapsing into comfortable silence and enjoying each other’s company.

Cub was leaning his chin on one hand, a satisfied half smile on his lips. He was watching Scar eat, Scar exaggeratedly savoring every bite. It was all part of the game. Scar knew Cub well enough that some devious plan must be brewing in that pretty head of his.

And sure enough, after a moment Cub slowly and purposefully moved his free hand to take a cookie off Scars plate and inspect it closely from all angles.

Scar watched him with curiosity, he knew their pretend feud wouldn't end so easily. They were both not the kind to give in without a fight.

"They do look good, gotta admit, gotta admit." Cub met Scar's eyes. "Compliments to the chef. What'd you call these, an Elven Kiss? Well," his smile grew sharper, more mischievous. He held the cookie out to Scar. "There might be one way to convince me to try one of these."

Scar matched Cub’s grin in kind, his eyes gleaming. This was not a challenge he would back down from. But he didn't take the cookie, oh no, two could play this game. Instead he deliberately leaned over the table.

Scar opened his mouth to eat the cookie out of Cubs hand, keeping eye contact, licking some frosting off Cubs fingers. Cub's eyes were intense and focused on Scar’s every move.

Scar braced one hand on the table to lean over Cub and kiss him. Cub gave a deep appreciating hum, clearly savoring it, licking into Scar's mouth to chase the taste.

"Mhmh, yes, very sweet." Cub said as Scar leaned back after what felt like an eternity and yet not long enough. "But I think I'll stick with pies." The look on his face was full of mirth and mischievousness.

Scar chuckled, something pleasant spreading in his gut at the taste of his favourite treat. This wasn't over yet.

Looking Cub in the eyes he licked his lips. "In that case, maybe I should try it as well?"

"Sure, man. I can't speak for the skills of the cook, but it is the superior food around here."

With bated breath Scar watched him raise his fork and pick up a small slice of pie.

But instead of bringing it to his own lips to then let Scar have a sweet taste, like Scar had hoped, Cub held the pie out in front of him with a self-satisfied grin on his lips. Clearly he believed he had won the little game they were playing. "I knew you would come around."

"Oh, you trickster."

Cub laughed and Scar wouldn't want it any other way.

#cubscarweek #hermitshipping #convex #cubfan135 #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #hermitcraft #karis fics

13 notes · View notes

tawakkull · 1 year

Text

ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 35

Sakina and Itmi'nan (Serenity and peacefulness)

Literally meaning calmness, silence, steadiness, solemnity, familiarity, subsidence of waves and tranquillity, sakina (serenity) is the opposite of flightiness, restlessness, and wavering or indecision. In the language of Sufism, serenity means that a heart gradually comes to rest as a result of experiencing gifts from the Unseen. Such a restful heart always expects breezes to come from the realms beyond, and thus travels around in a state of itmi'nan (peacefulness) in the most complete care and self-possession. This rank is the beginning of the rank of certainty coming from direct observance. The resulting confusion over gifts coming through knowledge with gifts “obtained” through insight clouds the horizon of observing secret truths, which gives rise to wrong conclusions [about the reality of things]. Serenity sometimes comes in the form of perceptible or imperceptible signs; at other times it appears so clearly that even ordinary people can identify it. Sometimes serenity and its signs resemble spiritual breaths or Divine breezes that can be perceived only with great care; at other times, they come miraculously and so clearly that anyone can see them, as in the case of the Children of Israel during the time of Prophet Moses, and remain for some time among those deserving to be rewarded or equipped with it. One example is the mass of something resembling vapor or mist that surrounded Usayd ibn Khudayr while he was reading the Qur'an. [1] Such events are considered manifestations sent to strengthen the believers’ willpower and to affirm and hearten them.

In either case, serenity is a Divine confirmation for those believers aware of their helplessness and destitution before God, a means of thankfulness and enthusiasm, as stated in: He it is Who sent down serenity into the hearts of the believers so that they may have more faith added to their faith (48:4). A believer confirmed with serenity is not shaken by worldly fear, grief, and anxiety, and finds peace, integrity, and harmony between his or her inner world and the outer world. Such a person is dignified, balanced, confident, assured and solemn, and self-possessed and careful in his or her relations with God Almighty. Egoism, vanity, and pride are abandoned; every spiritual gift received is attributed to God; humility and self-discipline are exhibited while thanking Him; and all dissatisfaction and uneasiness is ascribed to personal weakness and examined in the light of self-criticism.

As for peacefulness, it is defined as full satisfaction and the state of being at complete rest without any serious lapse. It is a spiritual state beyond serenity. If serenity is the beginning of being freed from theoretical knowledge and awakened to the truth, peacefulness is the final point or station.

The ranks or stations of radiya (being pleased with God in resignation) and mardiya (being approved by God) are two dimensions of peacefulness belonging to good and virtuous believers and the depths of resignation. The ranks of mulhama (being inspired by God) and zakiya (being purified by God) are two other difficult-to-perceive degrees of peacefulness relating to those brought near to God. The gifts coming through them are pure and abundant.

Some thoughts and inclinations displeasing to God may appear in serene souls, while only perfect calmness is found in those that are peaceful and at rest. Peaceful hearts always seek God’s pleasure or approval, and the “compass needle” of their conscience never swerves. Peacefulness is such an elevated rank of certainty that a soul traveling through it sees in every station the truth of: I wish to set my heart at rest (2:260) and is rewarded with different gifts. Wherever the believer is, the breeze of: No fear shall come upon them, neither shall they grieve (2:62) is felt; the good tidings of: Fear not, nor grieve, but rejoice in the good news of Paradise that has been promised to you (41:30) is heard; the sweet, life-giving water of: Beware, in the remembrance of God do hearts find peace and tranquillity (13:28) is tasted; and corporeality is defeated.

Peacefulness is realized when believers transcend material causes and means. Reason’s transnatural journey ends at this point, and spirits are freed from worldly anxieties. Here, feelings find whatever they seek and become as deep, wide, and peaceful as a calm ocean. Those who have acquired this rank find the greatest peace only in feeling the company of God. They become aware of Divine Beauty and Grace in their hearts, feel attracted toward Him in order to meet with Him, are conscious that existence subsists by God’s existence, and that the power of speech exists only because He has Speech. Through this opened window they acquire, despite their finitude, the power to see and hear in an extremely broad capacity. In the whirl of the most complicated events, where everyone else is bewildered and falters, such people travel in safety and escape the whirl.

In addition to being freed from worldly anxieties, a believer whose heart is at rest or peace welcomes with a smile both death and the obstacles following death, and hears the Divine compliments and congratulations: Return to your Lord, pleased and well-pleasing. Enter among My servants, and enter My Garden (89:29-30).

Death is seen as the most agreeable and desired result of life. When his or her life has ended in death, he or she hears, as was heard from the grave of Ibn ‘Abbas, in every station passed through after death, the same Divine congratulations or Decree: Return to your Lord, pleased and well-pleasing. Enter among My servants, and enter My Garden.

Such people spend their lives of the grave on the “shores” of Paradise, experience the Great Gathering in wonder and admiration, the Supreme Weighing of Men’s Deeds in awe and amazement, pass over the Bridge, only because he or she has to pass over it, and finally reaches Paradise the last, eternal abode of those whose hearts are at rest or have found peace and tranquillity. For such a one, the world is as ‘Arafat [2] prepared on the way leading to the eternal forgiveness of the believers. The worldly life is the Festival Eve, and the other life is the Day of Festival.

[1] Usayd bin Khudayr felt surrounded by a vapor-like mass while reading the Qur'an and felt greatly exhilarated. [2] The hill where Muslim pilgrims stay for some time on the eve of the Religious Festival

5 notes · View notes

deliriousbug · 2 years

Note

-deep inhale- What if, and yes this is another megatrob request I DONT MEAN TO DOAM YOU IM SORRY ITS JUST THE DUDE HAS SO MUCH AMUNITION!!!

Human lover needs BRAIN SURGERY and maybe, unaware of megatron last with needles in his brain and stuff, asks if he’ll be there for him? And ya know, sdbdjjdb

Lmao all good, I feel the same honestly.

Gender Neutral human lover, sfw

The diagnosis was critical. Megatron drilled the human doctors, demanding more options, but there were none. The two available seemed worse than none: immediate brain surgery or losing the love of his life; the one human he would abandon everything for. His life meant nothing in the wake of theirs and to imagine living without them was miserable.

Neither mech nor human spoke until they returned to Autobot Headquarters. A select few Lost Light crew members were staying there with Optimus and his group. These mechs were those most concerned for their ailing human friend and who wanted to be with them while they healed.

Parked just outside of the base, Megatron activated his holoform. He took his love’s trembling, soft hands in his, urging steadiness into them.

They smiled but it was strained. “I’m alright,” they mumbled.

Megatron pulled them tight to his chest, stroking their back as they sobbed into his shoulder. He could care less about the mess. It was fleeting, infinitesimal. Their fists balling in his shirt, their angry-confused-scared aura were also temporary but those he could not ignore. No, those broke his spark and the mere thought of what was to come inspired fear in it as well. Mind numbing, energon freezing fear.

“It will be okay,” they sniffed, pulling back. “It will.”

Megatron brushed their tears away with the pad of his thumb. His throat was clamped shut and he wondered how long he could avoid speaking. It was cowardly, he knew, and the shame burned, but it didn’t overpower the fear. How could he explain that this was the worst possible outcome without delving into his past? The past which his organic lover knew nothing of. Until now, Megatron had seen no relevance in dredging up trauma and weighing down the relatively happy relationship he and his human shared. But now it clogged his vents and clouded his processor. Invisible needles dragged over the base of his neck and he grimaced. He knew no one could be behind him but he felt someone right there, cleaning the arera to prepare for injection. He could feel them sifting through his mind, altering, removing, changing the very core of him—

“Megatron?”

His darling’s voice drew him back to reality. The reality in which his holoform clutched them against his chest, curling himself around them, shielding them from the invisible mnemosurgeouns. His fingers dug into their arms hard enough to bruise but there was no fear in their voice, only concern.

“Megatron?” They tried again.

He released them like he’d been shocked and he reeled back. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, voice startlingly unsteady. Clearing his throat didn’t help much. “Are you okay?”

They touched his arm, questioning. “I’m fine. What’s wrong?”

He looked away. “Nothing. Please, do not worry about me. Not now.”

“Then don’t give me a reason to worry!” Their voice softened. “I know what dissociation and panic look like on you, Megatron . . . Was it something I said?”

He didn’t answer because he didn’t know. It was like he’d lost a chunk of time and the lapse only worsened the state of his nerves.

His love affectionately brushed a curl of gray hair out of his holoform face. “Last thing I said was that everything was going to be alright because you’d be there with me.”

Megatron worked his jaw, fighting against the ghost of a touch on his neck. “I can’t,” he whispered.

Their brow furrowed. “Can’t what?”

“I. . . I cannot be with you during the surgery.” He avoided their gaze, not wanting to see the pain there. “I love you. I love you so much that no words suffice, but I can’t.”

“Something happened. . .” they realized aloud. “Oh, baby, what happened?”

Megatron didn’t expect this, this safety, this understanding. When they needed him most, he let them down, and this was how they reacted? No tears, no yelling, no fighting at all?

They cupped his face in their hands and kissed his forehead, over each eye, and the tip of his nose. “I know there’s so much you don’t want to or can’t talk about, but I’ll always be here for you,” they vowed.

He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. “I fail you because I can’t reciprocate,” he hissed, angrier at himself than anyone else.

“Baby, I know that burns you up inside, but it changes nothing of my love. Besides, you can always be with me once the operation is over.”

Megatron didn’t say that he was terrified of doing even that. What if the doctors altered his love’s mind, removed the part of them that knew and loved him. Or worse, what if that love was manipulated into hate and disgust?

They pulled him in for the lightest of kisses. “I want to see your eyes when I wake up,” they whispered.

Megatron vented heavily, determination settling in his spark. “And you shall,” he declared as he leaned in for another kiss.

#megatron #mtmte megatron #transformers #transformers idw #gender neutral s/o #transformers mtmte #maccadam #sfw

24 notes · View notes

hcark · 2 years

Text

(lee soohyuk, they/them, dreamshade) to YANG CHANYEOL, the whole world looks like an open page. with a leap of faith, their ability of INK MANIPULATION grows a little stronger. they are a EASTERN GRASS OWL shade aligned to NO ONE. for TWO HUNDRED years, they have survived a world of magic with both their ASTUTENESS and DISHONESTY. they work as a TATTOO ARTIST, but if they could change their fate, they’d want to SPEAK THE TRUTH WITHOUT WANTING TO FLEE.

DOSSIER .

Memories of old are preserved in syrupy gold, cushioned with unmistakable care. The golden days, they label them — lit by never-ending sunshine and warmth. But the reality was more complex than that. The flyaways needle-sharp with loss and remorse; something they're all too keen to keep aflame as a reminder of a home lost. The chance at a mundane life had once charmed them like a fiddle. So what if mortal life was fleeting? The way of living, of humanity, was too potent to turn a blind eye to. To not try and obtain even a fraction of it felt suffocating and foolish.

So they did.

Chanyeol pushed forward in life to experience as much as they could. It just so happened that their steps crossed another's, someone brilliant and bright — daring but understanding. By all means, they'd been caught then, kept by their side until age took its toll. The eyes they cherished most soon gazed back without recognition, clouded with confusion and generalized kindness.

Some say that time heals all, but they'd beg to differ. The loss never strayed far from their heart as the seasons passed. Little less than a century of joy for twice the length of grief. Carelessness had settled in the emptied burrow of their chest early on. Negligent of possible repercussions, they withdrew into themselves, never intending to unfurl from the snarling form of a recluse at the very corner of their plot.

Time lapsed by without care. The once polished exterior grew over craggy with apathy, all while the elements of weather gradually wore away at the fine details. It didn't even matter when the world around them seeded throughout lineages. Things would just be the same as the last.

Except.. it wasn't.

Unlike WC's predecessors, the resolve to have everything snapped into tiptop shape extended from the inside out — them included. Slowly, gently, WC took the time to visit him with casual conversation and the like. Not once did they stir from his self imposed confines, but they did listen. WC's efforts hadn't been wasted, though they continued to be too sullen and hardly present to the ever-evolving world to really care. And though their body was mended, their mind did not. The bramble clutches of strife refused to let up their hold, but they were fine with that. Really, Chanyeol swore they were okay with the solitary lifestyle.

As the seasons changed, WC's diligence to uphold chatter never wavered — it grew, if anything. Now sheltered by an extension of their arts ( one of the very few things they've come to cherish ) and subjected to the occasional one-sided chat — their aching heart felt a balm overcome it. Nearly a decade later and they finally freed themselves from stony temperaments.

MISC. INFO .

Chanyeol always wears gloves and very few know why. During their bout of depression, their experimentation to bring back a copy of their last love had an extremely negative impact. Specifically, their hands. The skin ( if the appendages could even be considered as flesh and blood anymore ) is permanently stained black. This gives Chanyeol the ability to draw even more ink from his hands, but the supply isn’t endless.

Yes, Chanyeol can bring any drawing made of ink alive.

They typically have some animal hovering around them. The two most frequent forms are of a nightjar and snake.

CONNECTIONS .

Late night triple F ( frenzy, fun, fright ) — Despite how put together Chanyeol may be during the day, there’s an itch to let loose after a day’s work. A bit of an adrenaline junkie, they welcome the company of anyone that’s open to a wild night.

Perma inked up — Clients of all sorts, both new and old. Despite how temperamental Chanyeol can be, they do try to make the session as seamless as possible. And given their influence over ink, the process is essentially pain free. Honestly, it can take only a handful of minutes depending on the size of the tattoo.

So many friends with benefits — No shame here, but they’re, how do you say... a whuere.

Live, love, laugh a little — Something something.. kiss kiss fall back in love, thanks.

#cag: intro

5 notes · View notes

detectivestucks · 2 months

Text

The Anbu Captain XII

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader

Summery: Kakashi hesitates in battle and it has him reevaluating your relationship. Meanwhile Akio reenters the picture.

Warnings: mild NSFW, violence, dry humping, panic attack

Word Count: 6.4k

Art Credit: @akirasukuna Thank you so much for the custom art. You're absolutely the best!

Part 11, New here? Check out Part 1

Author's Note: ...remember the wrench? Almost at the end of the series babes, just one chapter to go!

Shuriken hail through the trees while team Ro takes cover. It’s not looking good. The morning watchman was mysteriously taken out. Their body still lifeless on the ground. Though Kakashi could smell that they were alive, seeing one of his own so vulnerable had him shaken.

Shouting can be heard from the enemy when all of the sudden an arrow of water shoots no more than an inch from Kakashi’s shoulder.

They switched up their attacks. What happened to the shuriken user?

Kakashi’s mind raced to come up with a tactical plan to get them out of this. His team was relying on him. He doesn’t have a wide range attack like the enemy did. One could throw ten shuriken at a time, the other could turn humidity into water arrows and shoot them three at a time, and the third one…what could the third one do? He can’t make a proper plan without knowing what they’re up against. What if his jutsu is some odorless gas or invisible poison?

No, he can’t think like that. Sometimes the best defense is offense. How can he attack all of them at the same time? Flying raijin. If he uses Minato-sensei’s jutsu he can attack all of them quickly. He just needs to plant the marks.

Kakashi signals for his teammates to cover him. He needs time to place a mark on some of his kunai. He’d only attempted this a couple times after Obito gave him his sharingan. He didn’t carry around special kunai the way Minato-sensei did. He had to make his own on the spot. He hurriedly made the marked kunai. When they were ready he stood up to survey his team. They kept the enemy distracted so the strategy should be a surprise.

Kakashi steps out from behind his cover to throw the kunai when the third shinobi reveals their trick. An entire bed of grass is pulled from the earth. With a sharp snap, hundreds of blades rose up into the air and turned on their sides so that the edges pointed at Kakashi.

He stopped as he observed the green of the earth weaponized into hundreds, no, thousands of needles, ready to slice him open. For the first time ever, Kakashi felt an emotion new to him.

Fear.

He can’t die here. He can’t leave you alone. The thought of your tear stained cheeks came to the front of his mind. He imagined your face when the Hokage brought you news of his death. He saw you standing in front of the memorial stone the way he stood in front of it for Obito. Hours passing as if they were seconds. Days stretching into years, all spent in front of that cursed angular black monument. No, not you. That can’t be you.

Kakashi is brought back to the present by the feeling of Tenzo’s chest crashing into his shoulder as he tackles Kakashi into the earth to save him from the onslaught of razor sharp grass blades slicing through the air. Tenzo’s bare right shoulder and bicep are slashed in so many places his skin looked flayed. Kakashi looked at him in horror, realizing it was his mental lapse that led to his comrade’s injury.

“Captain, are you alright?!”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Kakashi snatches his kunai and leaps back up to hurl them at the enemy.

“Ha! You missed! I thought you were supposed to be skilled Anbu.” the enemy jeers.

Kakashi readies his lightning blade, anger flowing through him. Just as more grass is ripped from the earth Kakashi flies, enemy to enemy, running his fist through their chests. Time stands still as the last of the raiders falls to the ground, their bodies made lifeless by Kakashi’s hand.

“Nice job, Captain. You had me worried there.”

“You need medical attention. Now.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, you need to cover the wound so it doesn’t get infected.”

Kakashi kneeled down next to Tenzo, refusing to make eye contact with him as he bandaged up his wound. He was ashamed. He should have never let himself get distracted like that. It was a rookie mistake. Behavior unacceptable of a captain.

In his gut Kakashi had a sinking feeling. A realization of his own selfishness. He was a solider. A weapon to be used by the Leaf. His life was never his own. The shinobi way is to be used like tools in the hands of destiny. To serve and die for his nation.

...a beautiful gem like you could not possibly fit into the cold reality that is an Anbu soldier's life.

Kakashi was quiet the remainder of the mission. Withdrawing into his shell, punishing himself for allowing his team to get hurt. He rushed the remainder of the mission so they could get home early and help Tenzo receive medical care before his arm had the chance to scar.

****************************************************

Upon their arrival in the village Kakashi heads to the Hokage’s office to hand in his report. Lord Hiruzen was surprised to read that Kakashi had frozen during battle. It was out of character for the tenured solider.

“You froze?” he inquires in his raspy voice. His pipe hanging from his lips as he lowered the paperwork.

“It will never happen again, my lord. I will remedy the cause as soon as I am dismissed.”

Hiruzen cocks a brow at Kakashi, “Kakashi, you don’t have to be so hard on yourself.”

“I swore I would never again let my comrades die. I must live up to that promise.” Kakashi said it with so much conviction that Lord Third was worried. Then Kakashi trailed off, his voice becomes small. “If I don’t, I don’t think I will be able to live another day.”

Lord Third lowers his head, knowing he’s referring to his lost team. At this, he responds with the softness of a friend, “I understand. But please Kakashi, be kind to yourself. Whether you believe it or not, you deserve happiness.”

Kakashi balls his fists in determination before bowing and exiting the office. He walked out of headquarters to head to your home, tunneling his vision as he walked. This would be one of the hardest tasks he ever had to do as captain of team Ro, but it was his responsibility. He had to do this. To keep them safe, to protect his comrades, to save his friends. For the good of the village, he had to end the fairytale.

Silent tears leaked out of Kakashi’s eyes as he strode across the village. He could feel the hard knot forming in his chest. He pushed his emotions down. He wasn’t meant for a peaceful life. He was meant to protect others. That is the life of a warrior. That is the life he chose.

With three quick knocks on the door, he waited for you to pull it open. Sure enough, your beautiful face beamed up at him. Your eyes sparkled in the light of the setting sun. Joy overwhelming your features as you saw him. He felt his stomach drop, knowing he was about to rip that joy away from you.

You lunge in to hug him, squeezing him tightly. He held you close, pulling you into him. He took a long slow drag of your hair. Memorizing your scent like he did before missions. You lean up, closing your eyes as you lower his mask, kissing his lips passionately, pulling him inside and closing the door. You raise your hand to cup his cheek when you feel the wetness of tears. You pull away from him.

“Captain?”

Kakashi pulls up his mask and steps backwards.

You already know…

A sharp pain suddenly manifests in your upper chest. You feel it just below the sternum. Your eyes pearl with tears, readying themselves for the words you know are coming. You reach out your hands to hold his.

“Kakashi, don’t say it.”

“We can’t continue our relationship.”

“No, this isn’t about us. This is about the mission. Tell me, what happened?”

“It is unwise for a member of the Anbu to maintain a romantic partnership.”

You feel the first small tear in your heart. You’re desperate for answers. What changed?

“Kashi, what happened? Talk to me!”

You’re starting to panic. His facial expression falling into one that was so cold. He looked ready for battle, preparing to kill. It almost resembled the man you met six and a half months ago. You squeeze his hands trying to get him to face you but he keeps looking past your shoulder.

“As Captain I cannot let myself get distracted.”

“Get distracted?" The tear in your heart deepens, "Is that what I’ve been reduced to? A distraction?”

“I have to have a clear mind when I’m in battle. If I don’t, my men get hurt”

“Baby, who got hurt?”

“Y/N, it doesn’t matter who! What matters is that someone got hurt and it was my fault!” Kakashi had started raising his voice but you knew it wasn’t at you. He was yelling at himself and it shattered you. Tears freely fall down your cheeks. Your eyes dart back and forth between his eyes, pleading with him.

“Kashi, it will be okay. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t do it to us.”

“There can be no more us.”

He was never going to let himself be happy, even if it hurt you too. He didn’t believe he deserved happiness, not after the life he lived.

Kakashi goes to leave and you grab his arm, tears streaming down your face, squeezing his wrist for dear life, making him stop where he stood.

“Please don’t go! We can work through this.”

“We are not meant to be, Y/N.” he responds with an ache in his voice. “I am a member of the Black Ops. My life is dedicated to serving the village. There is no room for you in my life.”

You begin to sob. “Then why pursue me to begin with? Why spend months leading me on? Why say you love me?!”

He drops his head, “I am so sorry. I should’ve never gotten involved with you. I was being selfish and reckless. You will not be forced to see me again.”

You feel his hand ball into a fist as he yanks his arm out from your grasp and walks out of your apartment.

“Kakashi WAIT!”

With a snap of your front door his is gone. You run to open it, to force him back inside, to talk this out. He was overreacting. He just needed some time to process what happened but when you opened the door he was missing and the feeling of loneliness that came with the view of your empty front stoop came down on you with crushing weight.

…he was gone…

He was everything you could have ever dreamed for, but now he was gone. He was too good to be true. He was only fit for a dream.

You close your door and lean against it, facing your empty apartment. You look around and remember when you came home from your date with Akio and he was standing there waiting for you. That was the first time you felt that he had feelings for you. That was the first night he let you touch him. You look over at your kitchen. You remember turning around to him inside your apartment for the first time. You look the opposite way to your couch and remember the last time he came home. All of it is over now. All of it is reduced to a memory.

…he was gone…

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to remember. You don’t want the precious moments to fade from your mind. You need them. You need them to remember what love feels like. To remember how it feels to be truly happy. Now you fear you may never feel that way again. The despair has your nails biting into your palms as you realize there are fists at the end of your arms. Your back slides down the door as your legs give way to the sob that overcomes you.

…he was gone…

You sit on the floor leaning against your front door. Your chest heaving as you come to grips with the fact that instead of tangling with your captain, you were listening to your neighbors come and go just beyond the slab of wood pressing into your back.

Your head is swimming from oxygen deprivation. You’ve never breathed so hard in your life yet you weren’t able to get any air. Your lungs were depleted. The atmosphere of your home was heavy, too thick to make way for oxygen. You cried and gasped but still there was no air to be had. How are you supposed to breathe?

Your head lolls forward, hypoxia hitting you. You draw up one knee to rest your forehead on as your shoulders shake from your efforts. The tears drip off the tip of your nose, into your lap, until suddenly all was black.

…he was gone…

****************************************************

You wake up on the floor by your front door. You wished you could say you were confused. You wished you could say it took you a moment to remember why you were there because it would be one less moment of suffering, but it didn’t. You knew exactly what you were doing so far from your bed and to be honest you weren’t sure when the next time you’d feel safe enough to sleep in it was. There were too many memories of him tucked between those sheets. It was where you fell in love.

You also noticed that Pakkun didn’t come knocking this morning.

“I guess he’s already heard. The watch is over.” you say it in a whisper, thinking that keeping it in like a secret won’t make it true. ‘Little Guy’ had been your primary companion for months. He was your reassurance of Kakashi’s love and now he was gone too. The realization made you curl into a ball on the floor, crying even harder on the firm ground. You were truly alone.

—

Pakkun knew he was no longer obligated to watch you but he still came to your home to check on you. He didn’t agree with Kakashi’s decision. He believed it to be a mistake. The little hound was worried for him. He feared how Kakashi was before you and he was terrified that the same man might come back.

When he waddled up the steps to your door he heard you shaking and crying on the other side of it. He couldn’t bring himself to knock. He sat there for an hour, listening to you before he couldn’t take anymore. He shook his head and returned to the pack. The boy was an idiot. You were the best thing that ever happened to him and he gave it up just like that.

—

You debated taking the day off of work but you were certain it would be worse to stay here where everything reminded you of him. Your home was crawling with reminders of Kakashi so you decided to go in. You’d be late but no one would care. You worked overtime often. What was one tardy in the grand scheme of things?

You peeled yourself off of the floor and went to shower. Painfully reminded of the morning after your first date while you lather the soap on your skin.

You detangle your hair and change, not bothering with makeup to hide your puffy eyes. You were sure you’d have a breakdown or two at work anyways. You go to leave and take a deep calming breath, not ready to look at the empty stoop where Pakkun would normally be. The walk to work would be a lonely one and you honestly don’t know how you did it before Kakashi had come crashing into your reality. It all feels like a lifetime ago. A lifetime you would kill yourself to get back to.

It was no surprise that news of your breakup traveled fast. Dating the Copy Ninja was a rarity. Seeing his girlfriend come to headquarters looking like a bus hit her was an obvious sign that the relationship was over.

You didn’t need to tell anyone what happened cause they already knew. But at least that prevented you from having to talk about it. You were sure if you were forced to speak on the matter, you would have a full meltdown. With the peace and quiet, you could dive your nose into your scrolls and stick to yourself. And that’s exactly what you did.

For the next couple weeks you spent all your time in the office, keeping yourself distracted, preferring to sleep at your desk. You’d visit home when you needed to shower and change clothes but then you’d walk straight back to headquarters. You had shed a few pounds from the lack of food you consumed. The sadness made your stomach tight. It shrunk too small to eat a full sized meal. Instead you would nibble on small snacks that didn’t have enough calories to nourish you, only enough to sustain you.

You’re pouring over a new set of scrolls when a familiar fist lightly knocks on your office door. Your tired eyes look up to see Akio timidly stand in your doorway.

“Oh, hi. I-I didn’t realize we had a project together.” you say disheveled.

“No, we don’t, I just, um…I heard, I mean, I wanted...” He pauses to take a deep breath. “Would you do me the honor of going on a second date with me?”

Your eyes brightened. “You, you wanna go on a date with me?”

He smiled softly. “Why are you so surprised?”

“I guess I just feel a bit unloveable recently. And after last time, I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

Akio strides up to you and places his palm down on the top of your hand. “You could never be described as unlovable.”

You look up at him through your lashes on the brink of tears before looking back down at the scroll. “I-I don’t think I should be going on a date yet. I’m not ready. ...I’m sorry.”

Akio curls his fingers under your hand and lifts it to his lips. “Then I’ll keep asking until you are.”

You blush and look down, unsure of what to say.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N”

With one last press of his lips into your hand, he lets go and strides out of your office. A comfort washes over you.

The rejection you felt from Kakashi was dulled by Akio’s advance. It made you feel more comfortable in your own skin. You weren’t ready to move on, but maybe tonight, you’d go home. For the first time in two weeks, you feel at peace enough to sleep in your own bed.

****************************************************

It continued for a few weeks. Akio coming to you and checking on you. Making his intentions known. It was really sweet. He was always really sweet with you. You think back to your first date. It was a lovely time. …but it was stained with the memory of Kakashi intrusively pushing himself into the picture. You shake your head trying to rid your mind of the memory. That was proving a bit difficult. It had been just over a month since he left you. You thought he was forever. You thought the only way you’d lose him is if he fell in battle. You were not mentally or emotionally prepared to see him walk away from you voluntarily. Sometimes you think you see him out of the corner of your eye but you know that can’t be. He’s out of the village on missions. There’s no way he could be following you. Additionally, if he had really wanted to follow you, he’d have one of his hounds do it.

Each day was getting a little easier. It’s not like your routine was really all that different. What you had with Kakashi was basically a long distance relationship. A very intense long distance relationship. The only things that changed are the fact that no one was slipping in through your open windows, you didn’t have a ninja hound stalking you anymore, and you began to miss him less. That last one was mostly a lie but you at least felt less like the rug had been ripped out from under you.

Akio strides in this morning with two coffees in his hand and leans on your desk. He gives your cheek a kiss and sets one down in front of you. “Good Morning, Cutie.”

You can’t help but blush and feel reassured by how he’s been doting on you every day. It’s a nice change from your absentee ex-boyfriend. “Good Morning, Akio.” you hum.

“You’re outfit is lovely today.”

You smile behind the rim of the coffee cup, “You say that everyday.”

“It’s true every day.” he says, setting down his cup and rolling up his sleeves slightly. You notice how thick his forearms are and bite your lip a little. He catches you staring and seizes the opportunity, “If you like what you see that much, then would you please do me the honor of joining me on a date this weekend?”

You continue to chew on your lip before you realize he asked you a question. “Huh? Oh, uh…I…” you look down, your fingers wrapped around the cup. Maybe it was time. You had a crush on him before…everything. You had a really wonderful time on your first date and he was so kind and so mouthwatering. You find your nerve and lift your gaze to meet his. “I accept.”

A relieved smile lights his face. His hand comes up to cup your cheek as he swipes his thumb across it. “Great!” He leans in and kisses your forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow to talk details. Have a good day of work, Y/N.”

He squeezes your hand before his fingers slip from yours. You watch him leave, lifting your coffee cup to your lips with a sigh. You watch his built figure fade from you office, your eyes lingering on his behind. You can't help but think to yourself, as far as rebounds go, you’ve certainly hit the jackpot.

****************************************************

Evening has stretched over the village and you find yourself about to head out the door to meet up with Akio for your date. You check your hair and makeup one last time in the mirror. You were happy with how you looked. A flowy royal blue dress stretches over your hips. The hem of it rests on your mid thigh. The top is fitted, snug around your bosom, pushing up your chest so that it peeks out of the top in a very alluring way. The sleeves hang off your shoulders, exposing your collar bone and your hair is loosely pulled up. Strappy black wedges adorn your polished feet, toenails painted to match the color of your dress. He warned you that you’d be dancing so you chose a comfortable heel height. You put your keys in a small black purse with a long silver chain strap and pull it over your shoulder.

You go to pull open your door only to find Akio already standing there seemingly debating knocking on the door. You lift your hand to your lips to hide your giggle. His head snaps up at the sound only for his jaw to drop at the sight of you. You blush deeply, your ears turning red.

“You’re a vision.”

You scan him up and down. He wore a dusty blue button up with the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. The black dress slacks fit snug over his pelvis and were tailored perfectly down to his ankles, cutting off just above his leather dress shoes. He runs his hand through this hair, nervous about how you’re gawking at him.

“You look very handsome.” You smile.

He took the singular flower in his hand and extended it to you. You gently take it from his fingers and hold it to your chest.

“Thank you, it’s lovely”

You quickly turn around to grab a small vase with water to put the flower in. “There” you say as you place it on your kitchen table. You turn around to face Akio, your gaze bright, “You ready to go?”

“I was ready a month ago.”

He beams at you, holding out his hand for you to take. You clasp his palm in yours. It feels familiar and friendly. Not intense like your ex. Just…nice.

****************************************************

You walk into a noisy dimly lit building. The front of it had a bar and cocktail tables littered the room with many people gathered around them drinking colorful beverages out of expensive glasses. He walks up to the bar and gets two drinks, one for each of you.

“This is to help you relax.”

You accept it with a chuckle. “How did you know?”

“Just a hunch.”

You sip on your drink as you look into his dark eyes. He really was so handsome. He’d be the perfect brooding hunk if it weren’t for his kindness that seeped through his exterior. You loved the intellectual conversations and inside jokes that came flowing through the evening. The two of you switching between languages just for the fun of it. Sometimes mixing up the language mid sentence just to see if the other could catch on. It was an exceedingly fun game, making a wide smile stretch across your face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that before.” he says as he brushes your cheek with his thumb.

You blush and look down at your drink, feeling your ears turn red again. His fingers dance along your face, trailing down to your chin, pulling your gaze up to meet his.

“Dance with me?”

“How could I say no?”

He grabs your hand and pulls you over to the dance floor, your drinks forgotten at the table. The two of you disappear into the crowd of other couples.

He twirls you into him. Your skirt floats up as you spin. You stop yourself with your hand gently landing on his chest before he tugs your arm, twirling you back out. He pulls you into him once more, settling his hand on the small of your back. Then he pulls you close, kissing your cheek before he releases your waist, twirling you in front of him twice before catching you.

You smile, feeling a bit dizzy. He was an excellent dancer. He gives you a nod, silently communicating with you. You nod back, a grin splitting your face in two, knowing exactly what he was thinking. He braces your waist and lifts you. You swing your legs together, landing them on his hip before he lifts you up again and you swing both your legs over to his other hip. You land on the ground with another spin then he dips you. Your head falls back, looking at the room upside down before snapping back up to meet his lips. The crowd that had made room for the two of you cheers as you smile centimeters from each other's faces.

You continue dancing in the same fashion, lifting, spinning, and dipping your way across the room. The two of you using your athletic ability to your advantage, filling the room with your motions until your chests heave. He leans into your ear, “I’m gonna get us waters.” You pull back and nod before you mouth the word ‘bathroom’ at him.

You happily stagger over to the restroom, several strangers complimenting you on your dancing as you go. You thank them while you walk past. Once in the restroom you dab the sweat off your forehead and armpits before grabbing another towel to dab at your chest. You smile as you think about what you just did. Floating around the room in Akio’s arms…thump.

A memory jolts you.

It was like you heard a singular heartbeat in my mind. Your shoulders sway as your vision turns gray. You see a flash of moonlight reflecting by your feet. You’re tiptoeing across a lake, dancing…dancing with him. You fall forward, hands clutching the sink. Your breathing shakes as you draw a ragged breath. Your knuckles turn white, clutching the porcelain. You gasp, feeling the walls close in on you.

Why? Why did I have to think of him now? I was having so much fun. It’s just like last time. Why must he ruin your dates?

But unlike last time you don’t have a choice. You can’t choose Kakashi. He made the choice for you. He chose to leave you behind to never come back. Tears start pouring down your cheeks as you gasp for air. You stumble into a stall to hide. Your hand clutches your chest.

Come on Y/N, snap out of it! Akio’s amazing. He’s a good guy. A realistic partner. He’s sweet and handsome and fun. You have so much in common. Enjoy this. Let yourself enjoy this!

You desperately plead with yourself. Yanking your head out of the darkness. You lean against the wall, allowing your breathing to come back to normal. You head back over to the sink and look yourself square in the eye. You take a deep breath, wiping the tears from your cheeks, and giving yourself a reassuring nod.

Go find him and have fun.

You leave the restroom looking for Akio. He’s standing across the dancefloor at one of the cocktail tables. You’re relieved to find that a smile easily tugs at your lips when he looks at you. Feeling restored under his keen eye you shuffle over to join him as he hands you both a drink and a water. The rest of the night continues as it was before, leaving you giddy as you exit to head home.

You walk back together, fingers interlaced. “I had a really nice time tonight.”

“I’ve heard that before.” he playfully jests.

“I meant it last time too.”

“You just had a ‘something’.”

You nod, looking down, then back up at him. “But I don’t have a ‘something’ anymore.”

The two of you come to a stop outside of your door. You feel yourself heating up, blush covering your cheeks as you grab your keys from your little purse. You lift your head to look at him only to be met with his lips crashing into yours. The kiss was heated. His hands came up to your face, cupping your cheeks on both sides. The force of his approach shoved your back into the door with a thump. You lean your head to the side, allowing him deeper access as you moan into his mouth. It was completely different from your ex. It was more tender yet still teaming with passion. His hands timidly explored your body. He was sliding his fingers all over your back and arms, not trying to get obscene just outside your apartment but also trying to be respectful in his wish to manhandle you.

“You mind-if we-head inside?” he asks between kisses

“-yeah” is all you have to say. You blindly reach behind you and take far too long sticking the key into the lock, missing the slot several times before successfully turning the pins to open the barrier. You finally open the door without leaving Akio’s desperate lips. The two of you stumble into your apartment, closing the door before he pins you against it.

“You sure you don’t wanna take this to the bedroom?”

“No, it’s only our second date. I don’t wanna move too fast.”

He slides his hand down your side and pulls your leg up to his waist, rubbing along your thigh while he grinds into you.

'Don’t wanna move too fast', that was a nice sentiment. With Kakashi, he removed your pants the first time he broke into your home. The second time he ravaged you like you were nothing more than a sex doll.

Akio was different. He was sweet and a gentleman, while still being stupid hot. He lifts your other leg around his waist, pushing you against the door with his chest, lips locked with yours.

It was hot. Really hot. And knowing it wasn’t going any further allowed you to get more into it, clawing at his back and swirling your hips against his waist. You’re hand playing with his brown locks elicited a moan into your mouth. Your tongues danced together.

He pushed into you rhythmically, pulling little breathy gasps from you as the friction builds between your legs. He can feel your underwear steadily becoming more damp. Your slick’s starting to soak through them.

“You like that Cutie?”

“Yes” you whisper.

“I can tell. I like it too. I could kiss you for hours.”

You moan in response, tightening your grip on his hair. He growls into your mouth, thrusting up into you harder, needing the friction against his clothed boner. His hands wander to your hair and chest, feeling the fat give way as he closes his hand around it. Tugging at your up-do, already frizzy from rubbing against the door, pulling strands loose in his greed.

You feel yourself unraveling for him. Your head is going dizzy in his hold. He’s pushing into you with more force, dragging himself up and down between your thighs. A groan is pushed out of you from the uptake in desperation.

“That’s it, Cutie, just like that.”

You moan louder.

“Yes, keep going for me.”

You bite his lip, moaning and rutting against him. Your underwear fully soaked through, drenched in arousal. He moans as your teeth sink into his swollen lip. “Fuck, Y/N”

You suck on his lip fiercely, close to cumming. His thrusts become more erratic. His breathing, labored. He’s barely able to speak the curses on the tip of his tongue as he topples over the edge giving into his orgasm. You collapse into him, matching his orgasm with your own. He drops you, allowing your feet to meet the floor. He cages you against the door with his hands while he rests his forehead against yours.

“That was taking it slow, huh?” You say breathily.

He smiles, your sweaty foreheads pushing against each other.

“I may have gotten a little carried away.” He kisses your cheek. “There’s just something about you.”

You reach your lips up to his, pressing them into him before he pulls back.

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom real quick? I’d rather not head home in soiled briefs.”

You giggle. “Yes, it’s through my bedroom. Lemme show you.”

You grab his hand and guide him, not bothering to turn on a light till you reach the bathroom. He goes in and closes the door behind him.

You turn around and notice something on your bed that wasn’t there when you left. Sitting in the moonlight, your collar is placed in the center of your bed as if it is waiting for you. Kakashi… you reach to pick it up, fingers shaking. He knew. He knew you were on a date and broke in while you were out. He was watching you. But he had no right to claim you. He left. You were moving on. You refuse to let him ruin this night. Your fingers grip around the leather, a tear slipping down your cheek as the heart shaped tag catches a sliver of moonlight. You open your dresser drawer and tuck it inside, closing it as you hear your bathroom door open.

Your head snaps up. Your gaze met Akio with a smile. He stretches out his hand. You walk over and take it, walking towards the door together.

You lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder as he draws his arms around your waist, holding you close to him.

“I had a really nice time tonight.” You softly say.

Akio laughs at the phrase a second time. “I did too, Cutie.” He kisses your forehead. “I look forward to seeing you again next weekend.”

You lift your head to look up into his eyes. “Another date?”

“Of course. Next time at my place. I wanna cook for you.”

Such a gentleman.

“I’d like that.” you simper.

He tucks his finger under your chin, lifting your face to meet his lips in a soft kiss. He whispers into your ear.

“Goodnight, Y/N”

“Goodnight, Akio”

He unthreads his arms and walks through the door. You close it behind him feeling butterflies. You smile to yourself feeling truly happy for the first time in 5 weeks.

****************************************************

Akio strides home. A stupidly smug lovesick grin on his face. He was thrilled, even though he was a little chaffed from freeballing in his dress pants. His soiled briefs lay crumpled up in the bottom of your wastebasket. There was a skip in his step.

He was beyond happy until a dark figure suddenly appeared in his path. A cold chill blanketed the air as soon as the man made his entrance. Akio knew he was in danger.

“Look man, I’m not looking for trouble.” He reaches in his pocket and grabs his wallet. “Here, take it. I’m not interested in dying over a little money.”

Before Akio could even blink the figure was behind him, striking him in the neck. The blow knocked him to the ground. He felt his consciousness waiver. The man kneels down on the center of his spine, pulling Akio’s arm behind his back, twisting it. He coughs in pain.

“Just take the wallet, man, it’s right there.”

“See her again and I’ll break your arm.”

“What?”

“If I see your lips touch her ever again, I'll make sure it's the last thing you do. Understood?” he growls slowly with a twist of Akio’s arm.

“AH! You mean Y/N? Why would you care?”

“Don’t touch what isn’t yours!”

“Wh-who are you?”

Kakashi leans down, the moonlight finally falling on his features. His eyes were blazed with fury. Akio’s pupils shrink in fear. “The Copy Ninja?”

“She belongs to me!” Kakashi is wild with jealousy. He looks ready to murder Akio. How dare he touch you. How dare he rub himself between your legs. Kakashi was one desperate move away from snapping Akio’s neck. He was beside himself, rage pumping through his veins. He had never felt such strong hatred in his life.

A couple turned the corner, walking down the street towards the two men. Kakashi quickly bashed Akio’s face into the ground, breaking his nose, before vanishing into the night.

The couple came running up to Akio as he struggled to his knees. He coughed up the blood as it streamed down the back of his throat. He came up to his feet, keeping his head down trying to prevent the blood from running into his mouth. He pinched his nose trying to avoid making a mess.

“Oh my gods are you okay?!” the woman asked, offering her handkerchief which Akio gratefully accepted.

The man with her picked up Akio’s wallet, passing it to him. “Who was that?”

“Apparently my girlfriend’s ex boyfriend.”

Part 13 Masterlist

Thank you for the reblogs, they are always appreciated :)

@decayedbong @aq520 @purplerose08 @kittyoverlordxx @narutoverse-write @aquatufana

#kakashi x reader #kakashi smut #kakashi hatake #kakashi senpai #kakashi is daddy #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi anbu #kakashi sensei #hatake kakashi #romantic kakashi #pakkun #anbu kakashi

45 notes · View notes