#and yeah bones has a scar from his injury in beyond

[certkidwhocantdomath]

Back from Beyond: Johnny Cage's Return

Additional tags: Blind Character, Blindfolds, Referenced Character Injury, Referenced Character Death, Healing, Resurrection, Johnny Cage-centric, OP Johnny Cage(I mean- he defeated a fallen elder god and destroyed a cityscape!)

⚛》》》》》◆《《《《《⚛

Johnny had woken up alone and warm.

Alone?

Warm?

Sure, Bi-Han was an early riser but they usually get up together so they can walk around the academy, enjoy the sun rise and talk to eachother.

And warm? Bi-Han was practically a human air conditioner so he kept the bed nice and cold.

He heard a quiet gasp come from his right.

"Oh, oh dear. You've woken up quite early.." Said a shy, quiet and feminine voice.

It was a voice he did not recognize.

"Where am I?"

"Oh uh... You are in the infirmary."

"Infirmary of?"

"Of the Order of Light.."

Order of Light? He heard Ashrah mention that clan before.. It was the one she joined after she left the Brotherhood of Shadow.

"Who are you?" Johnny asked the girl.

"Meditrina.."

"Okay, Meditrina, can you tell what happened and why I'm here?"

"Well my boss, Raphael, found you while she was out for a walk. You were grievously injuries so we struggled to get you back alive."

Johnny stayed silent.

"It was at that point we drew several sigils around your body to keep the healing magic stable."

"Trina, who are you talking to?" Another voice, feminine but deeper than Meditrina's.

"I.. Uhm... Mr. Cage meet my boss, Raphael." She quietly introduced.

"You are up quite early, Mr. Cage."

"Yeah, I guess.."

"I may have a spell that can restore your eye sight. To an extent."

"To an extent?"

"Yes. You will be able to see that outline of something of something but you will not be able to see color as everything else will be pitch black."

"Hey, outlines is better than seeing nothing."

"Very well then. Lay down."

Johnny lies back down on the bed.

Meditrina held his hair back as Raphael started drawing a sigil with ash. She mumble a quick chant and the sigil glowed gold before turning black and is tattooed to his forehead.

Now, Johnny saw a lot.

He finally saw what Raphael and Meditrina looked like.

Raphael has tight twin Dutch braids and is wearing something both an adventurer and healer would. She stood poised with confidence, arms crossed.

Meditrina has a loose French braid and is wearing something mainly a healer would. She stood slouched with shyness, arms wrapped around a pieces of paper that are clutched to her chest.

Johnny sat up and noticed something. His blindfold is gone, the one Kenshi wrapped so tenderly and so gently around his head.

"My blindfold, where is it?"

"Ah, it was ripped in your battle"

"Battle? What battle?"

"You.. Do not remember?"

"Uh, no. What battle?"

"Oh! Uhh, I sewed a purple blindfold for you as a replacement! Let me go get it!" Meditrina changed the subject and scurried off to an ornate box.

There she pulled a, assumingly, purple blindfold with a dragon scale design.

"It's purple with a black dragon scale design, by the way." Meditrina explained as she walked back to him and gently tied the blindfold over his scarred sockets.

"Good? Not that tight?"

"Nope, all good."

Johnny attempted to get up but his back hurt like hell. He groaned and was eventually helped by the ladies.

"Ugh.. Damn, my body hurts like hell. I feel like an old man with full gray hair..."

"Probably because you do...." Meditrina mumble under her breath.

"What?"

"Uhhh..."

"Mr. Cage, most of your hair has turned gray. Most likely from your incident." Raphael answered for her assistant.

"What incident?"

"Nevermind..

"I will admit, Mr. Cage, you look quite dashing with gray hair." Meditrina admitted.

"I have sent for our best chiropractor. He will help with the ache in your bones." Raphael butted in.

"Okay, thanks."

The ladies eventually left and a few minutes later the outline of a man made itself known.

"Good morning, Mr. Cage. I am Galen."

(Pronunciation: Gay-len)

"Good morning, it's nice to meet you, Galen."

"Likewise, Mr. Cage. Ms. Raphael and Lady Meditrina said you are feeling sore, so they sent for me."

"Yeah, my bones have been hurting for quite a while now."

"I can help with that. Please lay down on your stomach."

Johnny does as he is told and he feels a satin cloth drape over his legs and ass.

Galen started off with simple massages, adding several times of ointments and amenities to skins. Then he started cracking the knots in bones away.

After, Johnny felt anew.

"Wow, I feel like refreshed. Thank you, Galen."

"No problem, Mr. Cage." Just as Galen was about to walk out, he suddenly remembered something and turned back to him.

"Ah! Ms. Raphael said that you may go to the library if you wish. It is the next room to the next"

"Okay. Thanks for telling me."

Galen nodded and walked out.

Johnny stretched once more and cracked his knuckles. The star just then noticed he was wearing just shorts.

He looked at his legs and he saw more sigils. And scars.

How'd he get those?

Johnny shook his head and looked around. He saw a pair of black casual baggy drawstring boho pants. He grabbed it and put it on, it fit him perfectly.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Johnny walked to the library and entered and then he realized another thing. What the fuck is he gonna do here?

Outworld doesn't have the Titanic or Twilight. Not even Green Eggs and Ham!

So Johnny simply looked around the shelves, hoping to find something interesting.

And so he.

THE KARLATUN CLAN: DEFENDERS GREEK AND SCANDINAVIA

That's promising.

The cover was of a woman in a toga with long hair, wings, a bow and arrow with the quiver on her back. The woman was seemingly flying in the clouds

Johnny pulled out the generally small book and opened to the first page.

ORIGINS OF THE KARLATUN

The Karlatun initially started off as a small village in Greece, located in the outskirts of Edenia. Though poor in money, they were rich in luck; they have been loyally devoted to their goddess, Bia, for several years through their devotion came fortune.

When they asked rain for their crops, Bia gave rain, when they asked for warmth in the cold hard winter, Bia gave them warmth. They had a large shrine built just for her in the middle of their small village, the statue smelt of incense and different types of grasses, roots, cereal grains, fruits, cheese, oils, honeys and milk surrounded it.

Unknowingly to Johnny, as he continued reading, two magical objects incased in strong glass was shaking and glowing purple.

CREATION OF THE KARLATUN

The tyrant king of Edenia, KING ARGUS, heard about this and he grew envious. "How could such a small village with no gold or jewels be so blessed?!" Argus thought. Having had enough of this blasphemy, King Argus sent his army to kill the villagers, destroy the village and their statue. Zeus, the god the Edenians were loyal to, heard of this and told his loyal companion, Bia. She was not happy.

Bia went down to Edenia herself and spoke to her loyal devotees by possessing the very statue they created. Argus had planned to attack them at their weakest, as the Karlatun were having a supper.

As she possessed the statue, the eyes glowed white. "My children. The King of Edenia plans to eradicate you all. Hide your children and elder hide them within the farthest cave you can find, for they cannot know what shall happen". The Karlatun were afraid but they listened their goddess' instructions. They hid their children and elders within a cave returned to the village.

The magical objects were now shaking violently and glowing brighter.

BLESSING OF THE KARLATUN

As the rest of villagers returned they got their knees and bowed before Bia. "O great goddess of force, what shall we do to protect our village?" A villager asked.

Bia took some bread, blessed it and said; "take it, for this my body which is given to you." Bia said as she watched her loyal devotees take apart the bread and share it among themselves.

Bia took glass of wine, blessed it and said; "this is my blood, it is poured out as a sacrifice to forgive the sins of many." Bia said she watched her loyal soldiers take one small sip each to give to the next.

She watched as the eyes of her loyal warriors glowed different colors. Though different colors, every color represented battle and courage.

They heard the sounds of footsteps and horses galloping hearing them but the villagers stood tall as the color their eyes glow now covered their body.

As King Argus' army arrived at the village, several beats went by the soldiers silently stared down at the villagers, underestimating them because they are outnumbered. Then a green orb hit the captain straight in the chest, sending him back several miles. Everyone looked in pure shock as they saw a woman in fighting stance, clearly having sent the orb. The villagers knew this woman as Adira Karlatun.

Then, brutal battle was fought. Many were lost but the casualties to the Karlatun was minimal thanks to Adira's leadership, the true damage was caused on the army. But the damage to their homes, was too much.

The surviving villagers returned to the cave and led their people to a safe haven where they can live in peace, unbothered by the tyranny of King Argus.

The magical objects shook aggressively and glowed even brighter

HOME OF THE KARLATUN

The Karlatun sought refuge in the very edge of Greece, near the Mediterranean Sea.

There, they built yet another shrine for Bia. Now, every year Bia would bless a child when they are the right age and after they are blessed, they trained how to use their new found powers to protect their god and their home.

They lived there for centuries now going by the name "Karlatun Clan" after the woman who started the battle in village meaning "free man" and settlement". And over the centuries, they have made several alliances with other clans in Earthrealm- the Taira Clan of Japan being their most prominent ally.

But... Everything went awry when King Argus' great-grest grandson, Daegon, found them once more and sought revenge.

The magical objects shook and the glass started to crack.

DESTRUCTION OF THE KARLATUN

Emperor Daegon ambushed them and managed to destroy the statue of Bia.

Many of the Karlatun were killed, mainly children and elders, but many still managed to escape Daegon's wrath. They scattered all over Earthrealm; some escaped for America and some for the Czech Republic.

THE END

(Damn, would anyone believe me if I said all that came from the top off my head?)

"Wha- that's it? Where's the rest of it?" Johnny asked as he tried looking for the rest.

That when Johnny finally noticed. The magical artifacts.

The sound of glass breaking echoed through the library. Then two flying... Somethings.. Went straight to Johnny, nearly hitting him if he hadn't dodged.

Then the objects stopped and Johnny got a clearer view of whatever the hell it is.

It was a pair of brass knuckles.

(Pretend the blue is purple)

"What the..."

"Johnny Cage," he heard something call out, "son of Karlatun, descendant of Scandinavia and Greece. You have done well for this timeline's Lord. You are worthy of my blessing."

Then, everything burned.

It felt like he was being cooked from the inside.

"AGH!" Johnny groaned and clutched his chest, suddenly memories started flashing.

Pain in his chest.

Killing a good portion of Shao's army.

Fighting Reiko and winning.

General Shao stabbing him again and snapping his neck.

Now Johnny knew.

Raphael said he had gray hair was because of an 'incident'. That 'incident' being his fucking death. His hair turned gray because it lacked melanin.

Then the brass knuckles floated closer to him, closer to his hands. And when he removed his hands from the floor, the brass knuckles inserted itself into his fingers.

Johnny felt... Powerful, renewed.

"Finally, you realize your true potential." He turned to the library's entrance and the outline of Raphael.

"When I saw you fight. I knew who you are. What you are."

"Why resurrect me?"

"Because you are too powerful to let die. Come, my sister is waiting for you. She will be the one to monitor your training."

As they walked to the exit of the temple, Meditrina had given him a black tank top to cover his scars.

"Ah, Mr. Cage! It is quite an honor to meet you."

"Like wise, Miss?..."

"Alala."

"Ms. Alala."

"Please, call me Alala. After all, we will be spending quite some time together."

"If you say so."

"Has my sister told about your situation?"

"I guess. I just found out I'm a defendant of the Karlatun Clan and Raphael said you would be training me."

"Yes, that is correct." Alala created a portal using a magic symbol. "Come along now, we have a lot to fulfill!"

#blind character #blindfolds #johnny cage #background coldstar

[tempesthreads]

I want more of Morro’s physical body being a little more fucked up after being dead for 40+ years. (body horror, injury cw)

Yeah, his gi is in tatters. Yeah, he uses bandages or torn strips from his gi itself to wrap around his scraped feet and hands. Yeah, his hair is a greasy mess (this guy has no concept of what a shower or bath is before and after the monetary; maybe during, but beyond that, none). Maybe, he has even scars from sparring at the monastery or getting into fights outside of it.

But I want to see muscle and bone from decades rotting in a cave full of burning gas. I want to see a green goop slowly but seemingly endlessly drip from each of his steps and from his hands, seeping through his wraps, old wounds (and old grudges) that never healed. I want his bones to click and creak after his bossy has been seated in that cave for SO LONG.

And beyond that, I want to see him flinch away from heat or loud, booming noises just as much as he recoils from water. I want him to be light on his feet and throw fast/short punches in a fight, not only because he is one with the wind, but also because he’s wary of putting too much pressure for too long on places where he remembers having sore feet or aching hands during his travels (even if that doesn’t really matter for him).

Realistically, it makes more sense for his ghost form to reflect the state of his body when he died. It’s where he’s been mentally stuck in for so many years while being in the Cursed Realm. But can I see more of him being a little fucked up? For funsies?

#body horror cw #ninjago #morro ninjago #and I could go on about the effects of living the Cursed Realm on him #I just want to put him through the meat grinder #//foudn this in my drafts. i'd draw this if i could but alas. happy halloween.

[shyravenns]

trying to work on simplifying my style, and working with different face shapes. These are sketches that I decided to color on a whim, so that’s why they’re so messy. I’ll try to do the rest of the bridge crew later on if I have the time

#mckirk #aos mckirk #Jim Kirk #Leonard McCoy #myart #digital art #star trek #star trek aos #i default to headshots when i'm bored #i also didn't add jim's glasses bc i got lazy towards the end lmao #and yeah bones has a scar from his injury in beyond

[lady-byleth]

Sooooo, Shepard had a clone right? Knowing how much Cerberus likes to go above and beyond, there's a high chance that there's more than one. And the one we meet was comatose until needed, which she never was...so what if there's a whole bunch of clones in various stages of growth that just got frozen after Shepard went rogue

And after the war Miranda decides to see if she can find the rest and uncovers a whole storage of clones. Most of them are dead, either due to complications during development or because of cryo getting interrupted during the war

But one is still alive and asleep, so Miranda tells Shepard, who has only recently been released from the hospital, and takes her there so she can decide what to do with the clone herself.

Of course Garrus is there too cuz he's not letting Shepard out of sight until he's 100% sure she's not gonna get herself blown up again

Tali, Liara, Joker and EDI obviously can't be dissuade from joining either - EDI makes a compelling argument about having to test her new body that is actually complete bullshit, she's just curious - and James and Cortez just tag along because everyone else is going and it's about clones and the have Experience.

Javik comes too, cuz he's bored and Liara made vague comments about there maybe being Cerberus agents to fight, and Kaidan has a Bad Feeling about all these knuckleheads being in one room together so he comes along to keep the peace. That's a lie actually, he's just happy to be here.

Samara somehow shows up too, though no one actually contacted her cuz no one knew how. She just heard "Shepard" and "Cerberus" and decided "that could be trouble" and here she is

Grunt would have loved to go but Wrex tells him if he can't go then Grunt can't either cuz that would be unfair.

Jack has the kids to take care of and Jacob has his kid to take care of, so they're not able to come but promise help should there be some Cerberus agents that need blowing up.

Zaeed just sends a photo of himself at the pool titled "I'm fucking retired".

So Miranda ends up having to fly a huge group of people to that lab she found, which she grumbles about but she's not fooling anyone anymore.

As it turns out the facility is completely abandoned and powered down, except for the emergency power in the lab that's supposed to keep the clones alive. They check the whole place before they descend into the basement, looking for the one pod still active that Miranda found

They move past a bunch of pods with clones ranging from young girls to women the same age as Shepard and it's both fascinating and horrifying at the same time.

Shepard for her part seems to take it pretty well though she does stick close to Garrus who slings an arm around her shoulders to steady her. Tali links arms with her and Shepard gives her a small smile.

The active pod is in the far back and, at first glance, looks empty. Liara immediately grabs the data pad sitting beside it and flips through the many charts and notes on it, frowning in thought.

She mumbles something about "no growth hormones administered", gasps a small "oh" and holds the pad out a little so Miranda can read along with her as EDI starts typing on the console attached to the pod itself

"Oh!" she says after a moment, as if to echo Liara. Joker steps up next to her, trying to make sense of what she's looking at.

"What? How evil is it gonna be?"

EDI doesn't answer but turns to Shepard, a strange sparkle in her eyes that wasn't there when she first got a body. She looks both delighted and amazed. "Shall I open it?"

Shepard looks at the pod, worries her lower lip for a moment. Garrus squeezes her gently, Tali hugs her arm closer. The rest of their group closes rank around her, steadying her with their presence.

They're all here for her, no matter what. So she nods.

"Do it."

There's a low hissing sound and a blast of cold air, fog rolls out of the pod as the lid slides open slowly. For some reason Miranda and Liara look almost giddy, though Liara has to keep pushing Javik's hand down because he keeps trying to aim his gun.

James is standing on his tip toes to see into the pod before its even fully open and almost falls over when a very unexpected sound suddenly echoes through the room.

It's a crying voice. A baby's crying voice.

Samara immediately bolts forward, the instincts of a mother taking over, and she bends down into the pod and emerges with what's indeed a baby.

"Holy shit!" James looks flabbergasted.

"Holy shit..." Cortez doesn't look any better.

"Holy shit, indeed!" Somehow Kasumi is here too.

Samara rocks the little girl in her arms, scrutinizes her closely and smiles.

"Yes, I feel a strong resemblance to you," she says, gracefully moving to a completely stunned Shepard.

If you've never seen a galactic hero speechless, suddenly confront them with a baby clone of themself and that should do the trick.

The baby of course doesn't know that, she's just screaming, probably cold and scared and disoriented. She's squirming in Samara's arms, oblivious to Liara, Miranda, Tali, Kaidan and - surprisingly - EDI who are crowding around Samara to catch a glimpse, cooing already

Samara doesn't even try calming the little girl down, she has other ideas. Before Shepard can refuse Samara deposits the baby into her arms, adjusts her grip and then steps back, an almost mischievous tilt to her serene smile.

The baby calms immediately, big eyes the same color as Shepard's blinking up at a face that will he hers one day.

Shepard is motionless, looking like someone just slapped her with a frying pan...until the baby suddenly starts squealing in delight.

The unease melts from Shepard's face, a slightly confused but warm smile replacing it, and she gently shifts the baby closer to her chest, speaking to her quietly.

Little feet kick with delight, small hands reach out to grab at her face, and careful, scarred fingers brush plump baby cheeks and Samara watches with obvious satisfaction as her friends crowd around Shepard to continue cooing at the little girl now laughing happily

Shepard doesn't see it, focused on the baby as she is, but James just bursts into tears at the adorable picture while Cortez tries to console him without looking away. .

Joker is sniffing a little bit too but instead of staying in the background he loudly says "brittle bones coming through" and pushes to the front of the group. The baby immediately steals his cap. He is delighted. EDI is delighted that he is delighted.

Javik pretends very hard not to be mesmerized by the first human baby he's ever seen. He's failing miserably, much to Kaidan's amusement.

Garrus sticks to the sidelines, arms crossed over his chest, a thoughtful expression on his face. He remembers London, the half joking half serious conversation about adopting kids after the war is finished.

He'd shelved the thought in favor of focusing on recuperating, fixing what the war had destroyed, and building up Shepard who had to wrestle with severe injuries, PTSD and survivor's guilt without the distraction of a galactic war to keep her from realizing how much she was suffering.

But...it had been months, life was slowly returning to some semblance of normalcy - as much as was possible after the heavy losses - and Shepard was getting better. Therapy was going well. She would never be fully free of what she'd been through, but she was determined to get better and Hackett had arranged for the best help in the galaxy.

She was getting better. And restless. She had started spending more time with the orphans, playing with them, teaching them.

She'd always loved children. And Garrus had been very serious about starting a family with her, not so much about the cross species babies that biologically wouldn't happen.

But here was a baby that Shepard already had a connection with, a baby that she obviously already adored. He hadn't seen her smile like that in a long time. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Yes. This could be good.

He feels Samara sidle up beside him, smiling knowingly. "You should suggest it," she says.

Garrus nods, shoots her a smile. "Yeah, I think I will."

#mass effect #shakarian #long post #garrus vakarian #commander shepard #me3 spoilers #I guess? #I mean it's a joke dlc

[asher-the-diaster]

sister planets pt 4

broken bones

link for the part index: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DYMuKK5CIgJgDapNbu5sBqr_b5uT1Yz4pJoJ2fuAk4w/edit?usp=sharing

"you want me to do what?"

"your the xenomedic, it's your job to help their injuries and take the tests."

"they have already proven to be dangerous!"

"one of them has proven dangerous! remember it is against universal conseil rules to pass judgement on a whole species based on the ones we made first contact with. also it's your job."

i sighed and put on my hazmat suit.

our inteital scan of the one that had died had shone the kind of air that they breathed was made primarily of nitrogen and had enough of a oxygen content it could have set the calo's on fire. as a zalo i had a higher tolerance but i still needed the suit, as we had filled their room with the needed air composition for them to take off their vacum suits.

i took the medical cart and went into the contact rooms air lock.

"is that a hazmat suit?" one of them asked.

"really we had be dangerous but we aren't that bad." the one with the broken leg replied, captain penner if i was correct.

"they had to sedate richardson of course they think were that bad." the third one piped in.

"hello, my name is twee-ake, i am the doctor for the contact crue. it is my job to insure that any new species we make contact with has their biome registered and that the specific ones we make contact with are healthy and any injuries are tended to."

half of the hexagonal room was divided into the three containment chambers one human in each.

"seams like a fancy way of saying that were about to get probed by aliens."

"that's because it is davoin."

"i am supposed to start with which one of you has the worst wounds."

"it's captain penner."

"i'm fine if your giving medical treatment start with one of my subordinance."

"i'm slightly burned, davoin has a few cracked ribs and YOU HAVE A FUCKING BROKEN LEG!!" the one on the right side yelled.

"oliveira i am fine."

"and a terrible liar."

I took down the shield in the middle. laying on the bed was one of them with light skin and a small amount of curly brown fur on the top of their head. they're leg was twisted unnaturally.

"can i please ask what the name for your species is?"

"homo sapien sapien in science, human in common language." the one name oliveira said.

"thank you." i logged that into my tablet. then used my sit to to a x-ray scan of the human. "i am sorry to inform you that your bone is extermy broken, it will likely take years to heal and you will never gain full function again."

i was used to delivering the news of life changing injury of illness and was ready for the humans to be upset. they started to make a reving noise from their chest and out of their month, the captain let out a loud burst of air from their mouth.

"ai!!!!!" the one on their right exclaimed. davoin the others had called him. "oh laughing was a mistake."

"you ok davoin?"

"i'll be fine." he said though his face was twisted in a horrible expression of pain.

"what is laughing? is it a response to grief?"

"what? no!" penner exclaimed, "its a human humour response, in this case that means it's what we do if we find something amusing."

"you find permanent injury amusing? depending on the strain this causes your body it could kill you."

"um no." the medic said, "we can recover from broken bones as long as they are set correctly so they heal the right way. i have enough medical training that i could set that easy and as long as i could use something to make a splint in 6 weeks they'd be golden. after some physical therapy."

"i'm sorry, you can recover from broken bones?"

"you can't?"

"no! there's only one species in the universe that can recover form minor breaks."

i determined that i should let out the mdic and they helped me tend to the others wounds, explaining some terrifying facts about the species, like that they have overactive scar tissue. the medic had already dressed her own burns, how i didn't know.

finally "penner is going to need some sort of crutch."

"what?"

"you know so they can stand?..."

"i assumed that they'd be bedridden until it healed."

"no... she can stand as long as she has a pair of crutches and keeps her weight off her bad leg."

"i'll call in engineering to figure something out them." i said, "finally we still need to do those tests."

"yeah, yeah you can use me." oliveira said.

"um no offence but i am not letting one of my subordinates get probed by aliens, if you must use me."

"um captain you can't even stand, i'm the least injured, plus i'm the medic i can answer questions, which i mean given your background..."

"you implying something officier?"

"no it's just..."

"if you want to keep your job, i'd tread lightly."

the medic raised her hands to either side of and just above her head. "i'm still doing it."

the medic stepped out of her area and sat down on my stecher, i started my tests.

the results were beyond terrifying

+++

to be continued

#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #human are weird #humans are space australians #the sister planets

[dr3amofagame]

Dream tried to stop Wil from creating L'Manburg, Phil tried to stop him from blowing it up, BOTH value people over items and builds, Phil has said that they're replaceable but people aren't, Dream traded spirit for his best friends fishes (we kno he's not someone to talk abt feelings:[) BOTH were kind and selfless but used by almost if not everyone, BOTH were ready to be THE VILLAINS if it meant everyone else could live better after. ONE of them always had someone there, ONE didn't. Intentional?

aaaa sorry for the really inconsistent posts ,, im gonna try to post a little more in the next few days. i have a few things written up, so look out for them? maybe? for now, have this *gestures vaguely* thing ,, it’s kinda a mess but *shrug*

phil is such a fun character, anon, especially for all the reasons that you mentioned in the ask!! he’s a really fun character with a lot of complexities that go (sadly) overlooked by a large portion of the fandom, but he’s super cool even tho i havent analyzed him too much. hope you enjoy (and i hope my interpretation of c!phil isnt too ooc lmao) 

tw: mentioned blood, injury, implied torture/abuse, starvation, trauma, mentioned death, prison arc/pandora’s vault

When Techno first brings Dream back from the prison, Phil doesn’t quite know what to think.

“I don’t trust him either,” Techno assures him, but there’s a flickering anger in the backs of his eyes, one that had emerged ever since he came back from the prison with the other man in his arms, and Phil knows his friend well enough to know that the words are empty in the face of the piglin hybrid’s particular brand of to-the-death loyalty. He shakes his head in reply, refusing to voice his thoughts for Techno’s sake, at least, but the look that the other slants at him suggests that he’s caught onto them all the same.

At first, the work is thankfully mindless; even if Phil has reservations on the man that Techno has more or less dumped into his house, he would hardly wish the clear suffering he’s been through on anyone. The first few days pass in a flurry of brewing potions, wrapping and rewrapping dressings, stitching up cuts and setting broken bones straight. The damage is extensive; Phil has to take more than a few breaks to just leave the house and breathe - he’s far from a stranger to blood and carnage, had received the title of ‘Angel of Death’ for a reason, but even he had never been particularly familiar with this form of cruelty. Torture was a level of violence that extended beyond what even he was willing to bestow - his hands may have caused many deaths, and the weight of each one would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life, but even those had the mercy of being a quick end. The wounds and scars that ripple over Dream’s skin, thin and stretched tightly over his bones with little muscle and fat left to cushion them, speak of horrors that were anything but merciful.

“I didn’t know they were capable of all of this,” Techno says, once, as they huddle of Dream, wringing towels in cold water to wipe his feverish skin. Techno’s hand reaches for the ribboning gold-filled scars that remain from the execution - carefully, Phil raises his hand to let his fingertips brush over them as well. “I mean, I knew he was dangerous and all, but-”

“I know, mate,” Phil looks back at Dream’s face, tight even in unconsciousness, at the darkened, hand-shaped bruises that remain around his throat, at the scar that runs over his left eye, clearly meant to mirror the same one that makes its way down the duck hybrid’s own face. “You said that Quackity and Sam were working together?”

“Yeah,” Techno’s expression darkens, eyes focused somewhere on the wall, seemingly very far away. He said that nothing happened to him in the prison, and he seemed relatively unharmed when Phil activated the stasis chamber, but ever since he came back, sometimes he’ll have moments, and Phil can’t help but - wonder. “Quackity does the dirty work, Sam gives him the way in and out, probably also the tools to do it. It’s-” he huffs a short, self-recriminating laugh. “It’s bad, Phil.”

“Mate-”

Techno shoots him a look, and Phil cringes, knowing already that he’d used the wrong tone. Even with the execution, Techno had been adamant to hide all traces of his own terror and fear away from him, masking it all with fury for Phil’s own sake. He knows, just from the way his old friend looks at the ribboning scars that remain sometimes, that he is far from as over the whole ordeal as he acts, but Techno never wants to talk and Phil never knows the right time to ask and they smooth it all behind plans and explosions and hope that the TNT can blow apart the trauma, too. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the same thing is going to happen, here.

“As soon as we can,” Techno starts again, pointedly shifting his eyes away from Phil’s face, “we’re calling a Syndicate meeting to figure out what we’re going to do about the prison. Like- come on, man, you couldn’t make a more transparent abuse of institutional power if you tried, really-” he looks over, uncharacteristic uncertainty warring over his features. “If you think that’s good, I mean-“

“Of course, mate.” Phil’s voice softens. “Whenever you’re ready.”

‘Whenever he’s ready,’ as it turns out, is easier said than done, becoming even more evident when their charge wakes up from his days long spell of unconsciousness. The worst of his injuries have, under their careful care and the benefit of many potions, healed enough to no longer directly threaten his life, but the vast majority have quite some time to go before being healed completely. Being as the goal was torture and not death, most of his injuries weren’t made to be life-threatening, but rather to cause as much pain as possible - from the grimace that twists Dream’s face when he struggles to force himself awake, they’re doing their jobs.

“Hey, mate, slow down,” Phil murmurs, pressing the man down by his shoulder when Dream weakly tries to push himself up and off the bed, and his struggling only lasts for a few more minutes before he gives up and slumps against his pillow, eyes cracking open and seeming surprisingly lucid.

“Where-“ his voice is wrecked, and Phil reaches for the glass of water at the bedside as Dream coughs. “Where am I?”

“You’re at Techno’s house,” Dream’s eyes widen and then slip closed as he processes the information, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as they knit together. “We broke you out, after Techno escaped with a stasis chamber with your book. Do you remember?”

Dream gnaws on his bottom lip. “Um- yeah. I think.” His head turns as his eyes crack open again- “Techno-“

“He’s out, right now. He’ll be back in a bit.”

“Oh.” Dream falls back into the bed, strength seemingly sapped from the short conversation. His breathing stutters, then steadies. “Okay.”

Recovery is slow. Phil doesn’t actually find himself seeing the man very often; now that he doesn’t need around-the-clock care anymore, he’s moved back into his own house, letting Techno do most of the work when it comes to rehabilitating the escaped convict crashing at his house. As he begins to spend more of his time awake and aware, he brings a whole slew of new problems; Phil catches him screaming one day, blurting harsh, angry words as Techno reads, unbothered from the other side of the room, and he stops in his tracks standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Um-“ he winces when Dream curses, smashes something against the floor, and then curls into himself at the sound. Techno doesn’t even flinch. “Am I interrupting something?”

Dream stomps away, face flushed, arms wrapped around himself. Techno raises an eyebrow.

“You lookin’ for something, Phil?” he asks, and the unpleasant knot in Phil’s chest refuses to unwind.

The episodes, unfortunately, don’t seem to get much better. Though he’s rarely outright violent, Dream looks constantly murderous, usually muttering underneath his breath about something or another while he stalks the grounds of Techno’s house. It’s not too long before Techno sends him out to work around the house instead of just moping within the cottage, which also means that Phil sees him a lot more - tending to a small farm behind the house, feeding the dogs, hacking away at mobs, and usually complaining the entire time. It’s unnerving, even as injured and unarmored as the man is, to see him walking around like this; despite his rather pathetic appearance, swamped in sweaters that dwarf him thoroughly and thin enough to look like the slightest breeze will knock him over, his eyes are flinty and intelligent and bubble with promises of revenge.

“FUCK!” Phil turns to see him slamming a shovel into the snow, stomping away into the woods, and his hands tighten around his cup of tea. Next to him, Techno shrugs.

“Nerd’s got a few issues,” he drawls, and Phil laughs shortly.

“That seems like an understatement.”

“He’ll ease up in time,” Techno sounds surprisingly confident, completely content despite the muffled curses that come from the woods next to them. He’s probably used to it, with Chat and all, but Phil can’t quite seem to find the same calm.

“I just don’t know, mate,” Phil shakes his head. “You sure having him around is the best idea? He doesn’t seem...stable.”

Techno looks up at him over the rim of his cup of coffee. His head tilts, considering, but there’s a small smile on his face that tells Phil that Techno, inexplicably, doesn’t share the same sentiments. There was always a part of him that was, for the lack of a better word, softer than the rest of the server for his self-proclaimed rival, a sort of understanding that Phil could hardly hope (nor would really want to) understand.

“Don’t worry, Phil, if he tries anything I can always just tie him up in the attic or something,” Phil huffs a small laugh, amused, and nods to concede the point. “And- well, call it intuition. You could really try talkin’ to him, you know. He reminds me of you, sometimes.”

The words stick in his head despite his best efforts, rattling in his skull when he tries to sleep, lingering when he catches glimpses of the green-clothed man stalking around their properties. He can’t imagine what would’ve prompted his old friend to make the comparison, can’t think of a single thing (besides their affinity for the color green) that would mark him as similar to the - from what he’s heard - deranged menace with a particular penchant for destruction (not that his rants and fits of anger are doing anything to correct that impression). Even so, Techno had sounded so sure when he’d made the comparison, the words offhand like he’d thought them a million times before, like it was a simple observation that held no more weight than commenting on the color of the sky. Phil watches as Dream lugs a pile of logs behind him, huffing at one of Techno’s dogs that comes to chase and nip at his feet and grumbling loudly before faceplanting into the snow. He just...can’t see it.

Days later, Wilbur comes to visit, a grin on his lips as he dramatically recounts his newest exploit: a nation by Las Nevadas, a supposed safe haven away from the glitter and glory of Quackity’s city; it sounds brilliant, it sounds lovely, and more than anything it sounds stupid, and Phil tells him as such immediately.

“You’re being reckless,” he rants at his son, wings flaring outwards and only barely noticing Dream watching from the corner of his eye, “What are you doing- picking fights with Quackity? Starting another nation- didn’t you see what happened to the first two you made? You’re going to get yourself killed, Wil!”

“Well, I’ve already seen what’s on the other side of death, and it’s really not that bad-“

“You’re my son!” The words are angrier than Phil would’ve liked, and he knows that he looks ridiculous and overbearing, criticizing the actions of his fully grown son, but all he can see is Wilbur’s face, slack with pain and grief, stained with ash and soot as his eyes flutter to half-mast in the midst of the rubble of a country he loved and destroyed and destroyed him in turn. “I can’t lose you again, Wil!”

Wilbur doesn’t quite storm out, but it’s a near thing, leaving with a clipped goodbye and leaving Phil seething on his doorstep. He spends the rest of the night pacing around the house in a sort of mad frenzy, wings stretching and folding over and over. Not for the first time, he longs for the sky, to feel the air through his wings and let the world fall into pinpricks below him; it’s this that leads him to the roof of his house, staring stubbornly at the clouds as the sun sinks down to the horizon.

“Hey.”

Phil startles; there, down below him, is Dream. He rocks back on his heels, seeming awkward, before clambering up the wall (Phil rolls his eyes at the ease with which he scales it, the feeling in his chest almost fond) and settling himself on the shingles at Phil’s side.

“Hey, mate,” Phil shakes his head. The fondness leaves, and the irritation that had risen at Wilbur’s words, earlier, comes back full-force. “Sorry- Wil came to visit, we talked. I just needed some time to think.”

Dream hums in acknowledgement, and they fall into a comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipping down past the mountains in the distance.

“You know,” Dream starts, sudden, “I told him the same thing.” He looks up at Phil, eyes faraway with old memories. “Wilbur, I mean. When he made L’manburg- I told him he was being reckless.” He shrugs. “I guess he never listened.”

Phil pauses, Techno’s words ringing in his ears. He reminds me of you, sometimes.

Dream looks surprisingly normal up close - face no longer reddened with fever or pale from blood loss, even the scars fail to really take from the boyishness of his face. He bites his lips, eyes falling away at Phil’s scrutiny, golden blond hair flopping over his forehead, newly trimmed to be something a little closer to his old length, at least in the front, the back pulled into a small ponytail. He’s young, and shockingly awkward, teeth worrying his lip, hands fiddling with each other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other several times a minute. He looks like a kid.

“He never does,” Phil lets himself smile, watches as Dream smiles back, almost like they’re sharing a joke. He wonders how well he really knows the man behind the mask. “Want to come in for some tea?”

Dream smiles wider, and something old and worn in Phils chest, knocked loose ever since he felt his son fall limp in his arms with his own sword shoved between his ribs, falls back into place.

“That would be great,” Dream replies, the words almost hopeful, and they go inside.

#tw trauma #tw death #tw blood #tw injury #tw torture #tw abuse #tw starvation #prison arc #pandora's vault #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !! #-> my asks

[luimagines]

He Accidentally Hurt You Pt. 1

Masterlist

Takes place while in the group, written as a platonic relationship.

this one got away from me entirely, so I had to split it up

Warrior

“I’m telling you, we need to head west!”

“And head straight into enemy territory? I don’t think so!”

“Wild’s right, Warrior. We can’t just sit around here and wait for them to come to us or the people of the town. We’re the only ones who can do something about it.” 

“Need I remind the both of you that we’re all tired as hell as well? We have no potions or healing items, our weapons haven’t been tended to in over a week because of the constant fighting and everyone has an injury in one way or another. We can’t afford to keep going at this rate. We’re lucky enough to have enough food as it is.”

You glanced at the W Trio. Wild, Wind and Warrior.

They’ve been going over the map and strategies for the past hour and it’s getting tiring. That normally would have fallen to Time and Twilight to talk to Warrior about it but they went ahead as the currently strongest of all to secure the perimeter.

It hasn’t been going great.

You sighed and stood up, making your way over to where they were.

Warrior was getting worked up and his gestures became more agitated and pronounced.

They needed to stop.

“Ok, guys, take five and a breather.” You started before your head snapped backwards.

The arguing stopped instantly.

“Oh for Din’s sake! Are you ok?.” Hands covered your own as you felt your face trying to pry them off to get a read on the damage done. “Oh course this has to happen.”

You took a step back and plugged your nose for good measure.

Wild and Wind both look tense and looked between the two of you, expecting something to blow up in their faces.

“Well that was unnecessary.” You spoke after a tense beat.

Warrior bit his lip, warring within himself to both step forward to comfort you and too afraid of pushing your boundaries more than he already has. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there. Does it hurt?”

“I’ll live if that’s what you’re asking me.” You raised an eyebrow. “I was going to say that you should all take a break and leave it for a while. Maybe take a nap and come back to it once Twilight and the Old Man can have a say. Because yeah, we’re all tired as hell. I don’t think you liked the idea though.”

Warrior had the decency to look ashamed. “That was unintentional.”

“Regardless, I think I’m bleeding.” You smirk. “You’ve got quite the arm Captain. Last time I checked, a backhanded slap was usually reserved for-”

“Please don’t make this any worse.”

You laughed.

Wind

“Wind! Get down from there!” You called up the tree.

Mr. Sticky Fingers had taken something important from you, not that he knew what it was and you didn’t plan on telling him it’s importance since it was mostly sentimental value but the kid turned it into a game instead.

“I’m not going to climb after you Pirate!”

“I guess it’s mine then!” He taunted back.

You glared at his smirking face and snapped your head to the group. “Excuse me Wild Child, care to lend a hand? You’re the best tree climber among us and I’d really like to get my item back.”

Wild looked up and spotted Wind in the tree. He shrugged and stood up, making his way over. “I can make that climb. Sure.”

“Uh oh.” Wind huddled into himself on the nearest branch before making a mad dash through the tree.

Wild followed closely and you stepped under the tree to get a better view of the chase. The multitude of branches and leave and twigs made it hard to see through and you didn’t see make the executive decision to jump down.

And it seemed as if he didn’t see you either. 

You both landed on the ground, a sickening crack following shortly. Your cry of surprise quickly turning into one of pain.

Wind jumped off of you as if you burned him but stayed close, handing your item back as if that would fix the problem.

The boys crowded you instantly. Hyrule led the charged followed by Twilight and Time. Warrior pulled Wind aside to give them room, Wild jumped down from the tree and Legend chose to stand closer to Hyrule to get a look over his shoulder. Four and Sky held back, concerned faces mirroring each other.

“I think you broke my arm.” You gritted through your teeth.

“I didn’t.... I didn’t mean-” Wind spoke up but bit his lip, cutting himself off. He knew there was no saving him.

“What on earth was so important that it had to come to this?” Time glared at the both of you. You would have felt a little more embarrassed because it was easily avoidable but at the same time, it was your dominant arm and now you struggled to sit up.

“Wind took an item of mine and refused to give it back. To keep me from getting it back, he climbed up a tree and I asked wild to help me out. The kid jumped on me and this happened. End of story.” Hyrule looked up at you questionably before snapping the bones back into place. A scream tore through your throat before you could stop it. “‘RULE! A little warning next time?!”

He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s better if you aren’t expecting it.”

“What’s so special about that item anyway, if you don’t mind me asking?” Sky came a little closer to rub comforting circles on your back. Hyrule took that as his cue to begin healing the injury properly. “Is it magic?”

Pain clouded your judgment slightly. “No, not exactly.”

“What is it then? It doesn’t look like anything special.” Legend gripped the tip of it and you pulled it closer to your chest, away from the others. “It’s defiantly not magic.”

“Not in the traditional sense.” You agreed. The pain was slowly fading away now, but with the quickening of the healing process, it looked worse than it did before. You turned your eyes away from the black and blue mess.

“It’s... the last gift my mother ever gave to me.” You admitted. “It’s a special kind of magic that only means something to me.”

“The sentimental kind.” Four smiled sadly.

You nodded in agreement. “But it’s not like it does anything. It’s only a token really. However... I’d rather die then let anything happen to it.”

The group stood around you silently, taking in the information.

“I’m sorry.” Wind stood before you. “I didn’t-”

You held your good hand up. “It’s not broken, I knew you would never try that and I got it back. I’m not even mad, just don’t do it again.”

He looked worse after your words, as if it was the worse news you could have told him. You knew the feeling. You felt like maybe it would help him feel better to get yelled at or something equivalent of a punishment but it wasn’t in your nature.

Once that mess was cleared up, he stayed to close to you but was unusually quiet.

You made it a point to make sure that he knew you were still on good terms by the end of the day.

Wild

“I wonder if theses are ok to eat.” You mutter to yourself. Poking at a berry bush that was near your camp, you heard (and felt) your stomach rumble. “Wild would probably know. Hyrule might know as well but....”

THWIP

Something was imbedded in your leg.

“OH MERCY ME!” You fell over, narrowly avoiding the berry thorn bush and looked down. “FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY-  WHAT IN THE WORLD-!”

An arrow.

An arrow was just... sticking out of your leg.

Rustling came from the bushes beyond and out popped a twig and leaf covered head of hair. A scarred face came next that expressed confusion to immediate concern and shock. Wild jumped over the bush and made a mad dash to your side.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry, I thought you were an animal.” He crouched down by your side and hovered his hands around the offending object.

“Why on earth did you think I was an animal?” You nearly cursed him then and there. 

It hurt. It hurt and hurt and he wasn’t doing anything!

“I heard a growl.” He admitted, a bright blush on his face.

“No, that was me and my stomach. I’m hungry man! I was just checking if those berries were edible.” You growled and tried to move over but your leg wouldn’t cooperate without sending bouts of burning static up to your hip.

“That was a crap shot anyway. It wouldn’t have taken the animal down regardless.” Wild muttered to himself.

“Excuse you but I’m the one who was shot. Take it out!”

“Ok, ok, ok, hold on.” He placed a bracing hand on your leg and grip the arrow in the other. “Deep breath. Ready? One. Two.”

“OUCH! YOU SICK, TWISTED, SON OF A-”

“Here.” Wild handed you a potion. You recognized it as a healing item of his, even if the bottle was wrong and uncorked it, gulping it down with vigor.

“You owe me Champion.” You crossed your arms when you finished, handing the bottle back to him. 

“I’ll cook you something. Anything you want.” He nervously scratched the back of his head. “Those berries aren’t edible anyway.”

You blinked at him and the berries, not pouting at all. Your glare hardened at the plant. “I blame you.”

“The plant?”

“I just wanted to eat something!”

Legend

You couldn’t believe it.

There he was, sleeping in your bedroll.

You were tired as it was and didn’t have the energy to put up with it. Instead of anger though...It was mostly confusion.

Why was Legend asleep in your bed roll?

Was he really that tired that he just didn’t care? Probably. The nightmares were bad the night before and he was working nonstop the whole day.

You couldn’t fully blame him. He probably didn’t even notice.

Still.

You were exhausted as well and you refused to take his spot.

You walked over and shook his shoulder.

BAM

You stumbled backwards and eventually fell over, your hands covering your face. 

Legend sat up blearily and blinked for a solid minute before realizing his fist was still raised. 

“Legend!” You yelled at him. “What the heck man? You can’t punch to save your life!”

“What?”

“That’s my bedroll, dumb bell. I would like to sleep please.” You crossed your arms and stared him down. “Also, I’m telling Twilight you can’t punch for crap.”

Legend pushed himself up and looked beneath him. “Oh. Sorry. Wait. What about my punching?”

”You suck at it.”

He glared at you for a moment before taking a swing in your direction.

You dodged it easily and grinned. “Your form definitely needs work.”

“Shut up!”

Part 2

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #good golly Wind's got away from me #I have to split it #part 2 will be out soon.

[only-lurkin-dont-mind-me]

The Path of Loyalty is Paved in Blood

While I enjoy reading Mostly fluff pieces, it seems as though whenever I write it always ends up... a little angsty (mostly with a happy end though, I’m not heartless)

@chiliiscereal

TW: Blood. Injury. Character death(s)

The night had been cold when you first met them, you remembered it well. You were still so young, so were they. You had been wandering the empty park in the later hours of the night, wandering aimlessly until you heard other children's laughter. Short stubby legs racing to find where the noises were coming from, the chattering grew louder as you made your way to a single basketball court. 

As you looked past the shrubbery dotting the edges of the court, you saw them, four brothers smiling and laughing in delight as they passed the ball around in what seemed to be a game of catch. You were too young to even think of how they looked different from you. Instead, you stood in place, wondering if you could join in their game. 

When the smallest of the group lost his aim and ended up throwing the ball into the same bushes that hid you, you took it as your cue.

"Mikey!" one of them laughed gleefully, "I'm over here; you gotta throw it to me!" 

"I'm doing my best Leo, catch better!" the other replied in turn as you grabbed the ball. Slowly you walked to the edge of the chalk outlined court, ball in hand, looking around nervously. You could hear them walking towards you. You only looked up when the biggest of the group spoke to you with a cheerful tone as you bounced the ball towards him.

"Nice find, I thought we lost it that time." Despite being the largest out of his brothers, he was smaller than you with a big grin. You couldn't help but smile back; yeah, they seemed like fun. 

Taking another step forward, you finally found your voice, "Can I play too?" You asked with a bright smile, one that was matched by the kid that had two red stripes by his eyes. 

He was quick to move to your side and grab your arm, pulling you along while exclaiming loudly, "New friend's on my team!"

"What?!"

"No fair!"

"NO TAKE-BACKS!" 

The darkened smoke-filled skies hid the sun from sight. You watched your heavy breaths rise into a cold mist, glowering at the looming threat that towered over you. You thought of that moment, of each and every moment you had cherished with this found family of yours.

The common tradition that came with sleeping over in the lair, you and Mikey would go straight to the kitchen, baking tools in your grasp as you both set about designing something that would be amazing. The music had been loud as you both danced around each other, tossing stencils back and forth, drawing out ideas for cake designs. Taking turns kicking the others out each time one of the brothers tried to infiltrate and sneak off with the tasty decorative pieces. "You know-" Mikey had spoken in an easy tone as you both worked on the final touches of the nights' creation. "-it really is fun getting to do this stuff with you, you're my favorite crafting buddy!" He would say while throwing an arm around your shoulders, beaming smile and all.

As the cold air of the storm seeped around you, fighting off the burning heat from the creature, you snarled at the beast above you, fist clenched, widening your stance, placing yourself directly between it and your family that lay in a bloodied and far too silent heap just behind you.

Another late night with Donnie, hiding out in the lab trying to be as quiet as possible while watching old horror movies. You could never be scared of them whenever watching them with the purple-clad turtle. "See? See?! right there, it's a big ass wire holding the doll up can you believe it!" You had jumped on him, covering his mouth to stop the roaring laughter from waking up everyone else in the lair. In the same fashion, he had covered your mouth to help you bite back the same laughter. shoving your hands away to keep his commentary up, "The blood looks like it's just water mixed with ketchup!" He had wheezed out. Throwing popcorn and chips at each other to try and silence each other in the strangest attempted stealthy food fight as the ridiculous horror movie played on. 

You could feel the ache in your bones as the rain and ash pelted your skin, your muscles wanting nothing more than to give out. You knew that the only thing keeping you going was adrenalin and a deep-rooted instinct to guard and stand by your family. As the blood dripped from your wounds down your person into a puddle on the ground, you planted yourself in place. Standing firm and unyielding.

Evenings with Raph, sitting with him on the floor of his room, holding his trembling hands together as he held a paper flower in his palms. 'The Beauty of Origami' laid open on the ground next to you both, Raph had asked you to go over the instructions and make the simple lotus flower first so he could see the steps in person. As he stared at it now it seemed so small and fragile in his larger hands. "You can do this, Raph. Paper is easy, it takes a light touch and that's it. Even if you mess up it's alright. It won't hurt anything if you tear a piece or two, we'll just try again." He finally looked to you, absolute trust in his eyes as he nodded. Gingerly placing your flower down in front of him, Raph took the piece of colorful paper from you, and he began to craft. 

You felt every emotion at once rising from within you, faithful love for your family, Warmth from all of the small moments you held close to your heart with them. You could physically feel your spirit rise in a violent force to defend them, this wasn't just a group of brothers. This was yours, your family. 

"Hurry up, if you don't get in here already the dynamic duo is going to be a dynamic uno. I will leave you behind if Raph finds you in the kitchen this late!" Leo whisper yelled as he stood halfway through the portal that leads to who knows where. You could only throw the bag of chips at him as you rushed his way, food, and drinks in tote. As a heavy set of footsteps slowly sounded through the hallway you saw Leo's eyes widen, He lunged forward, wrapping an arm around your torso, and pulled you through the portal with a laugh. As the world brightened once again to reveal a quiet cliffside, you could hear the water below. "Come on bestie, help me set everything up." So it would go, snacks, drinks, a blanket to lay on, and an endless sky of start to watch, fake constellations to make up and give stories too.

The beast let out a crashing roar as it stomped the ash-covered ground in front of you. You could feel the force of what felt like many in your words as you bellowed a wordless, hateful cry. You could feel tears rushing down your face now. Still, you remained in place. "This is my family! You will not touch them!" Thunder booming as your voice sounded. The storm only growing as though it was lashing out in your own emotional state.

Your ferocity faltered as you felt a hand reach out to rest against your ankle. You risked a glance behind you, looking down to see that it was Leo, you could see his bloodied mouth trying to move, unable to form the words, and tears falling down his bruised face. his hand shook from the effort of trying to grab hold of you. His eyes were desperate, tired, near lifeless. He wasn't going to tell you to fight, or to run. He was just... Scared. Of existing at this moment alone. 

You looked to the beast with a burning, hateful, wrath. You growled towards the creature as you turned your back to it. Instead of fighting fruitlessly with your last breath, you allowed your body to fall to the ground. Hitting your knees as everything you had was finally given out. 

You leaned against Raph’s side unable to feel for his normally pounding heartbeat. resting an arm on top of him to hold onto Mikey's limp hand, squeezing lightly, waiting for a responding squeeze that you knew would never come. Stretching your other arm over Leo's back to reach for Donnie, resting a hand on his chest, feeling for his slow heartbeat, only to be met with a cold lack of the familiar rhythm. Finally, you let yourself slump forward onto Leo's upper shell. You pressed the side of your head against his, no longer holding back the anguished broken cries. You felt his arm wrapping around your shoulders desperately as he tried to catch any breath he could. You could hear his crackling breathing slow as his body began to relax.

This was your family, you had found them when you were young. You had grown up with them. Celebrated with them at their best and mourned with them at their worst. You would find a permanent rest with them. You would stay until your final breath gave out and beyond. 

You called out their names softly in turn, waiting for any response. 

Nothing. 

You closed your eyes, knowing that this was where you belonged. Besides your family, till the end. As you allowed your body to finally rest, you held tight where you could. Allowing what final strength you possessed to be poured into a final declaration. "... I love you."

You could hear the fading noise of the beast finally getting closer, you had a feeling though that none of you would feel the burning as its molten fire gathered in its gut, its maw unhinged, the fading light of its flames shines and-

...

"HEY!" Your eyes shot open as you sat upright, greeted by the sight of four smiling brothers, no equipment, no blood or bruising, not a single scar from their lifetimes marred their scales. They seemed, healthy, glowing even in a way you had never seen before. 

Leo kneeled next to you, Raph was standing tall with Mikey perched on his shoulders. Donnie standing a few steps behind them, looking outward along the treeline of what seemed to be a meadow, staring towards something that had caught his attention. 

"C'mon, Donnie says the river down there has got to lead to a lake or something." Raph gestured to where Donnie was looking. 

"Yeah, baby! We're gonna go for a swim, see what we can find out here." Mikey chimed in, hopping from Raph’s shoulders to the ground, snatching up Donnie and pulling him along in his excitement.

"Yes, do try to hurry though, Michel here just might leave us all behind if we take too long!" Donnie shouted back to you as he was dragged along.

Raph could only laugh as he raced to catch up with his younger brothers. 

Leo grabbed your arm, pulling you up easily with a relaxed grin. As soon as you were up he began walking in the direction his brothers left in. Once he realized you weren't walking with him, however. He stopped, turning to you with a knowing look. "Hey-" Leo reached out a hand to you. "You coming?" 

You stared at him, settling into yourself with a wave of newfound peace, you couldn't feel a single ache or pain, just a light airy happiness surrounding you and your family. You slowly reached out and took Leo's hand, smiling back at him with a shine in your eyes you could only remember having when you had first met a lifetime ago. "Of course I'm coming with you guys, I'm always right with you aren't I?"

Leo nodded with an amused snort. "Course you are, you're always with us, oh and by the way-" Leo pulled you along, walking at a leisurely pace, seeming to settle into this new place just as much as you had. "-We love you too."

#doingnickelodeonsjob #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt #tbh this is like highkey all familial love nothing romantic so yeah #also sorry for the angst I intended to write something sweet but just... *vaguely gesturing* this happened?

[blitzturtles]

Title: Night Off

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: DC Comics

Pairing(s): JayDick

Summary: “If you’re not here to kill me, then get out!” Dick calls without moving. He should probably double check as to who his intruder is, but the idea of moving is somehow more unappealing than the idea of one of his enemies actually managing to break into his apartment. He’ll take the risk of potential kidnapping if it means that they’ll do most of the bodily lifting for him.

Notes: I was having a chronic pain flare, asked my wife who I should inflict it on, and her answer was, “Jotaro and/or Dick Grayson”. So here’s the Dick Grayson version. Btw, I’m doing a writing / fic giveaway! Check out this post to see how to enter. Goes until 8.25.21!

-

It’s extremely rare for Dick to pull out of a planned patrol, but there are nights when he can’t handle the thought, much less actually suit up and venture out into Gotham. Tonight is one of those nights. Old injuries are rearing their ugly head, making themselves too known to be ignored, and he knows that going out will be a mistake. He’s more likely to cause trouble than he is to prevent it, and he’s not about to cut into someone else’s patrol just to have someone come to his rescue. That’s time that could be better spent, and he hates the idea of anyone knowing the degree of pain he’s dealing with. To know that it cripples him to the point where walking is a slow, agonizing process. It feels like a weakness that he’s not prepared to share.

Bruce has chronic pain. That’s something Dick’s known for years. Possibly since he was a child, but the man never seems to be stopped or even slowed down by it. He’s never missed a patrol. Never needed someone to fish him out of a bad situation brought on by his knee completely giving out on him (not that Dick admitted to that being the problem; he’d lied and claimed it had been freshly injured.) It’s frustrating to watch, and it sets a precedent that Dick can’t keep up with. It makes him feel pathetic on nights like these, and it’s all he can do to try to distract himself with crappy television. Up until the moment when something crashes into his apartment through his-- previously locked-- window.

“If you’re not here to kill me, then get out!” Dick calls without moving. He should probably double check as to who his intruder is, but the idea of moving is somehow more unappealing than the idea of one of his enemies actually managing to break into his apartment. He’ll take the risk of potential kidnapping if it means that they’ll do most of the bodily lifting for him.

Sure enough, Jason shows up in the doorway of his living room a moment later with his helmet at his side, but his cowl still fixed in place. “You’re not dressed,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, and it makes Dick’s eyebrows climb up toward his hairline.

“Are you my babysitter now?”

“No,” Jason snarls, “I’m not fucking Bruce.”

“Alright then,” Dick shrugs and tries to leave it at that. The keyword being ‘try’, because Jason never could leave well enough alone.

“Why aren’t you out?”

“Changed my mind. Am I not allowed to do that?” Shit. He sounds unnecessarily snappish. More so aloud than he does in his own head, which he knows is the pain getting the better of him, but that doesn’t mean he wants it to reflect in his tone. He heaves a sigh, “Sorry, just wasn’t up for it tonight, you know? Think I twisted my ankle a little last night, and I thought I would take a night. See if the swelling goes down.”

Jason frowns as he mulls over those words, but he doesn’t outright reject them. “Okay,” he starts, and Dick almost sighs in relief, if only internally, “So that was bullshit.”

Fuck.

“Jason-”

“We can do this all night, so you can keep lying to me, or you can just tell me what’s going on,” Jason’s gaze shifts from Dick to the rest of his apartment, undoubtedly looking for some kind of clue. Or possibly some sort of trouble. Neither of which he finds, because Dick’s too stubborn to ice his joints, and the compression wraps he has on are hidden by his clothes.

“I’m not kidding about my ankle,” Dick says after a moment of contemplating his word choice.

“You’re just lying about the cause,” Jason concludes after a moment. His head is cocked to the side, but it’s apparent that he’s fixated on the offending joint, “And it’s not the only thing bothering you.”

The problem with Jason is that he’s far more observant than most people give him credit for. And intelligent, for that matter. It’s easy to forget that Jason thinks Shakespeare is a fun read, and that he’ll spend hours debating the topic with Alfred, if given the chance (and Alfred is always willing). There’s also the fact that Jason tends to pick and choose when he’s going to press an issue; often because he intends to come back around to it, but only when the situation turns in his favor. But the favor here has always been Jason’s. Dick’s stuck on the couch of his apartment, unwilling to move unless absolutely necessary, because his knee will feel like it’s being torn in half if he does, and that’s to say nothing about either ankle.

“I don’t really want to talk about this, Jason,” Dick uses the name for emphasis this time. With a short, clipped tone that he hopes conveys just how badly he would like Jason to leave, but Jason’s also nothing if not obstinate.

“Have you tried ice yet? Or heat?”

The words startle Dick, and he looks to Jason with far too many emotions readable on his face. Jason merely raises an eyebrow in return, and Dick sighs, “No. I don’t think I can get up.”

“Oh,” Jason breathes the word, like he hadn’t expected the answer. And he probably hadn’t. He’d probably expected Dick to continue to deny reality. To lie through his teeth until Jason gave up (which wasn’t going to happen, but that’s beyond the point now.) “Okay. Got any ice in the freezer?”

“Yes- what?”

Jason’s gone in an instant, heading for the kitchen with little concern for Dick’s desire to be left alone. He comes back a minute later with several bags full of freshly scooped ice. He passes them to Dick, one at a time, while Dick slowly places them on various offending limbs.

There’s a dumbstruck expression on Dick’s face, as if he can’t fully process what’s happening, which might have to do with why he doesn’t stop it either. Jason disappears again, this time into the bathroom, and Dick just- let’s him. He’s not sure what else to do now that Jason’s set his mind to- whatever it is he’s set his mind to.

“Here,” Jason says when he comes back with a paper cup of water and a handful of pills. It takes Dick a moment to remember that, a. His first aid kit is in the bathroom just like most peoples’, and the leap for Jason figuring that out isn’t really a leap and b. That Jason’s come here for a (very rough) patch up job more than once, which means he already knows exactly where he can find said kit.

Dick swallows the painkillers with little prompting and passes the cup back to Jason, who must dispose of it in the trash, given that he disappears into the kitchen again. When he comes back, he looks at Dick with that sort of halfcocked, curious expression he gets.

“Anything else I can do?”

“Uh- no. I think you’ve done plenty,” and Dick means that. Jason’s done more for him than Dick would have done for himself, and the ice actually feels kind of nice on the throbbing joints. Combined with the compression, it’s the best relief he’s gotten all day. Maybe the medication will actually do something for a change.

“Good,” Jason says, and Dick assumes that’s the end of that. That he’ll go right back out the window that he came in, but, instead, Jason flops on the couch cushion nearest to him and nods at the long forgotten TV. “What’re we watching?”

“We?”

“Yeah,” Jason says without missing a beat, “I got nothing better to do, and distractions can help with pain. Trust me.”

And two things occur to Dick right then. The first being that Jason isn’t just doing this out of some obligation. He wants to help. Wants to make Dick feel better, and Dick doesn’t know what to do with that information. And the second is that Jason knows, on a very personal level, what it’s like to be in so much pain that his body doesn’t cooperate with him, and of course he does. Jason’s death had been far from pleasant, and he still wears the scars of it. There’s no doubt he feels it in his bones and damaged cartilage. Never mind all the other injuries since then, and there’s a long, long list that Dick’s personally seen the fallout of several times.

“I don’t know,” Dick says once his brain starts processing in the right direction again, “CSI?”

Jason snorts, “What, want to spend all night yelling at the screen?”

“Maybe,” Dick says with a shrug, “You got something better?”

“Hell yeah,” Jason reaches for the remote, and Dick passes it to him without question, “We’re gonna watch some good ole-fashioned zombies.”

And there goes Dick’s eyebrows again, “Really?”

“Sometimes a man just needs something a little autobiographical, quit judging,” and Jason says it with such a severe tone that Dick can’t help but laugh.

Truthfully, it’s the best he’s felt all night, and that doesn’t change once the movie-- however bad it may be-- starts. He catches Jason with a small, half-smile tugging at the corner of one side of his lips, and it helps Dick to relax a bit, to know that he isn’t being judged.

#jaydick #jason todd #dick grayson #batfam #dc comics #blitzwrites #blitz

[bnhaven]

A Potential ‘Hidden Quirk’ Idea

To begin: I am so sorry. Truly. I swore I’d be a writer of fluff, and yet here we are...again...whoops.

Anyways, let’s get on with it! 

So, if there’s one thing we love about our innocent cinnamon roll of a boy, aka Izuku “Deku” Midoriya, it’s that he’s willing to go beyond (plus ultra style) in order to save the day, even going so far as to break his bones to the point of disfiguration. Adrenaline helps him fight through the pain, and even then I’ve heard a lot of people talk about his insanely high pain tolerance.

Like, ridiculously high. I mean, the Overhaul fight??? Where Izuku just destroys himself so that Eri doesn’t Rewind him out of existence? Wild. It’s like, unimaginable. Even with the decade of bullying to get used to pain, it’s almost unreal for the green bean to be able to push through so much naturally.

Which is where I say: what if it wasn’t natural?

Look, some Quirks are probably hidden ones. Ones that you can’t immediately see, ones that aren’t emitter types. Quirks that just affect the wielder, not anyone else. Like Nedzu’s High Spec, for example. But what’s another Quirk that no one would be able to see?

One that negates pain. 

Now, I don’t think that Izuku would have always had this Quirk. I think it’s one that needed the right conditions to form. Like, let’s say...a really hard punch, something with an almost explosive force.

Lucky for Izuku, he has a classmate with a very painful Quirk, and a penchant for using it on those he deems weaker or lesser. Thus, when the bullying started, Izuku’s Quirk finally kicked in after one hit went too far.

The Issue: Nobody realizes that Izuku got his Quirk. Not even Izuku realizes it. Why? Well, Izuku thinks it’s just a high pain tolerance. He still feels Bakugou striking him, he just...doesn’t feel much else. He knows that he feels pressure, so he must have just gotten used to Bakugou’s hits. (And with all of the burn scars that Izuku is gaining, he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s lost some nerve endings due to the damage.)

And Izuku would definitely have burn scars in this AU (I’m not really sure if canon gives him said scars, I’ve done more reading for this fandom than watching, oops.) But no matter what happens in canon, this Izuku would have burn scars for one reason: Since Izuku doesn’t feel pain, he doesn’t cry out. Since he doesn’t cry out, Bakugou thinks his explosions aren’t strong enough to hurt...so the boy uses stronger blasts in an attempt to prove his ‘point’. (There is definitely an inferiority complex going on here, where Bakugou subconsciously worries that his Quirk is weak if ‘Quirkless Deku can stand there and take one of my hits without a single flinch’.) He pushes himself harder, lets more force into every controlled blast, etc.

So Izuku has no clue that he has a Quirk, Bakugou uses crazy amounts of explosions on the boy, neither realizing just how much damage is happening because Izuku can’t feel any pain.

Canon continues. The Sludge Villain stuff goes as usual, and All Might chooses Izuku as his successor just like always. The training montage from hell might actually be more self-destructive, not only because Izuku feels the need to catch up but also because he doesn’t feel so exhausted/sore. (Along with pain, the boy also doesn’t really feel when his muscles and body are sore, so he doesn’t realize he needs to take a breather.) But that isn’t the focus, so let’s move on!

The Entrance Exam occurs, and wow that really should have clued someone in. Because Izuku breaks his limbs for Uraraka and when he hits the ground, instead of dragging himself away he tries to stand up. He actually manages to find a 3-pointer, and breaks two more of his fingers by flicking in its direction, destroying it with a gust of air before he collapses to the ground.

But wow, everyone is just like ‘this boy is wild’ before completely forgetting about how they heard his bones crunching with every step. 

Continue on. 

Quirk Apprehension Test? Izuku doesn’t really get why Aizawa is complaining about how he shatters himself. Like, he doesn’t need to stop just because his arm is apparently broken. It’s fine, he can still use it. Still, he settles on breaking a single finger because he can’t risk expulsion, and he definitely doesn’t have the courage to talk back to a teacher. 

Hero v. Villain Fight? Izuku doesn’t even collapse after the final blast, instead walking off without batting an eyelash. Iida ends up corralling him to Recovery Girl’s room, because first Izuku protested having to leave without getting to watch the other teams, then he got distracted by the school and nearly got lost.

USJ? Izuku goes a little more feral, fun times.

Sports Festival? Oh honey you know things are going to get wild here. Broken bones left and right, yeehaw it’s shatter city baby!

Izuku ends up with even less self-preservation with every passing problem, basically. Since the boy can’t feel pain, he assumes that any injury that he does get isn’t that bad. After all, wouldn’t he be crying and, you know, hurting if it was bad? Izuku knows what pain feels like, and this isn’t it!!

It’s only the realization that breaking bones so often could end his career early that causes Izuku to try new approaches to the whole Quirk-using situation. Even then, the boy has no sense of when to stop, and as such pushes himself to the point of passing out from either exhaustion or blood loss multiple times.

-One such time was after getting impaled. The boy didn’t realize he had a broken pole halfway through his back until Kaminari screamed and passed out from seeing Izuku bleeding, a giant rod jabbing out of him. Izuku tried to shrug it off.

Sometime around the impalation incident, people begin to notice that Izuku has a freaky high pain tolerance. 

But nobody really connects the dots until Bakugou goes too far in training.

The bad news: his opponent loses a limb.

The good news: It is Shouji, and it’s one of the regrowable ones.

The bad news: the following dialogue occurs after school…

Bakugou: What the fuck? But that’s barely anything!

Aizawa: Bakugou. That explosion had enough force to sever your classmate’s hand off of his limb due to how you directed it. You should know to limit yourself by now.

Bakugou: But I was! That one is so weak that even Deku can walk away without flinching! 

Aizawa: There is no way that Midoriya would be able to move on without needing medical attention after a hit that bad.

Bakugou: He has.

Aizawa: ...I beg your pardon?

Bakugou: Deku fucking has! How do you think I learned my limits, huh? Deku has taken a hit like that directly to the chest and didn’t even flinch! I know how weak I am!

Needless to say, Aizawa proceeds to lose his absolute shit. He makes Izuku stay after class the next day, and questions him about whether or not Bakugou has ever used his Quirk on him. 

Izuku, a boy who is unafraid of breaking three limbs to save a girl from a giant robot, but who is terrified of teachers most of the time, cracks without too much pressure. He admits that Bakugou has used his Quirk on Izuku for years, but ‘It wasn’t bad, sensei! They were like love taps, I never even felt a thing!’

And Aizawa knows something is wrong with this, something isn’t adding up because if Shouji lost a limb to Bakugou’s hit, Izuku has to be lying...or there’s another factor in this equation.

Aizawa dismisses Izuku, and spends the night trying to figure it out.

And then he does.

The next day, he makes Bakugou and Izuku stay in the classroom during lunch. He questions them on their past. Bakugou complains about how ‘weak’ he’s always been, Izuku brushes past the concern without much thought because it never hurt, and sure there were markings but-

Aizawa: Markings?

The scars are revealed. Well, the ones on his upper body.

This is when Bakugou begins to realize that he’s fucked up.

During training, Aizawa pulls Bakugou and Izuku off to work with him separately. He

brings out machines that test how much force a blow gives off, and has Bakugou throw his ‘weak’ explosions at them.

As it turns out, Izuku should have been in crippling pain from everything Bakugou did. And then Aizawa drops the ‘I think you have a pain-related Quirk’ on Izuku, and yeah.

I didn’t really plan an end, sorry. I just think it’d be interesting, you know?

On the bright side, at least Izuku isn’t constantly in pain!!! He just got his body a whole lot more damaged than he would have, and has maybe half of the self-preservation that his canon counterpart possesses.

Finally, for an extra bit: Izuku only feels pain when Aizawa erases his Quirk. It’s not pleasant. (And, to make him even more oblivious, Izuku believes that the pain is because his Quirk is being ‘severed’ in its connection, not that this is lingering pain that comes from having bones shattered over and over without hesitation.)

#bnha au #izuku has a quirk #izuku can't feel pain #bnhaven #I went feral once more #my apologies #katsuki out here learning that his standards for strength and weakness have been skewed for a decade

[whumpingcrow]

Pt.2 "Into the Belly of the Beast"

We don't see very much of Leo in my Elias pieces but I love him he's such a sweetheart. Also August and Elias's dynamic is SO sad and it just gets worse! :)))

CW: sensory deprivation, past mentions of abuse, injury mention, tourettes syndrome, ticcing, abduction, character tied up, creepy/intimate whumper, broken bone mention, drowning mention, knife mention, emotional manipulation (let me know if I missed anything!)

Leo woke up the next morning with a smile on his face, happy to have Allen back in his arms. He was pressed close against him, his hands gripping at Leo’s shirt and his legs wrapped up in his own. Leo pulled him closer, placing soft kisses into his hair and temple. He was so glad to have Allen back in bed, next to him. His husband, pressed against him in bed just like he was supposed to be. He felt Allen stir a little, and he pulled away just enough to look at him. He woke up with a whimper, shielding his eyes from the sun that was coming in from the window.

The night before, when they finally got home, Allen had explained a little bit of what happened with August. He told him that he had essentially kept him hidden away, discarded in a closet like something to be ashamed of. He told him that the majority of the time he was blindfolded and trapped with headphones that blared loud music. He explained how disorienting that had been, and how overwhelming seeing and hearing things were now. Leo was so disgusted every time that Allen talked about August, about the horrible, repulsive treatment he’d received. It just seemed to get worse every time Allen fell back into his claws, coming back with horrible scars and new traumas that seemed like they couldn't possibly be resolvable.

“Mm...bright.” Allen whined, burying his face into Leo’s chest to bring the darkness back. Leo was brought back to reality, how Allen was in his arms and not alone and hurting.

“Want me to close the curtains?” Leo asked. He waited for Allen to nod, then he stood up and pulled them the rest of the way closed. He returned to bed, pulling him back into his arms. “There. Better?”

“Thank you,” Allen sighed, looking up at Leo with a smile, “Good morning.”

“It is a good morning, isn’t it? I so badly missed waking up to you.” Allen laughed softly, bringing his hand up to play with Leo’s hair.

“You are so beautiful,” Allen breathed, “I’m so in love with you it’s dumb.”

Leo smiled at him, pulling him closer to kiss him. He pulled away as his phone rang on the bedside table next to him. He frowned as he saw that Tyson was calling. He was probably checking up on Allen, he had picked him up from the hospital in his bruised and battered state. He tried not to worry that Tyson would try to get close to him like he had done before, try to swoop in and rescue him before Leo even had a chance to. He sat up before he answered, looking away from Allen.

“What’s up, Ty?” He grumbled. He was annoyed at having this perfect moment interrupted, if he could have it his way he would hold Allen close all day, kissing his injuries better and making sure he was safe and comfortable. But Tyson didn't typically call him, and he figured he at least owed it to him to entertain him for a moment, to let him check up on Allen.

“Leo they fucking got Elias! The same freaks that got Allen, They got Elias!” His voice was rushed and absolutely panicked, threatening to collapse at any second. “They said they saw us with Allen and they took him!”

“Oh fuck.” Leo swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry and his stomach queasy. “Did you call the cops?”

“Of course I did! But I think...I need Allen’s help, he knows August, he might be able to help find him.” Tyson's voice sounded so strained, and Leo knew the panic he was feeling all too well.

He assured him he would talk to Allen, asked him to come over so they could figure things out together. In a way, a sick, twisted way he wished he didn’t, he was relieved that at least it wasn’t Allen again.

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

Elias was struggling hard against the rope he’d been tied up with, his whole body trembling. Every few seconds he ticced, his tourettes even worse under the panic. He didn’t understand what was happening, why he’d been shoved into a truck with a gun to his head, why they now had him tied up in a pitch black room. When he was woken up in the middle of the night with a gun to his head, it was pretty hard to understand what was happening. He could hear Tyson and someone else shouting at each other, but their words didn’t make sense, he couldn’t hear anything beyond his panicked thoughts and fearful breathing.

“Let me the fuck go!” He cried. “Fucking cocksuckers! Fucking cunts!” He pulled hard against the ropes again, groaning when they didn’t budge. Suddenly, the room lit up as someone came in, and he looked up at them with a glare. He didn’t want to show how scared he was, so he tried looking mean instead. He didn’t think it worked, his panic was so raw that it was hard to mask it.

“You’re being very noisy in here,” the man said, twisting a knife around as he stepped closer. “You know, yelling isn’t gonna get you anywhere.”

“What the fuck are you doing this for?!” He ticced again, grimacing at the pain it brought on.

“We saw you with Allen. Allen got us into loads of trouble, so we figured we’d get a little bit of pay back.”

“Fucking shit I hardly even know the guy! Let me fucking go!” He took a deep breath to try and calm himself down, maybe if he wasn’t yelling he would be given some mercy, at least enough to loosen the ropes digging into his skin. “Please. Please just let me go.”

“No can do, buddy. August has taken quite a liking to you, and he’ll be here soon. He’s gotta have a new plaything.” Elias felt a chill run down his spine at the name. August, the one who had left Allen in a hospital bed, poisoned his food, made him think he deserved that pain. Now he was going to do the same to Elias. The man stepped close, pressing the knife against his neck, leaning toward him. “You’ve gotta quiet down, though. You’ve got a loud mouth.”

“Ok. I...fuck...I will.” He squeezed his eyes shut tight until the knife was pulled away, then jerked his head to the side. The person left again, leaving Elias in the dark room.

Hours passed, and Elias grew rather tired and sore. He leaned back in the chair, exasperated beyond belief and aching from how hard he was trying not to tic and yell. He wondered if Tyson was going to look for him, if he’d called the police yet. He would like to hope so. His wrists were burning from tugging against the ropes, his spine stinging from the cold metal chair digging into it. He just wanted it to be over. He wanted to go home. To Tyson.

The door opened again, but this time it was someone different standing and staring at him. “You look rather scared, the man said, reaching up and turning on a harsh light. Elias flinched and looked up at him with fear filled eyes. “They got you tied up tight, don’t they?”

Elias only stared back at him, hoping he didn’t look as scared as he felt. “You’re August?” He squeaked. “You were...you were with Allen.” He leaned back as much as he could as August closed in on him, eyes wide.

“Mhm. Until he betrayed me. But that doesn’t matter, I’ve got you now.” He grabbed Elias’s face harshly, smiling when he gasped a little. “And you are so pretty, so unscathed. Ah, I’m going to have so much fun breaking you.”

“You’re fucking disgusting.” Elias said, trying to pull out of his grip. “You pig!” He gasped as August slapped him across the cheek, then looked away from him. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t me! I have tourettes!”

August grinned down at him, seemingly entertained by him. “I see. You ready to leave then?”

“Leave? Where?” he grimaced as August pulled him off of the chair and to his feet, grabbing tightly at the ropes binding his wrists together.

“Home, sweetheart.”

‘Home’ was a large house in the middle of nowhere. It was spacious and open, large windows and wooden floors, and Elias wondered how August had gotten such a huge place. Then he wondered why he wasn’t in jail, like Tyson told him he should be. His thoughts were diminished as he was tossed to the floor like a piece of garbage. He cried out in pain, looking up at August with a frown.

“What a lovely sound,” August mused, kneeling down next to him. “I bet you’d like to be untied now, huh?”

“Yeah no shit,” his eyes widened at his words, and he shrunk away from August. “Sorry! Sorry!”

August grinned at his apology, but he hit him anyway, just to hear him cry out again. “You’ll learn not to speak to me that way in no time.”

“But I didn’t mean it!” He insisted.

August laughed, pulling him up to his feet again. “I’ll untie you,” he began, then dropped his voice to a low growl, “but if you try to run I’ll break your fucking legs.”

“I won’t run. I won’t.” Elias promised. August looked at him questioningly, holding his arms still. “I swear.” He bit his tongue, trying with everything he had not to yell.

Finally August turned him around, keeping his hand tight around his shoulder. He pressed himself close against his back, making Elias tense. The ropes loosened from his wrists, and he sighed as he brought his arms to the front of him to rub the burns out of his wrists.

“Better?” August asked, stroking his thumbs against his arms gently.

“Yeah.” He ticced again, his neck aching. He missed Tyson, who was always so quick to comfort him when he could tell how bothered he was by it. Even if he couldn’t necessarily do anything to stop it, it was nice to be held or rocked through it. August’s touch was nothing but possessive and wrong.

“Wanna go for a swim?” He was turned back to August, who smiled down at him.

“Uh...sure?” Elias was already being pulled out to the back yard where a huge pool waited. He looked at August with a confused frown, not sure what was going on, why he wasn’t being beaten or stabbed, which is what he thought would happen by what Tyson told him.

August pulled away from him, pulling off his clothes and setting them to the side Elias shrugged and then pulled his own shirt off. He shrunk away from August as he placed his hand against his torso.

“Don’t be that way, I’m just trying to get a good look at you.” He grabbed Elias forcefully this time, turning him towards him. “Wow, you’re so small.” So small to him meant he could throw him around, pin him down whenever he wanted. He looked him up and down, at his unruly blond hair, his wide blue eyes. His skin was so pale and smooth, so different from Allen. As he thought about it, Elias was different from Allen in many ways, essentially the opposite of him. Maybe that’s what he liked about him, no matter how obsessed he was with him, maybe he just needed a change.

Elias frowned at him, then was quickly hoisted up and over August's shoulder, making Elias gasp and writhe. He couldn’t even make any words out before he hit the water, and August laughed to himself before jumping in after him. When Elias swam back to the surface he was gasping and sputtering, trying to catch his breath.

“You dickbag!" He huffed, splashing water at August to get him back.

“That a tic?” He checked, making his way closer.

“No, I was saying that because you-” he was cut off as August pushed him back underwater, this time holding him there. Elias struggled against him. Clawing at his arms and trying to push his way back to the surface. His lungs ached from not being able to breathe, and just when he felt lightheaded, he was pulled back to the surface. August held onto his hair tightly as he caught his breath, staring him down.

“Come on, man!” He gasped, trying to pull away from him. “Don’t do that to me!”

August laughed at him. At his breathlessness and his defiance. “So cute that you think I’ll listen to you.” Hshoved him back underwater, feeling him kicking and thrashing against him. He held him down for longer this time, testing how long he could last. When he felt his fight weaken a little, he yanked him back up.

“Are you done being mouthy? Cause I could do this shit all day, pretty boy.”

Elias was gasping harder now, weak in August’s grasp. He couldn’t speak through his ragged breathing, but he was whimpering just a little.

“What, suddenly you’re not talkative?” August teased. “Suit yourself.”

“No-!” Elias cried out before he was pushed under yet again. His chest was burning, his head pounding from not being able to breathe. He didn’t fight this time, simply grabbed at August’s wrist tightly and waited, hoped, for him to pull him back up. Finally, he was hoisted up to the surface, shuddery breaths coming in short spurts. He collapsed against August, too weak to stand on his own.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezed, “no more. No more.”

August chuckled softly, dropping his hand from Elias’s hair and to his shoulders. “There you go. Good.”

When Elias could breathe again, he pulled off of August, wiping the stinging chlorine from his eyes. He felt tired and shaky, he wanted to go back to Tyson. He wanted to lay in bed with him and sleep for a long time, he wanted to watch him draw for a while.

He waded over to the wall, turning away from August to lean his face against it. He closed his eyes tightly, too tired to even tic. He felt August next to him, his arm brushing against him.

“What’s got you all butthurt?”

Elias looked at him, frowning. “I miss my boyfriend.”

August laughed, “who Tyson? You shouldn’t waste your energy on him. Trust me, he’s not even thinking about you right now.”

“What? Of course he is.”

“Are you kidding? Tyson, who’s still madly in love with Allen? Who practically offered you up once he realized it meant we would leave Allen alone? That guy couldn’t wait to get rid of you.”

“You’re...You’re lying.” Elias looked away from him, shaking his head.

“Am I?” August grabbed his face and tilted his chin up towards him. “Think about it, how would we know to go to his place and take you, of all people?”

Elias felt tears in his eyes, not wanting to believe these harsh things. “Ty cares about me.”

“Maybe. But not as much as he cares about Allen.”

Elias held his breath, his jaw clenched and shoulders tensed. “I want to be done swimming now. Fuck.”

August sighed, pulling Elias against his chest. “It’s gonna be ok. I’ll take care of you. I’ll teach you right from wrong, yeah?” He began to stroke his hair gently, and even though Elias hated his guts for holding him underwater and saying all those awful things, it felt nice to be held and pet.

“Ok,” Elias whispered, trying to get the subject to change, “can we go inside now?”

“You don’t wanna continue this awesome pool party?” August joked. Elias huffed, pulling away from him.

“Sure, but this time how 'bout I try to drown you?” He grabbed August’s shoulders, trying to knock him over. He was much too small though, and August grabbed him and tossed him again, laughing at him.

“You gotta try a little harder than that, sweetheart.”He teased. He laughed as Elias jumped on him again, trying hard to tip him.

This went on for just a while longer before Elias was even more tired out, and he couldn’t jump around anymore. He got out, sitting on the edge with the sun shining on him. August followed after him, leaning back and smiling.

Elias tried not to move away from him when he began to stroke his back mindlessly. He saw how explosive he had been when he’d even just talked in a way he didn’t like, he was too scared to do anything else to upset him. He remembered Allen being in the hospital, how bruised up he was.

“Are you gonna hurt me?” he whispered.

August leaned forward to look at him. “Not anything you can’t handle. And like I said, just to teach you.” He felt Elias tense up under his hand, and he smiled. “Relax, baby. No need to stress yourself out.”

Elias stared at him, a deep frown on his face. “I’m scared.” He admitted, feeling the same lump in his throat as he felt earlier when he was told about Tyson. “I saw what you did to Allen, I’m really scared.” This was new for him, to admit his fears. He was so used to spitting in the face of anything that upset him, so used to burying his fears so deep down that they morphed into fury. He was surprised to hear himself admitting it to this stranger, but he knew that his usual ways, his fighting, “fuck you” attitude would only make this situation worse.

August scoffed and stood up, holding out his hand to help him up. “Allen was a fucking mess who didn’t know how to listen. As long as you listen everything will be ok.” He was lying, of course, he was going to have his fun with Elias the same way he had with Allen. But it was not as fun when he was nervously awaiting it, better when he didn’t expect it.

August pulled him inside and led him to the bedroom, digging through his closet until he found one of his over-sized hoodies. He pulled it over Elias’s head, helping him get his arms through. He was swimming in it, the sleeves drooping over his hands and his thin legs sticking out of it. August smiled, ruffling his damp hair. “Very cute,” he admired, “you look nice in it.”

Elias looked down, annoyed at the compliment from this near stranger. He could feel his eyes on him as he ticced, and he hated it. Tyson usually helped him calm down when it was this bad, usually comforted him as much as he could through it. But now Tyson had gotten rid of him, he had given him to this terrifying stranger to keep someone else safe. “Fuck,” he grimaced, closing his eyes, “fucking cunt! S-sorry.”

“That’s ok, love. Let’s go rest on the couch for a bit, yeah?”

Elias shrugged, it didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing, he was with August and in danger, on the couch or in the pool, he was going to be scared. He followed August out to the living room, where he was pulled onto the couch next to him. He sighed heavily, then it was cut off with a gasp as August yanked him so his head was resting in his lap. Elias closed his eyes and let himself be stroked and pet like some sick prize, trying not to think of anything but that feeling.

#whump #captivity whump #whump drabble #whump community #whump scenario #whump writing #whump ideas #whumpblr #restrained #elias x august #a little allen x leo treat #even though it was maybe just a treat for me.. #whump oc

[polaroid15]

Febuwhump day 4 - Impaling

Day 4 is here! This one HURT to write haha but I’m really proud of how it turned out. Hope you enjoy-- thanks for all the support on this so far <33

Summary: Peter and Tony get trapped under a collapsed building together. When an injury is discovered, they realize they don’t have much time...

Read this and previous chapters on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/71709888

----

When the dust clears, Peter forgets how to breathe.

The bomb had gone off without delay, no matter how desperately Peter had pleaded it wouldn’t. Him and Tony had been pulling out the last few civilians out of the way when it had detonated.

The blast had been catastrophic.

He remembers sprinting for freedom, Tony at his side, his hand latched tightly onto Peter’s arm to keep them from separating. He remembers the horrible vibration of the floor, the impossibly loud explosion, the collapse.

He remembers the darkness.

The wreckage is severe, both internally and externally. He wakes up blinking blood out of his eyes and groans, touching gently at the sorest part of his head while trying to regain his footing in the coherent world. He tastes dust on his tongue and ash in his throat. There’s blood on his hands.

The worst part, however, comes when he looks to the side. He finds Tony, barely visible through the thick darkness, unmoving and still.

“Tony!” The two syllables come out strangled and weak, though in his shock it's intended as a scream. Coughing out concrete dust, he forces his body to cooperate, to move towards the heap of scarred and dented metal laying across from him.

“Tony-” Peter’s breath cuts short as his vision tilts dangerously, a sharp pain stemming from his shoulder and down into his fingertips. Broken, he thinks. He can’t move his fingers. Maybe his shoulder is dislocated too.

When his nausea eases he continues his journey, crawling to Tony on his knees. They had been very lucky, he realizes as he ducks through their small shelter of broken concrete and splintered furniture. Though the building has indeed collapsed, it’s nowhere near what he had experienced during homecoming; unable to breathe or move an inch.

This time, all he has to worry about is Tony.

Tony.

Peter reaches his mentor, pulling in giant lungfuls of dusty air that does nothing but make his head spin. Using his good arm, Peter tries to heave Tony onto his back, but something prevents the movement.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter falls beside his mentor, feeling small and unsure, like the countless comments about his age, his naivety, are finally shining through. He knocks his knuckles lightly against Tony’s mask, unable to see the man’s face. “Wake- wake up.”

But he doesn’t, and Peter feels stinging tears threatening to fall.

And that’s when he sees it.

He can’t help but gasp, falling back on his butt and shifting away from the scene with stars blinking dangerously in his eyes. Frenzied, he uses his unbroken hand to pinch the skin on his thigh, to wake him up from what surely must be a nightmare.

“No. No no no-”

No matter how badly he wishes for it to be a dream, the scene doesn’t change, and Peter understands with great horror the severity of their situation. He slides back over to Tony’s side- his side stained with thick blood, originating from a heavy piece of rebar sticking up through his abdomen.

He’s been impaled.

“Oh, oh man.” Peter places his unbroken hand over the wound and chokes on a gag as he feels blood soak through the material of his suit.

Wait. His suit!

“K-Karen?”

Nothing.

“Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no no no-”

And just like that, his resolve breaks. He feels the sob rip through his throat, burning and stinging, but doesn’t quite hear it past the ringing in his ears. Everything sways and spins around him like a kaleidoscope.

He doesn’t even know if Tony is alive.

“Please Mr. Stark. Please, please wake up.”

The pain in his broken arm doubles and he looks down at it with a strangled cry, seeing the source of the pain to be the dented and scorched hand of the Iron-Man suit close around his hand.

He holds his breath, ignoring the grinding pain in his bones.

“To-Tony? Mr. Stark? Can you hear me?”

Slowly, so slowly it feels like a lifetime, Tony turns his head towards him. Peter cries out again, body aching with a deep relief. He presses down harder against Tony’s wound, pushing aside the fierce pain in his arm to allow it to be held.

“Hey kid,” Tony says, his voice pinched. “What- what happened?”

“The- the building collapsed. We’re still inside.”

Tony shifts again, small pieces of rock scraping and grating beneath the metal. He must register the pain because he tenses, the sounds of his breathing stalling. Peter notices him trying to lift his head, to look for the source of the pain, and flinch when it clicks.

“Oh lordy. That’s not good.”

Peter’s hands are shaking again, the walls feeling like they’re contracting, though he knows they stand still. Tony turns to look at him again, the eyes of the suit dark. “Are you okay Pete?”

“Me?” Peter asks weakly. “I- I’m fine! It’s you we need to be worried about.”

“I know you don’t like small spaces,” Tony mumbles, and Peter can hear the coherence leaving his voice. He holds on tighter, refuses to let go.

He can’t do this again.

He can’t.

“Stay with me Tony. Don’t go anywhere, okay? Someone will find us soon. They’ll be looking for us.”

“Kid.” Tony coughs. It sounds wet, like he’s bringing up blood.

“Don’t leave,” Peter repeats. “You can’t. Fight!”

“Kiddo.” The tone is gentle, kind. Peter lifts his head, more tears leaking out of his eyes.

“Can you- can you take off your mask?”

Peter stills, surprised by the request. “What?”

“I want to see your face.”

Swallowing through the tightness in his throat, Peter obeys, wincing as its removal pulls at the cuts on his face. He feels warm air hit the tears on his cheeks and freezes when Tony lifts a weak hand to reach for them, to brush them away.

“I’m- I’m so proud of you, Pete. I want you to know that.”

Peter shudders, grabbing Tony’s hand and holding it tight to his chest.

“Tony-”

But the hero’s hand grows heavy in his own, falling limply to the dust despite his attempts to catch it.

“Tony! No-”

Peter can barely see straight through the white, blinding panic. With bile threatening to tear through his throat, he rips off Tony’s helmet and reaches for his throat, fingers landing haphazardly on the artery and waiting, waiting-

A pulse. One beat, then two, then three.

They’re running out of time.

“Help!”

Peter doesn’t know why he’s screaming, doesn’t know who will hear. He crawls deliriously towards the side of their prison, feeling the walls, pounding against them. “Help us! Please!”

I’m so proud of you.

He can’t let him die.

With one last determined glance over at the fallen man, Peter digs his fingers under the biggest portion of the rubble, his bad arm hanging uselessly at his side. He doesn’t have time to think rationally, to analyze whether the disruption will bring more of the demolished building down over their heads.

All that matters is saving Tony.

Screaming through the blinding pain, the raw panic, Peter lifts. Just as he had at the warehouse, or when the ferry was tearing him in two. He feels every nerve burn, every muscle cry. It should be impossible to feel this much pain, he thinks, and choose to endure it.

But nothing can even come close to the pain of losing Tony, so he persists.

“Holy crap!”

Peter hears voices, hears hurried footsteps. He doesn’t even think of the ramifications of his missing mask until a paramedic is crouched in the rubble in front of him, eyes wide and disbelieving. “It’s Spider-Man! God- he’s just a kid!”

“Mr. Stark” Peter grunts, praying for the man to understand. Already, his knees are shaking, threatening to give way. Darkness teases at the edge of his vision. “Save him. Please.”

The medic looks beyond Peter, pulling out a thin flashlight and illuminating the space beyond him. “Oh man,” he says frantically. “I need all hands over here now! We’ve got Iron Man inside!”

The relief nearly makes Peter drop the whole structure back on top of them, but he refuses, forcing himself to stay lucid, to stay focused. His good arm shakes, threatens to snap, but he holds on all the same. For Tony.

It passes in a blur. Peter feels medics and firefighters rush past him, ducking through the small space he provides. He vaguely recognizes people trying to talk to him, offering him water.

Eventually, they pull Tony out on a stretcher.

“You can let go now,” a kind voice says somewhere distant. It's the first medic, a comforting hand on his trembling shoulder that he can’t feel. “He’s okay. We got him. You’re both safe.”

Safe.

Peter doesn’t need anymore convincing. He lets the crushing weight drop behind him, the world growing dimmer at its edges.

The medic catches him when he falls.

----

It must not be long after that he wakes up again. He sees the blurry ceiling of an ambulance, feels the ground shake underneath him. Blearily, he tries to push himself up but his muscles feel equivalent to overcooked pasta and his head is surely stuffed with cotton.

“He’s fine!” Says an exasperated voice he doesn’t recognize. “He’s right here, see? He’s fine. He lifted the building long enough for us to get you out. You’re both fine.”

“His arm-”

“He’s fine. We’ll get him all fixed up. You too.”

“Don’t tell me it’s fine! Peter. Peter. Over here, kid.”

It’s Tony, he realizes, a smile pulling on his lips. He turns his head to look at his mentor, widening his sticky eyelids. The world spins, but it doesn’t matter, because Tony is awake and alive.

“You’re okay,” Peter mumbles, dopey smile persisting.

It’s not a question.

“Yeah, bud,” Tony says, and through the blur of his vision, Peter thinks he sees tears on the man’s face. “Because of you.”

“Always keep you safe,” Peter whispers.

“I know kiddo. You’re a hero for a reason.”

Their hands reach for each other from across their respective strethers. They might even connect, but Peter loses his grip on reality before it happens, his last concern tethering him to the waking world resolved.

Tony’s alive.

Everything is going to be alright.

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2021 #febuwhump day 4 #peter parker #tony stark #mcu #spider-man #hurt/comfort #peter parker whump #hurt tony stark #hurt peter parker #angst with a happy ending #collapsed building #rescuse #tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure #near death experience #proud of this one #thanks for reading my friends #hope you're having a great day :) #irondad fic

[monstersandmaw]

Male alien x nb human (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Here's the winner of the 'which monster to write next' poll (at least it was at the time I started writing it). It’s been on early release for Patreon folks for about a week now, and I was supposed to post it here yesterday, but I forgot. I hope you enjoy it!

Lex is non binary, and if they lived on Earth at the moment, would most likely be assigned male at birth. Tarann (alien) is male, an assassin, and didn’t have what we might view as a normal childhood by any standards. As such, there is an awful lot he does know, and a lot that he's completely unfamiliar with...

Content: fluff, the tiniest pinch of angst, plus mention of genetic modification and sterilisation, 'creation' of genetic 'super-soldiers', nsfw, tentacle cocks (plural) Wordcount: 8000

The dull, steady voice of his ship’s computer informed him that faster-than-light travel would not be viable with all systems in their current state of blaster-riddled repair.

He cursed.

It then informed him that actually, since barely sticking the landing in a crumbling red-stone canyon, Tarann would be lucky to take off again at all.

He let out a long string of curses, even switching languages a couple of times.

“That was creative. I even detected some Tch’larian in there,” Menot, the androgynous computer, commented. “Been a while since I’ve heard you use your native tongue, Tarann…”

“Go fuck yourself with a Savaranian spiked tuber,” he grumbled, to which the computer had no qualms responding that if they were not a mere collection of unfathomably complicated code - which he had had no hand whatsoever in creating, they sarcastically pointed out - they might consider the directive.

Tarann simply shook his head in frustration and used the lower of his two sets of arms to smash the bulkhead open by the button on the wall, and stalked through the smashed-up ship towards his cramped sleeping quarters. The Spark was hardly a ship built for comfort. She was utilitarian; designed for quick escapes and aerial combat, and short-range sorties. She’d been his home for over a year now, and he’d be lucky if he ever got her to limp into the upper atmosphere of this backwater planet, let alone space. An unhealthy layer of fine red dust was already clinging to her wings and the intakes would likely need some extensive work before he could get her air-worthy again.

Mounting stress made the old implant scar in the side of his neck throb and he trailed his three-fingered hand along it, his skin currently a neutral, dull grey. Barefooted, as nearly all Tch’larians preferred due to particular shape of their three-toed feet, with one additional thumb-like digit that didn’t quite meet the ground when they stood, he padded silently along the metal floors of the ship and began to check and clean his weapons back in his quarters. The familiar monotony of clicking, sliding metal, and the smell of gun lubricant always soothed him.

“Think,” he hissed at himself.

Menot’s voice sounded over the system twenty minutes later and said, “Incoming transmission from the Agency. Would you like me to play it for you?”

He closed his four yellow eyes and inhaled steadily. Reluctantly, he growled, “Yes.”

“Agent Triskelion,” the familiar voice of his handler rumbled. “We understand that your ship took heavy damage in a dogfight after completing your last contract.”

“That’s a fucking understatement,” he snarled but he didn’t interrupt the message further.

“While it was unrelated to the contract on the Red Flame, your unplanned skirmish with Invaranian Rebels did attract attention and we have intelligence to suggest that they might have attempted to trace you following your escape. You are ordered to keep a low profile and your open contracts have been reassigned to other agents until we can be certain that the Red Flame is no longer looking for you.”

The metal of his blaster creaked under his grip and he relaxed before he damaged it, taking another deep breath. He hadn’t had a contract reassigned since he’d first joined the Agency all those years ago. The humiliation of it forced his skin to change from the dusty grey to a vibrant blue, dotted with teal. Feeling like a teenager again, he forced his skin back to its neutral grey and set the blaster aside, reflexively checking the safety before it put it down.

Back at the bridge, though it was barely large enough for him to squeeze around the seat, he snarled, “Menot, record this and prepare to send it to HQ.”

“Very good.”

“Agent Triskelion, acknowledging receipt of transmission and instructions to lie low. Currently grounded in a canyon twenty clicks north west of a small mining town on a planet that’s so fucking tiny it doesn’t even have an official name.” Tarann steady himself and added, “But I’ll get Menot to send coordinates with this transmission. Ship’s pretty beaten up and I’ll probably need extraction at some point. I doubt this place has the parts I need, but I can look. I’m going to head into the town at sunrise and I’ll take Menot with me. And I’ll keep a low profile.”

“As low a profile as one of the galaxy’s finest killers possibly can,” Menot added, and Tarann cursed whoever had coded sarcasm into their system.

“Exactly,” he said. “A stranger rocking up out of nowhere in a town that tiny is hardly going to pass unremarked, but I’ll adapt.” He snorted a little at the irony of that, knowing that his rather unique genetic melange was designed for camouflage. Not for him was the messy application of paints and disguises, though he couldn’t actually change his bone structure beyond accelerated healing. “So yeah, for the love of all you hold dear, please don’t just forget about me here. End recording. Menot, send it to HQ.”

With that, he slumped into the pilot’s seat for a moment and sighed. Menot helpfully informed him that dawn was three hours away, and he told them to shut everything down save for the essentials and maintain a vigilant watch while he attempted to get some sleep.

“I’ll wake you if anything needs your attention,” Menot promised.

With the sun high in the sky, Tarann stalked across the dusty plain that formed a ring around the town. In fact, it was much larger than they’d initially thought, and Menot quietly informed him in his hidden earpiece that the town appeared to go down into the earth, perhaps following the original mine shafts.

“Puts a new meaning on going to ground for a while,” he snorted.

He was relieved as he passed through dirty, dusty, narrow streets, to note all sorts of lifeforms here - some familiar and many not. With limited biodiversity, he might have stood out like a sore thumb, but the place seemed stuffed to the brim with hopeless outcasts from all over the system. There were even some humans here, which surprised him. The temperature was hot and arid, not ideal for the creatures he’d only had brief dealings with. Earth was seen as a backwater, with the emphasis on the water. It was the kind of place people went to retire to, and that was… about it. Enterprising humans had left centuries ago and gone to the newly terraformed planets like Mars - if they still wanted to remain in their solar system - and many more had joined up with the Federation and scattered all over the known galaxies.

When he passed a bipedal, slender human male, he asked Menot to give him a run-down on the species. “Both surprisingly easy and surprisingly difficult to kill, can be self-destructively curious and reckless, capable of making leaps of logic insurmountable to many species while being unfathomably illogical at other times…”

“Baffling,” he murmured. “Sounds like Agent Luna,” he said with a fond smile.

The legendary assassin had assessed him upon arrival at the Agency for unarmed combat, and somehow despite looking so… breakable, had had him on his back in two seconds flat. She’d also been the one to give him his field name, Triskelion, given that a decent number of things in his body, except his two hearts and four eyes, seemed to come in threes - three fingers, three toes, three lungs… The only trio of anatomical parts she hadn’t seen first hand was, well… elsewhere.

The fact that Luna was a fraction of his size and weight hadn’t seemed to matter at all in combat training, and he’d been very wary (and more than a bit in awe) of her since she’d returned from a mission with an injury that even the best surgeons at the Agency had said would kill her. Six months later, she was back in the field. He shuddered. Humans were like Anthariacs, once you thought you had a lock on their size and shape, they could simply morph into something else. Or perhaps they weren’t anything like that at all.

Unsettled, he shuddered again and nearly crashed straight into a small vendor’s stall in the narrow alley.

He heard the scraping voice say something, at which the ear piece translated, “Watch it!”

Shrugging off the encounter, he moved through the streets until he came to what looked like a bar with a noticeboard outside. Most of the listings were mundane requests and adverts for various services, and the rewards were in a currency he’d never heard of.

It took him a month on the planet to earn enough cash to stop having to make the twenty click trek out to the Spark every night to sleep. He would have slept in a doorway in the town had he not witnessed on his very first evening what happened to people who were caught unprepared and exposed. The sight of the slender wings being yanked off a tiny creature with a scream powerful enough to rupture eardrums had stuck with him and he’d risked the local wildlife - largely dirty great lizards - and gritty wind-storms on a daily basis to avoid that.

His handler at The Agency kept contact to an absolute minimum, except to update him periodically on the investigation that the Red Flame was still conducting and to tell him to stay holed up there. Boxed in with nothing to do, Tarann became irritable and jumpy. It wasn’t that he was itching for the next kill - he didn’t do his job for that - but the constant vigilance and insecurity of taking short, messy, shitty jobs here and there was waring him down, so when some jackass in the bar made a comment about that ‘four-eyed hill varanus over there’, he snapped. He’d encountered a hill varanus on one of his long treks back to where the Spark was still stashed out of sight in the canyon, and the enormous lizard had been curled up beside a large boulder, minding its own business until it decided to make Tarann’s sensitive inner calf its business with a maw full of teeth coated in thick poisonous saliva.

He’d been hallucinating by the time he’d managed to get back to the Spark - miraculously without dropping off the ledge and plummeting to the bottom of the canyon - and his body had been rippling through every colour in the known universe, and maybe even a few more, before he’d finally stuck a huge needle full of universal antidote into his left heart. It had taken him a whole day to recover enough to leave the ship.

Being compared to a hill varanus then - yes, his skin had the same gnarled texture as a number of reptiles found all over the galaxy, and yes, his saliva was also poisonous to a huge number of species - had suddenly broken all his carefully constructed control and he’d lunged at the large, slug-like creature, all four hands going around the thinnest point of its neck and squeezing until its eyes bulged.

“Oi!” a relatively high-pitched shout went up from behind the bar and a moment later a short blast of sound shot through the room and everyone cringed. The high-frequency noise made his insides crawl and he let go of the offending creature and staggered back a pace, toes splaying to try and steady himself. His skin flushed a sickly green before he could stop it.

Tarann turned his head and saw that the sound had emanated from a small, hand-held speaker which had been plonked down onto the surface of the bar. Behind it, wielding control of the button on the top of the speaker was - and he could have sworn that he felt his right heart lurch a little in his chest at the sight of them - a human. They had a blaster in their left hand and looked prepared to use it, if not necessarily formally trained. Their stance was pretty shoddy, but the distance of only a few spans between them more than made up for that. If the human fired, Tarann would die for sure.

“No fighting in my bar,” they said, voice stern and steady. “You got an issue with someone, you take it waaaay outside, am I clear?”

Both Tarann and the slug-thing nodded and he decided he needed another drink.

Approaching the human while they still held the weapon was probably not a wise move, but when he leaned his lower arms on the counter, his upper pair hanging loose and relaxed at his sides, Tarann saw a smile on their lips. “You must be new,” they grinned amicably, reaching below the counter to stash the blaster and pulling out a glass in its place. They then turned behind them to fill it up. “Haven’t seen any Tch’larians in here for a long time.”

He liked the way the human almost got the click at the start of the word but not quite. Some humans were known for their incredible mimicry skills, but this one clearly wasn’t as proficient. He also had no idea how to address a human after they’d just threatened his life, so he settled for a curt nod.

“And you’re about as chatty as the last one. Whatever that bit of pond slime over there -” they gestured with a bottle of distilled alcohol at the creature who’d insulted him “- said to you, just ignore them. They’re… a regular in here, but they don’t have many friends, if you catch my drift.”

“I wonder why,” he said flatly.

“It speaks!” the human chuckled. “And you’re fluent in sarcasm as well as Federation Common. Here, on the house.” And a small glass was shunted his way, sloshing with a clear, ruby red liquid. “You’ll like it. It’s a kind of brandy made with a fruit that grows in the mines. At least, the last Tch’larian I knew liked it. I could be grossly stereotyping an entire race based on one data point. Still, free booze…?”

“You talk a lot,” he said before sipping it. It burned his neon blue tongue pleasantly and then left a sweet aroma in his mouth that went up into his nasal cavity, leaving him with the impression he might breathe fire if he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah, well, you don’t, so… one of us has to balance the equation.” After a beat they added, “I’m Lex.” They held out their hand over the bar counter and Tarann vaguely remembered something about touch not being a taboo for humans. Not that it was taboo for Tch’larians either, but with so many people mingling under the Federation’s relatively peaceful protection in the past few centuries, it was still easy to offend someone inadvertently.

He noted the strength in the human’s hand as he slid his own three fingers into the grasp, and smiled at how smooth their skin was. Their hair was cut short at one side and had been left to flop a little longer at the top of their head, and he’d always wondered what a human’s hair would feel like beneath the pads of his sensitive fingers. Agent Luna hadn’t exactly been the type to let him try. He’d known that Agent Luna was female, but he had no idea what this human went by, and he was unfamiliar with human naming conventions, so that gave him no clue either.

Eventually he realised that he hadn’t told them his name, and murmured, “Tarann.” It seemed fairly safe out here, and most of the people who might want revenge on him for his line of work knew him as Triskelion anyway.

“Where are you staying?” Lex asked as they got back to work, keeping their head turned towards him a little so that he could still talk to them while they polished glasses and took orders from the odd patron.

“Out of town,” he said.

Lex paused halfway through pouring a bottle of something frothy and blue into a glass the size of a small bucket. “There’s nothing out of town…”

“My ship’s out there. Dead in the water, as it were,” he offered, taking another sip of his brandy. “This is excellent, by the way…”

His compliment was met with a grin, but the gesture quickly faded. “You’re not seriously sleeping in your dead ship out in the hills, are you?” they asked.

“Why would that be a problem?”

“You’re lucky the scavengers haven’t found you and stripped your ship - and you - bare…”

He tilted his head and blinked his four golden eyes at them. “I haven’t seen any sign of anyone out there except me. And the odd varanus…”

Lex winced dramatically. “Nasty fuckers those…”

Tarann nodded, rolling his right ankle. “Indeed.”

After a pause, Lex looked like they were about to say something, but the crash of glass on the other side of the room stopped them. “Shit, not those two again,” they hissed, and Tarann looked around just as a fight broke out for real this time.

They grabbed the blaster he’d seen before and the little speaker that emitted the unpleasant noise, and strode off around the bar, ignoring him completely where he sat. He had eased his lean, muscular frame onto a bar stool to take the weight off his frankly rather bruised and sore feet. The unpleasant sound seemed to do nothing for these two as they scrapped - all arms and teeth and roars, and even when Lex shot a quick, low-energy blast into the stone floor beside one of their feet, they didn’t break it up.

He should stay out of it. The human had guts, for sure, but the two creatures that were fighting were large and aggressive, and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. A stray flail of the tip of one of their tails caught Lex in the face and they staggered back, yelling and spitting curses.

Making his mind up, he slid off the stool and approached the brawling patrons. Grabbing the nearest one by the scruff of their reptilian neck, he yanked hard and backed towards the doors of the bar, clearly catching them completely by surprise. Top thugs never expected to be bested by anyone, and it gave him a good few minutes of stunned compliance. Tossing them out onto the street with a snarl of his own seemed to sober that one up a mite, and a second later the other creature was booted out of the door with another curse, leaving Lex framed in the open doorway, blaster raised, face slightly bruised and utterly thunderous.

Something happened then in Tarann’s body that he was not expecting. A sharp, unfamiliar pang of arousal shot down his spine and fanned out through his entire nervous system. He shivered, a low-frequency rumble escaping him without permission. There was something about seeing a creature that should have been vulnerable in this situation - could have been crushed - standing there with a bruised face and blazing eyes, staring down two enormous beings three times their size, that made him hot all over. It was like mating season, or at least, his vague recollection of it from a brief talk at the Facility to explain that none of them would ever experience any of that because they had essentially had it edited out of their DNA. He’d escaped the Facility and joined the Agency and had never experienced the slightest tinge of lust since a brief flare in his teens. He bit those memories down and looked back at Lex.

“Thanks,” they grinned as the two brawlers separated and headed off in opposite directions down the street, yelling curses over their shoulders in their various languages. “How’d you feel about another brandy?”

He nodded and followed them back inside, watching the way their legs moved - their legs hinged forwards at the knee, which was intoxicatingly the opposite way to his own, their hips swaying rather alluringly.

“Listen,” Lex said as Tarann closed his fingers around his second glass of fiery brandy that evening. “If you’d like somewhere to stay, I’ve got a job opening here for a bouncer. The last girl I had got into trouble with some bounty hunter and had to scarper, but it comes with the offer of a room, use of the kitchen out the back, and a steady pay. It’s not great, but if I get tips, I’ll share them with you.”

Tarann blinked. “You can’t be serious…”

“Why not?” Lex shrugged, refilling a container with a viscous, silvery sauce that crackled softly as it sank into the jar.

Barely suppressing a shudder at the offending liquid, he made a mental note to avoid that at all costs, whatever the fuck it was supposed to be or go with.

Lex caught him staring sidelong at the fluid and laughed. “One of a small number of things on the menu that I wouldn’t recommend to anyone except a hazmat droid, or an Efulgari bombardier -” they added nodding across the room to where a frankly enormous creature sat waiting patiently, presumably for the bucket of viscous gloop in Lex’s hands. “Now, do you have to get back to your ship tonight, or do you want to stay here and think it over? You can let me know what you decide in the morning.”

He scowled softly; wary and distrustful. “You’d just let me stay?”

Lex shrugged again. “You’ve already earned your keep for tonight,” they grinned, revealing hopelessly small teeth. How could they hope to defend themselves with those? His own, by comparison, were two rows of viciously pointed fangs that could rip open the jugular of most of the known species that didn’t have exoskeletons, and even some that did.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll think it over.”

Lex left him in peace after that for an hour or so, but when the patrons began to trickle out into the night, they returned to him and asked, “Want to head up to your room?”

He nodded silently, and followed Lex through a door behind the bar and upstairs.

“That’s my room,” Lex said, nodding at a door with peeling teal paint which stood ajar on his right. “And this is yours. It’s not much, but it’s comfortable and I kept it pretty clean. There might be just a little bit of dust…”

Again, Tarann just nodded his understanding and set his small pack down gently beside the bed. The room was indeed humble, but that wasn’t an issue. He didn’t have many belongings anyway; just Menot in their portable device and some clothes and local coin. “It’s fine,” he said, turning round to find Lex leaning against the door frame in a way that spoke of casual trust and again made his skin flush hot. Embarrassed, he looked away, but Lex didn’t seem to mind, or perhaps they didn’t notice.

“Kitchen is downstairs - it’s the only other door than the one that leads to the bar. You can’t miss it. Help yourself. See you tomorrow, I guess?” they smiled, running a hand through their hair and messing it all up in a way that did nothing to help the rising temperature of his skin or the syncopated lurching of his twin hearts in his chest.

With a final nod from Tarann, Lex left him for the night.

He heard them closing up about an hour later, and then caught the steady tread of their footsteps on the metal stairs, the squeak and click of their door, the sound of clothes hitting the floor, and, another few moments later, the gush of hot water. In the corner of his own room was a sink, so he splashed the dust and grime off his face and decided to ask about a shower in the morning.

The rhythm of his life for the next few weeks was considerably easier than the first had been. Menot kept him abreast of activity both regarding his ship - nothing, mercifully - and the Agency. After three weeks working for Lex, the two had become the very thing he had always shied away from. Assassins don’t form attachments; they don’t form friends. Do the job, get out cleanly, and move on. That was how he lived, and yet, the regular ebb and flow of patrons - most of them familiar by now, a few of them new - and the easy manner of the ballsy human who ran the place lulled him quietly into a new life.

He constantly tried to remind himself that it was a borrowed life; a cover, almost. This cosy existence with its easy repartee between them and the comfort of a soft bed and regular meals was not his to keep, and he would have to shrug it off the moment that he was given the all-clear.

One evening, seemingly at random, Lex closed up early.

“What’s up, boss?” he asked as Lex politely shooed the last drunken creature out of the door and locked it behind her six scuttling legs. “What’s going on?” His natural instincts set him suddenly on edge all over again, perhaps because he’d grown so complacent of late. He didn’t like changes to patterns. It had taken him a little while to relax into this one, and even then, he didn’t exactly ease up on the vigilance.

Lex grinned at him like they’d won some kind of cash-prize, hands balled into fists at their hips, and announced, “It’s my birthday.”

He frowned. “What… What does that mean? You’re… You’re giving birth?” He looked at Lex’ body and couldn’t see any indication that they were carrying some form of offspring.

Lex gave a huge snort and bent nearly double laughing.

“Apparently not,” Tarann mumbled. “Apologies.”

“No,” Lex waved, straightening up again. “I’m sorry, it’s… that just… caught me off guard. No, I’m not giving birth to anything today or ever. It’s…” and then they fell quiet, almost sad, and said, “You really don’t know what a birthday is?”

He shook his head, feeling unsettled.

“Huh,” they mused. “Well, simply put, it’s a celebration of the day I was born. Back on Earth, we celebrate them roughly every 365 days because that’s one complete orbital cycle of our planet around our Sun. Roughly. Give or take a decimal point or two…”

They stared at him and he grew even more uncomfortable. Birthdays were not something celebrated at the Facility where he’d been… raised. The old scar in his neck where their implant had been throbbed and his skin changed colour quietly from grey to a dark blue.

Lex took a step closer and placed their fingertips on his upper forearm. It wasn’t the first time Lex had touched him, but it was the first touch like that; gentle, careful, concerned. “What does that mean?” Lex asked softly.

Tarann wanted to run, but instead he forced himself to ask, “What does what mean?”

“That colour change? I’ve worked out a few already. You go a kind of bright blue when you’re super embarrassed, but I’ve not seen you turn that colour before…”

“You noticed,” he said with a half-smirk, revealing all his dangerous teeth behind his thin lips.

Lex twitched a shoulder but didn’t let go of his arm. “It’s hard not to notice you,” they said voice shifting lower in pitch. “I love watching your skin change. You know, it reminds me of these old antique lamps back on Earth… they’re called ‘lava lamps’ but they’re not actually made of lava. It’s wax or something. Anyway, when you turn them on, they get hot, and the wax inside floats to the top of the liquid in a blob, and when it cools down a bit, it sinks down again. They’re super old and rare now, but some of them change colour slowly, and it’s kind of hypnotic. I remember going to a museum and staring at one for ages. It’s like that with your skin.”

They circled their thumb over a small area of his arm and he shuddered.

“I think it’s beautiful…” And then Lex’ skin flushed and he caught the way their pulse throbbed in their neck, the veins and arteries so close to the surface as to be impractically vulnerable, but they didn’t seem to want to protect it with armour.  “Anyway,” they blurted, releasing him so quickly that he actually swayed a bit at the loss of contact, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. What was I saying?”

“It’s your birthday,” he croaked after a pause.

“Yeah, so, uh… I figured maybe we could do something? There’s an Earth recipe involving pasta that I’ve finally managed to get all the ingredients for and I wanna make it. You game?”

“Game?”

“You want to help me?”

“Oh. Sure.”

Lex deflated a little. “You can take the night off if you’d rather.”

“No,” he said firmly. It never hurt to add to his knowledge.

“Ok then,” they smiled, and he caught the way their shoulders dropped a little, the muscles relaxing again. He’d answered correctly.

In fact, the meal ended up tasting alright. Human food seemed strange to him, and perhaps a little bland, but after the protein blocks he’d been raised on, anything tasted alright compared to those. What really made his evening was Lex’ obvious enjoyment. Their eyes were sparkling and alive, like jewels, and they laughed a lot.

They also made some significant inroads into the fiery brandy afterwards, and ended up slumped against Tarann’s left shoulders, smiling softly and running their fingertips over the slight, flattened bumps in his skin along his forearms.

“I can’t believe you have four arms,” they said, their voice slurred and their eyes vague.

Tarann, who wasn’t drunk, shifted slightly and jostled them. They snuggled up again immediately in a new position which forced him to put both his arms around their shoulders as they lay against this chest this time, and giggled. “Why not?” he asked, because he wasn’t sure what else to ask. They were beautiful and strong and tough at work in the bar and during the day, but he got to see a different side before and after work. The fatigue, the loneliness, the gentle-heartedness was never on show for the patrons of their scruffy, homely bar, but for him, they showed all that and more. Now, unwinding even further as the alcohol took effect, Lex became even more talkative than usual, which was saying something.

“Because you’ve got four!” they exclaimed, as if it was blindingly obvious. “And four eyes. I like your eyes. They’re like crocodile eyes.”

Tarann had no idea what a crocodile was and wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not.

“And you said you’ve got two hearts?”

“Mmm,” he nodded, feeling brave and bringing his lower hand to rest quietly on Lex’s stomach as it rose and fell. Their body was warmer than his and he liked the tingling that ran across his skin at the touch.

Lex fell surprisingly silent for a while, their fingertips still trailing idle lines along his skin, until they looked up into his face from their slouched position - now with their head in his lap - and asked, “What did you do before you came here?”

Faced with the utterly open honesty in those deep eyes, he found himself suddenly unwilling to lie or even bend the truth. “I was a contract killer. I am still a contract killer. I’m just… lying low for a while.”

Lex blinked. “That explains it,” they muttered, eyes turning back to his arms.

They hadn’t even flinched at the revelation, which set a different prickling running across his nerves. “Explains what?”

“The way you watch people. You don’t see people though, do you. You see soft bits and armoured bits, dangerous bits and weak bits. You see exits from a room and weapons where there shouldn’t be any…”

Inhaling softly, he nodded. “Yes. Does that bother you?”

They shook their head. “No. But it makes me sad.”

“Why?”

“Because you… you haven’t really lived… have you?”

“I don’t understand.”

Lex lurched to sit upright then, dislodging Tarann’s hands from their stomach and swivelling to face him, their eyes now blazing with intensity. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the way you react when I touch you?”

The leap from ‘not living’ to ‘reaction to being touched’ was too great a one for him to follow and he narrowed his golden eyes in confusion.

Lex’s face softened and they climbed awkwardly into his lap, swaying slightly. The sudden, warm weight of their body so close to his own stole his breath for a moment and he felt his skin change from grey to acid blue to a dull pink and finally back to grey in the space of a few heartbeats. “See?” they murmured, rolling their hips invitingly and smiling as a low-frequency mating rumble left him before he had realised what he was doing. “You come alive beneath that touch…”

“I…” he began but stopped when he realised he had no idea what he was going to say. It was perfectly true. He did feel utterly different when Lex was touching him. “I’ve never… There’s never been any need.”

“What do you mean?” they asked, placing their hands on his chest, one over each thudding heart.

Tarann became almost painfully aware of his rasping breathing, the way his body was heating up, the stuttering rhythm of his hearts, the tingling in his groin that he’d never bothered to explore, even alone… “I was created to become a weapon. I was incubated and hatched in a facility which created weapons. They sterilised us before we were even born.”

Lex did look shocked at that. “Fuck… that’s… that’s so heartless… But even so, I can’t have kids, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to get my dick wet from time to time…”

Tarann, again, didn’t understand. Lex was speaking Federation Common, but the nuances that the human put into their words were frequently lost on him.

Seeing his confusion, Lex laughed, rolled their hips again, and this time Tarann noticed something a little different at the front of their pants, a hardness that hadn’t been there - or hadn’t been as prominent - a few minutes earlier. “I still like to have sex,” they grinned.

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to have sex though,” they went on. “I’m just saying, it’s ok to let someone close. And to enjoy that. However you want to.”

“Oh.”

Lex laughed and tipped their head back a little, looking free and relaxed again now that Tarann’s confusion had been cleared up. Being unsteady with alcohol, however, they kept tipping back until Tarann was forced to grab them with both sets of hands to stop them toppling off; one pair around the waist and another around the arms.

“Steady,” he smiled. “I think maybe you should have some water. And head up to bed.”

“You’re probably right. I had a good birthday though,” they added, gently peeling the three fingers of Tarann’s lower right hand off their waist and bringing it up to their lips. The gesture they left there Tarann knew was called a kiss. Humans weren’t unique among lifeforms in nuzzling intimate parts of their anatomy against the other’s, but the strangeness of it for his species held an instant fascination. How could their lips be so soft? How could he never have done that? How could he never have wanted to share this kind of experience with anyone before?

And before he could stop it, his skin flushed a deep maroon all over like a drop of ink on wet paper, splotched here and there with dark purple. He knew what that meant for his species, and the sight of his own skin changing to the colours of an individual receptive to mating made him freeze.

“Well,” Lex chortled amusedly. Apparently they knew what it meant as well.

“No,” he said immediately, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was he was rejecting.

With a knowing but slightly melancholic smile, Lex clambered out of his lap and stood up. “Night, Tarann,” they said as they walked away. Their hands brushed against the door frame as they left the bar, and he stared at the spot where their fingers graced the woodwork even as their footsteps vanished up the stairs.

His skin did not change back that night, no matter how much he willed it to change. Half an hour later, as he lay in his bed, the sounds of Lex pleasuring themselves reached his acutely sensitive ears. The tiny, muffled moans and grunts that left their body set his skin aflame all over again. He moved one hand cautiously, experimentally down his torso to the slit where, to his astonishment, he was slick and sensitive. He gasped at the touch, and the three delicate, tentacle-like cocks which normally never left the sheath began to unfurl almost curiously into his hand.

Ordinarily, this might have repulsed him, but the sound of Lex gasping and the slick sounds that accompanied the moans, made the tentacles of his genitalia coil demandingly around his fingers. He knew almost nothing about his own species’ reproductive habits because he knew he would never need them. ‘You will never be a breeder,’ they had said when he’d hit sexual maturity - the first time he’d even bothered to explore his body, and, until that night, the last - and that had been that.

Sparks of pleasure shot through his whole body and he began to croon, the sound deep in his throat, rumbling and vibrating like an idling engine, filling the room. He couldn’t stop it. Balling his fingers into a fist, he felt his three pale cocks coil around it instinctively, and he began to kneed exploratively at the inside of the flower-shape they made around his hand, a thin, extremely sensitive membrane stretching between them from the root to about a third of the way down. The pleasure that that elicited made his back arch of the bed and his toes scrunched up the sheets as he lifted his hips too, pressing harder at the centre of the three smooth, increasingly slick tentacles.

Forcing himself to focus back on the sounds of Lex as they apparently approached their climax, he felt a wall of heat building in him. Something was approaching, and he let it sweep over him until the three tentacles surrounding his balled-up fist pulsed, gripping his hand tight as a vice, and warm fluid spurted from their centre over his clenched fingers in a series of messy gushes. His vision went white, his body went rigid, and his mind went completely blank.

Tarann floated in a blissful haze for a long time before he could even bring himself to move, his cocks too sensitive, his hand covered in sticky, slick release, but eventually his cocks retreated back into the sheath in his lower abdomen and he felt able to sit up. His hand was a mess, his lower body too, and when he tried to stand, his muscles felt shaky and weak, as though he’d run the training simulation at the facility for an entire day without breaks.

With his skin so sensitive that it was hard to fall asleep that night. Lex must have finished during his own orgasm because he never heard another noise from their room that night. Shame curled in to replace the pleasure as he realised that he’d eavesdropped on something that was private and not meant for his hearing, and in the morning, he could barely look Lex in the eye as he entered the kitchen in search of breakfast.

Lex, however, smiled warmly. The effects of the alcohol the previous night seemed only to have made their voice drop a little and their reactions were groggy and slower. “I think I'm going to keep the bar closed today,” they announced as they poured themselves a hot drink. “You’re not hungover at all, are you?”

“No,” he replied. “It takes more than that to get me drunk, let alone hungover.” ‘Hungover’ was a term he’d only learned since working for Lex.

“So…” Lex asked a little while later as they cooked breakfast for the two of them the hob. “If you’re only here to lie low for a while, do you know how long you’ll actually be here?”

“No.” Apparently Lex hadn’t been so drunk that they didn’t remember their conversation last night. He paused and added, “But the last transmission the Agency sent me indicated that the people who were looking into the disturbance after my last contract were no longer investigating.”

“So… not long then.”

“Probably.”

Lex poked at the pan with a wooden spatula and sighed.

“Why do you ask?”

He could see the way Lex’s jaw worked from side to side for a moment and recognised it as one of their tells. They were upset. “You think you’ll miss me when you leave?”

“Of course I will,” he said. “You’ve been extremely generous to me when I did nothing to earn it.”

“Right.”

Tarann knew he’d said the wrong thing immediately, but none of his intense training had prepared him for this kind of situation. He backtracked through the conversation, searching for something he could have said differently, something he could have handled better. Lost, he asked falteringly, “Will… you miss me? Is that what this is about?”

Lex nodded without turning around. “Yeah,” they said, voice cracking slightly. They cleared their throat and poked at breakfast again. It smelled ready but they didn’t seem ready to turn around.

Tarann stepped closer, his feet silent on the stone floor, and placed his hands boldly on Lex’ hips. The human immediately eased and leaned back, resting their weight against his body, though their head barely came midway up his chest. Taking the opportunity at last and sensing it would be welcome, Tarann brought his hand up and stroked his fingers gingerly through Lex’ hair. It was every bit as soft as he’d thought it would be, and he watched his skin change colour beneath the strands as they brushed over his fingers. Lex moaned quietly.

When he lowered his hand and Lex saw the maroon fading back to grey, they smiled and turned around, switching the hob off as they did. They put their own hands on his chest and he ached suddenly to have nothing separating them; to remove his close-fitting space-suit top and Lex’ loose-fitting shirt. As Lex slid one palm tentatively up to his neck, he felt the touch in a wave of heat and closed his eyes. His fingers tightened on Lex’ hips and Lex moaned softly.

“I want you,” Lex murmured. “I thought about you last night.”

Tarann opened his eyes a crack and blinked softly. “I heard you,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” Lex laughed, looking part bashful and part turned on. “What did you do when you heard me?”

“I…” he flushed neon blue and stepped back, ashamed.

“Hey,” they breathed, chasing after him. “It’s alright. It’s… really hot that you did that while thinking about me.”

“You don’t mind?”

They shook their head. “If you wanted to try together…”

That mating call thundered through him and he lowered his forehead, bringing it to touch Lex’.

“That a yes?”

“What about breakfast?”

“I overcooked it all already,” they laughed. “It’s ruined.”

Grabbing his hand, they tugged him out of the kitchen and back upstairs to their room.

They shed their clothes in a tangle, and once again Tarann was left staggered and enchanted by the human’s body. This time it was the sheer vulnerability of it. He could also see their arousal plainly - there was no sheath to tease - and something about that made his own sheath throb so hard he let out another mating croon.

“Fuck, that sound is so hot,” Lex gasped, lying back on the bed and tugging him down atop them. “Look at you,” they added, running their fingers down his heaving chest and playing with his sheath as he collapsed atop them. “I’ve always found Tch’larians attractive, but you… the way you move, the way you shudder when I touch you, the way you fucking croon like that…” He did it again - entirely involuntarily - as Lex crooked two fingers and delved carefully into his sheath, catching the inner walls of his three cocks inside and making them unfurl even quicker than they had last night.

They wrapped around Lex’ fingers and Lex moaned. “I want those on my cock… please…” they gasped, and Tarann felt like he might die if he didn’t do as Lex asked. His body was so tight all over, his skin flushing from dusky pink to dark magenta with every deep, sonorous groan that escaped him.

With one leg on each side of Lex’ thighs, he lowered his hips down until they were touching, and his cocks immediately curled around Lex’ own hard cock, covering it in weeping, slick fluid. Lex let out a string of curses and flung their head back into the bed beneath them, rutting their hips up into Tarann’s grip. The pressure of the tip of their cock against the point where the three cocks joined inside him made him growl with pleasure, his maw full of teeth opening, his saliva starting to fill his mouth, bright blue tongue lashing behind them.

“You know…?” Lex panted, thrusting up into the wet heat of the grip that his tentacle cocks had around theirs.

“Know what?” he snarled back, shaking from the effort of holding himself upright over Lex.

Lex reached up to his face with a fingertip and trailed it around his drooling mouth before putting it in his own and sucking. The sight of it sent Tarann into a fury of lust for some reason, and only then did he recall that his saliva was poisonous to many species. Before he could warn Lex, the human grinned and their eyes went wide, pupils blown until their irises were a mere whisper of colour. Apparently he wasn't poisonous to humans. Quite the contrary if the way Lex fucked upwards into his body and filled him with sparking pleasure with each thrust was anything to go by.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Lex hissed, and Tarann felt his cocks contract around the hard length inside him.

He didn’t have the breath or the words to agree.

“I’m… I -” Lex cried out, and suddenly heat flooded the inside of Tarann’s sheath and he felt his own cocks clench and pulse rhythmically around Lex’ cock as he came too. He drew every drop from Lex that they had inside them as his own orgasm rolled through him and left him mute, panting, and thrumming all over.

“Fuck that was intense,” Lex chuckled some while later, when Tarann’s cocks had finally let go of their own softening cock. “Are you ok?”

“Mmm,” he rumbled from his new position, slumped on the bed beside Lex, his trio of cocks lying limply across his torso, splayed out and spent and utterly sensitive.

Lex sat up, heedless that their own body was covered in their combined release, and trailed their fingers down Tarann’s torso towards his still pulsing sheath. “Can I?” they asked.

Tarann didn’t reply but he responded with a shrug. He had no idea what Lex intended, but he trusted them. What Lex did was to lean forwards and take one of his cocks into his mouth and suck on it gently. Tarann’s whole body lurched and he bellowed at the sheer volume of the sensation as it thundered in his head and under his skin all over again.

“Too much?” Lex laughed.

“No?” he gasped, trying to steady his spinning head and suddenly racing hearts. “No. Definitely not too much. Just…”

“Intense?” Lex supplied.

“Do it again?”

Lex did.

—

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon!

You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier or higher! Plus lots of new goodies for February!!

__

| Masterlist | Patreon | Ko-fi | Writing Commissions |

#alien #male alien #alien x human #exophilia #alien boyfriend #monster boyfriend #non binary character #non binary human

[longitud-de-onda]

nothing to loose

pairing; the mandalorian | din djarin x female reader (but i don’t think there’s any pronouns or explicit body references so it’s pretty gender neutral) summary; after a brutal shoot-out, you and mando are back on the razor crest, injured but all patched up, when he asks you to lie down with him as he rests.   rating; nc-17, but like a soft nc-17 warnings; soft smut, dry humping, blaster injuries word count; 2.5k requested; by anon “hello I hope my request finds u well but I was wondering if maybe u could do sum touch starved mando and the reader asks to see his face but he blind folds her and that’s how they feel each other thank u !!”

What exactly happened, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that one second all you could see was plumes of dust and the red streaks of blaster fire, and the next second the dust cleared and every one of the fifteen people in the bar was dead on the floor and Mando was struggling to get up, making some sort of pained noise. You had dropped down to his side, wrapping an arm around his chest to help him up.

Once he was standing, you had knelt back down to grab your blaster, which you let go of upon seeing your partner hurt on the ground. It was still hot from the fight, but Mando was clearly injured past the usual point, so you slipped it back into your belt, wincing as the hot metal singed your pants.

You had returned to Mando, holding his arm and helping him out of the establishment. He was silent. When he was hurt, he would normally complain and make some noises. Completely silent wasn’t anything good in your mind.

Now that you were back on the ship, you set him down on the floor, knowing there was no way he was going to make it up to his quarters like this. You spent the entire walk here rambling, hoping he wouldn’t pass out on you. Not only were you relying on the man to help you complete the job and get your share of the bounty, but you had started to care a lot for him. Your feelings were edging into a romantic territory, one you’d never admit to him. But if he died? That would break you.

“Mando, are you with me?” you had returned to where he was lying with the medpack.

“Yeah...” he said, his voice weak and floaty. “It’s my... side.”

You took a deep breath. Medical situations were never your strong suit. You could hardly stand the sight of blood.

“Okay, I’m going to take off your armor, alright?” you asked.

He nodded, and you reached around his chest to undo the straps and pull off the metal chest plate. With only his shirt covering his torso, you could now see what happened.

A blaster had hit him a centimeter beyond the edge of his armor, burning a small hole in his shirt. The skin below was bright red and burnt. It didn’t look terrible, but you couldn’t see how wide the wound was, and you knew blaster fire damage went deep under the skin.

“I need to take your shirt off,” you said, trying to keep calm.

There was no response. You said his name again a few times to no avail. Placing a hand on his chest, there was a steady breath, but that didn’t do much to calm your panicking mind.

Fuck it. He’d do the same thing for me. You struggled to remove the rest of his armor and you pulled the scissors out of the med pack to cut his shirt off.

You gasped as you peeled back the cloth, revealing an ugly wound. It was going to take a while to fix things up.

After 20 minutes of frantic first aid, you looked over your work. Mando’s skin was cleaned up and properly bandaged, and there was enough numbing cream that he probably wouldn’t feel the pain for another 12 hours. You were exhausted. Collapsing on the floor next to him, you began to feel the burn on your thigh from where you placed the hot blaster.

With Mando knocked out, and all the burn care supplies out and available, it only made sense to take care of it now. You slipped out of your boots and undid your belt. Your pants came off shortly after, leaving you in your black shirt and underwear. It wasn’t a bad wound or anything, just a long line, red and hot to the touch. And it stung. That had to be the worst part about burns; they were so much better when they were worse. The light ones weren’t bad enough to singe the nerves.

You winced at the ointment on your skin, but the cooling effect began shortly after. A few spritzes of bacta-spray and a large bacta-patch later, and you’d probably be fine.

“Thank you,” Mando’s voice startled you and you looked up. His mask was pointed in your direction, and you were very aware of your state of undress.

“Oh, you’re awake!” scrambling to his side as he attempted to push himself up to a seated position. “You took a pretty nasty blast there, but it’ll probably heal without any scarring. I hope.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he said, “You’ve done more than I would have.”

You looked up at him. How did he survive before you came along? That patch covering his chest was the bare minimum. It was your best attempt at shitty first aid.

“You need to rest,” you said, reaching over. “I’ll help you up to the cot.”

“No—we should go,” he said.

“We can stay here for the night. The ship’s pretty well hidden, it’s not like one night’s going to make that much of a difference,” you said, “If things get bad, I can fly us out.”

“You’re not touching my ship,” Mando said and you laughed. He had tried to sound aggressive but the pain in his voice muted anything he said.

You let your gaze linger on his chest, taking a moment to admire. He was larger than the armor let on, muscles bulky and softly defined. If you weren’t in so much pain, the visuals might have gone straight to your core.

“Come on, up to your cot,” you held your hand to help him get up.

Climbing the ladder up into the quarters was no easy task. Whenever Mando tried to use his left arm the bandage would pull at his skin and he’d freak out that he was going to further hurt himself. You settled for climbing the ladder first and helping by pulling him up. It wasn’t the best solution, but it did the job.

You got him situated in the cot, and after helping him out of the armor covering his legs and the remaining rags of his shirt, you stood in the room, still not wearing pants, but hesitating to leave.

“I, um, sorry about your shirt,” you said. “I didn’t want to ruin it, but I couldn’t take it off with the helm—”

“It’s fine. I have others,” he said, and you weren’t sure, but he could have been eyeing your naked legs. You had both seen each other in various states of undress, the past couple weeks of traveling together in a small, bare-bones ship not lending much privacy, but this felt different.

“You should sleep,” you said, needing to pry yourself from his gaze. You couldn’t see his face, his reactions. And that scared you. You turned to leave. “I’m going to go rest up in the cockpit.”

“Don’t go.”

“What?” you glanced over. Mando tilted his head down.

“I, uh, I like it...,” he said. “When you hold me. No one has—”

He froze as if he had said too much. It was too late. You understood perfectly, and it hurt. He must have spent so much time alone. Mandalorians weren’t exactly known for much beyond fighting, and you couldn’t imagine them being much into relationships. Such a large portion of their young was adopted, it couldn’t have been a life with much sentimentality.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” he continued at your silence.

“No. I can stay,” you breathed out. You weren’t thrilled at the idea, it was too innocent. You didn’t just want to climb into his bed if you weren’t going to get to give him everything, like you wanted.

You returned to the side of the cot, sitting down before hiking your legs up onto the bed, getting comfortable next to Mando. His arm wrapped around your waist, centimeters away from the edge of your shirt. It felt like your skin was on fire. If only he would just slip his hand under the fabric, you would explode.

You slipped an arm around him, hoping it was okay. He made a sound, muffled by the mask, but you thought it was good. It was so easy to feel comfortable, wrapped up with Mando, the guy you had come to care so much about. You wanted to imagine it was something more. Something better. But you would take what you could get. It wasn’t like you could enter a relationship. Both of you were bounty hunters. You worked alone.

His thumb started moving in circles across your abdomen and holy shit, that felt good. You wanted him to keep doing that for as long as you could get.

“Mando,” you breathed, and he stopped.

“Sorry, I didn’t—”

“Please, don’t stop,” you said. Nothing happened. You were convinced you had completely ruined it. The rest of the job would be painful longing glances. If he didn’t kick you out first.

Then it started again and you exhaled. You were leaning into his every touch. His hand slipped down further, coming into contact with your skin and you let out a filthy moan you really hoped wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass later.

You pulled him closer as carefully as possible, as not to disturb his wound, and your heads crashed together, the hard beskar hitting your skull with a painful thunk.

“Fuck!” you leaned back, hand flying to your forehead, feeling an already developing bump. Mando pushed back, distancing himself from you.

“I’m sorry I—”

“It’s fine, can you take that off?” you just wanted his hands back on your body, you wanted to feel him close, and you knew he felt the same.

“I can’t.” Shit. The creed.

“Right, sorry, I didn’t—”

“Wait right there,” he said, sitting up with a groan and leaning over you. He reached down to the ground where the pile of his armor was.

When he lay back down again he was holding the remains of his shirt. Ripping a strip from it, he held it up in front of your face.

“Is this okay?” he said.

It took a moment for you to understand what he was asking, but once you knew, you nodded. He set it in front of your eyes, carefully wrapping around your head, tying it into a smooth knot. It smelled like him: the cold of the beskar and the warmth of leather and sweat.

You heard a soft hiss and then the sound of another person breathing in front of you. You were pretty sure you could sense his arm reach around you as he placed his helmet on the ground before he was back onto you, hands running across your waist, underneath your shirt.

You tried to pull him in again, this time successfully, holding his hips against yours as you rolled into him. He moaned, an unfiltered sound that you hoped to commit to memory.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this,” he said, “to feel you, to touch you, to be right next to you.”

“Mando, I—” you started before he reached a hand around your ass, squeezing gently and you gasped into his neck. His voice was so perfect. It came from his chest, husky and deep, and its sound settled deep in your core. You pushed your hips up into him, throwing your injured leg over him to obtain more friction.

He ran his hand around and underneath you, trailing down your thigh and back up, over the bandage and you flinched. He moved his hand back up to your waist and you whined. You took the hand that was on his waist and reached it lower down on his body, bringing him somehow even closer to you.

“I know we can’t,” he was breathing heavily now, long pauses punctuating every word, “I know we can’t do more, you’re, you’re injured. I’m injured, but—”

He stopped to let out a noise you knew would be etched into your brain years later as you rolled your hips into him, the friction hitting you just as hard. He began to rut his hips into yours, and you could feel his erection poking at you.

You let him set the pace, your heart rate steadily increasing as you felt an orgasm build up, and moved your hands up to his face. You had no idea what he looked like, and you knew it didn’t really matter. You had fallen for him back when you hadn’t even seen more than a small patch of skin. But now you could feel the soft curve of his jaw, his smooth lips, and the light stubble of a few days without shaving.

He must have liked your hands roaming across your face, because he moaned again, thrusting harder against you. The friction of his erection and the cotton of your underwear was setting you on fire, and you knew you were seconds away from an orgasm, you hips bucking into his involuntarily.

“Mando, I—fuck, Mando—I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum,” you could hardly keep your voice down.

“Fuck, you’re so hot under my hands,” Mando breathed out, and that was just about enough to push you over, “Cum for me baby.”

And the feeling washed over you, white-hot and uncontrollable, flooding through your body, causing your head to throb with pleasure and you pressed into him. He kept moving against you, and even though you were spent, you rolled your hips another time, and you felt his body shudder, his motions stilling as he groaned.

You wished you could see his face as he orgasmed, jealous of his ability to see you moments ago in the heat of things. You held his back, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against your stomach.

“That was—” Mando breathed, “That was good.”

You chuckled. “Good? I, oh fuck, I loved that. I’ve been wanting to...”

“Me too,” he said, dipping his head into your chest. You reached a hand up into his hair, tangling your fingers in the soft strands which were longer than you had expected.

“Wish we weren’t all bandaged up,” he mumbled.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” you asked.

“I want to take off that shirt and your underwear. Want to feel you. Want to be inside you,” he said and you felt the stir of arousal start up again.

But you were exhausted. The fight earlier today leaving you with little energy beyond the adrenaline needed to perform first aid. It was a miracle you were able to manage what you did with Mando.

“I want that too, Mando,” you said, “Please promise me when we’re better, you’ll do that.”

“Fuck, I can promise you so much more,” he said.

“Can you promise me that we can fall asleep right here in each other’s arms?”

He raised his head from beneath your chin, and his lips brushed against yours. You leaned in, his soft lips catching yours between them. It was over all too soon.

“I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

taglist; @pascalisthepunkest​, @turquiosenights

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin #camila writes #rated e #under 5 #reader #fluff #smut #request #pedro fics #the mandalorian fics #i blame the extra 30 minutes it took to upload this on trying to figure out a title #i fucking hate titles

[vannahfanfics]

I’ve Got These Scars, But I Think They’re Pretty

Category: Angst, General Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Dabi

Additional Tags: Role Swap AU

The bright white waiting room hummed with hushed conversations of waiting patients, worried family, and chatting nurses. Dabi sat hunched in a chair, leg bouncing and hands clasped tight, but not because he was awaiting treatment. His aquamarine eyes scanned the room to observe the comings and goings, the brightly-colored spandex suits and the fluttering capes as the local heroes made their rounds visiting the various tenants of the pediatric intensive care ward. 

By all rights, Dabi should be among them— but he didn’t exactly fit the mold of hero , even if he was a member of a bonafide agency. With a quiet sigh, he sat up to observe the dark purple scars and silver staples adorning his marred skin. No, children shrieked and cried at the sight of him and his scarred body. He’d only undo the optimism the other heroes were instilling in the ailing children if he strutted around pretending like he wasn’t some kind of patchwork monster. 

Sighing heavily, Dabi leaned forward to cradle his head in his hands. 

It was times like this that he loathed his father the most. So easily, Dabi could have turned to the path of vengeance and brought retribution in the form of a fiery inferno, but he hadn’t. He’d persevered; he’d endured the trauma and abuse and his own goddamn skin melting off his bones as he lived in his own circle of Hell until Shoto came around. He’d overcome all the urges and temptations to become a hero— but he still couldn’t be normal . They always wondered in the back of their minds if he was unhinged or a villain spy because of these scars he was forced to bear. 

Dabi clenched his teeth and curled his fingers into his hair, fingernails scoring into his scalp as he struggled to reign his volatile emotions back in. Oh, how he hated Endeavor, but he hated himself more for slipping back into these spirals of thought time and time again. Frustrated tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he seethed in self-loathing and resentment and struggled not to let the negative feelings swallow him whole. 

I shouldn’t be here. 

“Hey, mister, are you here to get treatment?” 

Dabi jerked up with a small gasp as a sweet little voice yanked him out of his depressive spiral. He blinked rapidly, his teary eyes blurring his vision into hazy watercolors for a few seconds, until the form of a small child materialized into view. Her eyes were bright and wide as she regarded him curiously, a half-eaten chocolate bar in one hand and the other bundled to her chest in a thick cast. Gauze covered two-thirds of her body, making her seem like a little baby mummy standing before him. 

He straightened up in the chair and rubbed his sweaty palms across the fabric of his ripped jeans. 

“Oh, um… No.” 

“Are you visiting someone?” she asked, chomping down on the chocolate bar. Dabi grimaced slightly as she kept her stare fixed upon him while chewing open-mouthed on the sweet confection. It was a little unsettling, as he was so used to the wrong kind of stares; the little girl didn’t seem to register his scars at all, just gazing unblinkingly at him out of nothing but pure curiosity. 

“Um… Sort of. I’m with the hero agency visiting today,” he explained. The girl cocked her head to the side with a slow blink. 

“Then what’re you doin’ sittin’ out here? Are you tired?” 

Somebody come get this kid! Dabi thought as he shifted uncomfortably. Though he’d deeply desired for a kid to be able to converse openly with him like this, now that it was happening, it was such a foreign sensation that it was deeply unnerving. He cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced around to find someone who could serve as a decent excuse. Unfortunately, all the heroes were busy in patient rooms— leaving Dabi to fend for himself. 

“Look, kid, aren’t you supposed to be in a room somewhere?” he evaded. The little girl shrugged and took another bite of the chocolate. The piece broke off with a loud snap before she chewed avidly on it.

“Yeah, but I wanted some candy, so I took some of my allowance and went to one of the vending machines. I don’t remember what room I’m s’posed to be in, though, so now I’m lost.” 

Dabi had to snicker at her completely emotionless analysis of the situation. The tyke reminded him of Shoto, almost, with that dispassionate disposition and monotone voice. Dabi’s head lolled on his neck as he took another look around. The nurses and doctors were nowhere to be found now, either. Well, he thought as he pushed himself out of the chair, I guess I should do the “heroic” thing and escort her back to her room. 

“What’s your name, squirt?” 

“Katsumi.” 

“All right, Katsumi. Let’s go find your room, huh?” he said as he strode off. The girl obediently trotted to keep up, continuing to munch on her chocolate bar and smearing it a little across her lips. The ICU of the children’s hospital was the largest of the facility, so realistically, it could take a considerable amount of time for Dabi to find Katsumi’s room in the sea of beds. He slipped his hands in his pockets as he strolled along, icy blue eyes flicking between the name placards adorning the closed doors. Dabi was more than content to tread along in total silence, but the little girl— not so much. 

“Hey, mister, where’d you get those scars?” 

Dabi glanced down to see her gaping at the purple patchwork decorating the visible parts of his body. However, what startled him and stuttered his steps was the look on Katsumi’s face; rather than disgust, fascination adorned her features, and there was a strange sparkle in her eyes. He stood frozen as she tucked the chocolate bar under her armpit so she could run her fingers over the wrinkled, stitched skin of his forearm. 

“They’re burn scars, aren’t they?” 

Dabi’s expression softened as Katsumi’s eyes grew lidded. She ran her fingers over the marred areas a few more times, then reached back to claw at the bandages swathing half her body. “So when I’m all better, will I look like this?” 

Dabi’s throat closed up as he felt the oddest sense of shame washing over him. I shouldn’t be here, he thought again. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do as Katsumi studied his injuries and envisioned herself like him— barely held together by staples and prayers? He bit down on his lip as it grew hard to breathe, and once again, the hate began to well up inside of him, a geyser threatening to explode and arch into the sky in frightening brilliance. 

“Your scars are so pretty.” 

Dabi almost fell over. 

“Do— do what ?” he cried as he looked down at her in shock. Katsumi gave him a sweet, innocent smile as if what she’d just uttered wasn’t insanely weird. She shyly rocked her hips back and forth as she placed her hand on his arm again. 

“Purple is my favorite color!” she explained with a giddy laugh. Dabi’s face wasn’t sure what kind of expression to make, but it made something. He sagged in disbelief— and a whole lot of relief — as Katsumi continued to admire the disfigured skin painting his forearm. Her eyes were lidded again, but this time in a childlike hopefulness. 

“That’s what happened to me, y’know. A house fire,” she said and raised her arm as much as she could in the cast. Dabi refrained from contradicting her; it was easier for her to believe something simple like a house fire and not years on years of pushing his Quirk beyond his body’s physical limits. “The nurses and doctors are all super nice, but… I hear them talking about how it’s such a shame that I’ll be scarred for life, a pretty girl like me.” When she looked back up at him, tears bubbled in her eyes before rolling down her plump cheeks, rosy with life and pain. “I’ll still be pretty even with these scars, right? Right ? Just because I have them, people can still love me, can’t they ?” 

Dabi breathed sharply through his nose as he ran a hand through his dyed hair. Of all the things he’d thought would come of today, comforting a crying child in the middle of a hallway wasn’t one of them. Yet he couldn’t help but feel glad for it. This little girl echoed the same things he’d felt after his incident. 

At least, unlike Dabi, Katsumi had someone to put her fears to rest. 

“Of course they can,” he said as he crouched down. His coat brushed against the white tiled floor as he kneeled beside Katsumi and rested a hand atop her head to ruffle her hair. “If anything, the scars’ll make you even prettier. They’re a sign that you overcame everything and came out still standing, yeah?” Dabi was never the best with words, so he hoped that Katsumi understood. 

She stared at him for a moment, still sniffling petulantly. However, little by little, a smile wormed its way onto her face. 

“Really?” 

Dabi’s smile broadened and gave her hair another ruffle, making her giggle. 

“Really. Don’t listen to what those nurses say. Anybody who has any sense’ll know that those scars don’t make you anything less.” 

“Thanks, mister,” she preened, and Dabi swore the smile she gave him was brighter than the sun itself. As he stood, she lunged forward to take his hand and lace their fingers, still probably feeling a little emotionally vulnerable. Dabi didn’t make any move to rebuke her, only tugged on her slim arm so they could resume walking down the hall. Soon she was swinging his arm back and forth as she pranced along, much more animated and happy that she had been previously. 

Dabi felt a sense of pride welling up inside him, knowing that just a few words of encouragement had illuminated Katsumi so brightly. 

Suddenly, he was very glad he came. 

Eventually, they located Katsumi’s room. The nurse nearly bowled Dabi over when they meandered up, screeching at him about kidnapping and not listening to a damn word he had to say. Though Katsumi brightly attempted to explain that Dabi was a kind hero who had led her back, the nurse was about to call the authorities on him until Hawks sauntered up and slapped his gloved hands on Dabi’s shoulders to give her a brilliant grin. 

“It seems there’s been a big understanding. Ma’am, this is one of the heroes working at my agency, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t call the authorities on him.” 

The nurse dropped the phone with a series of confused sputters, pointing at Dabi as if that was all the evidence she needed. Dabi sagged into the bird-man’s grip, irritation bubbling up inside him. For a moment, he had forgotten how much of a ruffian he looked to the general populace. Hawks continued to diffuse the situation with practiced grace. 

“I know he looks like a thug, but I promise, Dabi here is a bonafide hero! He even brought your little lost dove back, yeah~?” 

“Yep! We had a great talk,” Katsumi chirped as she clambered back into her hospital bed. She finally remembered her chocolate bar and removed it from her armpit, frowning when she discovered that it was half-melted and squished. After scrutinizing it for a moment, she shrugged and chomped down on it. Dabi smirked as he watched her, very entertained. 

Hawks’ honeyed words had placated the nurse, who begrudgingly offered Dabi a half-hearted and wary apology. He shrugged her off and walked over to Katsumi, who was enjoying the remains of her chocolate bar. 

“All right, squirt. I’m off. Got lots of important hero business to attend to and all.” 

“Will you come back and see me?” she asked, looking up at him with a chocolate-smeared pout. Dabi snorted and pushed her head a little, making her laugh giddily. 

“Of course. I’ll see ya next week.” 

“Okay! Bring some chocolate bars!” 

“You got it,” he waved as he strolled out of the hospital room. Hawks followed suit after cheerfully bidding farewell to the nurse. They both sighed deeply as he closed the door behind him. 

“Well,” Hawks smiled as he strode up beside Dabi and nudged him with an elbow. “Lookit you, gettin’ friendly with the kiddos. I didn’t know you had it in ya, Dabs.” 

“Shut up, you great big chicken wing,” Dabi growled and flashed him a scowl. Hawks laughed good-naturedly, feathers ruffling in mirth. 

“Oh, come on now! It’s progress!” Hawks insisted. Dabi left him standing there with his arms held up like the great big winged moron he was. Hawks pouted and whined after him, but he continued off to the vending machines, suddenly craving chocolate. As the wrapped candy bar thunked down into the receptacle and he leaned down to retrieve it, a serene smile decorated his face as he caught the reflection of his scars in the glass. 

“Yeah, I’ve got scars, but I think they’re pretty!” He could just hear Katsumi bleating to the ignorant nurses. As he straightened back up with the chocolate bar in hand, he rolled up the long sleeves of his coat, exposing more of the purple patchwork skin to the cold air of the hospital. 

“Yeah. Me too, kid.” 

As he walked out of the hospital into the sunshine, he glanced up at the sky and smiled. 

I’m glad I came. 

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#dabi #touya todoroki #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

[shadow-assassin-blix]

A Picture is a Poem Without Words

CHAPTER 4

A/N: Gif of Jessica Lowndes is from @lowndsiercs​. Usual canon type violence. I am not a medical expert, and I’ve never broken a bone before, so I legit have no idea how accurate the descriptions I used are. 

“Speak”

‘Thought’

“Spanish”

Blix woke up the next morning to her satellite phone going off. She blearily reached over to answer it, “Hello?”

“Boss. Another museum was hit. La Tertulia. The team is on their way there now. Shall I pick you up?” Came Theo’s voice rushed.

“Shit. No. I’ll make my way over there, need to be somewhat sneaky about it. My neighbors are too damn nosy. Already think I’m dating my CI, don’t need for them to see another man coming to pick me up,” She explained as she jumped out of bed, and started throwing clothes on. “I’ll see you in about 10 mins.”

She hung up and tossed her phone onto her bed so she could finish getting dressed. Two minutes later she was walking down the road to catch a cab. It did not take the cab very long to drop her off at the entrance of the museum. She made her way inside, and toward the crime scene in the archives.

She spotted Theo squatting down examining a piece of evidence with a pair of forceps.

“What do we got so far, Theo?” She asked as she stepped up to him.

“Not much. Just like the last couple of robberies. The cameras got a clear view of 5 men, but not of their faces. They kept their heads down almost the entire time,” Theo informed her as he set the piece of what appeared to be plastic.

“Almost?” She questioned with an eyebrow raised.

Theo smiled conspiratorially “We got a clear view of at least one them. We have already sent his photo off to figure out who he is.”

“Perfection. Now do we know what was stolen?” She inquired as she looked around.

Many of the crates were ripped opened with straw thrown about. However, as she looked into them, she couldn’t see anything actually missing.

There was one crate that looked awkwardly placed. As she inspected it, she noted that serial number painted on it, did not match the style of the crates around her.

She walked over to one of the evidence kits that held a power drill. She quietly undid the screws holding the top down. As it came loose, she knelt down, gently lifting the lid, inspecting it for any wires. Upon seeing nothing, she slid the top off.

As she stood back up, her breath caught in her throat. She could see something lighting up. She moved the straw packaging away, to reveal a bomb, that was at 45 seconds.

“Everyone! Get out! GET OUT NOW!” She yelled once it had fully registered. “It’s a bomb!”

She heard multiple pairs of feet scrambling to get out and she looked around. ‘I’m too far from the door. I’m not going to make it.’

She saw a gap amongst the crates and dived for it as the timer reached 10 seconds. She buried herself amongst them and wrapped her arms around her head to protect it.

*BOOM*

The blast sent crates crashing everywhere. Theo who had made it outside, and dove for the cement, shook off the glass that had fallen onto his body as he stood up.

“Blix? Anyone seen her? Blix? BLIX!” Theo called out looking around trying to find her.

Theo waved his hands in front of his face, trying to clear the smoke and debris around him. He turned his head left and right trying to find her.

Upon realization that she was not outside, he came to the horrifying conclusion that she had been inside. He coughs several times, trying to clear his lungs, as he made his way back to the entrance.

There were several crates on fire, and there were many that were collapsed on top of each other. Others were getting ready to crash to the ground, teeter this way and that. He made his way toward where the explosive crate was at. He tried squinting to see where she may have gone.

As he turned in circles, looking everywhere, he spied something. A hand. He rushed over to it, pushing fragments of wood off to unveil Blix, underneath it all.

“Blix! Boss! Can you hear me?” Theo exclaimed as he tried to survey the damage done to her.

She groaned loudly, “Have I… ever told you… how much I… hate this job?”

Theo chuckled and sighed in relief. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

“My foot… its pinned,” she noted with pain as she tried to move.

He looked at where her feet would be and began digging it out from under the rubble. “you have a large bronze statue on your foot,” he said after a moment. “Hold on.”

Theo wrapped his arms around the statue and began to lift it with a grunt. He was able to lift it up to a point, but he couldn’t fully lift it off. He shoved it off to the side, so it was no longer pinning her down.

She sighed in relief at the pressure being removed, “Theo. I would… very much… like to get... out of…” She trailed off as she passed out.

Theo swore and quickly picked her up, so he could carry her out.

“Damn girl… do you ever eat? No. That’s a dumb question, I’ve seen you out eat half the guys on the team,” He muttered as he adjusted her in his arms.

He carried her out as swiftly as he could and once he had stepped outside he called for a medic. The situation outside was chaotic, as everyone tried to assess the damage that had been done.

Paramedics came up to him with a stretcher and he set her on it. They began checking her vitals and securing her to it. They rushed off with her to a nearby ambulance and as much as he wished he could follow, he had to deal with the crime scene before him.

Hours later, Blix was resting comfortably in a hospital room. She was still unconscious when Theo finally was able to check in on her. He had been dealing with multiple phone calls to the embassy, and members of the DEA and Search Bloc asking for details. He was exhausted by the time he collapsed in the chair next to her bed.

The doctor had explained to him that she had busted her head open, broke some things, and she had a piece of wood pierce her side that they had to surgically remove. Beyond that she had various bruises, scrapes, and sprains.

They had her on some pretty heavy pain meds which meant she probably was going to be sleeping the rest of the night, but he did not wish to leave her alone. So, he made himself as comfortable as he could in the small plastic chair that sat in her room and fell into a light sleep.

It was in the early hours of the morning when Blix finally stirred. She groaned in pain as she shifted, jostling her many injuries unintentionally.

She looked over to the side and spied Theo sitting there.

“Theo,” she croaked, before trying to clear her throat as irritants made themselves known.

He jerked awake and blinked rapidly, looking around. His eyes eventually landed on her and he sighed with relief.

“Hey. How you feeling?” He asked leaning forward.

“Like shit. Theo. Go home. You smell like you were in an explosion,” She responded after a moment, trying to adjust herself gently.

He snorted and replied jokingly, “Really? Strange.”

He looked at her for a long moment and said with concern, “I don’t want to leave you alone here. I’m fine with staying.”

She smiled tiredly, and assured, “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Go get yourself cleaned up. I’ll probably be passing back out here in a moment anyway. I’m sure Anita is worried about her husband.”

“She knows where I’m at. I’ll… I’ll get cleaned up and then check back on you around noon, yeah?” He conceded with a sigh.

She nodded her head once before slowly drifting off to sleep again. Theo made his way out and back home.

When Blix woke again, she could feel the sunlight on her face. She squinted her eyes and scrunched up her face as sleep left her. She could hear movement as she became aware of her surroundings.

She finally pried her eyes opened and looked around. Who she saw was not who she was expecting.

“Pacho?” She whispered as she rubbed her eyes to clear them.

“Hi sweetness. How are you feeling?” He softly asked as he took a seat on the bed.

“I’ve had better days, I will say,” She answered as she tried to push herself up into a sitting position.

He reached over and gently lifted her up, adjusting her pillow so she was comfortable.

She thanked him quietly and sighed heavily. Before she could say much else, the nurse walked in.

“Oh! You’re awake! Good. Let me go get your doctor,” She exclaimed before stepping back out for a moment.

She walked back in with a doctor, and as the doctor spoke with Blix, she checked the machines that were hooked up to her.

“Hello, Miss Lage. I am Doctor Garza. Tell me what is your current pain level?” He introduced before asking.

“Umm. About 5. Maybe a 6. So, what’s the damage report?” She asked wanting to know what had happened to her.

“Well. Miss Lage to begin with you have quite the bump to your head. We shall be checking on you throughout the day to make sure you do not have a concussion. We had to surgically remove a chunk of wood that had imbedded itself in your side. There are some broken bones in your left foot, and it has been placed into a cast. Beyond that, your ribs are bruised, and have various other bruises, scrapes on your body. Your right wrist also was sprained at some point. If I may say so, you are very lucky to be alive,” He explained gesturing to each wound as he spoke.

She hummed softly, “Just more scars to add to the list.”

Pacho took her hand in his and gently brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. She smiled at him weakly.

“Maria here will be taking your vitals, and checking you for any symptoms of a concussion,” Doctor Garza finished. “Please let me know if you need anything else.”

Maria then began to check her eyes and ask her questions about herself, and the date/time, etc. She wasn’t quite sure of the time since there wasn’t a clock, she just knew it was early.

The conversation took about 5 minutes, before the nurse than made sure she was comfortable, and not feeling pain. She then left after jotting down some notes.

Once they were alone again, Blix sighed, “I hate hospitals. Hate being stuck in them. I wouldn’t by chance be able to talk you into a jailbreak, would I?”

He chuckled at my question. “Very tempted lovely. I think you should stay here at least for a day.”

“Boo. You’re no fun,” she pouted.

He simply shook his head at me and simply said, “I took the liberty of paying for all of the expenses. You have nothing to worry about. I will also be picking you up when you are released, and I shall take care of you.”

“Oh. Pacho. No. You don’t have to do that honey. I can take care of myself just fine,” She denied his offer with a shake of her head

“Yes, I am well aware you can take care of yourself but... isn’t it about time someone took care of you?” He said with a smirk and a kiss to her cheek.

“Oh. Wow.” She breathed, not expecting that response. “That’s… that’s a good line. That might have even earned you a yes.”

“It’s not a line, darling, it’s purely for selfish reason. Need to keep my favorite agent alive. No use to me dead,” Pacho said dryly.

She stared at him for a moment, slightly surprised. She shook her head, looking away. ‘Unbelievable.’

“Right. Forgot. To you I’m nothing more than a pawn. You should go. My coworkers will probably be here soon,” She dismissed him not sparing him another glance.

He narrowed his eyes at her and reached up to grab her chin and turned her head back to him.

“If you were merely a pawn, I would’ve just sent flowers,” He informed her annoyed.

His eyes scanned her face for a second, before he pressed his lips to hers. She didn’t respond in kind and as he pulled away, he quietly muttered, “Don’t be like that.”

“I was serious. My coworkers will be coming to check on me soon. You should get back to work… or whatever it is you do during the day. Thank you for coming to see me, and for paying the bill. I’ll be sure to pay you back,” She said softly in response, wishing to avoid any conflict.

“I’m sure that I will see you soon. I believe you mentioned something about giving me more details on König? Plus, you owe me an explanation on your dealings with him,” She concluded with a faint smile.

“Okay. I will go. I was serious though. I wish to take care of you while you heal. Allow me that simple pleasure,” He gently pleaded stroking his knuckles over her jaw.

She nodded her head after a moment, and gives him a small, chaste kiss. He took his leave a moment later.

Not 10 minutes had passed before her coworkers walked in, carrying various flowers, balloons and bears.

“Good lord. Guys! What is this?” She laughed.

“Us, showing our appreciation over the best boss, who risked her life to save ours and wound up in a hospital bed,” Cynthia happily replied as she started to set things around her. “Ooh. It appears you’ve already had a visitor I see!”

Blix looked over to where she was looking at confused. Next to her bed was a bouquet of roses and lilies, in a beautiful shade of pink.

She gaped at the flowers, before reaching over to grab the note attached to them.

“Something to make you smile, darling. – P.”

She bit her lip, as a smile appeared on her face. “Bastard.” She whispered.

“Who are these from? Girl, you’ve been holding out on us!” Cynthia teased.

“Just a friend,” Blix said vaguely.

“A friend? A friend who paid probably $500 for these flowers, given where they are from? One of the most expensive flower shops in the city, and he’s ‘just a friend,’” Cynthia replied with a scoff.

“It’s… it’s complicated. That’s all I can really say,” Blix tried to explain.

They all took seats and began chitchatting. It had been awhile since she had felt so relax and laughed genuinely.

Throughout their visit, the nurse would come in and check on her, or bring her a meal.

As the day was ending, Blix couldn’t help the yawns that kept rising up. Theo noticed that it was getting late and announced that they should probably leave and let Blix rest. They all said their goodbyes one by one, until it was just Theo.

“By the way boss, the ambassador wants you to take 2 weeks off to heal. No exceptions,” He informed her wincing, expecting her to get upset.

She nodded and said “I expected that. It’s okay. I am not going to be able to do much with this foot anyway.”

Theo nodded back and waved goodbye. She sighed at the silence of the room, and gently wiggled her body to lie further down.

She was staring at the flowers that she was left, and she couldn’t help the smile that crept as she admired them.

“I take it you like them?” She heard a voice gently ask.

She jumped as she flicked her eyes back over to the door. Pacho stood there, his hands in his pockets as he sauntered over.

“Yes. I do like them. They are very beautiful,” She thanked him as scooted over to make room for him to sit.

“I… may have said something in poor taste earlier. And I wish to apologize for that,” he admitted as he sat down.

“Oh? Is that so?” Blix said loftily.

“Yes. I am sorry. I did not mean to sound uncaring. Nor did I mean it to sound like I thought you were a simple pawn,” He apologized quietly.

“Thank you. I uh.. I’m sorry for getting upset like I did. It’s not like we are dating or anything. Just because we slept together doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly someone of great importance to you,” She said with a wince as she thought back to that morning.

“Oh sweetness, when are you going to realize? I meant what I said earlier. If you were of no importance, I would have just sent flowers. Not bring them myself and check up on you personally,” He stated firmly with a kiss.

“Would… would it bother you if I asked you to stay a while? At least until I fell asleep?” Blix requested after a moment.

“No, it would not bother me at all,” He responded with a soft smile.

He laid down on the bed as best as he could, on his side, curling an arm around her, as his other tucked itself under her pillow. She wrapped her arms around him as best as she could and buried her face into his chest and neck. She fell asleep in minutes.

The next morning, she woke up alone, and spent the day making calls from the hospital phone to check in with Javier, Horacio, and her bosses.

Beyond that she spent the day, being checked on and having tests run to make sure everything was okay. By that evening she was cleared for release.

As she was rolled out to the front of the hospital with a bag full of meds and bandages, true to his word, Pacho stood there leaning against his Thunderbird.

He walked over to her and helped her up. “Hello dear.”

She smiled in response as she slowly stood and took the crutches that were being handed to her. She made her way over to his car and he followed behind her. He helped her inside and waited till she was situated before closing the door.

He got in and drove off. “I was thinking that we go by your place. You get whatever you need for work, and then you come home with me. Tomorrow, we will sit down and talk with Gilberto and Miguel about König and what we know about him,” He proposed as he reached over to hold her hand.

“Pacho. You’ve already done too much. Plus, I plan to give back the “tip” you three gave me. I am perfectly fine with taking care of myself,” Blix protested with a small sigh.

“I truly hate repeating myself, beautiful. I wish to take care of you, so accept it,” He said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

They pulled up to her house soon afterwards. He helped her grabbed the 5 files she still had sitting out and placed them in the trunk of his car. As she stepped into her office, to grab her notes, he leaned against the door frame and whistled at the sight he saw.

“A bit obsessed, I see?” He wondered with wide eyes.

She looked at him and then at her wall, and simply mouthed “A little bit” complete with hand motion.

He strode up to the wall, and examined it further, noting with a smirk that she had pinned the photos he sent her on the wall as well.

She had gathered what notes and pens she would need for her conversation tomorrow with the brothers.

“Is that everything?” Pacho inquired.

“I mean, I still need to get clothes and such. My sat phone,” She listed looking at him confused.

“Get your phone. I will provide you with clothes, unless of course you wish to wander around my home naked? Which… I wouldn’t protest,” He flirted pulling her closer to him.

She shook her head at him, and as she started to move past him, she realized, “My phone is upstairs…”

“Get back to the car, I’ll get it for you,” He offered with a chuckle.

She made her way back out, thankful that she only had 3 steps to go down as she hobbled outside. She held the notes close to her chest as she opened the door, and practically collapsed onto the seat.

She took a moment to breathe, the pain meds she had taken before she left the hospital were slowly wearing off, and an ache was building up in her chest and side.

Pacho had at this point left the house and made sure it was locked behind him. He made his way around to her side and helped her straighten up, moving the crutches out of her way. He gave her a quick kiss once she was settled.

He got into the car and took off, leaving the city behind them and steering toward the countryside. They drove for about an hour before finally turning onto a dirt path that led to a large mansion. He parked in the garage, next to several other sports cars and his motorcycles.

He escorted her out and into the house, depositing her into a kitchen chair. He left to go speak with some of his men, while his chef placed a plate of food before her. She thanked him before digging in. It wasn’t until the first bite, that she realized just how hungry she was, and she began to scarf the food down.

Pacho walked in and laughed at her, “The food isnt running away from you honey. You can enjoy it, ya know?”

She slowed back down, her cheeks warming with slight embarrassment.

“Sorry. The hospital didn’t exactly give the finest of meals, while I was there,” She admitted, after swallowing the food that was in her mouth.

“Don’t apologize. I like a woman with a healthy appetite,” He waved her apology off, as he took a seat next to her.

“So, when will Miguel and Gilberto arrive tomorrow?” She asked as she took smaller bites.

”About noon. Chepe will be with them as well. This weekend we are entertaining members of the Guadalajara Cartel,” He answered, his eyes rolling at the last part.

“Oh. Don’t like the Mexican cartel eh?” She guessed.

“Gallardo is a pain in the ass, who thinks he can outsmart us. His whole cartel is a sham. A powder-keg waiting to be lit,” He seethed, shaking his head.

She snickered at him, before noticing a man standing behind him. “Hi?”

Pacho looked behind him and motioned him forward.

“This is Diego, he’s my…” Pacho introduced before trailing off, awkwardly.

Blix looked at the dark-skinned man, who looked to be around her age as well, and noticed how he leaned into Pacho. She understood what he was trying to say.

“Boyfriend? Lover? Paramour? Pacho. Its fine. I’m well aware of your preference. This doesn’t change anything,” Blix supplied with a smile. “Hello. I’m Blix.”

She held out her hand to shake. Diego looked her up and down, before responding, “Hmm. Bit of a stepdown from your usual. Whatever happened to sleeping with the most beautiful women possible? A bit subpar don’t you think?”

She blinked in response, not expecting that at all.

“Diego,” Pacho admonished.

“No. It’s… it’s not the worst insult I’ve had thrown at me. He’s entitled to his opinion,” She mumbled looking away, her appetite gone.

“So. Where exactly am I staying?” She asked wanting to escape the awkwardness.

Pacho got up and whispered something to Diego angrily, before leading her through the large open living room, to the grand staircase.

The crutches were long forgotten and abandoned in the kitchen, and she limped after Pacho and took the stairs slowly. The cast she had on wasn’t a full plaster cast, it was meant to give some flexibility. So, while it was uncomfortable to walk on, it wasn’t painful.

He led her upstairs and to the left, leading her to a bedroom that was probably bigger than her entire first floor of her house.

“I’m sorry about Diego. I don’t… I don’t know why he would say that,” Pacho apologized as they stepped into the room.

“Its fine. Seriously. I don’t expect any of your men to be happy that I’m here. Least of all the man that you are in a relationship with,” She waved it off. “Like I said, he’s not the first to say something about my looks, he won’t be the last.”

“True. But I know it bothered you more than you let on,” Pacho observed pulling her close to him. “You’ve created quite the thick skin to deflect most of the comments people make about your scars. But it still gets you at times. I saw the look in your eyes. The way you closed in on yourself with that one comment.”

She doesn’t respond. Honestly, she didn’t know how to. It wasn’t very often when someone was able to point out her tells.

“I will talk to Diego. I don’t want my two favorite people to be at each other’s throats,” he assured, pressing kisses to the top of her head.

She nodded once before slowly wrapping her arms around his waist. She pressed a small kiss to the sliver of his chest that could be seen in the parting of his button-down shirt.

“I’m going to go shower… if you’d like to join?” She suggested as she pulled away from him.

He smirked at her and led her over to the en-suite bathroom. As they stepped inside, flicking the lights on blindly, Pacho captured her lips with his in a passionate kiss. Blix began to unbutton his shirt with fumbling fingers; softly tugging to untuck the shirt from his pants as well.

He gently lifted the tank top she wore off of her, her bra following swiftly after. A few minutes later they were both undressed and waiting for the shower to heat up.

Pacho examined the bandage on her waist and gently pulled it off of her.

“These are healing nicely,” He commented looking at her stitches. “Make sure you dry this area when we get out, but it should be safe to get wet so long as we don’t spend forever in there.”

Blix nodded, and as they stepped into the shower, they fooled around a bit. They cleaned and made out a lot but stepped out once they had finished cleaning. He made sure her stitches were dry before he helped put on a new bandage.

They made their way back into the room, and when Blix leaned up to continue the heated kisses they had started before, Pacho stopped her.

“We should probably stop, my dear. Wouldn’t want to pull those stitches,” Pacho gently reminded.

“Buzz kill. That’s what you are. You owe me,” She replied as she turned to get herself dressed, or mostly dressed.

“I promise. I’ll make it up as soon as those stitches are out,” Pacho swore, coming up behind her and pressing kisses to her shoulders.

She threw on a cami and a pair of underwear, that she found in the dresser before slipping under the covers. She patted the empty space next to her, beckoning him to join her, which he did.

Blix curled herself around him as he settled in, finding extreme comfort in the warmth of his skin.

As they laid there, she gently ran her fingers up and down his skin, drawing pictures on his chest.

He grabbed a cigarette out of the pack that had been placed on his bedside table and lit it. She fell asleep to smell of nicotine and the sensation of Pacho’s own hand running itself up and down her back.

The warmth of the rising sun woke her the next day, and as she opened her eyes, her gaze immediately fell upon Pacho, who was still asleep.

She admired him, for a moment. He looked far more relaxed as he slept, when he was awake, he was always on a constant high alert. She propped herself up on her elbow, and lightly ran a finger along his face. She regarded the slight scruff forming on his face, biting her lip at the tickling sensation she felt as she stroked it.

She stared at him in awe for a moment more, before sitting up. Or at least she tried to. A pair of arms wrapped around her and pulled her back down.

“Where do you think you are going, lovely?” Came Pacho’s sleepy voice.

“I was going to go make breakfast for us. And go to the bathroom if you truly must know,” She answered honestly.

He hummed in response, “I suppose I can let you go for that. Need to go get dressed anyway.”

They both slowly sat up together, and Pacho got up from the bed and made his way to the door. She stared at his backside with a smirk, shamelessly checking him out.

He turned back to look at her and simply said, “No. Not until you’re healed.”

She stuck her tongue out in response, and he laughed loudly on his way out. She then got up and did her business in the bathroom, before strolling over to the closet.

She turned on the light and whistled at all of the clothes that hung there. All high-end fashion, all stuff one would see on a runway.

She pulled out a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a flannel shirt to go over it. She slipped on a black flat leaving its twin behind and brushed out her hair, before pulling it into a ponytail.

She walked out once she was dressed and ready, making her way down to the kitchen area. She opened the refrigerator and looked at what was available in there, spotting some eggs and sausage links as she perused the fridge. She noticed out of the corner of her eye a loaf of bread. After trying a couple of cabinets, she found the spice cabinet, and grabbed the cinnamon.

She began to make some French toast and sausage once she had gathered the ingredients and spending five minutes searching for utensils and such.

As she cooked, Pacho walked in with Diego close behind. She ignored him for the most part, especially when he gave her a distasteful look. Diego grabbed some plates and dining utensils, setting them out on the kitchen island, ignoring her as well.

The food was done soon enough, and Diego grabbed the powdered sugar and syrup. All of them made their own plates, before sitting down with Pacho in the middle. While they ate, Pacho and Diego spoke of work and Blix half listened, not particularly caring.

Once they finished eating, they moved to the living room, and Blix had her files moved to the coffee table so she could begin reviewing them. She opened the first file, and grabbed a legal pad, and began notating what was important. The style of König’s crimes, and what he often stole. Various other crimes and essentially his background plus anyone associated with him.

She was so focused she didn’t notice the various men (sicarios), walk through to talk to Pacho who sat opposite of her and watched her with curious eyes.

Several hours had passed by the time Gilberto, Miguel, and Chepe walked in and greeted Pacho.

They looked over at Blix inquisitively, who had at some point, moved to sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table. She had gone through at least two of the files and was on the third. She had gone through at least one legal pad and was nearing the end of a second one.

She blinked when she heard someone clear their throat and called her name. She looked up owlishly and said, “What?”

It took her a moment to fully realize who all was there. “Oh. Hi! Sorry? Have… have you been here long?” She asked hesitantly, as she stood back up.

“A few minutes. You are…very focused. It was quite adorable Miss Lage,” Chepe complimented as he stepped forward to take her hand and kiss it.

She shook her head, “A flirt. That’s all that you are, Chepe.”

“Only for you, beautiful,” Chepe flirted back with a wink.

She then stepped toward Gilberto and Miguel and greeted them with a handshake, both men pressing a kiss to her cheek in greeting.

They then took their seats Pacho and Chepe sitting on either side of her, Miguel & Gilberto sat across from them.

She grabbed a fresh notepad and looked at each man for a moment, before titling the blank page: CI’s Orange, Blue, Purple, And Silver.

Chepe leaned over and looked at her title with questioning eyes.

“Can’t exactly let my coworkers know that I am receiving this info from Cartel Members. So, to protect your identities, code. Shirt color in this instance,” Blix explained quickly.

“Alright. König. How did you meet him? What do you know?” She interrogated all four of them.

Gilberto replied, “He came to us looking to sell art he had… ‘acquired.’ He seemed alright but he felt the need to make comments that were…. Discourteous towards us. Particularly toward Pacho and his choices in romantic partners.”

She raised an eyebrow at that confession, “You broke ties with a well-known art thief, because he was homophobic? No offense, especially to you Pacho, but… don’t most of the people you work with… have some issues with his preferences?”

Pacho snorted at the question and as he lit a cigarette, answered, “Yes. But most of them know not to say it directly to my face or theirs.”

“Ah. Got it. Go on then,” She urged Gilberto to go on after nodding her head in understanding.

“We bought a couple of items, and we were planning to create a deal to slip cocaine using his routes and trucks, to have them brought into America via Mexico or on his planes. He had ties to Europe which we had planned to take advantage of. But. His lack of his respect toward all of us ruined those plans,” Gilberto further explained.

“Wouldn’t happen to know what those routes were, do you?” She asked after she noted everything he said.

He shook his head apologetically, “Never got to that point.”

“The painting to your left is one of the ones we bought,” Miguel noted.

She looked over at it and scrutinized it for a bit. “Caravaggio. Nice. Fake, but nice.”

“Excuse me? Fake? That’s not fake? What are you talking about?” Miguel sputtered in outrage.

She sighed before explaining without looking up from her notepad, “There’s a smudge of pink that’s not consistent with the era in the bottom right corner. It also looks like it was painted 4 months ago not 400 years ago. Good art forgers would know to age the paint, usually tossing it in the oven on very low heat does the trick. Or even painting over an old painting.”

After a few minutes of silence, she looked back up to see all 4 men starring at her, impressed.

“What?” She wondered, blinking slowly.

“Nothing. Just… impressed by your knowledge. Ever thought about being a criminal?” Chepe asked jokingly.

“What makes you think I haven’t committed any crimes?” She posed challengingly. “You think that just because I’m a federal agent that I’m squeaky clean?”

“Oh? Go on then. Don’t leave us in suspense darling,” Chepe cajoled leaning closer.

“Statute of limitations hasn’t passed yet, ask me again in a year or so,” She said with a smirk.

At that the others laughed, especially at Chepe’s responding pout.

“Anything else I should know about König?” She asked once everyone sobered up a bit.

“He’s an ass. Do not let your guard around him. He’s a bit similar to Gacha, he doesn’t care for partners, and he is not afraid to go after police or federal agents. Hence why he probably laid that trap for you at the museum,” Pacho answered as he finished his cigarette.

She nodded, stretching as the memory of the explosion made her suddenly ache. At that moment, lunch was served and laid out on the dining table. They moved over to it and began to talk more about art and previous cases she’s worked.

It was odd, but she found it enjoyable to sit and talk with all four of them. ‘Never thought my life would take this turn. Having lunch with the Gentlemen of Cali. I think… I’m going to enjoy this as much as I can.’

#pacho x oc #pacho herrera #narcos