Don't mess with Jack

He owns a gun and he will use it. Ex-Marine turned SHIELD Agent. (turned vampire) Handler: Agent Kiwi Black Battle hardened and with sharp mind. Trained Marine Specialist.

[siimaaa]

[jacksonhoodofshield]

No suspicious activity (in dark alleys)

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He had hoped beyond all reason that simply having his handler close would make the pain go away – or at least less painful.

Of course it still hurt like before, but the despair he had been feeling crunched down to a minimum. His maker was now here and would handle it. He’s save. So he closed his eyes without a second hesitation when prompted.

He felt something like free-fall happening, his world suddenly off-tilt and on pure instinct he opened his eyes again to come face-to-face with the slightly yellow desk lamp before he was moved away and down and sat heavily onto the familiar couch, just opposite of the big TV he had spend most his nights in front of.

He tuned out most of what his handler said then (or he would have asked if he was a doctor on top of priest, superhero, mutant, shield employed and pain-in-the-ass too) and stared blindly at the black screen. That was until the sound of the phone snapping shut startled him and the sudden movement made the pain flare up.

[iamkiwiblack]

Kiwi dropped in front of Jackson, then, and was already inspecting the wounds in front of him. He was careful not to touch the boy’s knees, and his voice was quiet as he spoke. 

"The bone is shattered." Kiwi noted, and his shoulders dropped, and he sighed. "This will take time to heal."

Both knees were clean through-and-through shots. “She was close, wasn’t she? Small caliber. That’s very lucky for you. We can just wrap these and you just be fine.”

Kiwi checked his watch. “We have a minute.” 

Then, without saying another word, Kiwi jabbed a sharp, glassy nail into the curve of his wrist, hissing only a little with a jold of breath through clenched teeth. Crimson welled up at the site almost instantly, and Kiwi held it out. 

"Take it." he muttered, his own eyes turning from a very normal brown to nearly blackening pools of red. "And do it quickly. It’ll help you heal."

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He keeps his eyes on the black screen and only focuses on his handler when he leans in close because it would be rude to ignore him. He looks at his face, his very deep eyes that speak of centuries he can’t comprehend. He looks really pale, this close. His dark hair does nothing to hide this and only now does he notice that the lights have not been turned on, because there is no shadow.

His nightvision might be getting better, or the pain throws everything into sharper contrast.

Thinking about the pain makes it throb - as if answering or just reminding him he’s still hurt – and his composure cracks with a high noise of distress. He distantly feels that both his knees and legs are getting really cold and wished they’d turn numb too. There’s no escaping this though, it’s very unlikely he will get any painkillers because he will not be brought to a hospital. SHIELD medical might be the place where he’ll end up again.

He blinks a few times confused before he can even focus long enough to realize he’s being offered food. The pain of leaning forward travels down to his toes and leaves him gasping and biting down on his lip before he gets his lips around the bleeding spot on his maker’s wrist.

He wants to cling and crawl into his lap and possibly cry and wail and snarl and rip into something helpless – all his different wants are overshadowed by his thirst for blood and he’s calming as he drinks, the hurt a little soothed although it’s just mental and not actually healing.

[iamkiwiblack]

The keening noise that Jackson made broke  something in the hard-hearted New Zealander. 

The effect on him was nearly as tangible as a physical blow to the face. For the first time in a long time that he could remember,  Kiwi felt himself visibly flinch. 

Not because of the pain and the subtle pull of Jackson at his wrist. But there was an overwhelming feeling of wanting to take that hurt away, to make everything better, to chase away whatever pain had seized him. 

Kiwi drew a hiss from between his own teeth, but then his chin craned down again, and before he was consciously aware that he had moved, his other free hand draped with a hesitant touch on the back of Jackson’s head, and Kiwi found himself leaning over with his forehead touching Jackson’s shoulder and his nose shoved just in the curve of his throat. 

The next words that came from him as his thumb traced a small path through Jackson’s shorn hair were almost inaudible. 

" I should have been there." he sighed. "And I was not. Forgive me?"

[jacksonhoodofshield]

The blood is warm running on his tongue, burning like alcohol down his throat. Pooling in his stomach and warming him up from inside.

He can feel the first contact of his makers fingers on his neck - unbearably hot on his cold clammy skin. But he quickly warms up to it and relaxes, content to lick at the blood pooling out, while enjoying having his maker so close.

The sense of being connected has never been this strong before, just simply drinking his blood. While it was warm, it tasted different and always felt private. And intruding.

With the others face burrowed in his shoulder and his stubble rasping against his throat it felt like belonging.

He just had his lips pressed to the wound now - like a kiss – because he felt tired and with the adrenaline gone he was suddenly too weak to keep concious. “Okay.” He would have forgiven him anything right now. The feeling war bizarrely like he had been back in SHIELD, coloring the floor with his blood and being asked to be turned inhumane to live. Because he had said okay then too, on the same grounds.

As long as he isn’t alone it’s okay.

[iamkiwiblack]

Kiwi didn’t count the seconds or the minutes that they stay like that. Only that both of them were heavy and languid, and Kiwi was pressed closer to keep Jackson warm. To shove death off for just a little while longer—-

A characteristic cloud of blue and the smell of lit fireworks almost startled him out of his reverie. 

Kiwi lifted his head in a haze. From what, he couldn’t tell. Blood loss? No. Jackson had drank him to a trickle but he’d had worse. This was something else. 

"Kurt." was all he said, and tried not to slur the words. 

The man in blue looked with a perked black eyebrow between the two of them, and Kiwi mirrored it with a ‘don’t ask’ warning expression. But Kurt didn’t. Always a gentleman, and never one to judge. There was no one more honorable. 

"What has happened?" The other inquired, his accent still very thick and German. 

"Jackson." Kiwi put a hand on Jackson’s shoulder to stir him a little. "Jackson? Let Kurt look at your knees. Please," he added. 

Kurt’s eyebrow lifted at that again, but he came down in front of Jackson with something like an emergency medical kit in his hand. 

"He was shot. Once in each leg." Kiwi explained, standing back and making room for Kurt. 

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He doesn’t even notice when the mutant arrives. Sure, his handler lifts his head and talks in low soothing tones and he answers right back..

At his name he blinks open eyes he didn’t realize he had closed – just in time to see Agent Black shift back and stand up.

When his maker moves away Jackson starts to panic. Not visibly and not audibly but the pressure behind his eyes makes him ache in every inch of his body and he’s blinded by it.

The blood he drank just a mere minute ago burns in the burst of useless adrenaline now that he’s safe.

He wants to grab him by the clothes, drag him back by his hair or simply claw at something in a lost effort to make him stay.

But he doesn’t let himself cling, his expression pained and stoic as he blinks black the black and white and regains control over himself.

He isn’t expected to say anything here and he is grateful for that. His voice would break and that would be a mess.

[insulphurblue-archives]

The man, Jackson, didn’t have to say a word to Kurt at all. 

It was his expression that told Kurt everything… . Kurt had worn it himself once, and it was painfully familiar, something bittersweet that a dark part of him still longed for. To tangle his fingers in the fabric of one of Tony’s expensive dress shirts. Fingers that twitched even months later with the sheer mental effort it took not to reach up and touch those ragged scars on his throat that he still wore like a badge of honor, where Tony’s teeth had taken greedily. Kurt still said his Hail Marys and contritions for sometimes finding himself wishing that cure had never come about.  Tony’s bite had brought out a need in Kurt that he didn’t know until that moment had come that he’d had… the need to belong to someone, totally, completely,  with no questions asked. 

"Hallo," was what Kurt said, and his smile was empathetic. Compassionate. Here were two thralls meeting one another for the first time. Kurt couldn’t find any fault in Kiwi, either. He loved his brother dearly, for the first, and for the second, Kurt had no regrets about his own ardor towards Tony when the latter had contracted the vampire virus. He was pretty sure Jackson didn’t, either. 

Kurt’s fingers were soothing and warm where they touched Jackson’s knees. Behind him, Kiwi was pacing madly with an obvious air of worry. Kurt was calm, and inspected the wounds carefully. 

The wounds were through and through. That was good; there wouldn’t be any bullets to pull out. Kurt could tell that the bone had been shattered, but that was already mending. Kurt reached for his bag and started pulling out a set of trauma shears and some bandages. 

"You heal very quick." Kurt observed, with a soft tone. "This must be my brother’s blood in you, ja? Like Herr Logan. It is a good thing. These wounds were very clean. I worry for the bone, but it looks to be mending itself."

"He’ll be able to walk?" came Kiwi’s voice over Kurt’s shoulder. The hopeful tone wasn’t missed. 

"Ja ja, soon I should think." Kurt cut a length of linen bandage, and started carefully for Jackson’s knee. "Though perhaps it would be best if he stayed off it for a while. You should do your very best to make him comfortable for a few days." 

"That won’t be a problem." Kiwi answered. 

Kurt chuckled at that. ” Nein, I should think not.” His tail flickered beside him, and he looked up at Jackson then. “You are in the care of a good man, Herr. His ways are bitter but you must put that aside.” 

Kurt added that last pointedly. 

"This is not a normal circumstance, ja?" Kurt’s voice dropped into an almost whisper. "Though I have difficulties of my own in saying it. He is not human. Perhaps you were once, but those days are gone. Live in the night as you were meant to. There is no shame in it. You are the last two. With the things you are made to feel, you could shake the world.”

As if to emphasize that point, Kurt went back to his bag for the medical tape, baring the side of his throat-and the scars there-for Jackson to see. 

"Trust my words." Kurt added as he returned to treating Jackson’s wounds. 

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He had not had the worry of being able to walk until his maker asked them. The suddenness of this panic made his throat close up. It was a thing of mercy he didn’t need to breathe or he would have suffocated until Kurt finally answered.

He swallowed with pure force of will until he felt the panic give. Then he could concentrate on what was being said about him.

He felt doubt creeping into his face beneath the pain because he could not imagine Agent Black being pleased enough with him to fluff his pillow despite his words of doing so.

He had met a lot of people who promised one thing and then did the exact opposite just to please their father, their teacher or their brother.

The moving tail caught his attention before he moved his eyes up into his face a little guiltily. He pushed his fingers deeper into the couch but not hard enough to rip the texture just enough to ground him. He would have loved to push until his bones ache but he’d need solid rock for that now.

He tries to find an appropriate answer but Kurt continues – more hushed now and speaking as if his handler wasn’t pacing like a caged animal behind him still hearing everything.

His words ring true however – and he has been trying. But letting go of life has it has been is hard, especially when there’s so much to regret and not much that has value for him in exchange. Except the fact that he should have died and didn’t.

It does surprise him to see such visible bite marks on his throat. He feels suspicious and jealous all at once but tries to wrestle it down, because Kurt has always been a good soul so far and he doesn’t want to start disliking him now.

He nods heavily and he does trust his words but he still doesn’t understand. He would love to ask… he chances a glance at his maker but he got his back turned for now, every line of him edgy and angry. Jackson cringes inwardly. Definitely no pillow fluffing.

“You haven’t been turned?” He eventually asks quick like a band-aid. He points at his throat when Kurt looks up. “Because of the.. but there’s only two.” At that he gives his handler another glance, trying to figure it out but in far too much pain to think clearly, especially while he’s being treated.

[jacksonhoodofshield]

The Harrowing (Part 2) - The Lurking Eyes

Jackson pushes his face against the mirror that’s cracked and blacked to the view but smooth to the touch and tries to see where he had fallen. He can just make out his hand lying motionless on the bathroom floor and he wonders when his maker will notice that he died. Or moved to… here. Is this the afterworld?

He stands up and his clothes feel damp and cold. He seems to be in some city, blank grey walls stand to all sides and he can see lamps flickering in the far. They look old, like he moved back in time. And they shine a weird color in the moonlight. He looks down and doesn’t recognize his clothing. He is wearing a dark brown suit with a long black overcoat. He can’t see his feet with the mist being thick enough and reaching up to his ankles but when he lifts one leg he can see very shiny very expensive shoes.

A sound makes him turn around and he can see something blue and black leaking through the mirror that shows the bathroom door opening. He can’t concentrate on this now because the blackblue mass transforms into something vaguely human shaped. A timid young woman looks shocked to see him and moves back against the mirror she came through, cowering until she’s nearly swallowed by the white mist. “Don’t hurt me, Master!” She wails and he can feel the surrounding  walls move, as if they’re focusing on him now, like a camera picking something up.

“I’m sorry, so sorry.” She is still crying as if he were to rip her limb to limb. And as he thinks this he realizes it might be the appropriate action. She did rip him from his … body after all. And something must have gone wrong or she would have made off with it. “I don’t know what I was thinking, you’re obviously..”

He breathes and lets his eyes fall closed. But she’s just a child. A tiny thing and right now terrified. He opens his eyes to shush her away and stumbles back when something rams into him, claws at his throat.

The childs mouth grew into a grotesque maw of teeth and salvia and her eyes have sunken in, leaving black holes with a bright red light peering out. She seems to be chanting “mine” now and Jackson feels his survival instinct kicking in. The hiss builds in his throat and he grabs the child by it’s neck, pulling the thing off him. When he snarls in its face he sounds like a tiger and the surrounding city suddenly falls silent. As if it had been moving and chattering until now, building a white noise and his voice made them freeze.

The child morphed back into its cute form but he’s not fooled by its tears anymore. “Where am I?” He asks and keeps the hiss and teeth in his voice.

The child keeps repeating “I’m sorry” and nothing he asks makes her stop long enough to answer any of them.

[jacksonhoodofshield]

The Harrowing (Part 1) – The Possession

This is the time of dressing up as monsters and ruining your teeth. Looking in the mirror and studying his reflection he can’t help but understand his makers expression when he’d announced he’s going out. He looks like a bad cliché. But hiding in plain sight had always been the best cover. With his long black coat with a high collar, blood red vest and various plastic chains that look decorative but don’t even jingle he resembles what an eights grader might think is a vampire. He shoved plastic teeth into his mouth and concentrates on not biting it into a unrecognizeable plastic mess.

The best part however is the medicine bag he’s carrying. It’s genuine and the blood packs in it are the same but no one would suspect a thing. To be on the safe side he stuffed two filled with tomato juice beside the real ones. To his eyes they have a slightly brighter hue and the texture of the fluid looks strange.

He strikes a pose flashing his teeth at the mirror then turns away from it oblivious to the shadow that had been lurking and waiting for its chance.

He draws breath to call for his maker but falters, what should he shout? “Agent Black” sounds too formal, “Kiwi” too personal and “Master” makes him tingly just thinking about it. He had been told a word once.. what was it. He turns around in thought and paces the bathroom. He could just walk out and look for him until he finds him but that seems weird now that he knows he forgot the very first lesson. He feels like a failure. He turns on the tab and splashes water on his face – he doesn’t need makeup to look pale.

He lets his forehead fall forward until it collides with the smooth and cold surface of the mirror. He had fully intended to raise his head immediately again, but feels unable to. Panic thrums through him when he can’t move any of his limbs and it skyrockets when suddenly he’s moving his head but it’s not him doing the moving.

Something cold creeps through his head, fingers scratching and hurting his very brain and he trashes against the hold, managing to startle whatever keeps hold of him into letting slip just a second. His fist goes flying into the mirror but it doesn’t even hurt.

Just as he thinks he’s won he’s suddenly feeling like he’s falling, his stomach going up and his mind going down and dizziness makes his eyes cross. He blinks.

“Finally.” He hears and he tries to regain conciousness but the dizziness still clings and he doesn’t see more than blurred darkness. “You sure are feisty, aren’t you?” Sitting up Jackson can feel coldness seep up to his waist. He’s sitting in water? Looking right, he sees himself but somehow he’s cut off and split into tiny shards. It’s his mirror he realizes. He cracked it and now he’s looking through.

“This does feels.. weird, though. Are you sick?” He can see himself sway and grab for the sink. “This is.. this is..”

And then he topples over and out of his view and Jackson’s left alone, sitting in mist that seems to grab at his clothes.

[jacksonhoodofshield]

No suspicious activity (in dark alleys)

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He had hoped beyond all reason that simply having his handler close would make the pain go away – or at least less painful.

Of course it still hurt like before, but the despair he had been feeling crunched down to a minimum. His maker was now here and would handle it. He’s save. So he closed his eyes without a second hesitation when prompted.

He felt something like free-fall happening, his world suddenly off-tilt and on pure instinct he opened his eyes again to come face-to-face with the slightly yellow desk lamp before he was moved away and down and sat heavily onto the familiar couch, just opposite of the big TV he had spend most his nights in front of.

He tuned out most of what his handler said then (or he would have asked if he was a doctor on top of priest, superhero, mutant, shield employed and pain-in-the-ass too) and stared blindly at the black screen. That was until the sound of the phone snapping shut startled him and the sudden movement made the pain flare up.

[iamkiwiblack]

Kiwi dropped in front of Jackson, then, and was already inspecting the wounds in front of him. He was careful not to touch the boy’s knees, and his voice was quiet as he spoke. 

"The bone is shattered." Kiwi noted, and his shoulders dropped, and he sighed. "This will take time to heal."

Both knees were clean through-and-through shots. “She was close, wasn’t she? Small caliber. That’s very lucky for you. We can just wrap these and you just be fine.”

Kiwi checked his watch. “We have a minute.” 

Then, without saying another word, Kiwi jabbed a sharp, glassy nail into the curve of his wrist, hissing only a little with a jold of breath through clenched teeth. Crimson welled up at the site almost instantly, and Kiwi held it out. 

"Take it." he muttered, his own eyes turning from a very normal brown to nearly blackening pools of red. "And do it quickly. It’ll help you heal."

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He keeps his eyes on the black screen and only focuses on his handler when he leans in close because it would be rude to ignore him. He looks at his face, his very deep eyes that speak of centuries he can’t comprehend. He looks really pale, this close. His dark hair does nothing to hide this and only now does he notice that the lights have not been turned on, because there is no shadow.

His nightvision might be getting better, or the pain throws everything into sharper contrast.

Thinking about the pain makes it throb - as if answering or just reminding him he’s still hurt – and his composure cracks with a high noise of distress. He distantly feels that both his knees and legs are getting really cold and wished they’d turn numb too. There’s no escaping this though, it’s very unlikely he will get any painkillers because he will not be brought to a hospital. SHIELD medical might be the place where he’ll end up again.

He blinks a few times confused before he can even focus long enough to realize he’s being offered food. The pain of leaning forward travels down to his toes and leaves him gasping and biting down on his lip before he gets his lips around the bleeding spot on his maker’s wrist.

He wants to cling and crawl into his lap and possibly cry and wail and snarl and rip into something helpless – all his different wants are overshadowed by his thirst for blood and he’s calming as he drinks, the hurt a little soothed although it’s just mental and not actually healing.

[iamkiwiblack]

The keening noise that Jackson made broke  something in the hard-hearted New Zealander. 

The effect on him was nearly as tangible as a physical blow to the face. For the first time in a long time that he could remember,  Kiwi felt himself visibly flinch. 

Not because of the pain and the subtle pull of Jackson at his wrist. But there was an overwhelming feeling of wanting to take that hurt away, to make everything better, to chase away whatever pain had seized him. 

Kiwi drew a hiss from between his own teeth, but then his chin craned down again, and before he was consciously aware that he had moved, his other free hand draped with a hesitant touch on the back of Jackson’s head, and Kiwi found himself leaning over with his forehead touching Jackson’s shoulder and his nose shoved just in the curve of his throat. 

The next words that came from him as his thumb traced a small path through Jackson’s shorn hair were almost inaudible. 

" I should have been there." he sighed. "And I was not. Forgive me?"

[jacksonhoodofshield]

The blood is warm running on his tongue, burning like alcohol down his throat. Pooling in his stomach and warming him up from inside.

He can feel the first contact of his makers fingers on his neck - unbearably hot on his cold clammy skin. But he quickly warms up to it and relaxes, content to lick at the blood pooling out, while enjoying having his maker so close.

The sense of being connected has never been this strong before, just simply drinking his blood. While it was warm, it tasted different and always felt private. And intruding.

With the others face burrowed in his shoulder and his stubble rasping against his throat it felt like belonging.

He just had his lips pressed to the wound now - like a kiss – because he felt tired and with the adrenaline gone he was suddenly too weak to keep concious. “Okay.” He would have forgiven him anything right now. The feeling war bizarrely like he had been back in SHIELD, coloring the floor with his blood and being asked to be turned inhumane to live. Because he had said okay then too, on the same grounds.

As long as he isn’t alone it’s okay.

[iamkiwiblack]

Kiwi didn’t count the seconds or the minutes that they stay like that. Only that both of them were heavy and languid, and Kiwi was pressed closer to keep Jackson warm. To shove death off for just a little while longer—-

A characteristic cloud of blue and the smell of lit fireworks almost startled him out of his reverie. 

Kiwi lifted his head in a haze. From what, he couldn’t tell. Blood loss? No. Jackson had drank him to a trickle but he’d had worse. This was something else. 

"Kurt." was all he said, and tried not to slur the words. 

The man in blue looked with a perked black eyebrow between the two of them, and Kiwi mirrored it with a ‘don’t ask’ warning expression. But Kurt didn’t. Always a gentleman, and never one to judge. There was no one more honorable. 

"What has happened?" The other inquired, his accent still very thick and German. 

"Jackson." Kiwi put a hand on Jackson’s shoulder to stir him a little. "Jackson? Let Kurt look at your knees. Please," he added. 

Kurt’s eyebrow lifted at that again, but he came down in front of Jackson with something like an emergency medical kit in his hand. 

"He was shot. Once in each leg." Kiwi explained, standing back and making room for Kurt. 

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He doesn’t even notice when the mutant arrives. Sure, his handler lifts his head and talks in low soothing tones and he answers right back..

At his name he blinks open eyes he didn’t realize he had closed – just in time to see Agent Black shift back and stand up.

When his maker moves away Jackson starts to panic. Not visibly and not audibly but the pressure behind his eyes makes him ache in every inch of his body and he’s blinded by it.

The blood he drank just a mere minute ago burns in the burst of useless adrenaline now that he’s safe.

He wants to grab him by the clothes, drag him back by his hair or simply claw at something in a lost effort to make him stay.

But he doesn’t let himself cling, his expression pained and stoic as he blinks black the black and white and regains control over himself.

He isn’t expected to say anything here and he is grateful for that. His voice would break and that would be a mess.

[jacksonhoodofshield]

No suspicious activity (in dark alleys)

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He had hoped beyond all reason that simply having his handler close would make the pain go away – or at least less painful.

Of course it still hurt like before, but the despair he had been feeling crunched down to a minimum. His maker was now here and would handle it. He’s save. So he closed his eyes without a second hesitation when prompted.

He felt something like free-fall happening, his world suddenly off-tilt and on pure instinct he opened his eyes again to come face-to-face with the slightly yellow desk lamp before he was moved away and down and sat heavily onto the familiar couch, just opposite of the big TV he had spend most his nights in front of.

He tuned out most of what his handler said then (or he would have asked if he was a doctor on top of priest, superhero, mutant, shield employed and pain-in-the-ass too) and stared blindly at the black screen. That was until the sound of the phone snapping shut startled him and the sudden movement made the pain flare up.

[iamkiwiblack]

Kiwi dropped in front of Jackson, then, and was already inspecting the wounds in front of him. He was careful not to touch the boy’s knees, and his voice was quiet as he spoke. 

"The bone is shattered." Kiwi noted, and his shoulders dropped, and he sighed. "This will take time to heal."

Both knees were clean through-and-through shots. “She was close, wasn’t she? Small caliber. That’s very lucky for you. We can just wrap these and you just be fine.”

Kiwi checked his watch. “We have a minute.” 

Then, without saying another word, Kiwi jabbed a sharp, glassy nail into the curve of his wrist, hissing only a little with a jold of breath through clenched teeth. Crimson welled up at the site almost instantly, and Kiwi held it out. 

"Take it." he muttered, his own eyes turning from a very normal brown to nearly blackening pools of red. "And do it quickly. It’ll help you heal."

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He keeps his eyes on the black screen and only focuses on his handler when he leans in close because it would be rude to ignore him. He looks at his face, his very deep eyes that speak of centuries he can’t comprehend. He looks really pale, this close. His dark hair does nothing to hide this and only now does he notice that the lights have not been turned on, because there is no shadow.

His nightvision might be getting better, or the pain throws everything into sharper contrast.

Thinking about the pain makes it throb - as if answering or just reminding him he’s still hurt – and his composure cracks with a high noise of distress. He distantly feels that both his knees and legs are getting really cold and wished they’d turn numb too. There’s no escaping this though, it’s very unlikely he will get any painkillers because he will not be brought to a hospital. SHIELD medical might be the place where he’ll end up again.

He blinks a few times confused before he can even focus long enough to realize he’s being offered food. The pain of leaning forward travels down to his toes and leaves him gasping and biting down on his lip before he gets his lips around the bleeding spot on his maker’s wrist.

He wants to cling and crawl into his lap and possibly cry and wail and snarl and rip into something helpless – all his different wants are overshadowed by his thirst for blood and he’s calming as he drinks, the hurt a little soothed although it’s just mental and not actually healing.

[iamkiwiblack]

The keening noise that Jackson made broke  something in the hard-hearted New Zealander. 

The effect on him was nearly as tangible as a physical blow to the face. For the first time in a long time that he could remember,  Kiwi felt himself visibly flinch. 

Not because of the pain and the subtle pull of Jackson at his wrist. But there was an overwhelming feeling of wanting to take that hurt away, to make everything better, to chase away whatever pain had seized him. 

Kiwi drew a hiss from between his own teeth, but then his chin craned down again, and before he was consciously aware that he had moved, his other free hand draped with a hesitant touch on the back of Jackson’s head, and Kiwi found himself leaning over with his forehead touching Jackson’s shoulder and his nose shoved just in the curve of his throat. 

The next words that came from him as his thumb traced a small path through Jackson’s shorn hair were almost inaudible. 

" I should have been there." he sighed. "And I was not. Forgive me?"

[jacksonhoodofshield]

The blood is warm running on his tongue, burning like alcohol down his throat. Pooling in his stomach and warming him up from inside.

He can feel the first contact of his makers fingers on his neck - unbearably hot on his cold clammy skin. But he quickly warms up to it and relaxes, content to lick at the blood pooling out, while enjoying having his maker so close.

The sense of being connected has never been this strong before, just simply drinking his blood. While it was warm, it tasted different and always felt private. And intruding.

With the others face burrowed in his shoulder and his stubble rasping against his throat it felt like belonging.

He just had his lips pressed to the wound now - like a kiss – because he felt tired and with the adrenaline gone he was suddenly too weak to keep concious. “Okay.” He would have forgiven him anything right now. The feeling war bizarrely like he had been back in SHIELD, coloring the floor with his blood and being asked to be turned inhumane to live. Because he had said okay then too, on the same grounds.

As long as he isn’t alone it’s okay.

[jacksonhoodofshield]

Feasting on the Prey

[jacksonhoodofshield]

Read More

[amara-kota-deactivated20131217]

Read More

[jacksonhoodofshield]

Slowing down is not what he wants, but he nearly stops moving altogether (to him) while she’s twitching and moaning through her orgasm. She’s squeezing deliciously down on him and his breath stutters before he remembers he doesn’t actually need the air and after that it gets easier.

Her black eyes nearly suck him in when she looks up and grins, fingernails turning his skin aflame.

He moves in and down, covers her simply with his body feeling the urge to makehis flare then get snuffed out and pushes his face into her shoulder.

“Want one more?” He asks with his cheek pressed to her throat. He kisses her ear right where she has holes from wearing earrings before moving his lips back to her jaw, stroking his cheek along her skin and hearing his stubble rasp. He shaved this morning but it had always grown out rather quickly and apparently that didn’t change while being dead.

Her heartbeat is thrumming under his lips and he’s frozen in place there, the lure of her blood only separated by that thin layer of sweat covered skin.

He swallows with a too dry tongue and settles his hands on her breasts, loving the soft giving feel of them when he pushes and squeezes.

[jimmypapa]

A second (official) meeting / Jackson&James

[jacksonhoodofshield]

The corners of his lips turned up, forming a smile. “Yeah, never know what will happen without keeping a close eye on them” The only techs he knew were Amara and Lisa, he did not doubt that things could get hairy with a small margin of error. It kept things lively when it was quiet. That little reprieve from running around and getting things done. It was nice even for a short time. 

Once the fresh coffee was ready, James poured it into the mug he found and proceeded to search through the cabinets for honey or something to mix in. James preffered his coffee black with nothing in it, but when it came to night shifts he always added a bit of something to it. Never understood why he did it, but it seems to help get through the long hours. 

Still, it was funny to run into the same person he met at the club when he was somehow turned into a woman. Never figured out how or why, but it seems to be a regular occurrence on certain Wednesdays. Still can’t remember the damn name. Jason? Jeckles? Jensen? Jack? Jeffrey? Nah, he did not look like a Jeffrey. There was a chance that Amara may have mentioned something to the guy, but there was only one way to find out. 

"I don’t think we’ve met before. James Hyun" He said as he extended a hand out in greeting. 

 “Jackson Hood.” He answers steadily and shakes his hand, concentrating on not gripping too tight but probably still failing. (At least he doesn’t break fingers, right?)

It feels like his strength is always failing him when he needs it, but a nagging presence when he tries to blend in with his fellow humans.

“I’m on regular Night Shift. How about you?”

Maybe that’s from where he knows the smell of this one. Clinging to doors or walls when he passes them.

They spend a little time after that in silence both thinking, while James drinks a few sips of his coffee still watching him. Jackson decides that his own coffee is not worth drinking anymore and puts the ceramic in the sink, opening the fridge.

He finds his container easily, it’s the only thing with a honest-to-god lock on it. So far no one tried to open it and see what’s hiding inside.

He grabs for the chain around his neck that has additional to his dog tags also a key to his drink cooler. He opens it easily and takes a long drink.

Jackson could just rip the top off the metal container if he so pleases. He was careful enough to put food nearly in ever fridge on ever floor, should he ever feel hungry at work.

Locking it shut he puts it back in the fridge again and goes back to sit down by the homey wooden table.

Damn…this guy had a grip. Confident, which was a good quality. “Nice to meet you”  Getting his hand back, he gently massaged his knuckles and fingers. “Got a grip on you. At least this isn’t some testosterone battle or I’d have a broken hand” 

Just a slight ice breaker, nothing fancy here. “Day shift with the occasional night shift under my belt” It was a bit of a surprise that they haven’t met until now. Other than his little adventure in the club under something. Guess some people were just put straight on the night shift. Must suck should they ever be given a day shift. Their hours must be fucked up too. Lifting the mug to his lips, he enjoyed the fresh brew and sighed. 

Coffee was a godsend for hours like this. Of course, during the silence James was ever watchful. Waiting for the right moment to drop hints or something. With Amara he was more open about it, but he has never met Jackson until then and now. Should be interesting. “So you’re the guy putting those locked bottles in the fridges” Commented James, watching Jackson open the container and drink from it before locking it up and putting it back inside. 

"I’m not going to pry or anything…But I’m guessing its something to help you get through?" Must’ve been in an accident or something. "Or is it some special brew for long nights?" He smiled a bit

He doesn’t comment on the guy’s hurt, it looks like playing up on his part. But he laughs – well more like exhaling through his nose while smiling – so he doesn’t seem unfriendly.

Jackson smiles, easy and big and with no teeth so it doesn’t show if they are tinted pinker. He always uses this smile to throw people off scent when they’ve poked their noses too close.

It’s a rarity but he really doesn’t want this guy to pack out an army knife and level apart his bottle cap. He shrugs then, the motion running through his whole body. “It certainly helps me get through the night without murdering anyone.”

He lets that sink in for a little, until the other one catches the joke. Then he lets his grin become lopsided, messy and funny. To take the bite out of his words. To deflect. “Like nosey shift-switchers.”

[jimmypapa]

"I can certainly agree with the murdering part. Good thing coffee is around or the world would have even more crazy people" He laughed a bit and then fell silent with a shake of his head. "But Like I said, I’m not prying on whatever that is. Might be some magic juice that only you can handle" It was just odd that it was chained up like that. Safety first. 

Drinking more of his own coffee and finishing it, even if his mouth  burned from the hot liquid, James walked over to the sink to wash the cup and set it aside to dry on the rack. “Just out of curiosity, mostly because of how you carry yourself…Military?” Even if he was wrong about that, it could also be cop or government. Either or. 

Of course, James held up his hands in defense. “Hey now, it’s only on occasion and what the boss wants.”

[jacksonhoodofshield]

“I just don’t want to share. There are people here that rift through the fridge and eat and drink whatever is unlocked.” He doesn’t like how this guy insists on it being something special. Which it actually is. Which is why he doesn’t like the implication.

Jackson had just decided to leave when he’s held up by a conversation starter again. Apparently this guy really wants to make friends.

But he himself still doesn’t feel very safe around him, with that confusing thought of I know this one. But he has never seen him before.

He gets out his old trusty cell phone and sends Amara a quick message. While he does this he answers with the sweetest smile that hides all of his amusement. – But it’s directed at his phone.

“I’m just an Agent, like you.”

[jacksonhoodofshield]

No suspicious activity (in dark alleys)

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He sees it coming but it still surprises him when it happens.

He’d meant to distract her just a little. He hadn’t thought she’d just disregard the possibility of a camera without even a blink of an eye.

The pain hits him all at once, when he takes the fall with his shoulder. He’s blinded from the pain for long seconds and her words seem quieter through the rush of his blood. He still heard her though and he’s furious.

“You will regret this you bitch!” He puts both hands flat on the ground and pushes himself up, but there’s no escaping the pain that causes. He grinds his teeth against it and blinks after her retreating back. The alley and the street are put into sharp focus. The lights that spill into the alley hurt his eyes but he keeps his eyes on her until she walks out of sight.

Then he unlocks his jaw and whimpers, fingers digging into his hips and chest heaving with his breaths but there’s no counter for this intense pain.

He drags himself over the floor to one of the dirty walls to lean against, his hands digging into the beer can like a lifeline.

It takes ages for him to remember that he has a phone and maybe he should call for help. By the time his fingers fumble through his phones contact list and the dial tone’s in his ear his pants have soaked through and he’s shivering hard enough so he drops the half-empty open beer can and adds to the mess.

When the familiar voice snaps at him he grabs for the pack that’s close by, hugging it hard enough to have it dig into his stomach. Because he had been out to get this, surely if he calls for pick-up and doesn’t have them that’s bad. Right?

[iamkiwiblack]

"Now what?" 

Kiwi’s voice was a snap, and he reached for his phone. Saw that it was Jackson calling. Frowned more. 

Pushing the button with an irritated hiss, he answered. ” What?”

There was quiet for a moment on the line. 

"This had better be a goddamned fucking joke, or I am going to run your ass into the ground, Joey."

Another moment. 

"Slow the fuck down. Who shot you?”

Pause. 

The description matched a recent, new addition to SHIELD’s database of top most-wanted criminals. Kiwi swore under his breath, and then said, “Given who you just ran into, you’re lucky you still have your fuckin’ head. Sit tight. I’m coming.”

Kiwi thought another moment.

"If the beer is gone I’m gonna knock your fucking teeth out, a’right?"

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He felt miserable, cold, hurting and all that blood – his own – made him so nauseous he pushed his hand against his stomach in a cute attempt to keep the food in him.

And his maker yelling at him through the phone just made him want to curl up and whimper, but he held steady and clutched the beer closer to himself.

He would be alright, he’d be home soon. He’ll accept being put in house arrest for the rest of the century, though. Second time out and he manages to get put out of commission for month.

Or does he heal faster now? His head is swimming, he can’t focus.

“I got it.” He says and his voice is high on pain, and the desperation bleeds through. “I was on my way back. I was.” He remembered wanting to take the long road though, and the guilt is adding to his weight, dragging him down. He sinks back against the dirty wall, having crawled and clawed his way there, leaving a bloody path.

The world is tinted red in his vision, the cooling blood a fluorescent color he can’t identify, something he has no name for.

[iamkiwiblack]

Tracking Jackson down wasn’t hard. Kiwi could feel the man’s presence in the back of his mind like some phantom pain. Like a distant string tied to his wrist and winding through the city and through several alleyways. Kiwi followed the trail to one particular out of the way dark—-

"Shit." 

That slipped out before Kiwi could really contain it. And then he swore to himself, because usually he was better at keeping his composure than that. The smell of blood was fresh. And there was something else, too. A lingering smell like a cold snowy day, and just underneath it, something akin to burning trees——

Mephisto. 

Kiwi’s lips thinned in a near-snarl, but he tossed that notion aside for a moment, and went to Jackson. 

Kneeling beside the boy … fuck. Jackson was a Newborn, and would heal, but not quickly. Kiwi’s eyes danced over the damage, and his hand rest on Jackson’s shoulder. 

"You fucking idiot." 

That was the first think he said, but he looked up with eyes that started to turn crimson, and there was no look of anger or harshness about it. Rather, the expression was… something else. 

"I’m going to get you home. We’re taking a shortcut. Just close your eyes. And don’t retch on me."

In a moment, they disappeared in a cloud of red smoke. 

They came back in Kiwi’s apartment, and Kiwi winced, and helped Jackson to the couch, managing to look weary at the same time. “Just sit tight for a minute… “

Kiwi fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. 

"Kurt. It’s me." pause. "Well who the hell do you think? Hey listen up. You got about twenty minutes? Pull yourself away from your damned real life wet dream and get your fuzzy ass down to my place would’ya? I need a doc who won’t ask questions. You feel me?" another pause. "Great. See you soon."

And he snapped his phone shut. 

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He had hoped beyond all reason that simply having his handler close would make the pain go away – or at least less painful.

Of course it still hurt like before, but the despair he had been feeling crunched down to a minimum. His maker was now here and would handle it. He’s save. So he closed his eyes without a second hesitation when prompted.

He felt something like free-fall happening, his world suddenly off-tilt and on pure instinct he opened his eyes again to come face-to-face with the slightly yellow desk lamp before he was moved away and down and sat heavily onto the familiar couch, just opposite of the big TV he had spend most his nights in front of.

He tuned out most of what his handler said then (or he would have asked if he was a doctor on top of priest, superhero, mutant, shield employed and pain-in-the-ass too) and stared blindly at the black screen. That was until the sound of the phone snapping shut startled him and the sudden movement made the pain flare up.

[iamkiwiblack]

Kiwi dropped in front of Jackson, then, and was already inspecting the wounds in front of him. He was careful not to touch the boy’s knees, and his voice was quiet as he spoke. 

"The bone is shattered." Kiwi noted, and his shoulders dropped, and he sighed. "This will take time to heal."

Both knees were clean through-and-through shots. “She was close, wasn’t she? Small caliber. That’s very lucky for you. We can just wrap these and you just be fine.”

Kiwi checked his watch. “We have a minute.” 

Then, without saying another word, Kiwi jabbed a sharp, glassy nail into the curve of his wrist, hissing only a little with a jold of breath through clenched teeth. Crimson welled up at the site almost instantly, and Kiwi held it out. 

"Take it." he muttered, his own eyes turning from a very normal brown to nearly blackening pools of red. "And do it quickly. It’ll help you heal."

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He keeps his eyes on the black screen and only focuses on his handler when he leans in close because it would be rude to ignore him. He looks at his face, his very deep eyes that speak of centuries he can’t comprehend. He looks really pale, this close. His dark hair does nothing to hide this and only now does he notice that the lights have not been turned on, because there is no shadow.

His nightvision might be getting better, or the pain throws everything into sharper contrast.

Thinking about the pain makes it throb - as if answering or just reminding him he’s still hurt – and his composure cracks with a high noise of distress. He distantly feels that both his knees and legs are getting really cold and wished they’d turn numb too. There’s no escaping this though, it’s very unlikely he will get any painkillers because he will not be brought to a hospital. SHIELD medical might be the place where he’ll end up again.

He blinks a few times confused before he can even focus long enough to realize he’s being offered food. The pain of leaning forward travels down to his toes and leaves him gasping and biting down on his lip before he gets his lips around the bleeding spot on his maker’s wrist.

He wants to cling and crawl into his lap and possibly cry and wail and snarl and rip into something helpless – all his different wants are overshadowed by his thirst for blood and he’s calming as he drinks, the hurt a little soothed although it’s just mental and not actually healing.

[jacksonhoodofshield]

Once burned

He’s shredding the equipment but no one seems to care. He had found himself a spot in a local gym around the same time SHIELD offered him a job. He had always found time to go and train but with the sudden changes to his DNA he had evaded the spot.

Thankfully they are open non-stop and he can pound away at sandbags all night long if he so pleases. He had scared away the men previously working a few feet away and now only the owner seems to be watching him. It makes him tense, and furious all of sudden and with the next punch he rips the thing right off the hook and his whole hand breaks through the material into the soft filling. The bag spills it’s guts on the floor and the anger is gone as sudden as it came.

The owner charges him for it - calm as ever and totally unconcerned - but hints that a guy like him should do this professional, while his body is still young.

Jackson doesn’t laugh or cry or do any of this. He also doesn’t accept the offer.

[ashe-matsumoto-deactivated20150]

On the nights that she tossed and turned, going to the gym or just a late night run always eased her troubled thoughts. Did it give her a good night sleep? No, but it exhausted her so much that Ashe just passes out as soon as she gets home. Better than not sleeping at all. Of course it fucked up her schedule and left her with barely any sleep whenever she had to head into work. 

But that was life. This time, a late night run was not cutting it and it was luck that a 24/7 gym was just up ahead. Entering the building, she scanned the area for the owner to see if she could use the equipment just for this night. Or maybe more should something like this happen again. Might as well since she only used the training facility at SHIELD to do anything. 

Stuffing her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie, Ashe was about to ask someone where the owner was when her eyes landed on a familiar face. Was that…It was. She had not seen him since their last meeting at the cafeteria and it was quite a bit of take in. “Jackson-san” She called out, walking and stopping halfway toward him. Just in case he was not in the mood, especially with the gutted sandbag on the floor.

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He’s left alone after he doesn’t answer to the offer and he can feel how displeased the owner is about his silence. Surely he expected him to fall all over himself at the chance of punching out guys for money.

He thinks about getting a dustpan or a vaccuumer to straighten out the mess he made with the sandbag. Or he could just leave like an asshole and let it lie for the cleaning lady.

In the end he can’t do neither because he notices movement to his right. He turns his heard towards it slightly curious but not feeling threatened.

When he notices that it is Ashe he smiles – even if he’s suspicious what she’s doing here at this time of night, in his favourite gym.

It would take the air out of the pleasant surprise if she’s here because someone told her to.

“Hey, Ashe.“

[ashe-matsumoto-deactivated20150]

Seeing him smile, she took it as a sign that it was alright to approach. No need to step on eggshells. Walking closer, she placed her hands on her hips and raised a brow. “Tough night?” Might as well ask and if he did not want to answer, then she’ll just change topics until she is told to go away. 

"Although I think a better question is…How are you? Doing alright?" Ashe’s eyes were scanning the area, mostly out of habit, wanting to know where the exits are. The gym was unfamiliar to her and it was better to know where she can make a quick escape should anything happen. Doubtful, but with the way the world was progressing…No one really knew. 

Maybe she should help him clean up the mess. It was a courteous thing to do too. “Clean up on aisle 3?” Offered Ashe with a light shrug. Nothing but questions, pathetic. But her mind could not think of much other than questions. Which was the reason why she could not sleep tonight. Too many questions plaguing her. 

[jacksonhoodofshield]

His bad mood seems to deflate a little at her obvious joy in having met him. He’s still not totally convinced or even content, but he can put aside the need to flatten another sandbag and talk to her. At least until she goes to bed.

He could guard her home this night, he thinks. But she doesn’t seem afraid of the dangers lurking, or even just nervous. No, he’ll not burden her with his possessive instincts. Some days he doesn’t feel any superior than dogs pissing on lampposts.

He lets her run out of questions first, before shrugging. “I think so.” Which is actually the only answer he can give to all three of her questions.

He looks around for a dustpan they can use to get the sand back where it belongs, or at least into a trash can.

“I am still getting used to stuff.” He says and it’s such an obvious lie he cringes at himself. He justifies it with not wanting to unload on Ashe, who came here troubled looking for physical tiredness.

[ashe-matsumoto-deactivated20150]

Spotting a dust pan in the far corner, Ashe walked over while listening to Jackson and even grabbed a trash can to wheel it over. “Want to talk a bit or something?” It was a bit awkward for her since she never really played the ‘friend with a shoulder’ role before, offering advice. It was more of the ‘silent listener’ while doing something. Like running or having a drink. 

"I’ll find another dustpan to help out" She offered and started to look around. Hearing that he was still getting used to stuff, she looked at him and smiled a bit. "What’s that saying again…baby steps?" It sounded right and yet it didn’t at the same time. English sayings were quite different from Japanese. 

"Ahah…there’s another one. Just a moment Jackson" With that, she lightly jogged over to the dustpan under a window and came back, crouching to start sweeping up the sand into the pan. "What have you been up to? Anything new?" Small talk…more questions. She needed a filter now. 

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He shakes his head but Ashe isn’t looking at him anymore, but instead walking around until she finds a second dustpan.

He hadn’t even started cleaning up. Now he feels bad for that and crouches down, disposing the sand in the bucket the owner helpfully put down near them.

“It will get easier.” He tells her and himself. “Im just still not used to it.” This is his daily mantra when his body reacts different than it had before. In times like these he always felt betrayed and angry, all these urges that are not his bleeding through when he’s feeling low.

He would have never wanted to know how it would feel to bite the head off a pigeon. But now that he saw it once on TV as a circus act, he can’t help but wonder…

Shaking his head vehemently he crouches down again, putting both his hands into the sand to see them disappear wrist-deep.

It makes him think of the beach. White sand, crystal blue waves, burning sun. Burning.

Agent Black is right. He needs to let go of all these human things and regrets. It’s just.. so hard.

[jacksonhoodofshield]

Feasting on the Prey

[jacksonhoodofshield]

amara-kota:

Read More

[amara-kota-deactivated20131217]

Read More

[jacksonhoodofshield]

  He had his teeth in the soft pillow before she had even drawn breath to tell him. It had been pure instinct. Something soft shoved into his face could only mean food being offered. He’s confused for the split second it takes him to realize that the pillow doesn’t bleed. Then he grounds his teeth together in frustration.

It was hard to breathe until she let go of the pillow and he could spit the foul tasting thing out again

It had put him into focus again, he could breathe and relax a little better despite Amara trying to force higher thoughts out again.

That needs to stop, he thinks. She needs to slow down a little, or it’s already over and he’s unwilling to fall into the sweet completion just yet.

So when she urges him on he grins and his fangs give it a dangerous edge. He relocates one of his hands to her shoulder and pushes up when she has been shoving down, putting her off-focus with the change in rhythm. Then he uses this small opening and rolls them both over until she’s on her back, both his hands on her shoulders now, keeping her pinned.

He needs to breathe past the urge for rough and violent again and when he finds his calm once more he smiles and bends down, kissing her between her breasts. Licking the sweat off her skin.

“Just lie back and come, sweetheart.” He grabs with his left hand under her leg, moving it up and laying it on his shoulder. “I’m positive you can catch up again.”

He shoulders forward, moving his hips flush against her and pushing inside until he’s as deep as he can go - and then grinding down. His own breathing stutters at the pleasant ache and he flexes the fingers of his right hand where he’s still pushing her into the mattress.

[jacksonhoodofshield]

No suspicious activity (in dark alleys)

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He sees it coming but it still surprises him when it happens.

He’d meant to distract her just a little. He hadn’t thought she’d just disregard the possibility of a camera without even a blink of an eye.

The pain hits him all at once, when he takes the fall with his shoulder. He’s blinded from the pain for long seconds and her words seem quieter through the rush of his blood. He still heard her though and he’s furious.

“You will regret this you bitch!” He puts both hands flat on the ground and pushes himself up, but there’s no escaping the pain that causes. He grinds his teeth against it and blinks after her retreating back. The alley and the street are put into sharp focus. The lights that spill into the alley hurt his eyes but he keeps his eyes on her until she walks out of sight.

Then he unlocks his jaw and whimpers, fingers digging into his hips and chest heaving with his breaths but there’s no counter for this intense pain.

He drags himself over the floor to one of the dirty walls to lean against, his hands digging into the beer can like a lifeline.

It takes ages for him to remember that he has a phone and maybe he should call for help. By the time his fingers fumble through his phones contact list and the dial tone’s in his ear his pants have soaked through and he’s shivering hard enough so he drops the half-empty open beer can and adds to the mess.

When the familiar voice snaps at him he grabs for the pack that’s close by, hugging it hard enough to have it dig into his stomach. Because he had been out to get this, surely if he calls for pick-up and doesn’t have them that’s bad. Right?

[iamkiwiblack]

"Now what?" 

Kiwi’s voice was a snap, and he reached for his phone. Saw that it was Jackson calling. Frowned more. 

Pushing the button with an irritated hiss, he answered. ” What?”

There was quiet for a moment on the line. 

"This had better be a goddamned fucking joke, or I am going to run your ass into the ground, Joey."

Another moment. 

"Slow the fuck down. Who shot you?”

Pause. 

The description matched a recent, new addition to SHIELD’s database of top most-wanted criminals. Kiwi swore under his breath, and then said, “Given who you just ran into, you’re lucky you still have your fuckin’ head. Sit tight. I’m coming.”

Kiwi thought another moment.

"If the beer is gone I’m gonna knock your fucking teeth out, a’right?"

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He felt miserable, cold, hurting and all that blood – his own – made him so nauseous he pushed his hand against his stomach in a cute attempt to keep the food in him.

And his maker yelling at him through the phone just made him want to curl up and whimper, but he held steady and clutched the beer closer to himself.

He would be alright, he’d be home soon. He’ll accept being put in house arrest for the rest of the century, though. Second time out and he manages to get put out of commission for month.

Or does he heal faster now? His head is swimming, he can’t focus.

“I got it.” He says and his voice is high on pain, and the desperation bleeds through. “I was on my way back. I was.” He remembered wanting to take the long road though, and the guilt is adding to his weight, dragging him down. He sinks back against the dirty wall, having crawled and clawed his way there, leaving a bloody path.

The world is tinted red in his vision, the cooling blood a fluorescent color he can’t identify, something he has no name for.

[iamkiwiblack]

Tracking Jackson down wasn’t hard. Kiwi could feel the man’s presence in the back of his mind like some phantom pain. Like a distant string tied to his wrist and winding through the city and through several alleyways. Kiwi followed the trail to one particular out of the way dark—-

"Shit." 

That slipped out before Kiwi could really contain it. And then he swore to himself, because usually he was better at keeping his composure than that. The smell of blood was fresh. And there was something else, too. A lingering smell like a cold snowy day, and just underneath it, something akin to burning trees——

Mephisto. 

Kiwi’s lips thinned in a near-snarl, but he tossed that notion aside for a moment, and went to Jackson. 

Kneeling beside the boy … fuck. Jackson was a Newborn, and would heal, but not quickly. Kiwi’s eyes danced over the damage, and his hand rest on Jackson’s shoulder. 

"You fucking idiot." 

That was the first think he said, but he looked up with eyes that started to turn crimson, and there was no look of anger or harshness about it. Rather, the expression was… something else. 

"I’m going to get you home. We’re taking a shortcut. Just close your eyes. And don’t retch on me."

In a moment, they disappeared in a cloud of red smoke. 

They came back in Kiwi’s apartment, and Kiwi winced, and helped Jackson to the couch, managing to look weary at the same time. “Just sit tight for a minute… “

Kiwi fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. 

"Kurt. It’s me." pause. "Well who the hell do you think? Hey listen up. You got about twenty minutes? Pull yourself away from your damned real life wet dream and get your fuzzy ass down to my place would’ya? I need a doc who won’t ask questions. You feel me?" another pause. "Great. See you soon."

And he snapped his phone shut. 

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He had hoped beyond all reason that simply having his handler close would make the pain go away – or at least less painful.

Of course it still hurt like before, but the despair he had been feeling crunched down to a minimum. His maker was now here and would handle it. He’s save. So he closed his eyes without a second hesitation when prompted.

He felt something like free-fall happening, his world suddenly off-tilt and on pure instinct he opened his eyes again to come face-to-face with the slightly yellow desk lamp before he was moved away and down and sat heavily onto the familiar couch, just opposite of the big TV he had spend most his nights in front of.

He tuned out most of what his handler said then (or he would have asked if he was a doctor on top of priest, superhero, mutant, shield employed and pain-in-the-ass too) and stared blindly at the black screen. That was until the sound of the phone snapping shut startled him and the sudden movement made the pain flare up.

[jimmypapa]

A second (official) meeting / Jackson&James

It was strange to be coming in for a night shift. Especially since he didn’t know who was going to be working, since most of the people he knew worked during the day. Most. He figured Amara and Lisa might still be around finishing up projects. Stuffing his backpack into his locket, James then shut the door and locked it. He was going to need a whole lot of coffee just to get through tonight and to get home. 

At least the break room was close to where he needed to go to see what had to be done. Be it training, paperwork or just some odd job. Briskly making his way to said break room to get his first cup of java, the man checked his phone for any messages. He did have one, it was from his neighbor watching over Alice tonight. He couldn’t help but smile at the picture of Alice covered in glittered showing the drawing she made. 

That was going to be a hell of a clean up. Because glitter was hard to get rid of. Fun fun. Stuffing the phone back into his pocket, he entered the break room and went straight for the coffee machine. Of course, he noticed that someone else was there. While he waited for the damn thing to brew, he turned to greet the man. Before he could open his mouth, James noticed that he had met him before. At the club when he was still a woman. Oh…What was his name again? It started with a J that was for sure. 

This was going to be interesting. “Ready for a long night?” 

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He should just give up on coffee, he decides. He doesn’t feel the caffeine, he can’t taste the rich flavour and it’s not enough to simply smell it anymore.

It’s just depressing him down to his bones. But still he makes himself a fresh cup every morning. He’s just like his mother. Dad always liked coffee but Mom never liked the taste of it – but the smell still was drenched in every childhood memory.

He picks up his lukewarm coffee and walks over to the sink, dumping the whole contents in there. He watches the brown fluid run into the drain, not knowing why he just did that. It felt like a good idea.

Maybe he should visit their graves and tell them what’s been going on in his life. It feels fitting, between the dead and all.

He turns around when he can hear someone approaching. But the person still needs a whole half minute until he walks through the door. Jackson has made himself a new coffee in that time and stares at the guy, leaning back against the small fridge, taking a sip of warm water for all that it tastes like nothing.

“Like always.” Is what he says, rising one shoulder in a gesture that he couldn’t care less. He’s just waiting on Amara to finish her overtime. There’s still no one who would or could train with him and his handler’s disappeared into the ether again. “Someone needs to keep an eye on the squirrels.”

He’s smiling and thinking hard not about Lisa. He fails and smiles and- The guy smells familiar, he suddenly realizes.

Well, he works here long enough. Maybe he’s met him and forgot his name? Shit. Ah, no matter.

[jimmypapa]

The corners of his lips turned up, forming a smile. “Yeah, never know what will happen without keeping a close eye on them” The only techs he knew were Amara and Lisa, he did not doubt that things could get hairy with a small margin of error. It kept things lively when it was quiet. That little reprieve from running around and getting things done. It was nice even for a short time. 

Once the fresh coffee was ready, James poured it into the mug he found and proceeded to search through the cabinets for honey or something to mix in. James preffered his coffee black with nothing in it, but when it came to night shifts he always added a bit of something to it. Never understood why he did it, but it seems to help get through the long hours. 

Still, it was funny to run into the same person he met at the club when he was somehow turned into a woman. Never figured out how or why, but it seems to be a regular occurrence on certain Wednesdays. Still can’t remember the damn name. Jason? Jeckles? Jensen? Jack? Jeffrey? Nah, he did not look like a Jeffrey. There was a chance that Amara may have mentioned something to the guy, but there was only one way to find out. 

"I don’t think we’ve met before. James Hyun" He said as he extended a hand out in greeting. 

[jacksonhoodofshield]

 “Jackson Hood.” He answers steadily and shakes his hand, concentrating on not gripping too tight but probably still failing. (At least he doesn’t break fingers, right?)

It feels like his strength is always failing him when he needs it, but a nagging presence when he tries to blend in with his fellow humans.

“I’m on regular Night Shift. How about you?”

Maybe that’s from where he knows the smell of this one. Clinging to doors or walls when he passes them.

They spend a little time after that in silence both thinking, while James drinks a few sips of his coffee still watching him. Jackson decides that his own coffee is not worth drinking anymore and puts the ceramic in the sink, opening the fridge.

He finds his container easily, it’s the only thing with a honest-to-god lock on it. So far no one tried to open it and see what’s hiding inside.

He grabs for the chain around his neck that has additional to his dog tags also a key to his drink cooler. He opens it easily and takes a long drink.

Jackson could just rip the top off the metal container if he so pleases. He was careful enough to put food nearly in ever fridge on ever floor, should he ever feel hungry at work.

Locking it shut he puts it back in the fridge again and goes back to sit down by the homey wooden table.

[jimmypapa]

Damn…this guy had a grip. Confident, which was a good quality. “Nice to meet you”  Getting his hand back, he gently massaged his knuckles and fingers. “Got a grip on you. At least this isn’t some testosterone battle or I’d have a broken hand” 

Just a slight ice breaker, nothing fancy here. “Day shift with the occasional night shift under my belt” It was a bit of a surprise that they haven’t met until now. Other than his little adventure in the club under something. Guess some people were just put straight on the night shift. Must suck should they ever be given a day shift. Their hours must be fucked up too. Lifting the mug to his lips, he enjoyed the fresh brew and sighed. 

Coffee was a godsend for hours like this. Of course, during the silence James was ever watchful. Waiting for the right moment to drop hints or something. With Amara he was more open about it, but he has never met Jackson until then and now. Should be interesting. “So you’re the guy putting those locked bottles in the fridges” Commented James, watching Jackson open the container and drink from it before locking it up and putting it back inside. 

"I’m not going to pry or anything…But I’m guessing its something to help you get through?" Must’ve been in an accident or something. "Or is it some special brew for long nights?" He smiled a bit

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He doesn’t comment on the guy’s hurt, it looks like playing up on his part. But he laughs – well more like exhaling through his nose while smiling – so he doesn’t seem unfriendly.

Jackson smiles, easy and big and with no teeth so it doesn’t show if they are tinted pinker. He always uses this smile to throw people off scent when they’ve poked their noses too close.

It’s a rarity but he really doesn’t want this guy to pack out an army knife and level apart his bottle cap. He shrugs then, the motion running through his whole body. “It certainly helps me get through the night without murdering anyone.”

He lets that sink in for a little, until the other one catches the joke. Then he lets his grin become lopsided, messy and funny. To take the bite out of his words. To deflect. “Like nosey shift-switchers.”

[jacksonhoodofshield]

Feasting on the Prey

[amara-kota-deactivated20131217]

She’s watching him with more attention than she’d usually give to another man in his current position, waiting to see how he reacts. He doesn’t seem to be fighting or anxious, and rather sinks back a little into the sheets, relaxing. The expression on his face and the heat coiling in her core are all the encouragement she needs.

She leans down and presses a hard kiss to his lips before letting go of his hands, rocking her hips against him as she builds up a faster rhythm. She’s still slamming down hard, breath almost forced from her in moans and curses as she rides him.

She looks back down at him, a grin on her face that is all mischief and lust rolled into one because fuck, this is even more fun than she’d thought it would be. Her nails rake down his chest, pressing just hard enough for her to properly feel gooseflesh rise to meet her fingertips.

[jacksonhoodofshield]

The moment she frees his hands he doesn’t even notice it, too caught in sensations of the speed picking up. When she laughs, he nearly comes undone but is able to cling to it with his fingernails.

His hands move on their own, latching onto her thighs and edging closer, until he gets a good solid grip that grounds him.

He’s shivering, feeling feverish but this is something he remembers, he still experiences being close the same way, then.

Except he grinds his teeth against it in a sloppy grin, not yet, too soon but of course Amara’s going to make it difficult for him, deliciously riding her own high and he’s gasping for breath again.

He’s still panting when his teeth grow, fangs made for feeding and owning and he’s helpless to draw them back in again.

Closing his mouth would do it. But then his moans would have nowhere to go.

He might need something to bite down into, to quell both the need to bite and those embarrassing sounds - but the only thing available he’d actually sink his teeth into is his own arm … and the arm with the hand attached to it doesn’t want to leave its place where he’s painting Amara’s hips red with his fingerprints.

[jacksonhoodofshield]

No suspicious activity (in dark alleys)

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He sees it coming but it still surprises him when it happens.

He’d meant to distract her just a little. He hadn’t thought she’d just disregard the possibility of a camera without even a blink of an eye.

The pain hits him all at once, when he takes the fall with his shoulder. He’s blinded from the pain for long seconds and her words seem quieter through the rush of his blood. He still heard her though and he’s furious.

“You will regret this you bitch!” He puts both hands flat on the ground and pushes himself up, but there’s no escaping the pain that causes. He grinds his teeth against it and blinks after her retreating back. The alley and the street are put into sharp focus. The lights that spill into the alley hurt his eyes but he keeps his eyes on her until she walks out of sight.

Then he unlocks his jaw and whimpers, fingers digging into his hips and chest heaving with his breaths but there’s no counter for this intense pain.

He drags himself over the floor to one of the dirty walls to lean against, his hands digging into the beer can like a lifeline.

It takes ages for him to remember that he has a phone and maybe he should call for help. By the time his fingers fumble through his phones contact list and the dial tone’s in his ear his pants have soaked through and he’s shivering hard enough so he drops the half-empty open beer can and adds to the mess.

When the familiar voice snaps at him he grabs for the pack that’s close by, hugging it hard enough to have it dig into his stomach. Because he had been out to get this, surely if he calls for pick-up and doesn’t have them that’s bad. Right?

[iamkiwiblack]

"Now what?" 

Kiwi’s voice was a snap, and he reached for his phone. Saw that it was Jackson calling. Frowned more. 

Pushing the button with an irritated hiss, he answered. ” What?”

There was quiet for a moment on the line. 

"This had better be a goddamned fucking joke, or I am going to run your ass into the ground, Joey."

Another moment. 

"Slow the fuck down. Who shot you?”

Pause. 

The description matched a recent, new addition to SHIELD’s database of top most-wanted criminals. Kiwi swore under his breath, and then said, “Given who you just ran into, you’re lucky you still have your fuckin’ head. Sit tight. I’m coming.”

Kiwi thought another moment.

"If the beer is gone I’m gonna knock your fucking teeth out, a’right?"

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He felt miserable, cold, hurting and all that blood – his own – made him so nauseous he pushed his hand against his stomach in a cute attempt to keep the food in him.

And his maker yelling at him through the phone just made him want to curl up and whimper, but he held steady and clutched the beer closer to himself.

He would be alright, he’d be home soon. He’ll accept being put in house arrest for the rest of the century, though. Second time out and he manages to get put out of commission for month.

Or does he heal faster now? His head is swimming, he can’t focus.

“I got it.” He says and his voice is high on pain, and the desperation bleeds through. “I was on my way back. I was.” He remembered wanting to take the long road though, and the guilt is adding to his weight, dragging him down. He sinks back against the dirty wall, having crawled and clawed his way there, leaving a bloody path.

The world is tinted red in his vision, the cooling blood a fluorescent color he can’t identify, something he has no name for.

[jacksonhoodofshield]

Feasting on the Prey

[amara-kota-deactivated20131217]

Read More

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He is thankful that he has no need for air then, as she kisses him and it would have left him breathless if he would have any air left at this point.

But then he wouldn’t be this desperately clinging to his control, if he were still a person that needs to breathe.

He fingers twitch against hers where they’re laced together and that feels – as if he’s trapped. Sucked of all his strength he fears so much right now and he finally just lets it loose. That last bit of control he had clung to with tooth and nails. And he realizes he’s not freefalling now, he’s burning hot with desire, there’s a growl lodged in his throat, he wants to scrape his teeth into her skin and leave marks, get a grip on her beautiful dark skin and take over.

But her smile is disarming, a grin at the edges, as if she’s won a prize and the fight is not gone, but it’s not a need. He lets out the sound still in his throat and it morphs into a moan.

He wants it fast, rough, bloody, MINDLESS– …but she won’t let him and that’s okay, that’s perfect. He won’t say no to what she wants. He will just enjoy the ride.

[jimmypapa]

A second (official) meeting / Jackson&James

It was strange to be coming in for a night shift. Especially since he didn’t know who was going to be working, since most of the people he knew worked during the day. Most. He figured Amara and Lisa might still be around finishing up projects. Stuffing his backpack into his locket, James then shut the door and locked it. He was going to need a whole lot of coffee just to get through tonight and to get home. 

At least the break room was close to where he needed to go to see what had to be done. Be it training, paperwork or just some odd job. Briskly making his way to said break room to get his first cup of java, the man checked his phone for any messages. He did have one, it was from his neighbor watching over Alice tonight. He couldn’t help but smile at the picture of Alice covered in glittered showing the drawing she made. 

That was going to be a hell of a clean up. Because glitter was hard to get rid of. Fun fun. Stuffing the phone back into his pocket, he entered the break room and went straight for the coffee machine. Of course, he noticed that someone else was there. While he waited for the damn thing to brew, he turned to greet the man. Before he could open his mouth, James noticed that he had met him before. At the club when he was still a woman. Oh…What was his name again? It started with a J that was for sure. 

This was going to be interesting. “Ready for a long night?” 

[jacksonhoodofshield]

He should just give up on coffee, he decides. He doesn’t feel the caffeine, he can’t taste the rich flavour and it’s not enough to simply smell it anymore.

It’s just depressing him down to his bones. But still he makes himself a fresh cup every morning. He’s just like his mother. Dad always liked coffee but Mom never liked the taste of it – but the smell still was drenched in every childhood memory.

He picks up his lukewarm coffee and walks over to the sink, dumping the whole contents in there. He watches the brown fluid run into the drain, not knowing why he just did that. It felt like a good idea.

Maybe he should visit their graves and tell them what’s been going on in his life. It feels fitting, between the dead and all.

He turns around when he can hear someone approaching. But the person still needs a whole half minute until he walks through the door. Jackson has made himself a new coffee in that time and stares at the guy, leaning back against the small fridge, taking a sip of warm water for all that it tastes like nothing.

“Like always.” Is what he says, rising one shoulder in a gesture that he couldn’t care less. He’s just waiting on Amara to finish her overtime. There’s still no one who would or could train with him and his handler’s disappeared into the ether again. “Someone needs to keep an eye on the squirrels.”

He’s smiling and thinking hard not about Lisa. He fails and smiles and- The guy smells familiar, he suddenly realizes.

Well, he works here long enough. Maybe he’s met him and forgot his name? Shit. Ah, no matter.

[jimmypapa]

The corners of his lips turned up, forming a smile. “Yeah, never know what will happen without keeping a close eye on them” The only techs he knew were Amara and Lisa, he did not doubt that things could get hairy with a small margin of error. It kept things lively when it was quiet. That little reprieve from running around and getting things done. It was nice even for a short time. 

Once the fresh coffee was ready, James poured it into the mug he found and proceeded to search through the cabinets for honey or something to mix in. James preffered his coffee black with nothing in it, but when it came to night shifts he always added a bit of something to it. Never understood why he did it, but it seems to help get through the long hours. 

Still, it was funny to run into the same person he met at the club when he was somehow turned into a woman. Never figured out how or why, but it seems to be a regular occurrence on certain Wednesdays. Still can’t remember the damn name. Jason? Jeckles? Jensen? Jack? Jeffrey? Nah, he did not look like a Jeffrey. There was a chance that Amara may have mentioned something to the guy, but there was only one way to find out. 

"I don’t think we’ve met before. James Hyun" He said as he extended a hand out in greeting. 

[jacksonhoodofshield]

 “Jackson Hood.” He answers steadily and shakes his hand, concentrating on not gripping too tight but probably still failing. (At least he doesn’t break fingers, right?)

It feels like his strength is always failing him when he needs it, but a nagging presence when he tries to blend in with his fellow humans.

“I’m on regular Night Shift. How about you?”

Maybe that’s from where he knows the smell of this one. Clinging to doors or walls when he passes them.

They spend a little time after that in silence both thinking, while James drinks a few sips of his coffee still watching him. Jackson decides that his own coffee is not worth drinking anymore and puts the ceramic in the sink, opening the fridge.

He finds his container easily, it’s the only thing with a honest-to-god lock on it. So far no one tried to open it and see what’s hiding inside.

He grabs for the chain around his neck that has additional to his dog tags also a key to his drink cooler. He opens it easily and takes a long drink.

Jackson could just rip the top off the metal container if he so pleases. He was careful enough to put food nearly in ever fridge on ever floor, should he ever feel hungry at work.

Locking it shut he puts it back in the fridge again and goes back to sit down by the homey wooden table.