#SCREAMING CRYING THROWING HANDS INTO AIR KNOCKING ON HEAVENS DOOR

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s Sea Voyage Date (Eng Translation)

⌚Warning⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 寻海之约, that is yet to be released on the global server! ♡

[Translation under the cut]

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【Subbed Video】

[Notes from Anika]: There’s obviously a long analysis +rambling  at the end of the post. But for those of you who wish to read it, but are directly gonna head to the subtitle and don’t want to scroll all the way down later, you can find the analysis +rambling here too: ♡♡

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【Transcript】

【Chapter 1】

The weather is sunny and cloudless~ Truly a great day for going out to sea! The beach is covered in pristine, white gravel without any footprints~ What a perfect canvas to write something on!

I casually pick up a twig and write on the sandy beach: “Victor is the universe’s No. 1––”

Before I can finish the last stroke of my writing, the branch unearths a beautiful shell as I pull it out from the sand. 

I hurriedly bend down to pick it up. But as soon as I do, seeing my already bulging pockets causes me to feel distressed.

Victor: I told you to wait on the boat. Why are you sunbathing here by yourself?

Victor’s voice drifts from behind me, and as I turn to look, he is already walking toward me in large strides. The sea breeze ruffles his bangs and swells out his slightly open shirt.

I trot over to him and show him the seashell I’ve just picked up.

MC: I found another lovely little shell, but look at my pockets…

I pat my two pockets, which generates a solid and heavy sound of seashells clashing together.

MC: So, I’ve decided to bury this seashell under the writing “Vic” over there.

I point to the words I’ve written on the beach to show him.

MC: When we come back, I’ll dig it out of the sand again.

He looks up at the words written on the beach and nods his head in a manner as if he is very much in earnest.

Victor: You’re really genius to have come up with such a brilliant idea.

Victor: When we return, it will be high tide, and the water will come up to the shore, possibly reaching the spot we are standing right now. Do you think these words will still be there by then?

The teasing in his words is very obvious.

Victor: If you want to express that I’m the universe’s No. 1 dummy…

Victor: When it comes to the “dummy” discussion, I really don’t think I can be considered the No. 1 in your presence.

MC: Ahem! Mm… you’re right, though. So, I have come up with an even more genius idea!

I directly reach into Victor’s pants pocket and put the small seashell inside.

MC: The safest option is to keep it here!

Victor seems unable to refute, so he once again directs his gaze to the words written on the beach.

Victor: So, in your eyes, I’m the universe’s No. 1 safe-keeper?

MC: That’s not it.

I stumble over my words.

MC: …I haven’t thought about what I want to write yet.

I initially wanted to write that Victor is the universe’s No. 1 big dummy!

I turn my head and ponder my unfinished “masterpiece” multiple times, but I’m still unable to come up with anything.

MC: It doesn’t matter. Let’s get on the boat first. Who knows? Perhaps I’ll get some inspiration after seeing your performance today!

Victor: [dragging out teasingly]  Performance?

Victor savors the word, the hint of a smile tinges his eyes, and he reaches out his hand to me.

Victor: Let’s go.

—

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  —  

【Chapter 2】

The sea’s winds and waves are gentle, and the boat rocks only slightly. The real-time footage transmitted by the drone is displayed on the tablet computer in Victor’s hands.

In the footage, a dolphin leaps out of the water and then dives back in, swimming its way to the northeast underwater.

MC: Does it still recognize the route to its home?

Victor: It’s smarter than you.

I pout, deciding to not comment.

Several weeks ago, LFG Marine Foundation rescued a stranded dolphin. And today, we’ve come to the sea to send it back home to its marine environment.

—

───── [Flashback Begins] ─────

 MC: It looks very dispirited.

Victor: The doctor just gave it a shot and medication, but it won’t have an immediate effect. We’ll need to keep it under observation for some time.

The stranded dolphin has been rescued and is now being adequately taken care of in the oceanarium the foundation is preparing to build.

It’s lying on its stomach in the pool, with its head drooping, resembling a listless puppy.

MC: Would it still be able to return to the sea?

Victor: After complete recovery, there may be a spell during which it will receive wildness training. If everything goes well, it can be released back into the sea.

Victor: If you feel concerned, you can come and visit it often.

—

In the following days, the stranded dolphin is nursed back to health in the oceanarium with utmost care and gradually recovers day by day. And with my feeding from time to time, it quickly develops a friendship with me too.

The only problem is that I don’t know what to call it, resorting to always using “hey” or “come here” to communicate. Victor suggests that I give the dolphin a name.

MC: But it’s not my pet…

Victor: Friends can also give each other nicknames.

Victor looks at me somewhat meaningfully–– the answer is already ready to appear on the call.

I crouch down and pet its head in the pool.

MC: Let’s call you “Dum-Dum,” then. As Victor often says, dummies usually have good luck. You’ll surely recover soon and return to the ocean where you belong.

—

[Anika’s notes]: I honestly struggled to come up with a good translation for the nickname LMAO. MC named the dolphin 笨笨 (BenBen), taking the first character from the nickname 笨蛋 (Bendan - dummy) Victor calls her. The fun here is that the character “笨” independently means “silly/dummy.” The “蛋” term is complementary in 笨蛋. So, using only 笨 for the nickname still means calling the dolphin “dummy.” MC simply used iteration (笨笨) cause it sounds cutesy in Chinese haha~ 🥺💕

───── [Flashback Ends] ─────

—

MC: I didn’t realize how quickly time would pass. In the blink of an eye, it’s already time to send it home. 

Victor hands me the tablet and points to the route displayed on the screen.

Victor: Dr. Yu said that as long as Dum-Dum moves a certain distance from the coast, we don’t need to continue observing it.

Victor: It has already reached home.

There is no longer any sign of Dum-Dum’s figure in the real-time footage. The azure sea is as serene as ever.

That smart little dolphin must have already made it back to its familiar nest and is now reuniting with its family and friends from whom it had been separated for a long time.

MC: This heartless little Dum-Dum! Forgot about its good friend as soon as it got home!

MC: I wonder if I’ll ever have the opportunity to see it again in the future…

Victor takes the tablet from my hands and turns off the signal source.

Victor: Who knows? Perhaps you will meet again next time you guys go to the sea.

MC: Mm… hmm? Hold on–– did I catch the keyword right? Does it mean that CEO Victor has decided to support my new show?

About two weeks ago, an Evolver who previously participated in “Finding Miracles” contacted us seeking assistance.

It’s highly likely that there are a few surviving individuals of a fish species that has already been declared extinct. But this year’s monsoon weather is unusual. And it means that if no action is taken, they may not survive winter.

This guest has never been wrong with their predictions about marine life activities, and I really want to join them on a sea expedition to search for this fish species and film a program about it.

 …even setting aside how the result of this filming will be, this trip out to sea will take me several months at the very least.

Victor: Are you saying that if I don’t support it, you won’t film the show?

Victor: I’ve noticed you’ve been working till midnight every day recently. Isn’t it because you’ve been occupied with this project?

MC: Hehe, I really can’t hide anything from CEO Victor.

When I talked to Victor about this project before any concrete plan was on the drawing board, he didn’t even express any opinion and left the decision up to me.

But after spending some time with Dum-Dum, I developed a new appreciation for the ocean, and as a result, I decided to start preparing for the project.

Victor: You’ve met Dr. Yu from the foundation. He is an expert in marine biology and is very interested in your project. He would like to join you guys on the journey.

Victor: Earlier at the dock, you already saw the ship, drones for aerial photography, and underwater equipment needed for the sea expedition. I will be providing all of these for you.

Victor: Instead of letting you go around seeking investments everywhere and owing favors to others, I’d rather you owe me that favor.

MC: Woah–– CEO Victor, you’re so generous…

Seeing that I’m about to get up enthusiastically to express my “sincere gratitude,” Victor reaches out and pushes me back down.

Victor: [laughs softly]  I’m not done yet.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•    

  —  

【Chapter 3】

The surface of the sea glistens clearly in the sunlight, reflecting Victor’s lightly smiling profile.

Victor: Modern-day technology is capable of solving 90% of maritime emergencies. So, I don’t have concerns regarding your safety issue.

MC: …but shouldn’t you still worry a little bit? After all, I’ll be drifting alone on the ocean for several months.

Victor: It’s not the era of Titanic anymore. Besides, you won’t be alone.

Seeing me deliberately putting on an expression of feeling wronged, Victor appears slightly contemplative.

Victor: The show’s concept is great. But the topic of rescuing endangered species is always controversial and can cause public opinion disputes. So, you need to come up with a corresponding plan to ensure LFG’s stock price doesn’t get negatively affected.

MC: Huh? Oh…

Met with my half-hearted response, Victor’s tone elevates slightly.

Victor: It’s business.

MC: Of course, CEO Victor. Noted!

After a slight pause of two seconds, Victor speaks again.

Victor: Furthermore, I’m lending you experts and equipment, but you must comply with one condition of mine.

MC: Please, go ahead~

Victor finally looks at me with an earnest expression, a smile gracing his lips.

Victor: [chuckles softly]  Call me every day to let me know you’re safe and sound.

I prop my chin up, wearing a troubled expression.

MC: But the signal reception is poor when out at sea...

Victor: There is no such problem with satellite phones.

Inwardly amused, I stretch out my hand and gently run my fingertips over his forearm, tracing my way up from where he is holding onto the boat’s railing until I reach the sleeve folded at his elbow.

MC: Victor, you must miss me a lot when I leave, won’t you?

Victor picks up the camera nonchalantly and adjusts the parameters.

Victor: If I’m not busy, I might think about you once in a while.

Not receiving a satisfactory answer, I tug at his sleeve.

MC: But CEO Victor… for the next few months, you will have to go home alone after work, eat alone, and feed the cat alone…

MC: And amidst a pile of taxing work, you will also have to wait anxiously for a phone call from the sea.

My fingertips trail up his arm and linger on his neck, straightening the collar that has been blown askew by the wind.

MC: When the time comes, I’m sure you will miss me terribly.

Victor helplessly removes my hand resting on his neckline.

Victor: We are on a boat. Sit tight.

However, instead of letting go of my hand, he gently strokes the backs of my fingers with his own.

Victor: You’re about to set sail towards the stars and the sea, yet you’re still worried about whether or not I will miss you often?

MC: Of course. Because I will miss you like crazy.

I gently caress his palm, trying to engrave every grain on it in my memory.

MC: If it weren’t for you waiting for me, I’d truly be someone adrift on the sea all alone.

MC: When you have no home to return to, even freedom doesn’t seem valuable anymore.

I look up and carefully observe Victor’s slightly upturned lips, then continue to speak unhurriedly.

MC: So every day after setting sail, I will keep thinking about you all the time and take notes of every moment of my voyage…

MC: I will look forward to our reunion on the journey back and telling you about everything I’ve seen and experienced on the vast sea under the starry sky in our time apart.

With abundant patience, Victor waits for me to finish my speech, then cups my hand directly into his palm.

Victor: All these grand reasonings, just for coaxing me into saying I will miss you?

MC: What I said was…

Suddenly, the sound of dolphins comes from the sea surface, and I immediately lift my head––

MC: Dum-Dum!

It’s not only Dum-Dum! While we weren’t noticing, four or five dolphins appeared around our boat at some point, leaping and diving in the water surrounding us.

MC: Dum-Dum, come here!

Seeing me wave my hand, Dum-Dum takes the initiative to approach our boat and advances with us.

MC: Victor, look–– Our friendship is still strong. At least, it didn’t forget about me as soon as it got home.

Victor: You look ahead.

–

Amidst the cerulean sea and sky, four or five dolphins swim alongside our boat, jumping and diving up and down. Victor seeks to capture the moment by picking up his camera and framing the scene.

The sea breeze tousles the tips of his hair, drawing his entire being into the unbounded and more liberating expanse of the turquoise sky.

A dolphin, slightly chubbier than Dum-Dum, suddenly propels itself out of the water, carving a beautiful arc in the air before crashing back into the sea with a resounding splash.

Under the leadership of this dolphin, all the other dolphins follow suit, playfully jumping and competing with each other in response to the undulating waves.

Splish, splash! Water sprays all around, wetting Victor’s bangs and shirt. And as for me, I cheer Dum-Dum on enthusiastically.

MC: HAHAHA! Dum-Dum, you’re such a dummy! You’re about to be left behind by them! Hurry up! Catch up with them!

At this very moment, Victor suddenly aims the camera at me. And within just a few seconds, the shutter clicks away several times.

When I snap out of my reverie, he has already set aside the camera and is beaming at me with a smile.

—

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  —  

【Chapter 4】

MC: Victor, shall we stop the boat and let them come closer?

Victor: Dr. Yu said that Dum-Dum has gotten accustomed to living independently of human support with great difficulty, so we shouldn’t approach it too closely.

But when Victor sees Dum-Dum calling out to me from the sea, he hesitates for a moment before eventually stopping the boat.

Victor: [sighs helplessly]  You can only play for a short while.

MC: Yes, sir!

I lean over the boat’s rail and shout loudly at Dum-Dum––

MC: DUM-DUM! WE MAY NOT HAVE MANY OPPORTUNITIES TO MEET AGAIN IN THE FUTURE. BE GOOD, AND LET ME TAKE THE MOST STUNNING PHOTO OF YOU!

As Dum-Dum pokes its head out of the water, I scramble to take out my phone.

MC: AHHHHHHHHH––

Victor is checking the photos he has just taken with his head lowered when my practically deafening scream startles him so much that he is left looking dumbfounded.

MC: My phone has dropped!

I stand in the spot where my phone has just slipped from my grasp, craning my neck to look again and again.

Victor’s bewildered expression lasts for a fleeting second before he quickly shakes his head with a subdued expression. I know all too well what this look means–– what he is simply trying to say is…

Victor: [chuckles softly]  I wasn’t thinking of calling you “dummy.”

Out of the blue, Dum-Dum pops up from the sea and promptly tosses my phone into the boat with its head.

The entire thing happens in a span of five seconds, and the transition from sadness to joy is so abrupt that I’m left dumbfounded. Wide-eyed, I stare blankly into Dum-Dum’s tiny eyes.

Victor, who witnessed the entire episode, suddenly laughs out loud.

Victor: [elated laugh]  MC, how could you dare to name it Dum-Dum?

I pick up my phone I’ve just regained and check it thoroughly–– Great, great, it’s not damaged.

MC: Oh, right! There are fish in the cabin. I’ll go and get them for you!

Carrying a heart filled with gratitude, I bring all the fresh fish from Victor’s cabin.

MC: Dum-Dum, you’re the smartest and cutest dolphin in the whole world! Thank you for saving my phone from premature death…

MC: All these fish are for you!

I find myself a pair of gloves and put them on before throwing a raw fish from the bucket to Dum-Dum. Seeing how busy I am, Victor reaches out and fixes my hair windblown hair.

Victor: The fish was on my boat. What’s up with this presenting the Buddha with borrowed flowers?

—

[Tidbits]: The music from here is his 6th birthday music btw~ T__T

Of course, I know what he is hinting at, but I deliberately pretend not to hear him. However, suddenly, Dum-Dum leaps up and gently brushes against Victor’s cheek.

MC: Woah!

If I understand correctly, it gave Victor–– a kiss.

Victor’s expression is replaced by a rare look of astonishment, and his hand holding the camera wavers slightly for a moment. What a shame! The moment was so fleeting that I couldn’t capture it on camera.

After Dum-Dum returns to the sea, Victor touches the water droplets on his cheek and sweeps his gaze over my face, who is laughing heartily.

Victor: I wonder who Dum-Dum learned to do that from.

White seagulls glide swiftly over our heads, flying toward the direction where the sun is hanging high.

As I gaze out at the sea, the friendly dolphins keep trying to playfully interact with me. I take a cue from them and lean over the boat’s side, gently tapping my head with Victor’s.

MC: Do you see how it’s swimming back and forth in a circle? Is it trying to tell us something?

As if to confirm my guess, Dum-Dum jumps up again and gently touches its head to mine.

MC: Victor, do you think it’s trying to thank us? Probably it’s thanking us for helping it?

MC: We humans express our feelings through kisses, and perhaps dolphins do the same too?

Victor: Is that so?

Victor lowers his gaze, speaking in a whispered tone as if he’s suddenly realized something.

Victor: Humans express their feelings through kisses, do they?

MC: Mhm… that’s right.

Receiving the implication in his words, I pretend to play with Dum-Dum and splash water, while my mind is quietly counting down the seconds.

At the end of the countdown, I’ll seize the moment when he isn’t paying attention and… kiss him.

Five, four, three…

Victor suddenly bends down and plants a kiss on my cheek.

MC: …

MC: [blushing]  How come I lost to you again…

Victor: I’m expressing my feelings to you right now, aren’t I?

Victor doesn’t wait for my response and directly throws me the answer. Though he speaks in a seemingly nonchalant tone, a profound tenderness is nestled within.

Victor: A scene like this before us is only possible when you are by my side.

Victor: This is also the reason why I support your freedom to explore the world freely to the maximum extent possible.

Victor: Like Dum-Dum, I am the recipient of your unconditional love and your meticulous care in every possible way. And so, I can’t help but reciprocate these feelings to you.

His voice is engulfed by the crashing waves, but it still sinks heavily into my ears.

Victor: Maybe it’s just the innate nature of all living beings–– just like how it’s for Dum-Dum, it’s the same for me too.

I slowly look into his eyes. His gaze hides within it many words that are yet to be spoken, but my heart already understands them all.

MC: Victor today seems a bit different, doesn’t he?

Victor doesn’t offer me any rebuttal. Instead, he simply withdraws his gaze and gestures for me to look at the time.

Victor: We should let Dum-Dum go now.

MC: Yes!

I exhale deeply and wave my hand toward Dum-Dum.

MC: It’s time for us to head back. We can’t keep playing with you any longer. You’re all good now, so hurry up and go home!

MC: If an opportunity arises in the future, we may cross paths again!

This time, I purposely refrain from calling it “Dum-Dum.”

I hope it can remember the time we had never met and how it lived so freely in this uninhibited and boundless sea.

As if understanding my words, Dum-Dum calls out twice from the sea surface and swiftly joins its companions as they swim into the wider ocean.

Victor and I stand on the deck, gazing at the dolphins breaking through the tranquil sea surface. Every time they soar upwards, the waves are refracted into a spectrum of colorful light beneath the sunlight. 

MC: Victor.

Victor: Hm?

I lift myself on my toes and steal a kiss on his cheek.

MC: I feel like… I am the one who is always being looked after by you, receiving too much of your love and care. And so, I can’t help but reciprocate these feelings to you.

Victor presses his lips together, and his gaze slowly lingers on the coastline as we make our way back.

Victor: So, have you thought about what I’m “No. 1 in the universe” for?

MC: Aw~ I see now. So you said all those deeply moving words today, just for coaxing me into praising you~

Victor: Those weren’t emotional enough to be deeply moving.

Victor’s tone is unhurried, speaking calmly.

Victor: I’m going to miss you terribly when you leave.

Victor: Amidst a pile of taxing work, I will wait anxiously for a phone call from the sea every day.

Though in a somewhat silly manner, I nod my head in understanding, satisfied as I take Victor’s hand in mine.

MC: Hmm… I’ve thought about it.

With my fingertips, I write two words on his palm. Victor watches me intently as I make one stroke after another, leaving traces in his palm.

MC: Never mind what you’re No. 1 in the universe or No. 1 in the world for. In any case, in my heart, only these two words can describe you most accurately.

These two words represent the sufficient tacit understanding and thoughtfulness between us every day, and they also represent the beginning and end point of every journey I embark upon.

Using this same hand that I have so attentively stroked, Victor wraps me in his arms in a habitual manner.

Victor: [the most euphoric of sighs as if holding the entire universe in his arms and yet feeling as light as a feather]  …

There’s no need to add any superfluous prefixes or embellishments. In my heart, there are only two words that can describe the name “Victor”––

My Beloved.

──

[Tidbits]: The term MC wrote is “爱人”, which actually means “spouse” i.e., you won’t casually refer to your girlfriend/boyfriend/lover as 爱人, unless they are the person you call “home”~ 🥺💕

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[Anika’s Ramblings + what seems like an analysis LOL]

──

[ppersonna]

ride or die - myg | m

we don't need money to feel good cause you're the ride or die, the rest of my life. don't need a party to feel high, we're like the modern version of bonnie and clyde , bonnie & clyde, yuqi

✹ summary- there’s nothing in the world you wouldn’t do for Min Yoongi.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- min yoongi x reader

✹ word count- 1.6k

✹ genre- hmm idk. maybe some angst, some smut, some action?, established relationship, criminal!au

✹ chapter warnings- sexual content, mentions of criminal acts/police, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of death, guns, unhealthy obsession with each other lol

✹ a/n- hi loves! i wanted to challenge myself and write something a bit more prose-heavy than any sort of plot or semblance of plot. i hope you enjoy this random drabble that wouldnt leave my brain!!! thanks to @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @nomseok​ for looking over it for me and helping me feel better about it LOLLL. i love u all ALSO PLS LISTEN TO THE SONG BONNIE AND CLYDE BY YUQI IT IS AMAZING AND WHERE I GOT ALL MY INSPO FOR THIS!!

 75 mph…

100 mph…

Yoongi’s hand grips tight on the inside of your thigh, fingers pressing into the supple flesh as his foot presses down the gas pedal. 

The engine roars, matching the screaming explosion you feel inside your chest. Your veins feel like they’re flowing with the same high-octane fuel that Yoongi’s injected to the engine of the 1969 matte black Camaro.

Yoongi.

There’s nothing in the world you wouldn’t do for Yoongi.

The engine screams to life again, tearing through the otherwise silent car. It won’t be quiet for long. You can hear the distant blaring of police sirens, the low-grade rumble of helicopter wings closing in.

Yoongi simply smirks when you glance at him, eyes focused on the road with one hand on the leather steering wheel and the other rubbing at the skin of your inner thigh.

The sirens sound closer, only streets away now. Yoongi acts as if it’s only you and him, as if there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than right here in this car with you beside him and the bag of prized jewels in the back.

You love him. You love him more than you’ve ever loved another, more than you’d ever convince yourself you’d love again. He’s all-consuming. Yoongi is the cosmos, the universe that holds you within his center.

You’d die for Yoongi.

You’d kill.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, unable to speak any further. You don’t need to. Yoongi knows what you’re saying. He grips your leg tighter and the smirk widens on his face, finally flickering his eyes over to your own. 

“I know,” he says. Because he does.

Yoongi gives no sign that he’s scared. He’s the picture of composure as he squeezes the car through narrow streets, tires squealing as he spins the wheel to slide into the next alley way and dodge the cops through yet another neighborhood. He doesn’t even bat an eye as he defends you inside the jobs, gun blazing as he ensures your safety without even a glance back. 

He gives no indication that anything can go wrong, as if his mind is already made up that everything will be okay and you’ll both get out, get away, without a scratch.

It’s different when he lays you down. He sets you on the cheap motel mattress with care, like a delicate doll, made of glass and ceramic, one wrong move away from breaking.

He presses his lips to every inch of your body, as if ensuring himself that you’re okay, that you’re here, that he got you out safely. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t want to break the reverent silence of the dingy bedroom that becomes his chapel when he has you in his arms.

Safe. 

You’re safe and Yoongi needs hours to remind himself of that, needs more than just kisses and touches. He pushes himself into you slowly, letting the tight heat of your core remind him just how alive you are. He opens you up like a prayer, spreading your legs and gasping for air as he recites the only invocation he knows, the only one he believes in.

“I love you.”

Sweaty and overheated, your hands grasp for any part of Yoongi you can--his arms, his vascular hands. You need more, need to feel him in more ways than you can count. Yoongi feels so good buried deep inside you, rocking his hips against your own and making your body scream with pent-up desire.

“I love you, Yoongi,” you nearly scream as he hits a spot within you that makes you forget about the whole world around you. “Only you.”

Yoongi doesn’t believe in a God, doesn’t believe in any higher power. But he thinks the closest to heaven is the way you cry his name for him, the way you keen for more as he spills himself inside you.

The duffel bag of dollar bills is heavy in your lap as you throw yourself into the Camaro, running from the high rise bank, and Yoongi slams on the gas pedal before you can even close the door.

“Shit!” Your hands grip at the duffel bag, trying to stay afloat in the speeding car. The door closes by itself after he careens down the highway and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“God, that was so fucking good,” Yoongi grins, voice high with excitement and adreneline. “You did so fucking good, baby doll.”

The praise goes straight to your heart, straight to the muscle inside your chest that has Yoongi’s name stamped into each vein, each artery. He’s yours, he’s so wholly yours and you so wholly his, you think you can’t even breathe without him around.

You don’t watch where he drives, too focused on the curve of his cheeks, the way his black hair is pushed back messily. You don’t care where he takes you. All you need is him and the feel of his hand resting on your thigh, a spot made just for him.

Yoongi.

I’d die for you, Yoongi, don’t you know that?

Yoongi finally, blessedly, looks over at you once he’s settled himself onto a long stretch of highway outside of the city, no longer looking in the rearview mirror for the shining lights of the police, no longer zipping and weaving between other cars on the road.

The peace of the open road settles in your chest and you let go of the duffle bag, throwing it over your shoulder to sit in the backseat, in between the bag of jewels and the expensive artwork from the last heist.

You settle into the seat and he lets his fingers spread out, touching you as if grounding himself to you. 

“You’re my ride or die, baby,” he breathes after a moment of silence. You stare straight ahead, watching as the dark sunset ahead of you bursts in an explosion of colors.

“Forever, Yoongi.”

Yoongi could spend hours between your thighs. He doesn’t even make any attempts to remove himself from the taste of your slick cunt until you’ve climaxed twice from his tongue. He eats you like he’s parched, only able to sate his thirst by drinking directly from your core.

He holds your legs tight, reminding himself you’re here, you’re with him, you’re never leaving and he’s never letting you go. 

Your hands thread through his hair, gripping the silken raven locks as he digs his tongue into your channel yet again, lapping up the sweetness that spills from your orgasm, relishing in the rhythmic chanting of his name. He never wants to hear anything else drip from your lips, wants no other name but his own staining the pretty pout and echoing around the motel room.

You are his everything. His world. His universe. 

He finally pulls away, smiling up at you after your third consecutive orgasm wrought by his mouth, and kisses at the skin of your thighs--the same place he allows his hand to rest when he steers you away from the chaos of your burglaries.

“I love you more than anything in this world,” he breathes, pressing his soft kisses up your legs and swirling around your belly.

“More than money?” You ask, out of breath.

“More than money.”

“More than jewels?”

“More than anything any bank in the world combined could have in their stores,” he promises to every inch of your breasts, tongue lapping at the nipple. “More than any king could ever want.”

“Yoongi,” you sigh when he finally slides into you, completing you. You’re nothing without him, nothing without the feeling of him within you.

“Say it again,” he whispers against your ear as he thrusts into you gently, holding you tenderly in his arms.

“Yoongi.”

His head falls against your own, foreheads touching as he bores his eyes into yours. His. His, his, his. You’re his only, and his forever, and he never wants to live another moment, another day, another second, without you.

He claims you, seed spilling deep into your womb at the height of your shared climax. Your body welcomes him, clenches with desire and milks him to the last drop, desperate to keep him within you for as long as you can.

“It’s just you and me forever, baby,” he says after he’s cleaned you up and laid you down.

Suddenly, there’s sirens and the flashing red and blue lights outside the window.

“Come out! We have you surrounded.”

Yoongi helps you throw on clothes, whispering hurriedly as he stashes the guns he needs into his pocket and throws one to you. 

He throws a look at you as he knocks the glass out of the back window of the bathroom.

“You ready for another adventure, baby?”

The gun feels heavy in your hands, but solid. Comforting. The gun is your means of staying with Yoongi, never leaving his sight. You’d take down anything that stood in the way, eliminate any threat that posed a risk of taking him away.

He notes your silence and kisses you quick, before hoisting you up to climb out the window and make a run for the hidden Camaro in the alleyway.

He catches up to you, hand slipping into your own and tugging you to run faster, the Camaro coming into your sights like a sanctuary. You can hear the pounding footsteps of the police around the building, the splintering wood as they force themselves into the now-vacant motel room, still wet and hot from where you made love.

Yoongi grins as he slides into the car and fires the engine, pulling you in for a deep and passionate kiss, hands hovering over the steering wheel.

With a quirk of his lips, he places his hand back on it’s spot on your thigh.

“Ride or die, right, baby?”

[dinthehottotty]

Drunk on You - Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels

Warnings: Just some smutty drabble inspired by a new toy....

A/N: I wrote this on mobile so sorry I don't have the drop down bit. Also go gentle on me, this is my first Whiskey piece....

No. No, no. No, no, no, no. Nonononononono! This... could not be happening. Mortification was creeping in. Shame was shuffling from the corner of the hotel room.

It had taken ten minutes for you to begin to realize the weight of the situation. Still you couldn't bare looking to your right. If your legs could just stop shaking, that would be great.

You were a grown woman. An adult. Always prided yourself on your own efficiency. You got the job done, and done right no matter the energy and time. You did it independently for the most part, that's why you'd been hired by Statesmen to begin with. You were an amazing spy with a nerve of steel.

There was only one thing that ever got to you. Agent Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels. What an asshole. You'd never met such a surecocked, womanizing, smug bastard man. He pissed you off so much. You never used to let his advances bother you, but somehow over the years he wiggled his way under your skin. Now a single look from him made you seeth and bristle like a wild animal.

Your pride was now wiped away like a dry erase board. Your mind slowly is beginning to gain its bearings while you tremble in a puddle of your own fluids on your hotel bed. The light of the lamp next to you is a reminder of your vulnerability.

Sparing a glance to your right, everything about you is slow and hesitant. Jack is lounging beside you comfortably, a satisfied smirk coating his face. He's got his eyes closed, his fingertips tapping the air with a song you've got no idea about. He looks almost peaceful in the warm light of the dimmed lamp. And it would be if his stupid porn 'stache wasn't tilted up in a cocky smirk.

Your stomach chooses this inopertune moment to gurgle loudly. Weird, you swore the nausea was due to the naked rodeo clown beside you. Weirder yet, he almost looked good without his yellow sunglasses and cowboy hat. Less like a want to be country music star and more like a Latin lover.

His head lolls your way and his eyes bulldoze you with his thrilled smirk. Even in the low, unflattering light his brown eyes are warm and remind you of the warm gooeyness that is sliding from between your legs. You want it to not feel good, but your so boneless from the last... fuck, you don't even know how long it's been.

"Worked yerself up an appetite, did ya, darlin'?" Your only response is to gulp and you have to look away from him. A shiver rolls through you and he chuckles.

That's the worst part of this. Not the fact that you actually caved and slept with the sleeze of man, not the fact that he was the only person you genuinely hated in regards to company. No, the worst part of this, was how wrecked he had you. Jack Daniels is singlehandedly the best lay you've had in your life and it wasn't even hate sex.

Granted you should be screaming at him to get the fuck out of your hotel room and raging that he barged in on you in the first place.

Ginger had been so polite in regards to leaving you in the room by yourself for a bit. Laughing as you called after her 'if there is an emergency, don't call me, get the boys!' And then you forgot to turn on airplane mode.

It wasn't that Statesmen couldn't afford two rooms for you both. Instead, she was your near and dear friend and missions served as your sleepovers. You'd both spend free moments giggling and gossiping about the other agents. And also your sex lives and preferences. Also, your newest toy that you hadn't gotten to try.

A tiny egg with a little tongue and suction on it. The catalyst. You'd been prepared when your eyes and ears left to give a good review only to very quickly discover just how delightful and overwhelming the little tool was.

Too aware of how Whiskey was leaning over you with a grin, you suddenly feel nervous. "Don't tell me I fucked the sass out of you, sweetheart. I do love that wicked tongue you've got." He thumbs your lower lip and you find your self holding in panting. For fucks sake it took you nearly ten minutes to stop after he'd finally rolled off you.

It's pitiful that you just let out a tiny whine, pushing weakly at his chest. It makes his grin deepen, his dimples practically shining. "Don't go soft on me now, girl."

"Need minute," you finally rasp, voice hoarse. He leans down, shocking you with a hungry pass of his mouth over yours.

You should want to fight him, but your mind feels as boneless as your body.

There is a noise. A beep of the door unlocking with the card swiped.

Ginger is back.

She still knocks, bless her heart. It's like Whiskey doesn't even notice, instead just drawing his mouth over your jaw and tasting your neck lazily. He must know. Either he thinks it's housekeeping or he just doesn't give a fuck.

"Rosé?" She calls out from the hallway by the door. "I hope I gave you enough lead time to try-" she gasps as she rounds the corner and finds you wrapped up with a man you despise. "Oh, lord! What even happened?" She averts her wide eyes and Whiskey chuckles warmly over you.

"Decommissioned," you rasp out, complete mush under the mouthing at your neck. "Sorry." Teeth appear and your vaguely aware that Whiskey is laughing with delight against you.

He lifts enough to flash a grin at Ginger.

"You hate him! What do you mean 'decommissioned'?" She throws her hands up.

"What's the racket?" Eggsy calls, strutting in with Gallahad. Both of them freeze at the sight of you practically preening under the warm body over you. "No fuckin' way," the kid demands when Whiskey jerks the blankets up around your naked form.

"Now, I don't mind the company, but if you boys want a show, I suggest you go find the HBO channel back in your respective rooms. The lady is going to need a hot meal and a nice nap before she goes anywhere." You don't even register that you're nodding along with his statement.

"No way you bagged Rosé," Eggsy demands. "She looks drugged!" The heat of a big calloused hand rolls up over your side under the sheet and you let your eyes fall shut. Ginger just shakes her head like a disappointed mother.

"Not drugged," you manage to offer. It earns you a happy purr from the smug agent above you and he rolls a hand between your legs unabashedly. Your still too sensitive and jerkily shove his hand, gasping. "Out, please," you murmur, no bite to your words as a warm mouth finds the hollow behind your ear.

Ginger quickly agrees, shuffling quickly out of the room. Eggsy, even with Gallahad's prompting tries to stick around, giving you shit until the mouth leaves your neck.

"The lady politely requested you leave. Find the door, boy." He snarls like a caged animal and it sends warmth down belly. You find yourself uncaring and unfurling beneath him as Eggsy is lead out of the room.

"Hungry," you moan, trying to glower when he goes to reposition and settle between your thighs. It earns you a cocky grin.

"Atta girl!" You don't know what you expect, but it's hardly him pulling your legs up and proping them over his shoulders while he reaches for the phone.

You both moan when he sinks into you, wettly and just as easily as before. "Fuck, feel so good, baby." And he leans over, picking up the phone and dialing. There is ringing as he cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear, rolling his hips forward. He's rewarded with the obnoxiously loud squelch that accompanies his thrusts. "What sounds good to eat?" Whiskey asks as you pant and writhe beneath him like his cock isn't stretching you beyond capacity.

"Everything," you gasp out.

"Could you send us the works? Whatever you've got on special." You can't pay attention to anything else he says, in the back of your mind your mind you know your a mess.

It's when you hear the tiny motor start that your hand is jerking down and your snatching his wrist. "Jack, no, I can't-" you rasp as you stop his hand from bringing the little egg down on your clit.

"Why not?" But it doesn't actually sound like a question and his eyes are glinting down on you.

"Is too much, hurts."

"You weren't complaining earlier."

"Overstimulated." He gives a growl, shutting the vibrator off before hauling your knees into the crook of his arms. It has you moaning unabashedly as he changes angles, stirring the pace up.

"Feels so good, oh fuck, feels good. Don't stop, please don't stop, always wanna be full, fill me up please." What kind of effect was this? You never babbled.

"What a good girl," he rumbles, "finally giving into how desperate she's been for me. Do you want to cum around me again?" He watches you falling apart beneath him, a complete wreck.

"Can't, can't cum. Felt like I was cumming the whole time that toy was on my clit. Hurts." A hand rubs down your belly, a direct path to the heaven between your legs that he's still fucking. You scramble for his wrist again but he's stronger and you let out a cry as he brushes a knuckle over your swollen and abused clit. It just makes him chuckle when you arch off the pillow below your hips.

Your so wet that it's coating your thighs and making him glide against you like your coated in oil. Everything was wet and warm.

"C'mon girl, don't tell me yet that I've won?" He rasps. There is a need that builds up at those words. An anger as you manage some kind of weak glare up at him. You fumble for him.

You intend fully on crushing his mouth against yours and devouring him in response to his quip. It seems to surprise you both when your lips move more tenderly than either of you anticipate.

Whiskey goes stiff in your arms, fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. There's a moment you think you've killed the mood but then he's sink down against you and tenderly kissing you back.

It's not unexpectedly fun and wild like the rest of this desperate affair has been. Instead, his hips roll slow and smooth, no rush or reason beyond just feeling you. The heat of him consumes you as you breathe into each other's mouths, drinking the other in and soaking in hot hands.

"Shoulda done this sooner," you manage against his mouth and feel his chuckle rumble you both.

"Offers been there," he groans. "Spend the night in my room," he pleads gently. It has you shivering.

"Okay," you sigh, mush beneath the fulfilling stretch he was giving. He could ask you to kill Eggsy here and now and you'd probably say yes. Just as long as this never ended. You were drunk on Whiskey.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

A Loss

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2,125ish

Summary: You find out some news, but also overhear a conversation that affects the news. You go out on a mission, knowing you shouldn’t.

Warnings: injury and loss of life.

Notes: this was requested. Hope y’all enjoy.

It was weird. You hadn’t even realized you were 6 weeks late until you woke up, throwing up on the floor right next to Bucky’s bed. Thank heavens for FRIDAY’s immediate response for calling the maid and that your boyfriend was out on his morning run with Steve. You cleaned yourself up and quickly left for the store before anyone could even notice you were gone.

You were anxious the whole time. Knee bouncing, hands shaking, heart racing. You felt like you were going to pass out as you allowed yourself to pee on that little stick you had just bought. You paced inside the bathroom of your private room. You didn’t want to chance Bucky walking in on you. Plus, you were terrified. Bucky and you and been dating for a little over a year now and not once had the two of you talked about marriage or family. You wanted that all with him, but you feared that he didn’t want that all with you.

When your phone’s timer went off, you froze. It took you what felt like hours to convince yourself to look at the results. It was positive. You were pregnant. The joy that filled your heart did not fill your eyes. Tears of worry filled your eyes and your mind began to wonder how Bucky would take the news. 

“FRIDAY?” You called out. “Where’s Bucky?”

“Sargent Barnes is currently watching TV with Captain Rogers in the common room,” the AI responded. “Would you like me to get him for you?”

“No, I can get him myself.”

You were shaking with excitement and fear as you went down the hall, heading towards the common room. As you drew near, you could hear the men talking about something. You listened closely.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t think that baby in the diaper commercial wasn’t cute, Buck,” Steve teased.

“I never said it wasn’t!” Bucky replied. “I just just ‘eh’.”

“You and Y/N ever talk about having kids? Starting a family?”

“No,” Bucky responded, almost too quickly. You froze, hiding behind the wall to still listen in. “That’s not for me. Maybe back when we were still in the 40’s, definitely not now. Can you imagine, me, being a father?” Bucky scoffed. “Carrying around a child with this metal arm? What stories would I tell it anyway? About that time I murdered Stark’s parents? Can you imagine—“

“Alright, alright,” Steve chuckled. “I get it. Have you at least talked to Y/N about this? She might have an opinion on the matter too.”

“No I haven’t. And I don’t plan on it until she brings it up.”

“Seriously, punk?”

“I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“And you’ve never thought that, with all the sex you two have, a baby might just accidentally happen for the two of you?”

“It couldn’t. She’s on the pill and we always use protection.”

“Always?”

“Whatever the case is, she’s on the pill. And I’m not meant to be a father. Can we drop this now and go back to watching football?”

You handed your had covering your mouth, trying not to let them here your sobs. Quickly, yet as quietly as you could, you ran too your room. You ordered FRIDAY to lock everyone, including Bucky, out as you curled up onto the floor and cried. You had no idea of what to do.

~~~

“Hey, doll,” Bucky knocked on your door later that evening. “You in there? I haven’t seen you all day.” No response. “I thought that we could go out for dinner.” Again no response. “Y/N?” He tried the door. “You okay in there? Why can’t I get in?”

“Miss Y/N has ordered that no one be let into her room,” FRIDAY informed Bucky.

“Not even me?”

“Yes.” FRIDAY was silent for a moment. “She is not feeling well and wishes to be left alone.”

You were on your bed, still crying, and listening to the conversation Bucky and FRIDAY were having.

“She’s not feeling well? Why didn’t she tell me?” Bucky began knocking again. “Sweetheart, please, let me in. Let me take care of you.”

“She wishes to be left alone,” FRIDAY repeated.

Bucky sighed. “Just… let me know if you need anything.”

You sobbed as you heard Bucky’s footsteps fade away. You wanted him. That’s all that would be able to comfort you right now, him holding you. But you didn’t know how to tell him about the baby growing inside you. The baby he didn’t want.

~~~

The whole team was woken up in the middle of the night. An emergency mission, and everyone was needed. You knew that you were in no condition, mentally and physically, to go, but it was your job to. It was clear to everyone that you were avoiding Bucky, which didn’t settle well with anyone. You were all on the quinjet, listening to Steve and Tony debrief while you got ready.

“Here,” Bucky said quietly, coming over to you. You were struggling to put your parachute on. “Let me help you.”

“I’m good,” you responded, moving away. The hurt in Bucky’s eyes was impossible to miss. 

“Did I—“ Bucky swallowed. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Now is really not the time to talk about this, Barnes. we’re headed in for a mission.”

“Y/N.” Bucky gently grabbed your wrist, turning you to face him. You looked up at the ceiling as tears tried to form in your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You ripped your hand out of his grip. “When were you planning on telling me you didn’t see yourself starting a family with me?” Now everyone’s attention was on you and Bucky.

“Doll, I don’t know what you’re—“

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me. I heard you talking to Steve.”

“When did I— oh… Oh, that was— Doll, please, let me explain.”

“Over the drop zone,” FRIDAY announced.

“I think I’ve heard enough,” you growled. You were the first to the ram, jumping off to the fight below.

“What have I done?” Bucky looked at everyone else helplessly.

“Focus on the mission, Buck,” Steve said. “Deal with your personal life later.”

~~~

Each team member was grateful that everyone had come. It seemed that HYDRA had brought in their whole forces. Bucky had tried to stay close to you but was separated quickly in the fight. Everyone was basically on their own. 

You were fighting off flocks of HYDRA goons. Using all your senses to notice any new agent from any direction. It was exhausting, but you were making it look easy. Until, the need to throw up arrived. And you couldn’t hold it back.

“I need…” You panted over the comms, trying your best to hold the bile down. “I need… some help over here…”

“Y/N, are you alright?” Bucky’s panicked voice filled everyone’s ears.

“I… I can’t…” You fought off one more HYDRA agent before collapsing onto your hands and knees, emptying your stomach of all it’s contents.

“Are you throwing up, L/N?” Clint asked over the comms.

“I’m on my way, Y/N!” Bucky shouted. “Stay put!”

“Can’t,” you wiped off your mouth as you kicked an opposing agents legs out from underneath them. “I’m being attacked from all— AH!” 

Searing pain was felt in your stomach. Another one immediately following. One of your hands went to clutch your stomach as the other kept you stable on the ground.

“Y/N!” A chorus of voices sounded in your ear.

“I’m on my way, Y/N!” Bucky sounded terrified. More terrified than anyone had ever heard him before.

The HYDRA agents surrounding you were taken out in one turn of Tony’s lasers as he landed.

“I’ve got her, Barnes,” Tony stated, picking you up. “Meet us at the quinjet.”

“T-tony-y,” you groaned in pain.

“Hang on, Y/N.” He flew you to the quinjet. “You’re not leaving us just yet.”

“I’m… preg— preg… nant….”

“What?” He laid you down on the med-bay table, hoping he did not just hear what he had just heard. 

“I’m… p-pregnant…”

“Barnes, you have 30 seconds to get on this quinjet before I’m leaving your frozen ass.” Tony hurried to the cockpit.

“Why?” Steve asked. “What happened?”

“Y/N’s pregnant.”

“What?!” The chorus of voices exclaimed.

“And… and it’s not looking too good.” Tony turned just in time to see your body completely give out. “FRIDAY get us in the air!” He hurried back over to you, pressing his metal hand on your stomach. “We’re leaving now, Barnes!”

“I’m here! I’m here!” Bucky yelled, running up the ramp as the quinjet was lifting off the ground. “Oh my—“ He fell onto his knees beside your head. “Y/N.” He cried, resting his forehead against yours. “Please… I didn’t mean it… please fight. For me. For our child… I can’t live without you…”

~~~

You were rushed into surgery immediately. Leaving Tony and Bucky helplessly waiting in the other room. The team wasn’t far behind, finding more fight in them after hearing about your condition. They were all in the med-bay waiting room in the Tower, either unable to sit still or being about to sit too still.

Bucky wouldn’t let anyone near him. He stayed on the other side of the room, pacing as he mumbled to himself in Russian and pulled out his hair. Dr. Cho came through the doors 8 hours after you had been taken back. Bucky rushed up to her, but was unable to speak. He feared what the response might be.

“How is she?” Steve asked, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Y/N pulled through,” Dr. Cho answered. “She’ll need a good two months off missions, but she’ll survive.”

“An-and… the…” Bucky swallowed as he tried to get the words out. “The baby? Wh-what about the baby?”

Dr. Cho’s eyes gave it away before she could even speak. “The baby didn’t make it. I’m sorry, Sargent Barnes.”

Bucky stood there, clenching his fists before beginning to pace again. The team watched, not knowing how to comfort their friend. Bucky let out a heartbreaking scream as he punched through the wall. Letting the tears fall, he fell onto his knees. His sobs were the most heartbreaking thing any of them had ever heard.

~~~

There was something heavy on your legs. That was the first thing you noticed when you began to come to. The next things were the bandages around your abdomen and the IV in your arm. Slowly blinking to adjust to the lights, you opened your eyes. You looked down to your legs to see Bucky. His shoulders were trembling as he let out quiet sobs into your legs. That’s when you knew.

“I lost it… didn’t I?” Your raspy, quiet voice had Bucky head snapping up in your direction.

“Oh, doll.” Bucky’s eyes were red and puffy. You had never seen them that way before. He gently took hold of your hand, running his thumb across the back of it. “You had me so scared there.”

“The baby, Buck… Is it…” Tears filled your eyes as you trailed off, unable to finish your thought.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” You didn’t try to stop the loud, painful sob that ripped through you. “I’m so sorry for everything. For what I said. I honestly didn’t mean it. I was scared and I thought that Steve and I were just joking around. If I would have known…. I never should have said any of that to begin with…”

“I was coming to tell you the news, when I heard you two… it broke my heart…”

“I’ll never be able to apologize enough… this is all my fault.”

“No,” you shook your head, “it’s not… I knew what I was risking going out into the field… I was being stupid. I should have insisted on staying here.”

“Will you ever forgive me?”

“I… I honestly never hated you. Just heartbroken… I want you to be honest with me though… do you see a future with me?”

“That’s all I see… that’s what terrifies me. The thought that one day you’ll wake up and realize that I’m not good enough for you and leave… that’s why I haven’t brought anything up. I don’t want this to end.”

“James Buchanan Barnes, I love you. And I never plan on leaving your side. Ever. You here me? And if you ever have those awful thoughts again, you come straight to me, alright? I love you.”

“I love you too, doll. Oh gosh—“ He leaned up and kissed you, hard. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I love you, so much.”

“I love you… And I’m sorry.”

[freakiish]

It’ll be fun

Not proof read but nothing I do ever is checckkk

Smut

Vinnie has been joking about a threesome since the first time we fucked. I always tell him no and laugh it off, until I really started thinking about it. “Vinnie?” I question, on our way to Aaron’s apartment to hangout while Troy and Ben are away. “What’s up?” He says glancing over at me. I’m quiet for a minute, “Is Aaron like... seeing anyone you think?” Vinnie laughs and shakes his head “Why you looking for a boyfriend?” He raises his eyebrows taking a drink of his water. “No because I kinda want to take both of you at the same time.” I say nonchalantly not even looking at him. Vinnie chokes on his water, “what?” He says coughing. “Yeah I’ve been thinking, and there’s something about Aaron that just makes me feel all hot.” Our eyes meet when he stops at the red light. I inch closer and closer to him, “You fucking me while Aaron fucks my face... maybe you get to watch him fuck my little ass,” our lips now inches apart. Vinnie’s speechless, I pull away with a satisfied smile as the light turns green. I move around in my seat feeling myself getting more and more turned on at the thought. I look over to see that Vinnie is also feeling the same way. His hand lands directly over my clothed pussy making me gasp at the unexpected contact. “Fuck y/n you’re dripping through your pants.” He bites his lip. I grab his hand and move it away as much as I don’t want to, “okay okay let’s slow down a little bit.” I take a deep breath as we pull into the parking garage.

The whole way up to the apartment Vinnie couldn’t keep his hands off me. Pulling me back into him, kissing me all down my neck making me moan out. “Okay Vinnie calm down,” I giggle. “I can’t keep my hands off you pretty girl,” he bites at my ear. “What are we going to say to Aaron when we go in?” “Well... maybe we should just be straight forward.” Vinnie says. We finally knock on the door waiting for him to answer. “What’s up guys?” He does his little handshake with Vinnie. “Hey y/n” his voice is soft. “Hey Aaron,” I say a little more seductively than intended, but my mind won’t stop wondering. We walk in going to sit on the couch. Vinnie’s hand landing high up on my thigh once more. It’s awkwardly quiet for a minute until Vinnie just starts nipping at my neck without a care in the world. I moan out a little bit, Aaron looks over at us with wide eyes. I look him up and down biting my lip.

“Aaron would you like to join the fun?” I ask bating my eyes. “Oh I-I don’t know if I shou-“ “It’ll be so much fun.” I move away from Vinnie scooting closer to him, “and I want you so bad.” I whisper in his ear. “We can even just make Vinnie watch, I’m sure he won’t mind.” Aaron looks from me over to Vinnie. “Man this could be a lot fun.” Vinnie says convincingly. I can tell Aaron is getting excited, he sighs, taking me by surprise pulling me into his lap. I look over at Vinnie who also seems to be surprised by Aaron’s sudden action. I look at Aaron, our lips crash together moving perfectly in sync. I start grinding my hips down on him his hands finding my ass giving it a squeeze. Small hums leave my lips as I kiss down his neck. “You’re supposed to be my innocent boy.” I tease. “I guess not today,” he bites back.

I look over to Vinnie who has began palming himself through his sweat pants. His visibly hard dick showing. I get off of Aaron positioning myself on all fours so I can tend to Vinnie while my ass is in the air in front of Aaron. Aaron’s hand comes down and smacks my ass while I pull down Vinnie’s pants. His dick springs up as I feel another smack land on my ass making me gasp. “Pull her pants down and feel how soaked she is Aaron.” My lips kiss all around Vinnie’s dick slowly licking the tip. My pants are yanked down to my knees feeling the cool air hit me. I feel Aaron’s middle finger hit my core rubbing up and down making me let out a moan. Aaron walks around over to Vinnie putting his fingers in his mouth. The site almost making me explode right then. I gag on Vinnie’s dick while he sucks Aaron’s fingers. “Fuck,” he throws his head back. I take my mouth off of Vinnie with a quick pop climbing up his body. I watch Aaron take his clothes off out of the corner of my eye so I get up to do the same. I get down on my knees to give Aaron some attention. Vinnie stands up next to him. I pump Vinnie in my hand while my mouth glides up and down on Aaron’s dick. Aaron let’s out a grown, “her mouth is like heaven right?” Vinnie whispers. “Oh fuck yes.” Aaron calls out as I take all of him down my throat.

“Let’s go to my room.” Aaron states making us scurry along quickly. I lay on the bed the two boys laying down on either side of me. Aaron tackles my jaw and neck kissing and sucking while Vinnie pinches and bites at my nipples making me cry out. My hands play with their hair. Their hands run along my sides giving me goose bumps all over. Aaron’s hand finds my pussy rubbing my clit. I look deep in his eyes my mouth agape when he sticks a finger in me. pumping slowly, “more fingers please.” I breathe out. Aaron puts another finger in as I feel Vinnie’s hand finding my clit. Both of them touching me at the same time makes me all the more wet. Vinnie’s mouth comes up finding my neck evening out the marks Aaron made on the other side. I’m a moaning mess. “Fuck Vin- A- Aaron shit I’m going to cum.” Aaron’s fingers curl up just right. “Cum for us princess.” Vinnie growls. My back arches up as I let go all over Aaron’s fingers. Aaron pulls them out bringing them to my mouth while Vinnie continues to rub my clit making me squirm.

The two boys stop and look at each other before looking back down at my bare body. “Get up and ride Aaron right now.” It’s obviously like Vinnie to take charge, especially in a situation like this. I crawl up on Aaron looking down at him positioning his cock right at my entrance. I slowly sink down on him my mouth open wide. “If you’re gonna open your mouth put my cock in it.” Vinnie says getting on his knees on the bed. I lean myself down to take Vinnie in my mouth while I ride Aaron. It’s hard to find a rhythm in this position, making Aaron frustrated he holds me still fucking up into me faster than I expected. I gasp choking on Vinnie’s dick. I pull of momentarily loose moans falling out of my mouth. Vinnie’s hands tangle in my hair, “be a good slut and let me fuck that mouth.” Now I have Vinnie fucking my throat and Aaron pounding into me. “God damn that pussy is so tight.” Aaron says from underneath me. I pull off of Vinnie to catch my breath. His lips smash into mine Aaron slowing down while I grind my hips on him while he’s deep in me.

I detach my lips from Vinnie going to kiss Aaron. “Need to give Vin a turn babe.” I plant a kiss on Aaron’s cheek getting off. Aaron groans standing up at the edge of the bed. Vinnie grabs my hair pulling me back, “open your mouth.” I open my mouth wide. Vinnie spits on my tongue. I hold it there getting on all fours so Vinnie can fuck me from behind. I take Vinnie’s spit that was in my mouth and spit it onto Aaron’s dick. I look up at him through my eyelashes while he looks down biting his lip. Vinnie slips right into my dripping pussy gripping my ass hard enough to draw blood. Now Aaron is fucking my mouth while Vinnie destroys me from behind. “Take me so well whore,” Vinnie grunts out. Aaron hisses when I gag around him. Spit and drool dripping down my chin, “shit I’m going to cum on your dick V.” I take Aaron back in my mouth while he leans over me spreading my ass for a better view of Vinnie fucking me. I let go on Vinnie clenching, my eyes rolling to the back of my head my legs trying not to close. Vinnie sits still inside me him and Aaron watching my holes clench and unclench.

I don’t even give myself time before I push Vinnie down on the bed, grabbing Aaron and kissing him sloppily all over his mouth, neck, and chest. I give him my innocent batty eyes again, “do you want to fuck my ass Aaron?” He watches me walk over to Vinnie straddling his lap. Vinnie’s hand comes up behind me circling my asshole. Aaron gets up behind me spitting on my hole, rubbing it around a little. He pushes his tip in my ass, I hiss looking down at Vinnie smirking up at me. He pushes in slowly. Feeling the slight burning sensation of the stretching makes me let out a yelp. Aaron begins to move slowly while I kiss and suck Vinnie’s neck. “You’re such a little whore letting Aaron fuck your ass. Want me to fuck that slutty little pussy at the same time?? Hmm?” “Yes Vinnie please fuck my pussy” Aaron pulls me up by the throat so my back is pressed against him. I spread my legs a little more getting myself ready for Vinnie to fuck up into me. My hands fly up behind me to tug on Aaron’s hair. Vinnie fucks up into my pussy hard while Aaron fucks my ass. Both of my holes being filled at the same time. It feels so good I can’t control how loud I am. Surely all of the neighbors hear me. The feeling begins to overwhelm my body. “Holy fuck I’m going to cum again I’m going to cum again.” I scream out “yes yes yes yes.” Vinnie pulls out of me and I fall back squirting hard all over Vinnie and all over Aaron’s bed. “Shiiittt,” Aaron’s hand rubs my clit still buried in my ass. He bites my ear. “I’m gonna cum.” “Yes please Aaron fill up my ass,” Vinnie strokes his cock watching the scene unfold. Two more thrusts and Aaron is cumming deep in my ass. His body twitches as he slowly slides out.

Vinnie quickly flips us over so he’s on top of me. Aaron gets off the bed standing to watch. “Yeah he filled up your ass you slut. My turn now baby I’m going to fill up that pussy.” My body is a sore shaky mess. “You like that? You want all of your holes filled with cum don’t you dirty whore?” “Mmmmm yes Vinnie please cum in my needy pussy.” And with that he cums deep in me. Letting out a very unholy growl.

He rolls over wrapping an arm around my head. Aaron laying on the other side of me doing the same. Cum dripping out of my holes, and an absolutely sopping wet bed. We sit there quietly for a minute, “holy shit,” I say. We all let out a laugh. I turn to look at them, “I may be able to get used to this?” I question raising my brow. “Oh I think so too.” Aaron says kissing my cheek. “Think you belong to us now.” Vinnie says squeezing my boob. I let out a sigh closing my eyes. “Think my pussy wants to cum hard again,” I say spreading my legs. “Count me in.” Aaron says.

[seijorhi]

Hey, congrats on 500 followers! Could I request a scenario with yan!Oikawa who takes advantage of Iwaizumi’s sister, as in noncon? If you don’t want to write it then it’s fine! :)

Of course, thanks for the request! I am always happy to write yan Oikawa

Oikawa Tooru x Female Reader

TW implied non-con, manipulation, naive reader

Adorable

The people who know Oikawa, really know Oikawa, understand that he doesn’t love easily. 

He has his swarm of devoted fans, his teammates and his friends, and on the surface he comes across as friendly, charming, even. He has a way with people, he knows that, abuses it a little, if he’s being honest. Outside of the court, he doesn’t want anybody to think too badly of him. Oikawa wants their praise, their attention, their love, needs it even - but it’s a one way transaction, a temporary boost to satisfy his ego, nothing more.

Beneath the cheery laugh and flattering smiles, Oikawa really doesn’t give a shit about most people, and genuinely cares for even less. 

Hajime has always been the exception, right from the first day of school together. His best friend, the one person he trusted above all else.

And then there was you; his sweet, adorable little sister.

Oh, now weren’t you just the cutest thing? Oikawa can still remember the first time he met you, the way you clung to your brother’s back, peering around him with those wide pretty eyes. You’d blushed and stammered out a bashful hello and Oikawa thinks that that might just have been the moment you stole his heart.

Not that he knew it at the time. Back then, girls still had cooties.

And yet, despite that, you managed to endear yourself to him. 

It didn’t help that you always turned such a delightful shade of pink whenever he teased you. His efforts usually garnered him a rough slap on the back of his head, courtesy of Iwa, but what was he supposed to do? You were just too damn adorable not to play with!

It’s all harmless of course (just because they’re best friends, doesn’t mean Iwa trusts him an inch around his sister, Oikawa knows this) until suddenly it isn’t.

Oikawa isn’t really sure exactly when his feelings began to change. He’s always felt somewhat protective of you. It’s natural, he supposes, after seeing how adorably naive you are, especially around guys. He’s honestly lost count of the number of times he’s had to play your knight in shining armour with Iwa and the others because you’re simply too stupid to realise you’re getting taken advantage of.

And maybe it’s that innocent naivety he wants to protect, if only so he can corrupt it himself. 

It’s partially your fault too, you know. Despite his playful attempts to rile you up, you trust him implicitly, just like you trust all of Hajime’s friends. You don’t think twice about parading yourself around in front of him in a tank top and those skimpy little pyjama shorts that never fail to drive him to near distraction. You don’t notice it, do you, the way his hand grips so tightly at the armrest on the couch when you slot yourself down between the two of them on movie nights at your place that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break.

He hopes like hell that Iwa doesn’t pay attention when he abruptly excuses himself halfway through, prays that the volume on the TV is loud enough to mask the sounds of him fucking his fist with your name on his lips.

You give your affections so easily, it takes nothing more than a petulant pout for you to wrap your arms around his waist and tuck yourself against him just like you do with Hajime. He wonders whether he can tempt a kiss from you, too. 

(He refrains, if only because he knows that while you might be that gullible, Iwa certainly isn’t).

Oikawa doesn’t quite know whether he should be offended by your unwitting refusal to see him as anything other than your big brother’s best friend or not, but he supposes it won’t really matter one way or the other. Whether you expect it - want it - or not, the end result is gonna be the same.

He just has to be patient.

And wouldn’t you know it? The fates see fit just to all but throw you into his lap.

It’s purely by chance that Iwa isn’t home when he swings by one afternoon, but when you answer the door, breathless and sniffling, eyes rimmed in a tell tale red, every thought of his best friend flies right out the window. It takes but a millisecond for him to register the pretty outfit you’re wearing, the delicate, floral scent of your perfume lingering in the air, and it takes an immense amount of practice to keep the predatory smirk from curling across his lips.

And you, sweet, darling, little thing, try and wave away his concerns as he takes you by the waist and leads you back inside, closing the door behind him.

But he’s played his role so well. He’s your big brother’s best friend, you can trust him, you can tell him anything, you know that, right? He cares about you so much, and it’s obvious you’re upset - Hajime would be seriously pissed if he found out he left you all alone in such a state. 

Truthfully, he barely listens to your snivelling confession - something about a supposed date gone wrong, a boy who kissed another girl instead of you. There’s a brief flicker of irritation at seeing you hung up on somebody who’s not him, but Oikawa forces himself to focus on the way you’re all but burrowed against him on the couch, the delightful sensation of your bare skin under his fingertips as he comforts you so tenderly.

Oh, it really is too perfect.

He’s wanted this for months, years maybe, and Oikawa can’t hold himself back any longer. His grip is gentle but unyielding as he coaxes your chin up to look at him. God, you look so beautiful staring up at him with that teary, doe eyed confusion, you barely have a chance to open your mouth and question him before his lips are crashing against yours.

God, you taste like fucking heaven.

He wastes no time easing you into it, it would be just cruel to give you a hope that this experience was going to be in any way gentle. His teeth bite at your bottom lip, his hands tightening with bruising force as he suddenly flips you over onto your back, knocking the air from your lungs.

He’s always thought you were pretty, but somehow even his best fantasies pale in comparison to the sight that awaits him as he rips open your top and hikes up your skirt. You look so cute beneath him, so very fragile and scared that for a moment he forces himself to stop.

A faint hope flickers in your eyes. Even caged beneath him with his achingly hard cock pressing insistently against your thigh, you still so desperately want to believe that this is all some big misunderstanding, that he’s not about to tear you away from your safe, naive, little world and fuck you until you’re a babbling mess.

“T-Tooru? I- why…” your words fail as fresh tears well up and spill down your flushed face, and he can’t deny the trill of pleasure he gets from hearing his name in that breathless whisper of yours. He wants to hear it again, wants to hear you scream it as he pounds into your warm, tight cunt.

He smiles widely, cupping his palm against your wet cheek, “Don’t cry, cutie. You trust me, don’t you?”

It’s not like he’s doing this because he doesn’t love you. 

Doesn’t change the fact he’s still gonna ruin you.

[colossal-fallout]

Hellloooo guess who 😏

I was wondering if you could do a detailed hange strap on one where she’s normally Dom but the reader takes charge for once and is surpirsed how sub hange can be

Ilysm bby ♥️

Hello lovely ❤️

Anything for Hange's wifey 😘 

Sorry it’s late, been busy & had a pounding headache earlier. 

On your knees 🍯

Warnings: 18+ NSFW

Fem bodied reader X Sub Hange

Strap on usage.

  That familiar scent rolled over you like a wave; it was a mixture of old books, ink and some sort of chemical you were not aware of, but it was the smell of Hange. 

You didn’t even have to turn to know it was her as her hand slithers over your shoulder, her face blowing hot air into your ear that sent shivers down your spine. 

You knew what that meant and your bodies conditioned response was to slightly begin to salivate, your heart picking up the pace to send more blood flow down to your crotch. It was going to need it. 

 “My office. Five minutes.” She whispered simply, before her hand took a fist full of your backside as she walked by without a second look. 

 Your excitement was immeasurable as you shuffled your way down to her room. It had been about two weeks since you last got fucked senseless by your lover. You’d both been so busy with work - Levi had been busting your ass so hard. So this invitation to be hurled into the heavens by Hange was well received. 

Wait... A voice in your head pipes up as you stroll down the hallway. Are you okay with just being her little sex thing, to use whenever she likes? 

“Yes.” Your inner monologue replies. 

...Okay, lemme rephrase that. Are you okay with never showing Hange what you’re capable of? How you could make her beg, scream and cry?

“That’s a good idea.” 

You gonna show her who’s boss?

“Hell yeah!” 

 You quiver with excitement at this aspect; you were going to absolutely ruin her. 

 So, when you opened the door to her office and she jumps you, pressing you against the wall barely a moment before you step inside, you pull her head off your mouth by her hair, not once removing your eyes from hers. She looks taken aback for a moment, her beautiful chestnut eyes searching yours for some sign of a problem. 

“No.” You say firmly, an eyebrow arching. “There’s something I want to show you. Go to my room. Not in five minutes. Now.” 

She just stands there in shock for a few seconds. You really suited this and it turned her on beyond belief. 

“O-okay...” She turns around as you slap the palm of your hand off her perfect peachy ass. 

“Hurry.” 

 Locking the door behind you once you’d arrived in your private room you turn to face her. She stood there, a little dazed. 

 “Take off your clothes.” You command. 

“Y-yes, y/n.” She stammers, her face already heating up as her fingers fumble with her buttons.

You turn to get something from your closet, trying to hide the giddy grin that was threatening to spread. You had no idea Hange could be so... willing. 

You take off your own clothes, fumbling as you pull out your strap on and begin to fasten it to yourself. 

Hange watches you, her eyes widen and her mouth opens slightly, the sight of the prosthetic cock making her insides churn and awaken. Her breathing rate increases, already getting so excited at the thought of you totally taking control of her body and having your way with her. 

When you turn, she’s standing there in awe, her gorgeous body just waiting to be destroyed. 

You strut over to her, sliding your tongue into her mouth and cupping her face, your clit swelling at the sound of her sweet moan. You reach down between her legs; she has a neat little cunt. Pink and small but it flushes to a darker purple further out when she’s ready for it. It contrasts well. 

You gasp as you feel that she’s already dripping, so turned on by this side of you. 

“You want me to fuck you, huh?” You smile with a breathy whisper, your finger sliding up and down her slit. 

“Yes...” She gasps, her head throwing back. 

“How bad do you want it?” 

“S- so... bad.” 

 You slip a finger into her tight cunt, the ridges of her insides already being greedy and pulling in your digit. 

You encase your mouth around one of her nipples. Her tits are petite; small but perfect and her nipples are a light shade of brown. They’re like sweet little chocolate drops that send her into a lustful craze. 

She makes a loud “Ha~~” sounds at your touch, her face now bright red and her eyes closed. 

“Oh hange... I’m just getting started.” You frown, cruelly pulling away your hand from her. 

“Beg for me.” You command. “I want you on your hands and knees.” 

It surprises you to no end that she dropped to the floor, with zero hesitation. Her pretty face looking up at you with pleading eyes as you tower over her. 

“Open.” You mutter. 

Her jaw drops and she sticks out her tongue, her eyes blinking up at you while you gather spit at your lips, dropping it into her mouth. 

“Ah...mmm..” She groans, her eyes rolling as she swallows your spit with delight. “P-please. Y/N. Fuck me. I beg you.” 

You feign a bored expression, leisurely walking to the bed and lying down. 

Her eyes never leave you as you do so. 

“Alright then.” You sigh. “Knock yourself out.” 

Before you could blink she was on your face, straddling you before lowering herself down. 

Hange is pretty vocal during sex, so as she rocks her hips against your tongue the room is filled with her sighs, moans and whimpering. 

Your fingertips dig into her thighs, pulling and pushing her along with her own momentum, the sweet scent of her juices filling your nose. 

You’d decided she’d had enough of that.

You push her down onto her back harshly before turning her around, grabbing her hair and pushing your attached dildo into her. 

She fucking screams, as you pound into her with force, not once stopping your rhythm. 

“Y/n! Y/n!” She cries, her fingers digging into the mattress. “Yes! oh god! yes! more! more!” 

Her greed cunt splashed her juices all over her ass, your inner thighs and lower stomach as it cried out for more. 

You obliged, pushing her down by her back and you begin to hit her harder, her hips in the air as she begins to pull at her own hair. 

“Oh god i cant take it!” She yells as her insides clamp down on your fake cock, her pussy squirting and spitting cum at you like an enraged alpaca.

She shivers but you don't stop. She begged. She asked. You're going to fucking give her it.

"Ah! Ah!" She cries as you hurtle her into over stimulation, white hot waves burning every inch of her skin.

"y/n! Oh my god!"

"Keep taking it hange." You pant, smacking your hand against her ass. "You're doing so well."

A fiery orgasm slammed her out of nowhere, making her eyes roll and her eyes fill. Her screams reached a pitch where no human alive would be able to hear it, her legs shaking and even more of her cum surges out of her sloppily.

But you keep going. Because now, the friction from the strap on, combined with our lovers cum soaking you, your own golden end was quickly approaching.

"y/n... Please... Oh my god." She cries before it really does get too much.

She leaves her body as you cum. She just lies there unable to move or speak; just being assaulted and battered by overwhelming pleasure that renders her immobile.

"Fuck Hange! Greedy little slut!" You snap, the pleasure tearing you from your right mind.

You flop down panting. Hange is soaking with her sweat and own cum, looking at you like you're some sort of goddess.

"y/n..." She eventually whispers in awe.

"I'm not done with you yet." You laugh.

Lemme know what you thought Hange's wifey 😘

[herstarburststories]

He didn’t make it to 42

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: it’s Dean’s birthday, you go to visit him with some news and things that need to be said.

A/N: Happy bday, De.

Warnings: so much angst, mentions of sex, hopeful/happy ending (?)

Dean’s dead. It’s Dean’s birthday and he’s dead. You can’t argue much.

Sam denied the demon blood inside him, and that didn’t stop its evil nature from growing and gasping for his fresh air to the point he was almost shocked alive. Dean denied his dad’s destructive methods’ results for the longest time, and that didn’t stop the cicatrixes in every emotion he had ever shown. You denied the absence of Dean and that didn’t stop the bricks cracking in your soul. There’s only so far you can go with your eyes closed.

So here you are. Standing in front of an empty grave. You are bigger than the dull tombstone, yet you can’t help but not to feel tall, at all. How can you even start to talk? Talking to Dean used to be easy even when it got hard and now you’re feeling like a lost kid in a supermarket. Your snide thinking spells out his name with venom, saying it isn’t easy for you to open your barmy mouth and spill out contrarian shit because this isn’t Dean, just another meaningless symbolism that Sam promises that will help. The real Dean died almost a year ago, he was burned in a hunter’s funeral, the flames dancing over his body as the smell of burnt meat invaded your nostrils. Whenever you try to remember his fragrance, that manly aroma which you loved to scent each morning, all your brain can come up with is the odor of his skin and guts burning. The smell lingers like bad perfume, it doesn’t matter how many times you wash yourself with his soap-- that only broke your heart worse.

But today is Dean’s birthday. He deserves a visit, even if it’s not him. Then you go and attempt to deal with the desolation, push it away just a little, and pick up something from the enormous pile of things you wish to tell Dean. You glance at the cold tombstone: Dean Winchester. 1979 - 2020. Beloved son, big brother, and husband. Hunter. A hero. Simple definitions that can never make it up for who he was and what he meant. You purse your lips and cough a little, a gentle wind touches your cheek so tenderly. If you were still a believer, you’d think this is some sort of sign, Dean’s presence or some other pious hoax. All you do now is to remain in quietude, a deep breath. Ultimately, your voice comes:

‘’You didn’t make it to forty two, huh?’’ You scoff humorless, reminiscing to the multiple days that Dean said he wouldn’t go past 35. He did live each year like it was the last--- you aren’t sure if it's such a good thing. If you carry on like your days are outnumbered, you are silently entertaining yourself until death's knock on your door. ‘’I always hated when you were right. Let’s be honest, you had the words of a pessimist and the wants of an optimist. Still, if you were to be right about something, it would be about a bad situation. A nest with too many vampires, how crappy the motel’s bedroom would be, or how that third glass of wine would make me tipsy. So yeah, I always hated when you were right. And look at you now! You aren’t right, you aren’t wrong. You are dead! And I’m the crazy girl screaming at an empty tombstone.’’

You let out a laugh empty of joy. That’s how a hunter’s life is: you die and people stop talking about you because it’s too sad or too long gone to hold any pity, meanwhile the ones who recall about you go loud with all the spirits in their heads. You put your hand in the pockets of the heavy leather jacket that once belonged to a green eyed man who would be turning 42 today, some strange force causing you to speak again.

‘’Wow.’’ You shake your head to the blue way you paint the scene until you notice that you never greeted him. ‘’Hey.’’ The simple word adds a comical insult to injury. ‘’Guess the dead don’t care about manners, huh?’’ You arch your eyebrows with a grin that demonstrates anything but happiness. ‘’Miracle died. Sam digged a hole next to the bunker and buried him there. He isn’t the same since you died, you know? Not the deceased dog-- Well, he wasn’t the same either. Always whining and scratching your door like a fucking cat, and sniffing your old boots. He made me company in your bed and I whined as much as he did when you didn’t come back home that day. He stood by the door most days, waiting for you to appear. I can’t judge him, I did the same.’’ You shrug, not caring about how risible that confession may look. It's true. You became as irrational as a loyal dog at some point in this sorrow. ‘’And Sam, your baby brother… I think he died with you right there, Dean. He didn’t try to bring you back as he promised, but I shouted and screamed so much. I said I would burn the bunker and throw Baby over a cliff if he didn’t-- if he didn’t let me try. I lived up to the mad woman title.’’

You are crestfallen, pacing on top of where the eldest Winchester - Sam’s brand new nomination -  supposedly was buried. You know your boots barely touch an infected land, there's no deceased man under your steps. The dead thing is in you.

‘’I spent days dragging your body everywhere and nowhere, anywhere I could catch a crumb of relief in hope to bring you back. But I couldn’t. Jack could, but that ungrateful idiot doesn’t wanna follow his grandpa steps and get too attached to mere humans, the creation or whatever. As if we are just some skin and bone to him, as if you are just another human.’’

You sit down on the tombstone, some tender solace in being close to a thing that's supposed to represent him, like sleeping hugged to a pillow or waking up to a photograph of his. Your nails sink against the gelid concrete at the thought of screaming into the sky for the new God that seemed as deaf as the last one. His calm answer to your burning pain. How he dared to tell you he knew what he was doing— as if he was the original lord and not a three years old. You can't make him do it, so you hold on the fury of some overthrown nation.

‘’Anyway, I couldn’t bring you back. Your body, well, you know how human anatomy works. Your body started to smell like death. We tried to stop with human and magic ways, and it wouldn’t work because you were dead. You should’ve seen the doctor’s face when we got you in that fancy hospital tha night. I think we traumatized the doctor with so much violence and trauma. She didn’t even give us a false hope or anything, you know? She just asked about organ donation of what was left. She just wanted to take every little thing out of you, as if you were just another accident on a Tuesday night.’’ Your shake your head as the memories and your points start to mix, it's hard to discern things and keep a straight line when you have an open wound in your insides. ‘’Well, they couldn’t bring you back to life, and neither could Rowena or whatever I looked for. Don’t be mad because I tried, Winchester. You know I’m too stubborn for my own good. I had to try.’’ you refuse to apologize, yet adds the playful words in his eulogy. ‘’But then your body started to stink and God, how could I continue to be so violent to your corpse? That was when I decided to listen to you for the first time and to Sam, so I let you go. I hate you for asking that.’’ What an ambiguous, contradictory truth to bare. You are glimpses of a person for months because of Dean Winchester, still have the energy to argue his selfless logic, just to love him even more. He's got your devotion, but man you can hate him sometimes. ‘’I hate you for going on that stupid hunt. I hate you for being dead, you giant idiot that I love so much.’’ You can't bring your mouth to say loved. "I was always telling you to let the past go and now I’m in love with a dead thing. What a comic way to end our history. I told you that Miracle died, right? I don’t know if dogs go to heaven, but I hope he’s in there with you. I wonder what your heaven is like. I bet it has Whiskey.''

Your dry chuckle makes your notice the tears in your eyes, glistening your orbs as they go like a waterfall to be absorbed by the thirsty land after leaving your cheeks.

"Sam and I-- We tried to make some sense out of this cruelty, but we can’t. You are dead and I can’t seem to put it past me. I still sleep in your bed, and I can still taste your body burning on the roof of my mouth in the quiet nights. I cried this morning because someone asked for a burger, can you believe that? It was so stupid since I used to shake my head and argue with you about cholesterol. Suddenly I was crying at lunch in a restaurant because some stupid kid asked for a burger with extra bacon. They sang Happy birthday to this dumbass child, and I interrupted with my awful crying, and wished that you were celebrating your birthday and not that kid. I guess you could say I wish death upon an innocent child with a problematic eating routine.’’ That was a whole new level of low, as if you are the one wrapped with the sentiment of laying six feet under.

‘’Everyone tells you about how grief is singular and particular with similar emotions that bring people who went through this together. They even have that crap stages thing and all that. You know what they don’t tell you?’’ Your mouth shuts for a moment, like you are waiting some response. You nod as if whatever you were expecting is handed to you. ‘’Grief can be fucking ridiculous. Who cries because of a burger full of oil and cardiac diseases? Who cries because they found a grocery store recipe under her dead boyfriend’s bed? Who falls on the ground screaming in the middle of the mall because they saw a flannel? Who? Those things are so stupid.’’ You smile like there's no tomorrow and the laugh leaving your lips is a treacherous tone. Perhaps you just aren't build up to express joy anymore. ‘’You see it in the movies and in the books and you think, you know, you think to yourself that grieving is being sad on special dates and randomly remembering the loved ones because of some screaming memory, like a flannel or their perfume. Thing is, it’s not just that. All your body seems so small, so tight for all the ache and agony inside it. Your senses go wild, you are not just one person in one place. You’re just the pain everywhere, like being pulled apart and you beg to jump in the fucking grave with them. At least you would be together, at least you would feel like one person and not suffering edges of a broken earthy thing. And--And you start remembering things you didn’t even know you had mesmerized. I look at the ceiling and remember you saying you’d paint it someday. I look at the kitchen and remember me screaming at you for giving Miracle the rest of the food. I smell Sam’s clothes and started crying because hey, they don’t smell like alcohol. You don’t iron them while drinking anymore, so of course they don’t smell like cheap beer.’’ You are chuckling through the tears and it only makes it more monstrous. ‘’Everything is you now that you are gone. Every man has something similar to you, every garden is green as your eyes, and each step sounds like you are coming home. They didn’t prepare me, not for this.’’ You said breathless. A soft single follows. The knife cuts both ways; the empty breeze and the words hurt. Where's the middle term? Where's the limbo? Where's the only safe place for you to rest your weary head?

Out of nowhere, you blurt out, ‘’I can’t masturbate,’’ I know it’s something stupid and even selfish to say, but I think you’d like to know. I can’t masturbate. That’s a part of the whole losing someone process that people are too ashamed to discuss, or maybe they don’t have the urge to be touched anymore because after someone you love dies, after someone-- the hands who touched are dead and cold, you become a haunted object. That’s how I feel most days, like I’m a haunted house because you touched me and now you’re dead and some days I believe I am too.’’ You look around the places. It's beautiful. It's lonely. It has trees and flowers and green. Not as green as Dean's eyes, but it doesn't matter anymore. He doesn't even have eyes at this point. ‘’Well, I can’t masturbate. I can’t touch myself. And I can’t ask someone else either. I tried and ended up punching the guy, Dean. I swear. I panicked when he was between my legs and just punched his nose. You’d have liked it, you were always the jealous kind. I won’t admit that, but I thought it was kinda hot. Especially when you got possessive in sex.’’ A dirty grin appeared on your lips, the echoes of luxury lasting in your eyes for a brief moment. ‘’I don’t think I can be cared for anymore, honestly. Sam tried to hug me when Miracle died and I… It was like I wasn't there. I got frozen in time, and I live in my sleep. In my nightmares you are alive. I  dream about the day you died every week and I used to wake up screaming, but now those nightmares are the only proof you were alive now that you’re as dead as the police report says this time. It was the most painful, calamitous moment for you and I swear it was a nightmare for me, but then I realized that at least I had you there, egoistical or not, I made my nightmare into a dream.’’ You aren't sure which opinion Dean would have on that. Would he understand? Would he shake his head? You wish you can ask him just this one more thing, just beg him to write it down for you on how to be without him here.

You raise on your feet, glaring at the name craved in the concrete. The tears go by still, although they're as usual as the blood in glir veins at this point. ‘’Death is so silly. What it takes, anyway?" Each word conquers more inches of pure wrath. ''People die because they stumbled on their own feet and hit their head somewhere, or they drove their car too close and too fast to the cliff, or because they were giving birth, or because they dated the wrong person, or because they were hunting a fucking vampire and got impaled. What are the chances? How stupid, and idiotic is death? Always creeping and waiting to bite and chew a piece of you-- Taking every scrap of you from me like that’s its right.’’ You are screaming, starting to kick and punch the tombstone with any piece of straight you have. Your limbs hurt and the blood is visible, but you keep going. ‘’YOUR STUPID DOG DIED, DEAN! AND YOU DIED! AND I DIED! SAMMY DIED! YEAH, IS SAID SAMMY! GO AHEAD, TELL ME ONLY YOU CAN CALL HIM THAT.’’ Another punch, your knuckles are ripped. Another kick, your boot as a hole. ‘’DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.’’ Kick. ‘’SAMMY, SAMMY, SAMMY!’’ A punch to each name. Anything to get a reaction, to get comfort. Anything. ‘’YOU CAN’T BECAUSE YOU ARE DEAD.’’ Gasping for something you don't need anymore, sweet oxygen, your eyes are on the tombstone again. And the definitions. And the trees. Your body is sore and aching. It is the kind and coercion no person wants which you needed; the freedom of feeling outside the exact pain that was inside. ‘’You can’t because you are dead. I’ve been playing some sick games in my mind, you know? Sam stopped hunting and had his closure. He was always better at letting go than you and I, but he’s still hurting. I never saw him hurting so much. I think he knows you won’t come back this time, how could you make us promise something like that?  Well, my twisted game is a bunch of misleading what ifs. What if you hadn’t gone after John? What if you hadn’t gone on that last hunt? What if you had stayed with Lisa? At first I didn’t like her much. Jealous, I admit that. But she grew on me. She gave you something I couldn’t back then and I’ll always be thankful for that. And even though it would rip me apart, I’d rather you to die at sixth after living your suburban dream with her. Have another kid besides Ben, maybe a girl this time, and just have that apple pie life. You and Sam would live close and your kids would always play. They’d be as close as brothers. Maybe I’d get a guy and bring my own kids and we could’ve a barbecue and everyone would be happy. But we don’t get soft epilogues here. It ends how it starts, right? Bloody and desperate. I thought maybe, maybe Lisa could understand what’s going through my head now. I drove to her new address and parked close to her house. I must have spent hours there, thinking if I should come in or not, If she somehow remembered after Castiel died or if I could make her brain work again if I told her the truth. But then I just drove back home and fell asleep wrapped in that stupid lumberjack flannel of yours. The one I always mocked, yeah? She may understand me, but I know you wouldn’t want that. You want her, you want me and Sam to be happy. I don’t know if I can do that, Dean. It’s like myt brittle soul shrewd and my body is just waiting to collapse.’’ You signed, overwhelmed by the battle without an anthem. The victory with no triumph. Is it still a win when you don't have someone to come home too? ‘’Your dog died, it’s the first birthday you didn’t live to see, and I bought all the things you told Mrs Butters you wanted for your birthday because it’s your birthday. I just don’t know how to celebrate it with you dead. People stop counting after they die, right? They just say he’d have been 42 or he died at 41. They give melancholy smiles when they wake up and check the day on their phones and a woe atmosphere swallows them for the rest of the day. Then they get better the next day. I think everyday is your birthday.’’ You attempt to wipe away your tears, which only causes your pulsating hand to stain your face red. ‘’Dean, for the first time, what died stayed dead! Congrats.’’ Once again, a hysterical laugh. ‘’I wish but no. What died didn’t stay dead, you are alive, so alive in my head. I swear you are there some days. I wake and watch the door, so sure you’ll come back. Sam says I’m living in delusion and I have to wake up and keep going since that's what you would want. That's enough to make him keep going, but it only makes me angry. Everyone we know and some strangers looks at me like I'm a house on fire and no longer a warm home, like I'm a car accident. They think I don't notice but I do.’’ You look at your boots, the whole is rolling out blood like your hands. You feel closer to Dean. How sick.

‘’Help, I’m still right where you left me." You plea, his love lingering like a bruise. ''I think gravity is overwhelming and it keeps me here. Sometimes it’s like I’m one of those dusted books Sam used to read. Or those Bukowski ones that you hid, so we wouldn’t see how smart you’re. You tried so hard to hide your intelligence because you didn’t think you were entitled to it. You saw yourself as the protector and never the valuable one for protection. You, the man who made an EMF out of an old radio, who rebuilt the Impala from the ground multiple times, and who knew patterns better than any detective. The man who showed me I could rely on someone other than myself. The dude with a lopsided grin, tough hands and a heart of gold. I miss you so much. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing all those classic rock songs and Taylor Swift pop hits, while I drove here. I would think you were home, smelling like guts because you wanted to eat before taking a shower after a hunt. I would think that you are in the Deancave, waiting for me to curl up on your lap to watch Scooby Doo or Doctor Sexy MD until we aren’t watching anymore. If I didn’t know better I would think no death could take you from me. There would be no tear us apart in our vows.’’ The only thing that keeps your organism working is that Dean died knowing how much you loved him. You never let this talk for later or never. No tomorrow is promised. That's a nice comfort, maybe that's what will help you to let go in the future. ‘’But yesterday your stupid, skink dog died and I lost the last living thing that I had from you. You know what’s more angerting? I cried and Sam cried and I noticed we were the living things you left behind and all we have is each other. All your closets of backlogged dreams were left for us-- so yeah. Sam is done hunting and he’s met a lovely girl, and they are moving in like in your domestic dreams. I’m taking care of the family business like your other contradictory dream and making sure Sam is safe enough to be normal. Because I have to, we have too. Stupidly enough, I still wait for the day you’ll burst out the door and tell us to hit the road again. I still watch every episode of your dumb tv shows to make sure I’ll know everything that happened when you ask. I still drive around in your car and close my eyes when the street is calm, only picturing you driving as Baby’s engineers go wild but those are my hands on the steering wheel. If I didn't know better, I’d think you are still around. But I know better. I still feel you all around. I love you.’’

Your monologuing ends as astutely as it stated. You get up, press a kiss to your ruined for the next weeks hands and place it on the rock with writings. You turn around and walk back to the car that you parked near, only in case of Dean wanting to see Baby. How knows? You and your clandestine faith. You lick your lip and get in the car.

You swear you the AC/DC cassette wasn't there before, but when you turn on the car and the radio it starts playing. It's the first true smile that comes to your mouth, it's bloodstained and you look like a shameless woman. With that you can deal.

It hurts a bearable hurt for now. You didn't think it was possible. Maybe someday.

The end.

(she takes a little longer to arive in heaven than sammy. his baby brother says that women are most likely to live around six years more than men. it doesn't ease him up, though. dean waited sam for too long, his platonic soulmate. and now he has to wait his romantic one too? the eldest Winchester considers it the best earthly present when the he sense you around, that smell of orange and apples. it's you, he knows before even turning around. he can't wait to love you again. your name rolls off your tongue so naturally, as if you had seen each other just yesterday: ‘’hey, y/n.’’)

But then again, nothing ever really ends, does it?

REBLOG AND COMMENT. Feedback is magic and helps me!

Starburst's footnote: It just didn't feel right to make an author's note on the top. I wanted it all only to be an arrow to the story. So, this is my side note: it's six am and I'm up writing this after inspiration kissed me with a bruise in the middle of the night. Or more like grabbed my throat. Anyway, I had to write and finish this one to post today, even pushing sleep aside. Hey, we are writers, that's what we do! I've been watching the show since I was eleven and I cried like a baby with the finale. This series was just so important and crucial to molde aspects of relationships for me. The song marjorie by Taylor Swift was used here, and so was the line "you got my devotion/ but man, I can hate you sometimes" by Harry Styles. I told you guys I would use it somewhere! A special thanks to @msmarvelouswinchester​ who helped me with her encouraging and opinon. You are the best! And with all of this I wanna say: Happy bday, Dean Winchester!

REBLOG AND COMMENT! Feedback is magic! Especially about this fic, I’d like to know your opinion. Tags in the reblog! Send an ask or dm to get in the taglist.

[carllisle]

In honour of @notquitetwilight ’s birthday, here is the latest instalment of the Cullanos prequel, the famous incident involving Esme, Carlisle’s second wife, and a motorcycle-shaped pizza slicer. 

For those who have missed the instalments so far, see below: 

The Second Mrs Cullano - Carlisle’s wedding to Wife 2

A Taste of Boston Part I - Carlisle and Wife 3 Esme take business with the daughter they are newly reunited with to Boston

A Taste of Boston Part II - Carlisle and Esme take on a hit job while their daughter Rosalie gets to grips with this new lifestyle 

More content can be found on @notquitetwilight ‘s blog under the tag the-cullanos and on my blog @carllisle under the tag the-cullanos. 

This instalment has content warning for sex (not explicit) and violence. Don’t get us wrong, this is still shitposting. But at this point we are really, really invested. Shout to @stregoni-benefici and @carlislesscarf who are screaming in the back of the clown car that me and Juliet are steering. 

The Second Wife and the Pizza Slicer

Esme liked the rain. She liked how the streetlights reflected in the water on the pavement, the neon colours lighting up her path. It didn’t lighten her black mood. The sound of her stiletto steps were lost in the rain as she marched down the street like she owned it. Half of it she did own, not that the IRS needed to know that. There was only one shopfront she was interested in tonight, though. Ahead, the pizzeria stood dark and empty, unassuming and inconspicuous wedged between a barbers’ shop, and a meat deli. Convenient for the pizzeria to have one of their suppliers next door. Those shops were closed too but that was to be expected; it was after 1am. 

Her heart raced in anticipation as she walked through the darkness. Between the buildings was a small alleyway and she slipped down it. At the back door of the pizzeria was Tony, the long-time security guard who took most night shifts on the property, and Esme forced a smiled at him. “Hey handsome. They leave you out here without an umbrella?” 

He grinned at her, rain dripping down his bald head and onto his coat. “I left it on the subway on my way in.” 

“Carl not give you a lift?” Tony lived practically on Carlisle’s route into the pizzeria and he often picked him up when they both had to come in. Tony glanced at the sleek Mercedes that was hidden at the back of the alley and shook his head. “The mrs came in with him today.” 

The mrs. Snakes writhed in her stomach. She couldn’t bite back her spite and it wiped the smile off her face. “Is the cunt with him now?” 

“Nah. She left ‘bout an hour after they arrived. Carlisle helped them out in the kitchen tonight and she didn’t much like being left alone.” 

“Heaven fuckin forbid she make herself useful. She’s only meant to be four months pregnant, ain’t she? Not exactly time for her confinement.” 

Tony’s smile faltered. “Something like that. You got any weapons on ya?” 

Esme frowned. “What if I say no? Ya gonna pat me down?” 

“No. Won’t let you in, though. You’re always packin’.” 

“You got me there.” Esme opened her coat, taking out her two handguns - white and inlaid with mother-of-pearl - and handing them over. Tony raised his eyebrow and she rolled her eyes. Knives were taken out of each shoe along with the two throwing-stars strapped to her thigh. 

“Is that everything?” 

“You know I don’t need weapons to kill him, right? I could kill him with my bare hands.” 

“I know.” He hid her weapons in his coat carefully. “But you won’t. So I don’t worry.” 

Fury rippled through her and her eyes went wide for a moment, but he held her gaze and she let out a hard breath through her nose. He was right. “You’ve worked for us too fuckin long. You can read me too well.” But her hard face broke and she gave him a genuine, albeit brief, grin. Anger had only flared in her because he was too right. “Here,” she gave him her umbrella. “You need this more than me.” 

Tony smiled. “Thanks, Esme. In ya go.” And he pressed his thumb to the scanner on the door and let it swing open. 

She lightly punched him on the shoulder as she passed, and waited for the door to close before making her way down the corridor. Ahead were the stairs to Carlisle’s office and she ran up them quickly, anger creeping back. It had been months since she had been here last. Since Mrs Cullano announced to the world her pregnancy, actually. Esme had cut off all contact with Carlisle that day. He had broken her goddamn heart and sadness hadn’t yet set in. She was still a raging fire and she was ready to burn down anyone who came too close. But when he had called her sounding unhinged and told her to meet her here, she couldn’t tell him no, cause she knew that tone he had - it was the same one he had had when, six months ago, they had been told that ten million had gone missing. Esme had recovered it from the 15-year-old hacking prodigy who had stolen it before adding her to the payroll, but before that Carlisle had been enraged and dangerous and he needed her to hold him back. Something bad had happened. 

“Carlisle?” The door to his office was unlocked but he wasn’t inside and it was dark. On the far side of the room was a wall of bookshelves and she quickly crossed to it and pulled on one book - The Godfather by Mario Puzo - and the bookshelf swung open like a door. Carlisle had always joked how cool he thought secret doorways were and they both thought the choice of book to be the secret lever was funny. It felt like a million years ago. It felt like yesterday. Behind it was another corridor and a metal spiral staircase that led down to the final door - that only opened one way - into the restaurant below. No one was allowed to use this but Carlisle and Esme, not even Mrs Cullano. Her heels clacked on the iron and her fur coat dragged out behind her. She tossed it aside on one of the booths close to the kitchen and she caught sight of her reflection in the windows. No, I don’t want to seduce my ex boyfriend, she had told herself earlier, but her wardrobe choice said otherwise. She wore the red satin dress he had bought her for his second wedding, backless save for chains of diamonds and clinging to every curve she had, and the ring he had bought her as a sign of their commitment still kept its place on her right hand. She looked away, embarrassed at how long it had taken her to make her hair so sleek and soft, or how long it had taken to slap on her face. It was exactly how she had looked at his wedding, like she wanted to punish him for marrying that bitch. 

“Carlisle?” 

“Kitchen,” came his reply. 

She strutted through the kitchen door and tried to keep her breathing under control. After not seeing him for so long, the sight of him was overwhelming. Carlisle stood at the salad bar chopping lettuce. On the counter behind him was a fresh pizza, the slicer forgotten next to it. 

“You didn’t sound right on the phone.” 

“I ain’t right.” He looked up at her and his eyes went wide. “Oh God, Es. You look…” 

“Whaddya want?” 

His jaw clenched. “It’s her.” 

“Her?” Esme heard the spite in that one word. “Your baby bank?” 

Carlisle turned to toss the knife he was using into the sink. “Don’t call her that.” 

“What? You don’t want me calling her what she is?” 

“She ain’t.” 

Esme laughed bitterly. “She got your baby in her, ain’t she? The fuck else you want me to call her? Yummy mommy? Mother of your child? Gimme a fuckin break.” 

“Es-”

“No, don’t! You called me out here in a fuckin storm to help with your marital problems? Get outta here!”

“Es-”

“I don’t wanna hear it! You dragged me out here in the middle of the fuckin night to tell me you got problems with your cunt of a wife? The one you knocked up who’s now shouting from every fuckin rooftop that Carlisle Cullano came in her! God, it makes me sick.” 

“What the fuck is wrong with-”

“Shut up!” Esme stared at him across the kitchen. It was hard not to cry. It felt like her heart was breaking. When she had heard that Mrs Cullano was pregnant it felt like her world was collapsing. In the month and a half since then everything had gone black and white but that was what it was always like without her other half, just empty. Carlisle put colour into the world. 

“Weeks without contact and this is how we’re gonna start, huh?” His words weren’t gentle. He looked wounded. “Not even a ‘hello’?”

Esme sucked her teeth. “Hi.” 

Carlisle laughed humourlessly. “So we’ll cut the bullshit, will we? Right to it? Where the fuck have you been?” 

“On vacation.” 

“Where?” 

“Nowhere in particular. Just needed a break.”

“From what, Es? Me? What’s got you so bothered?” 

“Your kid, Carlisle! She’s having your fuckin baby!” Esme’s shout came short and furious and she threw a plate at the far wall. It smashed loudly. “D’ya know what that’s doin to me?”

He stared at her across the kitchen, mouth open and eyes wide. He looked angry. “Ain’t that what you wanted for me? To have a wife and kids, cause you knew it’s what I wanted? I did what you told me.” 

Esme threw her hands into the air. “Yeah, and?” 

“I’m not a fuckin mind reader!” He slammed his fists on the metal worktop, his voice getting louder. “‘I want you to have a wife and a family’, that’s what you said to me on the morning of my fucking wedding! I asked you to marry me on the day of my fucking wedding to her! And you turned me down again! I did what you told me to do and now you’re fucking punishing me! How’s that fair?” 

Blond hair fell into his eyes like it did when they fucked. His face was red like it was then too. Esme saw the pain in his face, the anger that matched her own. “You shoulda known.” 

“You didn’t even know. I can’t read minds and I can’t see the future and I can’t feel how you’re feelin unless you tell me!”

“Alright.” Esme stormed over to him and slammed her hand on the counter next to his. She raised her chin in a challenge. “I hate her. I hate her perfect face, her perfect fuckin body, every strand of hair on that empty fuckin head. I hate that you chose her.” 

“I didn’t!” He seemed to tower over her but she stood her ground. “I chose you! I choose you every goddamn time! But you don’t ever choose me! Do you know how many times you broken my heart?”

If it was half the number of times she had broken her own heart, Esme was sorry. She swallowed the lump in her throat. It was impossible to talk about right now. “You gonna tell me why you’re calling me out here sounding like that?” 

It looked like Carlisle wanted to shout again and his hands balled into fists either side of his salad.. “She ain’t pregnant, and if she was it wouldn’t be mine. Probably my cousin Renato’s.” 

That pulled Esme up short. There was too much to unpack. “Whaddya talkin about?” 

“She been fuckin him. For months, Es. Maybe a year.”

“Renato? But why? He looks so much like you but he’s got half the braincells and twice the idiocy. Why’s she fuckin a Dollar Tree version of you?” 

“Cause I weren’t gettin her pregnant.” He dropped his gaze. 

Esme blinked, trying to process it. Her lash extensions were heavy and made her vision go funny, so she fixed her gaze on Carlisle’s face instead. “How’d you find out about them?” 

“She kept sneaking off so I had her followed. Got plenty of photos proving it. I’ve seen way more of Renato than I’m comfortable confessing to Father Thomas, but at least he looks like me. Guess it’s kinda like watching my clone fuck my wife.” 

“That ain’t right. And why the fuck would she lie about being pregnant?” Esme’s hands were trembling. 

He sighed. “She knows I don’t love her and I think she knows I wanna leave but she would miss the money, ya know? So she wants a way to keep me tied to her.” 

Esme’s anger was bubbling beneath the surface. She hated that bitch more than ever for making Carlisle look like that. “How did ya find out about the faked pregnancy?” 

“Medical records are kept online now. Your little hacker found hers. Two weeks ago she had a negative pregnancy test at her doctors’, and another one twelve weeks ago. There was never a fuckin baby.” 

“That lying cunt. Why’d you think it’s your cousin’s if there had been one, anyway? Ain’t you hittin it raw?” 

“Yeah. But… I can’t have kids.” 

“We had one. Or did you forget?” 

Carlisle grabbed Esme’s wrist and roughly pulled her closer. “I think about her every day, Es. Every goddamn day, just like I think about you.”

“Don’t.” She tried to pull away half-heartedly, her voice angry. “I can’t.” He ran his fingers through her hair and she stumbled closer until their bodies were pressed together. Knowing the wife wasn’t pregnant had broken down one of Esme’s walls. “Why’d you say you can’t have kids?” 

“I got the snip.” 

“When?” 

“Two weeks into my first marriage.”

Esme gripped the front of his jacket in both hands. “Why?” 

He slid his hands to the small of her back and his fingers caught on the diamonds. “You look so fucking good, Es.”

She shook him lightly. “Why’d you do that?” 

Carlisle grinned half-heartedly. “Cause I knew I didn’t want no kids with no one but you.”

“I wanted to die when I heard she was knocked up.”

He stroked her hair again. “Don’t say that, Essie.”

“I mean it. I thought about it, ya know? I was gonna drive my car into the Hudson and let it drown me.”

“Hey.” Carlisle held her chin between his finger and thumb and tilted her face up to look her in the eye. “Don’t ever say that, baby. I ain’t livin in a world without ya, alright? You go, I go.”

She took his hand and kissed his palm, keeping her gaze locked with his. “You go, I go.”

“I fuckin love you, Es.” 

“I fuckin hate her.”

“Yeah, me too.” Carlisle sighed and ran his finger down her neck and torso, watching how the silk of her dress moved over her skin. “What are we gonna do?” 

“We? She’s your wife.” 

He chuckled. “My problem is your problem, ain’t it?”

Esme hit his chest again. She was still furious. “Unfortunately, yeah. Want me to kill her?” 

“Nah. I don’t want cops sniffing around ya. Someone else should probably do it.” 

“Tanya owes me a favour, what about her?” 

“Don’t trust her, Es, she’ll double cross ya soon as she’ll fuck ya.” 

She managed half a smirk. “Weren’t that long ago she fucked us. Guess we’re due for a double crossing, then. So not her. The Blacks?”

“They don’t trust us and I can’t blame em for that. We’ll think of someone.”

There was a long silence then. Esme pulled free from his arms and slowly wandered around the pizzeria kitchen. Her heels echoed over tile and steel. She was the other side of the industrial island counter and Carlisle was arranging his salad into edible art when she spoke again. “I wanna do it, Carl.”

“What?” He looked up at her with lettuce sticking out the corner of his mouth. 

“I wanna be the one.”

“I dunno if that’s the best idea.” He turned away from her to grab a slice of pizza that was on the counter behind him. 

“You married the cunt.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know she was gonna be this fuckin crazy!” Carlisle protested indignantly. He took a bite and wrinkled his nose. “Fuck. Why does my dough always turn out like shit?” 

“Cause you ain’t ever learned from the Old Country. You do it the American way.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” he laughed. “Most Italian place you ever been is the Shore!”

“That’s cause my cheap partner never took me on vacation anywhere more exotic than Miami Beach!” She strutted back over to him and took a bite from the slice. “God, it is shit. Reckon even Renato could do better.”

He laughed again and wrapped her in his arms and stroked the skin of her back. “I missed you, ya know?”

“Yeah, me too. But I mean it, Carlisle. I wanna be the one to pull the trigger.” 

Sweeping her hair over her shoulder, Carlisle kissed her neck. “You gonna shoot her?” 

It was impossible to keep her eyes open. “Maybe. I dunno. Fuck,” she sighed quietly when he bit where her neck met her shoulder. She had missed him more than words could say. “I want her gone. She betrayed you and she took you from me.” 

His kisses moved down her collarbones and to the neckline of her dress. “No one can ever take me from you, Esme. I’m yours.” When he grasped her by the waist and turned her, she knew what he wanted. He lifted her onto the counter next to the bad pizza and he kissed her mouth. She parted her lips and grinned when she tasted salad and pizza margherita on his tongue. It didn’t matter. It was him. 

After a while he sank to his knees in front of her and pushed up her red dress. “Fuck, Es. No underwear? Did you come here with an agenda?”

“Who says I wasn’t going somewhere else after here?” she asked, but her voice was shaky as he pulled her to the edge of the counter. She gripped the edge for support and the pizza slicer brushed her fingers.  

“You sleeping with someone else?” Carlisle murmured against her inner thigh. 

“Well since we stopped seeing each other, I have an opening available.” 

“No you fuckin don’t.” His blond head disappeared under the short hem of her dress and Esme wondered, in the back of her mind, if Tony would be able to hear her screams. Carlisle certainly liked her taste better than the pizza. 

Some time later they were both so lost in their passion that they didn’t hear the unlocking of the front door or the quiet steps in the restaurant. Esme’s face was buried in Carlisle’s neck as he pounded her on the counter and his eyes were closed in bliss. 

“What a fuckin surprise.” 

Both of their gazes snapped to the kitchen door that had swung open. Stood in the unflattering  industrial fluorescents stood Mrs Cullano, a pistol raised. It reminded Esme of the one she had taken to their wedding. Unreliable, difficult. Mrs Cullano was no shooter. Instinctively Carlisle shielded Esme with his body, still inside her. Esme couldn’t hold back a moan at his movement. 

“You’re dead, Platt,” Mrs Cullano hissed, her finger on the trigger. Her arm wasn’t steady. 

“Kill her and I’ll tear your fuckin throat out.” Carlisle’s voice was low and deadly. 

“And murder our baby?” 

“Give it up. There ain’t no baby. And if there was, it would be Renato’s. You think I’d let you have my kids? You’re mad.” 

Mrs Cullano’s face went red. 

“Carlisle,” Esme said quietly. She turned Carlisle’s face back to her. “She ain’t got the guts. Fuck me. Please?” It was a move of dominance to show Mrs Cullano, an outsider, that no one would ever come between them or their love. And that Carlisle would always choose Esme no matter what. He leaned down to kiss her and moved with her. 

The scream that Mrs Cullano let out haunted them both for years to come. Absolute grief and loss echoed in the kitchen, rage and delirium. When the gun went off the bullet went stray and was embedded in the wall over the stove. Without missing a beat, Esme grabbed the pizza slicer next to her and threw it with unbelievable precision. The only sound was that of the young woman’s body collapsing onto the floor, the round blade with a handle in the shape of a Harley-Davidson buried deep into her forehead. Instant death. Blood poured from the wound. Esme felt relief and pride wash over her. 

“Fuck,” Carlisle gasped, moving faster. He kissed her hard and gripped her hips and then rested their sweaty foreheads together. “That was so fucking hot. Marry me, Es? Marry me, please!”

Esme moaned and nodded, clutching his back to stop her from losing herself completely. They were both close, both more turned on by exacting revenge than they could handle. “Yes! Yes, Carl, I’ll marry you!” 

After they had finished and set their clothes right, Esme stood over the dead Mrs Cullano’s body. “Jesus Christ, what a fuckin mess. This blood is gonna take ages to clean, look, it’s gone all under the cupboards! Ugh. I don’t have the energy.” 

“What should we do with her?” 

“I dunno. She’s your fuckin wife.” 

“Was. She’s no one’s wife now, she’s fuckin dead.” 

“Well, yeah. Hey, d’ya mean what you said? To marry ya?” 

“Yeah. Did you really mean you would?” 

Esme stepped over the body and made sure not to get blood on her Jimmy Choos. “Yeah. I wanna be your wife.” 

Neither of them smiled, but they shared a long gaze. Then Carlisle pulled out his phone and quickly dialled a number. “Hey, it’s me. Get some of your guys down the pizzeria, we need some clearing up done. Yeah. Mhm. Three or four. Yeah. Platt’s with me. Ha! Yeah. Yeah, the Mrs found us. Esme put her down, though, so we need it sorted. Clean-up and removal, remember this is a working kitchen, alright? I want it clean of evidence and up to code, ya goddit? Okay. See ya in twenty.” 

Esme opened one of the cleaning cupboards and pulled out a spray and cloth. 

“Hey, don’t worry about that,” Carlisle told her and he waved a hand. “They’ll be here soon for her.” 

Esme looked pointedly at the counter where he had fucked her and grinned. “I was thinking more about cleaning that up. Don’t want extra flavour in the pizza tomorrow, do ya?” Bending over, she sprayed the wet area on the metal countertop. With great satisfaction she felt him press against her backside and stroke up her back. “Ready for round two already?” 

“You fuckin bet. D’you know how much it turned me on to see you like that?” 

“Yeah. But save it. Let’s not have our first time as an engaged couple be in front of your dead wife. Bring’s a whole new meaning to ‘the body’s not even cold’, don’t it?” 

Grinning, Carlisle kissed her back. “Or when she told me she’d let me keep you ‘over her dead body’, huh? Joke’s on her.”

Esme wiped the counter down thoroughly and threw the cloth in the nearby bin. She turned and loosely wrapped her arms around his neck. “Ain’t no one tell the Surgeon what he can and cannot do. 

“Nah, no one. No one but his Heart.”

[the-young-and-forgotten]

Happiness

| evermore masterlist |

A/N: this is my first fic for the collab with @just-a-belgian-girl! I hope you enjoy it! This honestly took too long to write lol

Honey, when I'm above the trees

I see this for what it is

But now I'm right down in it

All the years I've given

Is just shit we're dividing up

Showed you all of my hiding spots

I was dancing when the music stopped

And in the disbelief

I can't face reinvention

I haven't met the new me yet

It was a chilly Autumn night, Sirius was yet to return home from his latest mission, so you were stuck eating dinner alone… again.

You had come out of Hogwarts a year and a half ago. You were now living with your boyfriend. You were happy as one could be when your relationship starts feeling forced.

In all honesty, one side of you knew that he had fallen out of love. But your naive side won out whispering ‘it’ll be okay’ ‘he still loves you’ ‘his work is just taking a toll on him’ into your ear, preventing you from seeing the truth. So you continued on, stuck in the same routine as always.

Tears slid down your face as you stood to put your dishes away. Of course this happened to you. Nothing ever won out in your favour.

Hearing a knock on the door, you startle and drop the plate into the sink. You plaster on the smile you have been practicing for the past year.

There'll be happiness after you

But there was happiness because of you

Both of these things can be true

There is happiness

Past the blood and bruise

Past the curses and cries

Beyond the terror in the nightfall

Haunted by the look in my eyes

That would've loved you for a lifetime

Leave it all behind

And there is happiness

You hadn’t noticed it was raining until you opened the door wide to let Sirius in. He was soaked through, looking like a drowned rat.

He shrugged off his cloak and threw it over the coat rack, tracking the water indoors. He bends down and kisses your cheek, lacking the warmth it used to have. He murmurs a hello before continuing to the kitchen.

“Dinner’s on the table” you pointlessly mutter, following him through. “I’m just gonna go to bed...” He barely acknowledges what you said, too busy helping himself to the food. You wrap your arms around your aching torso and go upstairs, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

You close the door behind you, enclosing yourself in the dark. You flop down onto the bed, tears flowing freely. What had happened to the beautiful romance the two of you used to have? Oh, how you miss it. Everything was so much simpler back then.

You curl in on yourself, as if trying to protect yourself from the hurtful truth. After a while, Sirius sneaks in, bending over to give you a goodnight kiss. If he notices your puffy eyes, he doesn’t say anything.

Tell me, when did your winning smile

Begin to look like a smirk?

When did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt?

I hope she'll be a beautiful fool

Who takes my spot next to you

No, I didn't mean that

Sorry, I can't see facts through all of my fury

You haven't met the new me yet

The sun isn’t even up by the time you both get out of bed. It’s quiet, something totally out of character for Sirius.

He was sitting at the table, head in his hands. You walk behind him and hug him from behind, sliding your hands down his chest. “What’s wrong beautiful?” He shrugs off your hands and stands up, chair cluttering down behind him.

“I’m just- I’m just not feeling the greatest right now.” He leans on the table, hair in his face. He was clearly exhausted. You place a tentative hand on his shoulder, slightly nervous to be touching him in this state. “Sirius if you want I can-” “Just stop.” He flings you hand off once more, turning to face you.

You blink owlishly up at him “What” “I just-” he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes “I need to be alone right now”

‘I need to be alone right now’

The words echo in your mind. For six months you have been hearing that one repeat. You were sick of it.

Barely registering what you were doing, you slap the top of the table in anger. “No.” He lowers his hand and stares at you incredulously. “No?” It comes in a whisper. The calm before the storm.

You nod feverishly “No. I have had it up to here with your excuses as to why you can’t hang out with me anymore. I didn’t come into this relationship only to be second guessing whether or not my boyfriend loves me.” He goes to interrupt but you plow on, refusing his input.

“Time and time again I have pushed down my anger and hurt saying ‘he’s just going through something’ but you’re not, you’re not. Just.. tell me what I’m doing wrong!”

The room feels more crowded as he moves toward you, eyes spitting fury. “What’s wrong?” He gestures to the two of you. “We are wrong. We can never agree, constant nit-picking at each other and so much anger!”

You throw your hands up in rage “I’m only angry because you neglect me! You slouch inside the house every. Single. Evening. So mopey and goddamn tired either demanding food or sleep and I can’t handle it! You are NOT the Sirius Black of Hogwarts.”

He freezes in anger stone cold. Impassive. Then, he erupts. “Open your eyes Y/n! THIS ISN’T HOGWARTS ANYMORE. We can’t run around like the kings and queens of the world anymore! You don’t think I want to go back? You don’t think-” he chokes, angrily wiping away tears. “You don’t think I want everything as it was?” His voice drops at this, letting the tears fall.

“I can’t take this new world! It’s big! It’s cold! It’s dog eat dog constantly. Someone like me can’t survive out here! I need life, love, I need warmth. But day in and day out I sit here slowly freezing from the inside out.”

He wraps his arms around his torso and bends over, screaming with so much hurt and anger that you start to cry as much as him.

“I’m sorry Y/n, I just can’t do this anymore.”

He walks away from you, fingers working at his hair. He stomps outside, front door slamming shut causing the whole house to shake.

There'll be happiness after me

But there was happiness because of me

Both of these things I believe

There is happiness

In our history

Across our great divide

There is a glorious sunrise

Dappled with the flickers of light

From the dress I wore at midnight

Leave it all behind

And there is happiness

You hear the roar of his motorbike before you see him leave. You knew this was a long time coming. In a way you were sort of relieved. But damn you forgot how much it stung.

He was gonna come back soon. You just knew it. But he wasn’t going to stay.

This was the end.

The end of you and him. Him and you. Forever.

‘Oh well’ you think, but the tears in your eyes say otherwise. It just started really sinking in now.

You rub your eyes and stifle a yawn. It was way too early for this shit. You finally get up to make yourself a cup of coffee and go sit on your porch.

The sun was starting to rise but you had little appreciation for it. Content to sip your coffee and overthink. It wasn’t until the warm, golden rays of the early morning hit your face did you really start to appreciate it. Hell, you hadn’t seen the sun rise in forever. You slowly place the cup down and rest your arms upon your legs, leaning in. You close your eyes and feel the soft sun upon your face. For the first time in ages you feel whole again.

I can't make it go away by making you a villain

I guess it's the price I pay for seven years in heaven

And I pulled your body into mine every goddamn night now I get fake niceties

No one teaches you what to do

When a good man hurts you

And you know you hurt him too

He comes back near nighttime, significantly calmer than hours before. You were sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch and reading your book. “Did you come back to get your stuff?” You ask, idly flipping over the page. The only response was the sound of a suitcase being dragged across the floor.

He dragged it all the way to the front door, pausing. You stand up from your position, a little confused. “So are you gonna go or-?”

“I never meant for this to happen..” Sirius whispered, so quietly you had to strain to hear him. He turned around to face you, tear tracks staining his cheeks. “I thought we would last forever like James and Lily.”

Sighing you walk over to him resting a hand on his arm “James and Lily are one of a kind. We just weren’t meant for this type of long time relationship.” You smile gently at him, feeling unreasonably calm. “You said it yourself back in 5th year. Honestly we tried too hard didn’t we.” You feel your own eyes start to well up. Fuck, you had thought you were done with tears.

He drops his suitcase and pulls you in for a hug, resting his head on yours. In that hug you feel all the memories you shared and the countless deeds you had committed together pass through. All of those memories were now sitting in an old castle, shut away and partially forgotten.

The two of you pull away and you wave him off. The night quickly swallows him up, leaving where he was going to himself and the night only. The cold air bites at you but you can’t bring yourself to go in just yet, so you sit down and wait. Waiting for what, you don’t know. Finally you force yourself to go in, the house more quiet than you had ever heard it.

Honey, when I'm above the trees

I see it for what it is

But now my eyes leak acid rain

On the pillow where you used to lay your head

After giving you the best I had

Tell me what to give after that

All you want from me now

Is the green light of forgiveness

You haven't met the new me yet

And I think she'll give you that

If someone had told you that in 2 years time that Sirius would break up with you and you were gonna be sleeping alone you would've laughed in their face. But it wasn’t all that funny anymore.

Your body fluids must have gone down to 20% due to the amount of tears you were shedding. Did they ever end? Everytime you wiped your face, your hand came back damp with tears.

It was one of those nights where everything felt lonely. The house had been eerily quiet for days now and...deserted. You shift onto your side, unable to sleep. The left side of the bed remained untouched and cold. You reach over and lay your hand on the pillow. You can almost feel him there. But of course, it’s empty.

You throw yourself out of bed, stomping out to the front.

In the lamplight you see a young couple twirling their way along the sidewalk, their laughter rings around the street, so carefree and drunk on love. You smile softly at them, hoping to god that their relationship lasts.

But like everything in life, they pass by. Leaving the night silent and judging as before. You sigh and open your mouth feeling the need to vent your problems to the night.

“I know our relationship is done, and we won't ever get back together again. But god, I regret forcing it to work. Maybe if we had just let it be…we would’ve lasted longer.” You rest your cheek in your hand and close your eyes. “But that's just wishful thinking.”

There'll be happiness after you

But there was happiness because of you too

Both of these things can be true

There is happiness

In our history

Across our great divide

There is a glorious sunrise

Dappled with the flickers of light

From the dress I wore at midnight

Leave it all behind

Oh, leave it all behind

Leave it all behind

And there is happiness

For the next few weeks your mind is surprisingly clear. You sell your old house and move into a little town on the edge of a forest. You explore the little village you landed yourself in, feeling more free than ever.

You walk back along the dirt path towards your house. You feel warmth on your hair and tilt it towards the setting sun, smiling softly for the first time in weeks.

Oh how you could stay here forever. And you will.

[tybaku]

Aches and Pains (bkdk drabble):

Izuku tears up when Kacchan turns his back to him without another word.

He feels stupid about it though, and a bit silly, since he’s acting almost like a little kid again, ever so possessive over his favorite toy. He tears up, and then stuff his face into his own shoulder in reddened embarrassment all while slipping into the beating aches in his body—the gentle and persistent thrum of a overworking machine.

“Kacchan,” he whines and mewls like it’s going to make any difference, as if Kacchan was just going to spin on his heel and keep him company in his early grave.

Kacchan isn’t like that though. Kacchan is stubborn.

So Izuku wiggles in place and take his own arms into his scarred hands, kneading the straining muscles weakly. “Kacchan, please. I’m dying,” he announces to the empty room, just loud enough to carry out through the open door and to the hallway, where Kacchan was loitering about and probably doing absolutely nothing of importance.

“Tough shit,” Kacchan calls back not nearly as loud, gruff if anything. It’s a fake bothered tone, Izuku knows, because he’s had years to become acquainted with Kacchan’s manner of speech. What kind of fiancé would he be if he couldn’t tell the difference? (Oh, that sounds nice. He’s a fiancé now. He’s so very blessed.) “Deal with it.”

Izuku throws his head back into their pillows, more so on Kacchan’s side of the bed (the right) and groans dramatically, hair spilling everywhere. He vaguely hopes Kacchan has fun picking out Izuku’s green strands from his pillowcase.

“Kacchan is so mean! Do you want me to cry?” Izuku asks, continuing to run his hands over his arms and shoulders. It’s nowhere near as soothing enough, and nowhere near close of a mimic of Kacchan’s warm, soft palms. “Kacchan, I’m going to cry. I’m crying, Kacchan. You made me cry.”

Miraculously, Kacchan appears in his beautiful, scowling glory. “Stop manipulating me,” he says flatly, glaring a hole into Izuku’s head on his precious pillow as he steps into their shared bedroom. “I already said no.”

Izuku huffs and puffs and then juts his lip out. “You’re so mean! Just rub my arms already, Kacchan! I have brittle old man bones!” Izuku squeezes the meat of his arms as some sort of evidence to the claim.

Kacchan however only blinks at him, not the least bit amused. “And who’s fault is that?” he asks in mild disinterest to his moaning and groaning, far too used to the entire spiel. Blah, blah, blah, rub my arms and something, something, you’re so mean.

“Villains!” Izuku says, still squirming. Kacchan rolls his eyes. “Evildoers and criminals! I feel so old. Just a small old man. My arms hurt. My back hurts. Give me massages,”

Kacchan walks over finally, but just to lean over Izuku’s frame, grab a pillow, and smack his chest with it. “You’re twenty five. And no means no. It’s not even your turn, asshole.”

Izuku makes big, sweet eyes at him as he grabs the hem of his tank top. “Kacchan,” he starts seriously before the eyes start to narrow darkly. “It’s my turn.”

Kacchan looks down on him, eyes just as narrow. He leans down slowly, easily dwarfing Izuku despite all the muscle the latter has packed on. Izuku instantly goes into hyperdrive, nearly every one of his senses honing in on Kacchan’s everything. He almost whimpers for two very different reasons.

“No, the fuck, it isn’t.” Kacchan declares sternly before pouncing on his prey, jumping right into bed and encasing Izuku’s hips between his thighs. Izuku’s breath gets knocked out of him, and he screams as Kacchan starts thwacking his pillow across his face repeatedly with no finesse.

“Kacchan! Stop! It’s my turn!” Izuku yells between the cushioned assault on his face. He’s had worse.

“Like hell it is! Give me a massage, you damn nerd!” Kacchan yells in separate syllables as he continues to attack. The grapple for the pillow back and forth, but the straining in Izuku’s arms leaves him on the losing side of their impromptu battle.

“No! Go away! Fuck off!” Izuku protests as he tries to cover his face.

Kacchan growls above him. “Watch your fucking mouth!”

“No!” Izuku screams again before sticking out his hands and pushing Kacchan back with all of his unquirked might. Kacchan topples to the end of the bed, disoriented in its sheets, and Izuku grabs one of the other pillows on their bed in his pause of confusion, welding it like a weapon.

“You give me a massage, Kacchan!” Izuku cries out, and then smacks his fiancé in the face.

This, understandably, was considered an outrage to Kacchan, and it leads to both of them having a full blown out pillow war, complete with loud battle cries, flailing limbs, and knocking stuff over. It goes on for about ten solid minutes, but Izuku gets kneed in the groin twice and Kacchan’s lip starts bleeding so they both call it off without a clear winner.

They both lie panting in their shared bed of shame dejectedly, Izuku crying and Kacchan halfway there.

Everything hurt, even worse than it did before. There was a worn sort of pain shooting up Izuku’s arms, and curling around his shoulders and thighs. He knew it must’ve been the same for Kacchan, since they both held similar symptoms for their chronic pain. Just another thing they bond over.

“Okay,” Izuku sniffles, hurting a bit too much to move properly, “how about we both give each other massages. And then we sleep forever,”

Kacchan breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to relax into the bed despite all the hurt grating into his muscle tissue all the way to the bone marrow. “Sounds good.”

Izuku gives a nod and then shifts around a bit to face Kacchan, despite his upper body screaming at him not to, and stretches his out his arms. “Me first? Please?” he asks in a small voice as he sets his hands on Kacchan’s shoulders. Kacchan lets out a long huff from his nose but nods minutely and gets to work.

Kacchan’s hands are amazing. They’re soft, but heavy and rough in just the right places. His palms are smooth against his aching muscles, but his fingertips are calloused and are able to expertly dig into any knots they come across. Izuku loves it.

“Mm,” he hums in mind numbing content, fluttering his eyes closed. “Do the thing, Kacchan. Please?”

And Izuku doesn’t see it, but he knows Kacchan rolled his eyes at the question. “You only want me for my quirk,” he says in a low, fake annoyed grumble.

“What else is there?” Izuku jokes in a soft voice, tone round and sweet in a tease. Kacchan doesn’t laugh, but he huffs with his entire chest and that’s as good as he gets when he’s in pain.

“You would know,” Kacchan throws back before taking his hands off Izuku’s skin and reaching out to the tired air around them. A small, staticky crackle of light then bursts in his palms, and the familiar scent of a pleasant, but mind-numbing sweetness wraps around them. Izuku’s eyes stay transfixed on the little firework-like explosions popping hotly in his fiancé’s strong, gentle hands. He does indeed love his quirk.

Kacchan stops the crackling after a few seconds and touches Izuku’s arms again.

Kacchan’s hands are magic. They feel like heaven. They’re so warm, and loving, and Izuku melts into them like a pat of butter to a hot knife. Kacchan is made of the sun and every star in the sky, surely.

Izuku purrs and hums and murmurs thank you’s and I love you’s over and over as Kacchan rubs out all the aches and pains of his weary body with his sweet and soothing quirk. His hot massages were the best.

“Mm…Thank you, Kacchan.” Izuku says one last time, already feeling a thousand times better.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kacchan says as he sits himself up with more effort than should be needed. “Shoulders now, please.” He rolls one half in emphasis, half in discomfort. Izuku smiles gently and sits up himself, quickly getting to work on his part of the deal. If Kacchan says please, Izuku can’t refuse him.

“Of course, Kacchan!” he chirps as he kneads his taut shoulders as heavily as he could, knowing Kacchan liked the roughness and weight. When he presses the into any knots he finds with his knuckles, Kacchan sighs in relief. “You’re tense,”

“No shit,” Kacchan mutters as he rolls his neck side to side, “Put your back into it.”

“I’m trying,” Izuku says, because he is indeed trying to do his best without any extra strength from his quirk. “What about your arms? Or your back? Want me to walk on your spine again?”

Kacchan just snorts and then shakes his head. “This is fine for now. Maybe later.” He hums in delight when Izuku’s thumbs knead the sorest spot between his shoulder blades. Izuku laughs quietly and can’t help but lean in to press a small kiss behind Kacchan’s ear, right over a little freckle.

“Love you, Kacchan.” Izuku murmurs kindly, loving the way Kacchan’s skin begins to glow a pretty pink.

“Love ya too, Deku.” Kacchan mumbles back with a sort of pout, eyes closed and breath slow but steady.

Izuku smiles.

[serendipityunho]

hands (m) — jeong yunho

“Shh, you have to be quiet!” You hissed at Yunho, pinning him down as you grind on his crotch with your lips hovering over his.

“How am I supposed to stay quiet when you’re like this?” Yunho groaned, hands squeezing your hips before snapping his hips up against you, making you moan against his lips.

“My dad is going to kill me if we get caught”

“Your dad is going to kill me if we get caught” Yunho grips your hips tighter, rocking you back and forth on his hardened dick before flipping you over on to your back.

“Better hope he doesn’t then” 

Yunho pushed his body between your legs, hands roaming over every inch of your exposed skin as his hands dipped underneath your panties, fingers circling at your clit as his lips fell into the valley of your breasts. Keeping quiet was always impossible for you, especially when Yunho’s hands were the literal embodiment of heaven itself. 

There was nothing more you loved than the way his hands works, his fingers, the way they looked, the way they looked in you, on you. Everything. Not a day goes by without throwing your wet panties into the laundry after a long thoughtful session daydreaming over Yunho’s hands.

If it wasn’t for Yunho’s body blockading your legs from closing, they would’ve snapped shut as Yunho coated the tip of his fingers with your wetness before circling your clit again. You wanted to moan so badly, but all you could do was bite down on your swollen lip in hopes neither of your parents decides to go knocking at your door.

“Baby-” It was a small whiny whimper that made Yunho’s head snap up from your chest, sucking on your breast before smothering your collarbones in wet kisses.

“Shh, baby, shh” Yunho’s fingers continued rubbing your clit under your panties with his lips pressed against your neck as you try your best not to make another sound.

“I-I can’t” You were so close to letting another whine escape from your mouth. If it weren’t for Yunho’s free hand coming up to cover you, there’d definitely be banging at the door. 

“Be a good girl and keep your mouth shut” Yunho groaned into your ear, sliding his fingers down between your folds before slowly inserting them into your sopping wet cunt. 

You couldn’t help but slap a hand over Yunho’s one over your mouth, feeling the outline of his veins as your eyes roll back. It was painful not to mutter a word when Yunho was burying his long fingers deep in you, pumping them rapidly until the sound of wet squelches met your ears. 

“Mhm-” Your back arched off the mattress, chest hitting Yunho’s as he glances down at your trembling body, smirking at the way your face scrunched frustratingly with his fingers pumping shots of pleasure through your body. 

Another eye roll was met as Yunho hooked his fingers deeper, palm digging at your clit as he subtly rubbed it. There was nothing you wanted to do more than just pant for air and scream his name the way he loved it. 

Yunho removed his hand from over your mouth, sinking himself down lower on your body before blowing a hot breath of air over your throbbing clit. It was up to you to deafen your moans and whines, biting on the corner of your blanket you quickly grabbed from beside. 

“Good girl” Yunho gave it a few kitten licks before taking it into his mouth, lapping his tongue over and over again as he swirled it around. It was torture not to cry out your pleasures, you hated this feeling.

The sopping wet squelching noises grew louder as you grew closer, Yunho’s fingers now entirely drenched in the pool of your juices as his lips made out with your clit. Breathing was almost difficult at this point, with you biting down so hard your jaw might actually break and tears might actually fall.

Yunho held one of your legs apart with a hand flat against your thigh, gazing at you with piercing eyes from below as you struggle to maintain your quietness. You head was going to explode at any moment as you sat up, arms holding you up as the blanket fell out of your mouth from gaping.

“Fuckfuckfuck-” Your moans were practically inaudible by now, mouth gaping wide open as you take short and sharp breaths with Yunho nearing to set off an explosion of sparks in the pit of your stomach.

The eye contact broke as Yunho lapped hungrily at your clit and fingers pumping faster than before, tips hitting that spot inside that made you want to scream his name like no one could hear. He swayed his head side to side as his tongue swirled around, circling at the bud of nerves, sending your conscious to a land of nothingness except a whirlpool of lust and bliss.

“Baby, fuckohmy mhmphh-” Your body trembled as if it were on the brink of collapse, and it was with Yunho’s fingers pulling the trigger that had sparked the shot of euphoria glistening through your veins to the rest of your body. There was nothing you could see except a frame of white cloudiness in your vision as you grew sensitive over the way Yunho’s fingers sunk deep inside you, drowning in your release as he lapped it up with his tongue.

“Ohmygod yes!-” 

“Sweetie, are you okay in there!” Your eyes widened as Yunho quickly pulled out his fingers with you rushing to snatch the clothes scattered all over your carpet. 

“Um- I’m fine, dad!” 

“Are you sure? Can I come i-”

“No! I’m, uh, I’m changing!” 

Yunho hugged his clothes against his chest before dipping to the side of your bed, crouching in case he was required to slide under the bed with just enough height to fit him. Almost everything had happened in the past seven minutes was replaced with fear and panic as you tried your best to swerve the predicament. 

“Oh okay, don’t stay up too late!” 

“Sure” 

A sigh of relief was let out as you heard your father’s footsteps grow quieter. If only you agreed to buy Yunho’s joking offer of a gag, maybe that wouldn’t have happened.

“I can’t believe I almost died” Yunho chuckled, hopping back on the bed with his arms crossed behind his head.

“Shut up and let me suck your dick”

[pastelgoogie97]

I Thought We Said No Yelling At 3 AM? || jjk

~I wrote this because I’m crying over Jungkook right now, thought I’d share with everyone ;-; Genre: FLUFF Warnings: None, I think there’s literally like one cuss word in here Word Count: 2.5k Pairing: Roommate!Jungkook x CollegeStudent!Reader Info: Friends to Lovers :,) Jungkook is such a CUTIE PIE istg I love him so much, reader is sleepy and just wants to go mimi’s but Jungkook loves playing overwatch so much he has to SCREAM ABOUT IT ~Hope you enjoy, sorry if there are any errors, it’s literally three in the morning for me and I’m D Y I N G

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

She needed to pay rent. That’s what Y/N kept repeating in her head as she listened to her roommate Jungkook roar with laughter as he played Overwatch with his friends in his bedroom. 

Y/N was a foreign exchange student from America studying abroad in Korea. The language had always sparked her interest, so when she was given the opportunity to actually learn not just the language, but about the culture? She packed her bags and her flight as fast as she could and got on the next flight thirteen hours away and over the ocean from her home. 

She rubbed her tired eyes and looked down at her phone to check the time. 3:49 in the damn morning. The worst part of this whole endeavor was she couldn’t even get mad at Jungkook if she tried. Not only was he the nicest boy she’d ever met in her life, but his looks seemed to make it harder on her. 

With one look around her room, Y/N realized she wasn’t going to be getting any sleep until Jungkook got off his computer. Normally, she wouldn’t even care. What’s weird is that she’s actually a really heavy sleeper. She could sleep through hurricane Katrina if it meant she could sleep for a second longer.

“I JUST NO-SCOPED REAPER!” Jungkook shouted happily.

Y/N giggled slightly, rolling her tired eyes as she pulled herself out of bed. She headed into the kitchen, her slippers lightly dragging against the tile floor of their dorm lazily. The bright light of the fridge made her wince as she pulled out two containers of banana milk, poking a straw through one of them to sip on. The other was for Jungkook.

When they both moved in together, they decided to lay down some ground rules. They weren’t really rules per se, just obvious things that needed to get set. They were allowed to have friends as long as they weren’t too loud, anything in the fridge was theirs unless the container was labeled with their name on it, don’t make a mess, or if you do just clean it up. But one that they both agreed on right away? ‘No yelling at 3 in the morning, especially during exam season.’ Yet here Y/N was, sleepily sipping on banana milk while on her way to Jungkook’s room.

She swallowed the sweet milk and closed her eyes before knocking on his door. The sound of his soft voice almost lulled her to sleep had he not opened the door. 

In all his glory, there he was. Headsets hanging around his neck, hair messy but still fluffy and floppy against his forehead, and those doe-like orbs that she just couldn’t get enough of. She almost audibly sighed at the sight of him, especially since he was wearing those grey sweatpants that almost made her risk it all during one of their movie nights. 

“C-can I come in?” Y/N spoke up quietly, her voice hoarse with sleep deprivation.

“Of-of course!”

Y/N walked into Jungkook’s bedroom, the sound of his door shutting behind her making her shoulders slump. She looked at his computer and saw the game still going on. She figured she’d watch and see what the hype was about. Especially since Jungkook had been shouting at it since he got back from class. 

He flopped back into his gaming chair in front of his desk, but he didn’t pull his headsets over his ears. Instead, he turned around to look at Y/N. His eyes looked guilty and she could hear her heart whine at how cute he looked.

“I-I didn’t keep you awake did I?” He pouted. “I’m so sorry, I lost track of time and I didn’t even know that I was being that loud,”

She giggled and held her hand up in front of him. He stopped talking and he smiled softly at the gesture. Well, at least she wasn’t mad at him.

“I got you some banana milk, do you want it?” Y/N offered, shoving the carton into his hands before he could even agree.

“I was literally just about to get some,” He chuckled. “Get out of my head dude,” 

The girl giggled and got comfortable on his bed, looking at the screen behind his head. It was a loading screen, he was probably waiting for another match to start. Her eyes scanned over the bright colors on his screen, reading each of the words to see what was so fun about the game or even try to make sense of it.

“So what’s the point of the game?” Y/N began. “Is it like Call Of Duty?”

Before Jungkook could answer, Y/N heard the sounds of his friends on his headsets roaring through the speakers at her comment. She smiled and craned her neck forward to try and hear what they had to say about it.

“Ask her if she plays video games, Kook!”

Jungkook looked up at her knowing that she’d heard the question. The way he was looking at her nearly made her forget what was being asked. After realizing she had been staring at him a bit too long, she shook her head to snap herself out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, I play! I’m not the best at everything I play like you are, but I’d say I’m a pretty decent player!” She admitted as honestly as possible.

“Maybe I’ll teach you how to play sometime then,” Jungkook suggested with a smile. “It’s basically a first-person shooter game, but it’s so much fun!”

The match started and Jungkook excused himself, throwing his headsets on to talk with his friends again while Y/N watched from behind. To say that Jungkook was good would be an understatement. He could play for an E-sports team if he really wanted to. His character was moving so fast and the way he was quick scoping everyone just screamed how good of a player he was. She couldn’t help but get lost in how fast his aim was and how precise his shots were. 

As the game went on, Jungkook could feel Y/N’s gaze on the screen and he couldn’t help but smile stupidly the entire time she watched him. His feelings for her had been bad, but the second she mentioned she played video games too? He was ready to get on his knee and propose right then and there. 

The room was quiet. Jungkook could hear Y/N move on his bed, and then her feet hit the floor. He figured she was going to head to her room and try and fall back asleep again. But she didn’t.

Y/N’s head found itself in Jungkook’s lap, watching the screen and waiting with him for the next round to start. He felt her yawn against his left thigh and he didn’t want to make any sudden movements. She was getting comfortable and he couldn’t help but dream about how she would feel in his arms. His head was spinning and his brain went cloudy at the feeling of the girl of his dreams resting her head in his lap.

“Hey guys, it’s late,” Jungkook began. “I’m gonna log off for tonight, but I’ll get back on tomorrow, sound good?”

Little by little, his friends started to agree, and soon enough, Jungkook was taking his headsets off and shutting his PC down. Y/N looked up with puppy-dog eyes, wanting to watch more game-play despite how droopy her eyelids were.

“You look really sleepy, don’t you wanna go to bed?” Jungkook inquired, his voice soft and clear in the air. 

She stood up and stretched her limbs out, eliciting another yawn from her throat. She felt like she could sleep on a pile of bricks comfortably at this point and Jungkook could tell. 

“I-I’M NOT TIRED,” Y/N shouted slightly, trying to make it seem like she wasn’t ready to pass out on the floor.

Jungkook jumped slightly at her sudden change in tone and started laughing, ruffling her hair slightly to tell her to calm down. She pouted at him and his heart soared.

“Hey, I thought we agreed on no yelling at three in the morning, hm?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and listened to him chuckle before protesting. “Says the one who was screaming since he came back from class and kept me up all night,”

She yawned again and felt her eyelids slowly start to lose the will to stay open any longer than they needed to. 

“You’re lucky you’re so cute, or I would’ve raised hell,” 

Her eyes were wide open now. She slapped her palm over her mouth and took a step back to register what she just said. Meanwhile, Jungkook’s heart was doing flips and his stomach was filled with butterflies from wall to wall. He smiled brightly, barely able to believe what just came out of his roommate’s mouth.

“I-I’m so sorry, that was inappropriate, oh my god I can’t believe I just said that,” She apologized. “I-I’m just gonna go to my room,”

He couldn’t let her slip away after that. So, he did what he thought was best.

Jungkook grabbed Y/N by her wrist, pulling her into his chest and holding her so she couldn’t escape his grasp. And before he knew it, he was stooping down to her height to press his lips against hers. Her lips tasted like the vanilla bean chapstick she always carried around with her. The sweetness of it all was nothing compared to how soft her lips felt against his. He swore he was in heaven the second he felt her kiss him back. 

Her hands flew to the back of his neck, her digits twirling strands of his wavy hair. His hands slowly moved down to her hips, his fingers gripping them with such ferocity she was sure that he was going to bruise them into her skin. He was holding onto her like she was going to escape if he didn’t pull her closer to him, but somehow she found comfort in feeling this way. So vulnerable in front of him and falling for every trick he pulled from the book. He felt amazing. It felt so right.

When they both pulled away to breathe, Y/N couldn’t help but stare into his eyes, seeing a whole galaxy of stars just waiting for her to dive into. The way they shone even in the darkness of his bedroom made her swoon and she felt drunk off of how good he was treating her. How touch starved she used to be and how he so easily took all of that away and showed her what it felt like to be loved.

“I am so glad I moved in with you,” Jungkook admitted breathlessly. “From the first day we met, I thought you were the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen in my life, other than IU of course,”

She giggled and shook her head playfully.

“You really love IU, don’t you Googie?”

He sighed at the pet name she’d given him since they first moved in, shaking his head with a chuckle before rubbing his large, chocolate orbs.

“Let’s go to bed now, how does that sound?” He offered, pulling back the comforter on his bed and patting the mattress for her to lie down.

“That sounds amazing,” She sighed dreamily, closing her eyes the second her head hit his pillow.

Jungkook crawled in right next to her, throwing his hoodie over his head and snuggling close to her. His skin felt warm, his body was just radiating heat and she felt like a moth drawn to a flame. He wrapped his arms around her and she couldn’t have felt safer anywhere else other than in his arms.

All of the dreaming he’d done, the imagining of how perfect she’d feel curled up next to him never could have prepared him for this moment in time. He thought all of the cliche bullshit about fitting together like puzzle pieces in their lover’s arms was so stupid, but there was no other way to describe it than just that, and he didn’t hate it at all. Not one bit. 

“Googie,” Y/N began, the rumble of his soft hum against his chest making her heart grow in size. “What does this mean for us?”

He sighed and pulled her closer.

“It means that I finally have the girl of my dreams right where I want her,”

He paused. 

“And that we need to cross out ‘No yelling at three AM’ on our list of rules,”

[grungetxpes]

𝐈𝐭'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐧 - 𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐬 & 𝐂𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝐃𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲

SMUT

Just pretend that Terence and Cedric are friends in this story and yes Terence is a HP character.

Y/N's pov

Terence has been joking about a threesome since the first time we fucked. I always tell him no and laugh it off, until I really started thinking about it. "Terence?" I question, on our way to Cedric's apartment to hangout while Mr. Diggory was away. "What's up?" He says glancing over at me. I'm quiet for a minute, "Is Cedric like... seeing anyone you think?" Terence laughs and shakes his head "Why you looking for a boyfriend?" He raises his eyebrows taking a drink of his water. "No because I kinda want to take both of you at the same time." I say nonchalantly not even looking at him. Terence chokes on his water, "what?" He says coughing. "Yeah I've been thinking, and there's something about Cedric that just makes me feel all hot." Our eyes meet when he stops at the red light. I inch closer and closer to him, "You fucking me while Cedric fucks my face... maybe you get to watch him fuck my little ass," our lips now inches apart. Terence is speechless, I pull away with a satisfied smile as the light turns green. I move around in my seat feeling myself getting more and more turned on at the thought. I look over to see that Terence is also feeling the same way. His hand lands directly over my clothed pussy making me gasp at the unexpected contact. "Fuck y/n you're dripping through your pants." He bites his lip. I grab his hand and move it away as much as I don't want to, "okay okay let's slow down a little bit." I take a deep breath as we pull into the parking garage.

The whole way up to the apartment Terence couldn't keep his hands off me. Pulling me back into him, kissing me all down my neck making me moan out. "Okay Terence calm down," I giggle. "I can't keep my hands off you pretty girl," he bites at my ear. "What are we going to say to Cedric when we go in?" "Well... maybe we should just be straight forward." Terence says. We finally knock on the door waiting for him to answer. "What's up guys?" He does his little handshake with Terence. "Hey y/n" his voice is soft. "Hey Cedric," I say a little more seductively than intended, but my mind won't stop wondering. We walk in going to sit on the couch. Terence's hand landing high up on my thigh once more. It's awkwardly quiet for a minute until Terence just starts nipping at my neck without a care in the world. I moan out a little bit, Cedric looks over at us with wide eyes. I look him up and down biting my lip.

"Cedric would you like to join the fun?" I ask bating my eyes. "Oh I-I don't know if I shou-" "It'll be so much fun." I move away from Terence scooting closer to him, "and I want you so bad." I whisper in his ear. "We can even just make Terence watch, I'm sure he won't mind." Cedric looks from me over to Terence. "Man this could be a lot fun." Terence says convincingly. I can tell Cedric is getting excited, he sighs, taking me by surprise pulling me into his lap. I look over at Terence who also seems to be surprised by Cedric's sudden action. I look at Cedric, our lips crash together moving perfectly in sync. I start grinding my hips down on him his hands finding my ass giving it a squeeze. Small hums leave my lips as I kiss down his neck. "You're supposed to be my innocent boy." I tease. "I guess not today," he bites back.

I look over to Terence who has began palming himself through his sweat pants. His visibly hard dick showing. I get off of Cedric positioning myself on all fours so I can tend to Terence while my ass is in the air in front of Cedric. Cedric's hand comes down and smacks my ass while I pull down Terence's pants. His dick springs up as I feel another smack land on my ass making me gasp. "Pull her pants down and feel how soaked she is Cedric." My lips kiss all around Terence's dick slowly licking the tip. My pants are yanked down to my knees feeling the cool air hit me. I feel Cedric's middle finger hit my core rubbing up and down making me let out a moan. Cedric walks around over to Terence putting his fingers in his mouth. The site almost making me explode right then. I gag on Terence's dick while he sucks Cedric's fingers. "Fuck," he throws his head back. I take my mouth off of Terence with a quick pop climbing up his body. I watch Cedric take his clothes off out of the corner of my eye so I get up to do the same. I get down on my knees to give Cedric some attention. Terence stands up next to him. I pump Terence in my hand while my mouth glides up and down on Cedric's dick. Cedric let's out a grown, "her mouth is like heaven right?" Terence whispers. "Oh fuck yes." Cedric calls out as I take all of him down my throat.

"Let's go to my room." Cedric states making us scurry along quickly. I lay on the bed the two boys laying down on either side of me. Cedric tackles my jaw and neck kissing and sucking while Terence pinches and bites at my nipples making me cry out. My hands play with their hair. Their hands run along my sides giving me goose bumps all over. Cedric's hand finds my pussy rubbing my clit. I look deep in his eyes my mouth agape when he sticks a finger in me. pumping slowly, "more fingers please." I breathe out. Cedric puts another finger in as I feel Terence's hand finding my clit. Both of them touching me at the same time makes me all the more wet. Terence's mouth comes up finding my neck evening out the marks Cedric made on the other side. I'm a moaning mess. "Fuck Ter- C- edric shit I'm going to cum." Cedric's fingers curl up just right. "Cum for us princess." Terence growls. My back arches up as I let go all over Cedric's fingers. Cedric pulls them out bringing them to my mouth while Terence continues to rub my clit making me squirm.

The two boys stop and look at each other before looking back down at my bare body. "Get up and ride Cedric right now." It's obviously like Terence to take charge, especially in a situation like this. I crawl up on Cedric looking down at him positioning his cock right at my entrance. I slowly sink down on him my mouth open wide. "If you're gonna open your mouth put my cock in it." Terence says getting on his knees on the bed. I lean myself down to take Terence in my mouth while I ride Cedric. It's hard to find a rhythm in this position, making Cedric frustrated he holds me still fucking up into me faster than I expected. I gasp choking on Terence's dick. I pull of momentarily loose moans falling out of my mouth. Terence's hands tangle in my hair, "be a good slut and let me fuck that mouth." Now I have Terence fucking my throat and Cedric pounding into me. "God damn that pussy is so tight." Cedric says from underneath me. I pull off of Terence to catch my breath. His lips smash into mine Cedric slowing down while I grind my hips on him while he's deep in me.

I detach my lips from Terence going to kiss Cedric. "Need to give Terence a turn babe." I plant a kiss on Cedric's cheek getting off. Cedric groans standing up at the edge of the bed. Terence grabs my hair pulling me back, "open your mouth." I open my mouth wide. Terence spits on my tongue. I hold it there getting on all fours so Terence can fuck me from behind. I take Terence's spit that was in my mouth and spit it onto Cedric's dick. I look up at him through my eyelashes while he looks down biting his lip. Cedric slips right into my dripping pussy gripping my ass hard enough to draw blood. Now Cedric is fucking my mouth while Terence destroys me from behind. "Take me so well whore," Terence grunts out. Cedric hisses when I gag around him. Spit and drool dripping down my chin, "shit I'm going to cum on your dick T." I take Cedric back in my mouth while he leans over me spreading my ass for a better view of Terence fucking me. I let go on Terence clenching, my eyes rolling to the back of my head my legs trying not to close. Terence sits still inside me him and Cedric watching my holes clench and unclench.

I don't even give myself time before I push Terence down on the bed, grabbing Cedric and kissing him sloppily all over his mouth, neck, and chest. I give him my innocent batty eyes again, "do you want to fuck my ass Cedric?" He watches me walk over to Terence straddling his lap. Terence's hand comes up behind me circling my asshole. Cedric gets up behind me spitting on my hole, rubbing it around a little. He pushes his tip in my ass, I hiss looking down at Terence smirking up at me. He pushes in slowly. Feeling the slight burning sensation of the stretching makes me let out a yelp. Cedric begins to move slowly while I kiss and suck Terence's neck. "You're such a little whore letting Cedric fuck your ass. Want me to fuck that slutty little pussy at the same time?? Hmm?" "Yes Terence please fuck my pussy" Cedric pulls me up by the throat so my back is pressed against him. I spread my legs a little more getting myself ready for Terence to fuck up into me. My hands fly up behind me to tug on Cedric's hair. Terence fucks up into my pussy hard while Cedric fucks my ass. Both of my holes being filled at the same time. It feels so good I can't control how loud I am. Surely all of the neighbors hear me. The feeling begins to overwhelm my body. "Holy fuck I'm going to cum again I'm going to cum again." I scream out "yes yes yes yes." Terence pulls out of me and I fall back squirting hard all over Terence and all over Cedric's bed. "Shiiittt," Cedric's hand rubs my clit still buried in my ass. He bites my ear. "I'm gonna cum." "Yes please Cedric fill up my ass," Terence strokes his cock watching the scene unfold. Two more thrusts and Cedric is cumming deep in my ass. His body twitches as he slowly slides out.

Terence quickly flips us over so he's on top of me. Cedric gets off the bed standing to watch. "Yeah he filled up your ass you slut. My turn now baby I'm going to fill up that pussy." My body is a sore shaky mess. "You like that? You want all of your holes filled with cum don't you dirty whore?" "Mmmmm yes Terence please cum in my needy pussy." And with that he cums deep in me. Letting out a very unholy growl.

He rolls over wrapping an arm around my head. Cedric laying on the other side of me doing the same. Cum dripping out of my holes, and an absolutely sopping wet bed. We sit there quietly for a minute, "holy shit," I say. We all let out a laugh. I turn to look at them, "I may be able to get used to this?" I question raising my brow. "Oh I think so too." Cedric says kissing my cheek. "Think you belong to us now." Terence says squeezing my boob. I let out a sigh closing my eyes. "Think my pussy wants to cum hard again," I say spreading my legs. "Count me in." Cedric says.

2061 words count

Seriously look up Terence Higgs he's so fine, in my opinion. ANYWAYS this is the longest smut I've ever done! TYSM for reading. AND TYSM FOR 3k reads <3

~Cat

[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Ten): Aint It A Gentle Sound, The Rolling In The Graves

Notes:  Cyberpunk had consumed my brain, it is official, so have more fic. This and the next chapter are both uhhh heavy, the next chapter moreso in my opinion. So, please heed the warnings carefully. 

Word Count: 10323

Chapter Warnings:  Violence, gore, blood, suicidal thoughts/mentions, suicide baiting, physical assault/attacks, choking, depressive thoughts. 

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

She heard him. 

Doesn’t hear the breaths that rattle and shake her chest. Didn’t hear her own cries, her own curses. Couldn’t hear the thumping of trash as she climbed from the pit. 

But she heard him. 

“What?” It's but a whisper on her lips, staring at the man with blurry halved vision, and she can’t hear it. 

Bile rushes up her throat, stomach churning as it tries to empty its contents. V rolls over to her hands and knees, retching into the mud and filth. Puke and blood heavy on her tongue, more blood than anything else. She spits the last of it out, pushing already blood matter hair from her face on instinct. 

Then she moves her hand back further, to her ear, nothing in it, but she feels for a hearing aid. There has to be a logical explanation, why she heard him but not her own gagging. Why she heard him but not the wind whipping through the trash, why does she hear him. 

No hearing aid, not even a broken remnant of it lodged in her ear, the other side the same. And her touching, she feels something else… The hole in her skull, part of her head open to the world. She feels the edge of bone, gore clinging to her digits and she doesn’t know what she touches beyond it, prodding at her flesh with filthy fingers. When she pulls her fingers away, she looks at the tissue, the fragment of bone, all sticking to her hand. How the hell is she alive? 

And the man, she knows him, the memories and cyberspace. He should be dead too, Arasaka killed him… 

“John...ny?” 

She tests his name on her tongue, can feel the reverberation of it in her chest, but not hear it. V waits for a response, waits to hear him, to know she can again. But nothing. Maybe it was a fluke, maybe, an auditory hallucination. She twists to face him again. 

“What the- what the fuck?” 

He’s gone, was he ever there? Bullet to the brain, maybe he’s all a hallucination. Maybe the memories and cyberspace just long form hallucinations? That happens, right, why some people claim to see heaven? The brain hallucinates when deprived of oxygen...or maybe when a bullet goes through it, touching parts that shouldn’t be touched?

That’s it. That’s all it is. Hallucinations of a damaged brain. She needs a doctor, needs Vik. She gathers her strength, attempting to push herself back up on her feet, legs giving out as she hits her knees into the mud, digging her fingers into it. 

Just stand up, just stand up and walk damn it. She screams at herself, then she sees something, a flash of movement in her blurry vision. At first just a shadowy figure standing amidst the trash. Focusing harder so she can make out who it is. 

Dex starts to wander into the landfill, boots crushing through mud, towards her. Adrenaline spikes, anger in her center as she glares at his fuzzy figure. The man who killed her blew her brains out and threw her away like trash. She still has Yorinobu’s gun tucked into her belt. 

V grabs the gun and suddenly she gets on her feet real fucking easy. 

Maybe it’s adrenaline. Maybe it’s spite. But it makes her steadier and she knows if it’s the last thing she fucking does, she’s taking Dex down with her. She makes it halfway through the passageway through the trash and takes aim. 

Dex’s eyes go wide, looking over her, she has no idea what she looks like. But she’s sure it’s horrifying, a walking corpse. 

“H...fuck!?” her contact struggles to read his lips, but she tries to fill in the blanks, practically laughing. 

“What’s wrong Dex, you come to see if you can get it right this time? Think you can manage to not fuck it up this time?” 

“How...fuck...alive?” 

“Bad news, apparently one of us has shit aim, Good news is it ain’t me.” 

And she pulls the trigger, directly through the center of Dex’s head. Brains and blood spraying as he hits the ground, dead at her feet. And she expects to feel better, for her, for Jackie, for Bug. The man who set this shit show up is gone, the man who blew her brains out, would have Jackie’s too if he had the chance, is gone. But she just feels empty, body still a mangled mess and standing in a landfill. 

Then she sees a flash of black fabric, a person. Before she can raise the gun or do anything, there’s a hand of flesh and chrome grabbing her wrist. Arm twisted and she’s yanked over, losing her balance, crying out as the gun falls from her fingers. The hand over where her blade would come out, when she tries to let it out it won’t budge under the grasp. She’s pulled back and towards them, back knocking to her chest as she struggles to fight a grip strong enough to crack bone if she let it. Their other hand is on her throat in a moment, tight and crushing as she’s pulled flush to their chest. 

V gasps as the hand tightens, already damaged vision blurring further as she gasps for air. Calloused fingers and chrome digging into her windpipe, tears stinging her eyes. She scratches and claws with her bad hand, but can seem to get a grip on him. Held tight to their chest, she cranes her neck, fighting the hold on it and looking up with darkening vision to see him. The bodyguard from Konpeki, brown silver ringed eyes and long graying hair pulled back off his face. Metal etched face like stone as he strangles the merc. 

What bit of strength and consciousness she regained is sapped quickly under his heavy hand, body starting to go limp as she starts to pass out. Then she’s thrown to the ground, on  her hands and knees as she tries to break the fall; gasping desperately for air. She feels even weaker now, adrenaline fading, pain hitting her again. Why is an Arasaka fucker here? Who the hell sent him? Did Dex drag him here? 

She twists to sit down, leaning against a rusted fridge as she touches her bruised throat. The guard stalks closer, shiny shoes walking through muck before he crouches down in front of her. Her contact subtitles start in Japanese before trying to translate what bits they catch from his lips. 

“Arasaka-sama….found….father’s killer,” his eyes staring her down, “...her….no...doubt. Yes. Expect… hour.” 

He’s going to drag her in, throw her to the non-existent mercy of Arasaka. Flashes of those memories, Johnny’s death, if it’s even real and not just a story from her damaged brain. But she remembers his death, the pain of what they did, every neuron on fire. Is that what they’ll do to her?

“Go fuck yourself!” 

She gathers all the spit and blood in her mouth, she hopes traces of puke too out of spite. And she spits on him, right in his face, all she can muster. Spittle coats his bearded face and she feels a moment of sick satisfaction, no matter how small. 

“Quiet!” 

He backhands her, a sharp slap that forces her head to move. Then he wipes her spit off on his sleeve. Her vision blurs, consciousness threatening to slip away as she feels his hands lifting her up. The world going dark for a moment as she’s carried away by the bodyguard. 

When the world returns for a brief moment, she’s in a passenger side seat, laying against the leather. The driver side door opens and she watches as he sits behind the wheel, for a moment his eyes linger on her. His nose wrinkles in disgust as they start to drive out of the landfill. 

“...smell...shit.” 

She wants to cuss him out, but she can no longer summon the energy. Blood loss catching up with her. If she’s lucky, she’ll die before she ever sees the inside of an Arasaka interrogation room. They can play with her corpse to their heart’s content, as long as they don’t get anything from her. Her eyelids are heavy, the world going dark again. 

It’s a sharp pain that brings her back, a choking gasp for air as her entire body convulses, pulling at raw nerves and muscles. The UI in her contact blinks system malfunction, blurring distorting, glitching already damaged vision. Every part of her seizing, she has to remind herself to breathe, tell her heart to beat. 

Chrome etched fingers push an airhypo into her hand, the guard is twisted up behind the wheel, holding at his stomach. He’s hurt, but how? Why is he giving her first aid? It could be a trick, but she takes that risk, knowing she’ll die without something anyway.  She wraps bloodied twitching fingers around the airhypo and punches it directly into her chest, a needle of medication plunged into her system. A brief booster of relief. Her lungs able to breathe, pain numbing for a moment, muscles relaxing. 

The wind is whipping as he drives. An orange sky around them, car driving down a a highway, the sun just starting to come up. Beautiful for a moment.

tHE she goes to toss the hypo container out of the convertible, throwing it right into the face of a man driving a motorcycle up along side of them. His eyes an intense red, optic glow. Dressed in Arasaka uniform, his eyes on her. Friends of the bodyguard? The motorcycle accelerates, moves in front of them, then the man pulls a gun. Another motorcyclist races past the drivers side. Glass shatters as bullets blast the windshield. A third one weaving into the fray. The long haired guard punches the gas, ramming into the back of one of the bikes. It sparks and flames, sending it’s rider flying before the motorcycle rolls off the windshield over their head. 

The hell is going on? Why is he fighting his own men? Why are they fighting him? A black and red gun is pushed into her hand, the intention clear without words. Half blind, half dead, but hopped up on a booster; she takes aim. 

Its not her best work, firing at the cyclists. She focuses on the one lingering towards her side, closer to them. She aims for tires first, bullets sparking and pinging off the bike, but not quite make the impact she needs. V tries hard, tries to focus harder on his head, trying to land a headshot as the pair continue to shoot at the car. The movement of which does nothing to help. 

His motorcycle starts to flame up, streaks of red flickering as he rides. When it stalls in the middle of the highway, the long haired guard hits the gas harder, catching the front of it and destroys it, sending him across the road. 

They get neck and neck to the other rider, cold red eyes glaring at them before drifting off to another lane, picking up speed before he guns it back towards them, slamming the bike into the side of the vehicle. Knocking the car off course, they slam into oncoming traffic, head on into someone else's car. But the long haired man doesn’t slow down, swerving pack into their lane, too quick, as he ends up half on the curb. The side of the car scratches an NCART stop as the guard turns them around; driving in reverse to face the motorcyclist. He drives head on towards them and V starts shooting again, trying to get clear aim. 

One lucky shot hits where she needs, bike combusting and rider flying. As breathing gets harder for her, her muscles start to tighter, pain in her...everything starting to come back. The boost of adrenaline from the hypo is fading. And another motorcycle comes speeding at them, riding through the dust and smoke of the former. How many are there?

The bodyguard starts to turn the car back around, a vehicle merging clips against them, sending the civilian car right into the path of the motorcycle. He hits the hood of it, motorcycle sparking and man sent flying, but he leans into the launch of it, mantis blades extending from his arms as he lands on the back of their car. 

And the flames weren’t just from his bike, he’s more metal than flesh. Charred remains of skin giving way of the metal bones beneath. He sweeps his blades back and forth, the rock of the car and the heat of fire on his skin making his aim messy, just missing their heads. He flips to the front, clinging to the grill of the car as the bodyguard drives. 

Mantis blades sink into the hood as the man starts trying to climb his way up and to them, a flaming metal skeleton with half melted skin. She desperately tries to shoot him off as he pulls himself forward, a turn pushing him back, but the grip of his blades through the metal stays. He just nearly reaches, swiping a blade out but a swerve of the car makes him miss. A blade hooks into the dashboard in front of her and he punches out the other, stabbing between them. 

“Traitor!”

Her contact reads the words on the man’s lips, clear as day. The long haired guard, Saburo's own bodyguard; a traitor? 

The car smashes into the bottom of a billboard, cracking and buckling. Her head slams against the dashboard, darkness swimming through her vision, consciousness fading, she’s not sure how much more she can handle. She blinks, but maybe it was more than a blink, the long hair guard gone. 

Then her door opens, hands hook beneath her arms and she’s dragged out of the car, across the road. Taking in the crash. Pinned between the car and a pole, the flaming metal exoskeleton of a man convulses, mouth opened in what looks like a scream, maybe he still has nerve endings. His body is crushed, his bladed arms swinging out. 

Hands leave her body, the guard crouching in front of her, his movements slow. He’s injured too, clutching at a bullet wound. She tries to focus on his lips. 

“Do not pass...again.” 

“No promises…” She croaks out. 

“...eyes...open…” 

Her eyes drift to whats left of the other man, still struggling, still pinned. She levels the gun with his head as best she can, pulling the trigger and putting him out of any pain he may be in. Or may she’s simply saving her own ass by killing a witness. She’s not entirely sure. The bodyguard takes the gun from her hand, looking at her like he’s caught a child misbehaving. She lets out a soft laugh. 

Bleeding out on the highway, skull caved in, a mangled corpse. And she laughs. Maybe her and Jackie aren’t that different, maybe he’d be proud of her…maybe. 

“We both...medical attention. Do...know...ripperdoc… trust?” 

“Vik Vector.“ 

“Must...quickly,” 

“He can help, he’s the best.” 

“Have...get...somehow. Call...anyone.” 

“He’s behind Misty’s Esoterica in Watson, you’ll get there faster without me… I’m...not...gonna…” 

“Make the call.” 

He speaks slow and clear enough, the contact translating perfectly. He’s got no reason to want to save her, she doesn’t know what his game is. But, she sends a call through her holo, to Delamain. She doesn’t know why that’s the first thing to come to mind, maybe the cab will tell them to fuck off, the ride paid for by Dex after all. But the taxi service is the first thing that comes to mind. The avatar comes up in her contact. 

“Greetings, my scanner indicates you are outside the service area.” The contact reads him clearly, maybe the holo feeding subtitles better. 

“Pick me up, please… I have to get to Vik’s clinic, behind Misty’s Esoterica,” she tells him, her eyelids starting to grow heavy again. 

“Of course,” he agrees with no hesitance, “a vehicle en route. It should arrive in less than twenty minutes.” 

And her eyes close, blinking and eyes going dark again. It feels like only a moment. 

But when she opens her eyes again, she’s in a Delamain, stretched across the backseat with her head in the guard’s lap. He’s leaning over her, able to see through blurry vision, the heavy gray around his temples and the blood splattered across him. His hands are pushing through her hair. 

“Please proceed to insert the jack below the ear, though not too deep. There should be auxiliary neurosockets between her lymph nodes, beneath the SCM muscle.”

The subtitles filter across her contact, Delamain by the choice of words, but she’s not reading his lips. Unable to look directly at his AI avatar, she's not sure how, but doesn't have the energy to question it. The guard holds a jack between his fingers, brows furrowing for a moment. 

“...hit vein...mistake...die.” 

“As she will if you do nothing.” 

“I think I have the socket…” 

“Now proceed to connect.”

The world goes dark again, V barely able to stay conscious for more than a moment. This is it, she’s really dying. So much for laughing in the face of it and making Jackie proud. 

And when she opens them again she’s being pulled from the back of the car, the guard’s hands hold her. His grip is slipping, barely able to lift even her small frame, he’s hurt badly. Familiar hands interrupt, stronger in this moment, a ripperdoc glove on one hand. Vik pulls her from the cab easily lifting and holding her. He starts to walk away with her, the Arasaka bodyguard starting to follow, but his steps are staggering. 

“Can’t..” 

Then he’s falling, hitting the ground of Vik’s garage, his back leaning against the Delamain cab as he clutches at his bleeding arm, his face starting to go gray. V can feel the reverb in Vik’s chest, cracked open skull leaning against it as he calls out. 

And it feels like a blink. Just a moment, a bit of darkness, but the world has shifted again. A bright bright white light glows over head, she’s on Vik’s operating table, the ripper doc standing over her. 

“It’s neurogenic shock, she’s dying,” Delamain’s subtitles come across her contact. 

Tears burn at her eyes. This is it, she’s really dying, after all this trouble. She’ll bleed out in Vik’s chair. Vik’s lips move, but the contact reads nothing, only a blip. He twists and turns her face where he needs her. 

“There is risk of-”

Vik cuts the taxi cab AI off, but she doesn’t know what he says, light too bright to see anything else. Only able to catch the movement of it. And she’s been expecting this, each moment since Dex shot her feeling like her last. But this has to be it the end, heart slowing again, eyelids heavy again. Her skull has been cracked open, brain exposed to trash and air for the past several hours. She’s been bleeding out for god knows how long. She was never going to make it out of this, was never meant to. 

A billion thoughts dance in her head, of Jackie, of all that’s happened. She reaches out and grabs Vik’s shirt, bloody fingers twisting into the blue of his shirt. Her grasp is weak, but Vik stops when he feels the feeble little pull on his clothes, looking down on her. And he looks so scared, green eyes wide as he stares down at her. 

“I’m sorry…” 

Its all she can think to say, she’s sorry. She’s sorry about Jackie. She’s sorry she didn’t listen to Vik. She’s sorry she took the job. She’s sorry she couldn’t save him. She’s just sorry..  And she hopes Misty hears it, hopes it gets back to Mama Welles. Hopes they know she’s sorry, hopes they know she tried… 

And it all goes dark again, that void that welcomes her time and time again. She doesn’t expect to come out of it, truly she doesn’t. Stuck in the dark for who knows how long. 

For a moment the world comes back, mind fuzzy, she can see Misty checking something. Wants to reach out and touch her, say something. But her body won’t move, her mouth dryer than the desert. That Arasaka guard is in Vik’s other chair, Vik working on him. And she blinks again. 

Vik is at his work bench, watching a boxing match. Her clothes are changed, her skin cleaner than it was before, her vision glitching but no longer halved. Does she still have contacts in? The question is foggy in her brain, barely formed before she’s falling into darkness again. 

The guard and Vik are standing before where she lays. How much time has passed? The long haired bodyguard looks healthier now, healed up, dressed in white. Not a trace of blood on him, no more gray in his face. 

“How is she?” Subtitles form across her vision, clearer than usual, able to pick it up at a further distance. 

“Slower on the mend than you, but lookin' better every day.”

Day… has it been days? Her eyes are drifting shut again, unable to keep them open for long. But the void doesn’t greet her this time, instead fuzzy dreams...memories. Being on a stage, being at a nomad camp. Sometimes she’s her. Other times…. 

Her eyes open again. And this time the Arasaka guard is closer, hands fussing with something. Touching her shoulder, her skin. He pulls away after a moment, then taps her shoulder, a heavy pap against her flesh. Then she’s gone again. 

Dreams and memories drift into each other. 

Drinking in some shitty bar with Misty and Jackie, capping the night off with booze as they talk let loose after a week of shitty jobs and annoying customers, She throws back her favorite bourbon and cherry coke, but it turns to tequila in her mouth. Shot glass hitting the table, Misty and Jackie replaced with Kerry and Rogue, snickering as she grabs another shot. 

Vik repairing a knife wound in her gut, teasing her nose for trouble, but when he goes to turn he becomes Milt, a man she knows, though she doesn’t know why.  He’s replacing her liver for the third time that month, tells her she needs to cool it on the booze. 

Entangled in the sheets with Sabrina, a short lived flame. But when they twist to roll over, its not Sabrina looking up at her. A blonde with freckles across her nose and soft green eyes instead of the dark haired woman V thought she could love. 

She’s on stage, screaming lyrics into a mic and the noise doesn’t bug her, she screams her rage, her message. But fingers meet guitar strings and the world shifts, electric axe becoming acoustic. A dirty club becomes a tent and instead of playing to a crowd she’s in her mother’s lap, mom humming Rhiannon as she teaches the young nomad to play. 

Busting through the doors to Arasaka tower, nuke on her back, but the doors open to Yorinobu’s suite, Jackie shushing her to stay quiet. As if she’s ever struggled to be quiet. 

She’s got a blade in the side of Konpeki Plaza, grabbing Jackie, but the moment her hand wraps around his wrist she’s the one dangling, holding onto Rogue as she dangles above Arasaka Tower. 

Sometimes who’s in what memory switches, changes. Sometimes it’s her setting off the nuke in Arasaka, painted nails clicking against the bomb. Sometimes it’s tattooed and silver hands softly correcting Jackie’s sign language. 

It all blurs and blurs and blurs until she’s not sure who did what. Who’s the deaf merc and who’s the rocker who nuked a tower? And her head aches to keep track, to know who she is, the pain building and building which each twist of it, each change in those dreams that muddy the waters of who she is and who he is. Until the pain is overwhelming. 

“Argh ahh, fuck!” She gasps and screams out, waking up in agony. She grabs and clutches at her head, trying to soothe it. 

Hands come and touch her face, looking up at Vik, eyes kind as he slides a spare pair of hearing aids on her. Able to hear her own panicked breathing as Vik soothes his hands across her jaw. 

“V? You in there?” he asks her, his wording strange, who else would she be? 

“Vik..” she speaks and signs, hands trembling and voice rough, her vision still glitching and distorting. Her torso is wrapped in bandages, a pair of pajama pants on her for modesty. There’s more bandages wrapped around her head, down her forearm. There’s no markings of the mantis blades on her right arm. 

“How you feeling?” 

“Everything hurts...visions...do I have contacts in?”  

“Yeah… lots to discuss, kid,” he says, swallowing hard and crossing his arms, “had to install optics on you…” 

“What?” Her eyes are gone, replaced with tech, just that easily. The eyes she sees through no longer the ones genetics or her father gave her, but corp created metal. 

“Bullet damaged the optic nerve, I had no choice, I-” 

“I know,” she says, arm and hand too sore to sign,  Vik would never install them if it wasn’t necessary, she trusts that.

“On a brighter note, switched you to the projectile launcher.” 

“Huh?” She checks her left arm, indentations of chrome, similar but slightly different from the mantis blades. 

“The blades work best together, I would have just repaired the right and spruced up the left, but… when the blade ripped out, the muscle was damaged beneath it. It can’t support anymore cyberware, to install a new blade in it, I’d have to remove the full arm. Figured, be better to give you the tech you wanted more, anway.” 

“I owe you, a lot, seriously. May...take longer to pay you back than I thought.” 

“That’s, uh, that’s not the most important thing right now. V, what do you remember?” 

“Dex… shot me and then I started seeing things…” She explains, sitting up a little straighter and pulling her knees closer, body aching at the movement. 

“These...hallucinations, describe ‘em to me.” 

“There’s a lot, it’s like, I’m someone else, but still me. Seeing someone else’s life. I’m on stage in some grimey little club, bright lights. I start playing, screaming into the mic, letting out my hatred...screaming out a message. Got something to say, desperate for anyone to listen. Then I finish the set and… head my ass to Arasaka Tower, nuke the whole damn place… I don’t know if it was a dream or. I know it sound’s ridiculous.” 

“Not ridiculous at all, kid,” Vik tells her, nodding along and sitting down, fiddling with his glasses, a nervous tic she’s rarely seen. 

“Night City looked different, older and I hated it. Then… they killed me, Arasaka scorched me with something, every nerve frying. It felt real, so- so fucking real, I knew it wasn’t me but it felt like it. Never had a dream like that…” 

“You weren't dreaming, V. Those were memories. There's a personality construct on that shard, Dreams you had were from his past.”

She blinks, processing the words for a moment. That makes sense, when she thinks about it. Commercials for the relic advertised it as a storage for a person’s engram, something akin to an imaginary friend. It didn’t cross her mind in the moment, but logically Jackie and her should have seen someone with the chip slotted in… Right?  But either way, she had a chip with someone’s intel, she got fucked up and maybe the chip activated, triggered, and showed her whoever was on it. Johnny… who gives a fuck. 

“Okay, so, it was just the chip… Where you put it?”  It may be too hopeful, but if the chip is in good enough shape, Vik is savvy enough, he may have had a container that would work. If so, she may be able to get in contact with Evelyn. Close the deal, for Jackie. 

“V… I…” 

“Did it get destroyed?” She reaches up to her chip slot, without thinking, touching her fingers against it. 

“Don’t touch it,” Vik yells out, calloused fingers wrapping around her wrist just as she feels the edge of something in her chipslot. He didn’t pull it, which is odd enough, but why is he so worried of her doing it?

“Why? Something wrong, if the chip is fucking with me, I can just pull it out, right? No harm, no foul.” 

“It’s not that simple, V.” 

“What do you mean, it’s not that simple? Its just a shard, a chip like anything else.” 

“Not quite, you two're connected in a way I can't make head or tail of.” 

“Connect- what do you mean, me and who?” 

“Johnny Silverhand. A terrorist - real talk o' the town back in my day,” he lets out a heavy sigh, leaning forward , “ Anyway, that's not what's important right now….” 

And there’s something in the way his body language changes, the shift in expression. She’s seen him worried to death, seen him nag her time and time again. Tell her in a thousand different ways she had to stop knocking on death’s door or it’d start knocking back. But he barely meets his eyes now, face drained of color, like he’s the one who took a bullet. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was about to cry. 

“So, new eyes, new chrome, and reliving a terrorist’s life; none of that's important. So, what exactly is?” 

“You, uh, don't got a lot of time left, kid,” he tells her, voice cracking in a way she’s never heard. 

“Wha-what do you mean?” She’s hurting sure, that’s to be expected, but she doesn’t feel like she’s on death’s door, not anymore. She should be out of the woods now.

“ The biochip… It's basically a bomb, fuse lit already. You don't have much time left, much… life. A few, maybe six months tops. Silverhand's construct is overwriting your consciousness - gradually taking over your body until one day you'll just be… gone” 

He can only meet her eyes for a few words at a time, blinking and looking away each time his eyes start to look watery. V’s breath catches in her throat, Vik’s words pinging around her skull. She believes him, no reason not to, he’d never lie about something like this. Hell, she doubts he’d ever lie at all. Death has teased her relentlessly all her life, but never so much as it has in this past...day, weeks? Since Dex shot her, moment after moment of thinking she’d met her end. Each time convinced it was the end, that she’d bleed out in a motel, thrown away in landfill, die in Vik’s chair. 

But this… this isn’t what she imagined. A bullet, a knife wound, a quick hack, someone’s chrome; all things she could see taking her. Bleeding out in an alley, in a car, shot point blank dying before she hits the ground. Those are merc deaths, the kind of death that’s been awaiting her. Culled at the hands of her family, a quick clean captive bolt shot to the skull. 

Becoming someone else, mind twisted and warped, a terrorist taking her place. Her brain and being carved away to let someone else take root. Is it even a death? Or just ceasing to be? Rewritten, reworked, turned into someone new. A terrorist, a rockerboy; taking her place, wearing her like a cheap suit. 

Vik rubs at his forehead, refusing for another moment to make eye contact, giving her a moment. Letting this settle in or maybe he’s just trying to collect himself, after another beat of silence he meets her eyes again. 

“V. It's important you get all this,” he tells her, but, Vik can help her. He’s the best, pulled miracles out of nowhere, for fucks sake, he pieced her head back together. The fact she’s here right now means…

“That’s okay, you’ll fix me up. Right, Vik?”

And his face falls, a quiver in his jaw, “If I could, I would, V, believe me. But this is… Way beyond what I know how to do.” 

“You're the best of the best, Vik,” her voice is higher than she wants, shakier than she’d like, as he puts his head in his hands again,  “Why can't you help me?”

“Want the long story or the short?” He sits up straighter, takes in a deep breath, trying to pull himself together. 

“I want- I need to know everything, Vik, what’s happening to me?” 

“OK. There was, is, a construct, a psyche on the chip. That of Johnny Silverhand. You jacked it in your chipslot. Nothing happened, right? Until you died.” 

“Shot point blank by Dex Deshawn...how…” 

“Low caliber - you lucked out. Not least thanks to another poor decision by Mr. DeShawn. The nannites off the chip started fixing the damage. Biochip revived and... short-circ'd you. Started uploading data into your head. As far as it was concerned, your brain was an empty vessel that needed to be filled by the engram it was carrying.” 

“But-but, I’m here, this is me. I’m me, I-” 

And he nearly breaks, she can see it in him, A grown man, old enough to be her dad, looking down like a kicked dog. Like he’s about to break down in tears and when did she start crying? Her eyes stinging, tears running hot down her cheeks, she doesn’t know when the dam bursted, when her voice started sounding so pathetic. But...this is her, she’s here, she doesn’t want to become someone else… 

“The shard doesn't read, it writes. Headache of yours? It's the biochip rewiring your neural pathways, building new neural structures, doing away with the old. From the biochip's perspective, your brain cells are a tumor that needs to be scooped out, while your body's an empty shell to hold the construct. You’re….just a cancer, an intruder.” 

An intruder, a cancer in her own fucking body. It’s almost poetic, if it wasn’t so infuriating. Her body trying to destroy itself for years and now this chip is joining the fight, like her body was never meant to be her’s. But it is, this is her. Years under someone else's thumb; she fought for the right to herself, her body, her life. And now some wannabe rockstar is out to ruin that?

“So, that’s it? Johnny What’s His Fuck is out to kill me? Booting me out of my own damn body and taking my place?” 

She tries to turn it into anger, blaming him, because who else does she blame? Anger is easier, safer, she can work with anger better than the anguish in her chest, the tears soaking her face. 

“It's not willful on his part. It's automatic, inevitable. And neither of you can stop it.” 

The finality makes her choke. Nothing to do. Nothing to stop it. This is happening. All she can do is wait to rot inside her own body, wait for the moment where Johnny claims it as his own. She’ll be gone, wiped, the world forgetting she was ever part of it. Just a weak little merc killed by her own body, never truly meant to be here in the first place. 

“Ca-can’t we just take it out? Turn it off-I, something?!” 

“Either way's out of the question. You'd die, immediately.”

“What do you mean?” “Chip saved you… it’s killing you, but, it’s also the only thing keeping you alive. Without it keeping your brain going… life support and a death sentence, all in one. “ 

“Vik, you’ve always come through for me, there’s nothing you can’t do. If-if you can’t help...what-what the hell do I do? Please… I,”  Vik stands up, looks at her like she’s already gone, arms crossed over his chest, “Vik?” 

“I wish I knew, kid.” And he turns his back to her, walking away. 

“Vik?” 

“Misty!” He calls the woman’s name half in a yell and half in a sob, breaking down. 

For a moment she’s left alone, wiping tears from her eyes. The look on Vik’s face trapped in her mind, looking at her like she’s already dead and this is her funeral. Looking at her like a wounded dog. Like her mother  and sister did when she lost her hearing. Pity, despair, mourning what’s been taken. And she cries into her hands, because this time it’s not her hearing. It's her everything. Years of trying to feel like she had an ounce of fucking control, just for it to be taken. Years of searching for a place in this world, for the world to tell her one never existed. Her own brain reworking itself to be anyone else, even a terrorist. 

There’s a creak of wheels against the floor, a wheelchair being pushed into her peripheral vision. Misty’s pushing it towards her, V doesn’t lift her head to make eye contact, just watching the chair wheels spin. 

“You're askin' too much from an old-timer like Vik,” Misty speaks softly, touching V’s hand and the merc finally meets her gaze, “C'mon, V, let's get you home.”

Misty helps V into the wheelchair, the merc’s legs shakier than she expected, and she curses under her breath. She hates it, needing the help, needing Misty’s hands to steady her. Feeling weak. But Misty helps her happily, wheeling her out the garage of Vik’s clinic to a car. Misty tucking her into the passenger seat and helping buckle her seat belt when the merc’s hands are too clumsy. 

V watches the world go by as Misty drives, looking at the city that passes by. A world, a city, she wanted a place in. That she wanted to respect her, to know her. A world she wanted to matter in, to prove she was strong, to feel like she meant something. And now she’ll just vanish from it, with no one caring. A world that will never miss her, because it never knew her to begin with. 

And a part of her wants to climb across the console and into Misty’s lap, to throw her arm around the older woman and sink there. To hug someone who to some extent, if only because of Jackie, cares about her, who maybe, just maybe she matters to. But for a billion reasons, ranging from the fact Misty’s driving to the fact she can’t imagine why Misty would ever want to hug her. While kind, V can’t imagine anyone wanting to curl up with the person who got their boyfriend killed. V promised to keep him safe and couldn’t. 

“You wanna talk, V, about what happened?” 

V doesn’t respond right away, unsure of what to say, there’s so much swimming in her head. So many words that just die on her tongue. Does she talk about Jackie, does she apologize? Does she act selfishly, talk about what’s happening to her? It’s all a mess. Then they’re pulling into the parking garage of V’s building. Misty gets the folded up wheelchair out of the back of her car, holding a bag with V’s belongings in it, bringing them to the passenger side. The older blonde opens V’s door and helps her into the chair, wheeling her to the elevator. 

The doors to the elevator close, ads playing across the screens, V fiddles with the fabric of the sweatpants that Vik put her in. She tries to speak, words don’t come out. She tries to sign, her fingers clench but don’t move beyond it. The elevator shaking as it takes them up to V’s floor. 

“Its-it’s all so hard to make sense of…” she finally says, just being honest, as the doors open and Misty wheels her down those dirty halls. 

“I know it is, sweetie, you’ve been through so much.” 

“We were just stealing the chip and then everything… went to shit…. And, and, then he died and I thought I was gonna die too with him in my sleep...if that’s what it was, like I was dreaming but...not.” 

“Sleep's a… Small hint of death, the inevitable,” Misty tells her as they reach V’s door, the older woman scooping up a box by the door as the merc unlocks it. 

Memories of her door fucking up flicker around her head, Robert Linder… No… that’s not possible. They hadn’t even touched Konpeki yet, but she swears she knows that name. That it’s him, his birth name. Robbie, Robert, before finally settling on Johnny. Her throat feels tight, chest constricting, how is that possible. Then Misty is pushing her through the doors. 

“I-I can't actually tell if I'm awake now, right now. Nothing feels real, I mean, I could be dead already, right?”

“Not something to think about right now, V,” Misty tells her, stopping the chair by her bed, before coming to stand in front of her, “Here, got some meds for you.”

There’s two pill bottles in Misty’s hands, blue and orange. She crouches down in front of V, meeting the merc’s eyes without looking down at her. Misty rattles the blue pill bottle. 

“Omega blockers - taken regularly, they'll keep things from progressing too quickly. Also, they should keep that guest of yours calm, quiet.”

Quiet. Because she’s going to see him, going to hear him, already has. The memory of hearing his voice, seeing him above her in the landfill. She’s not alone in her own head and putting him in a chemical straight jacket is all she can do. She takes the blue bottle from Misty, shaking the pills around inside, her only hope of squeezing out even six more months of life… before she becomes someone else. 

“Pseudoendotrizine's from me,” Misty shakes the orange bottle, “Effect'll be opposite. It'll speed things up, free the demon, so to speak.”

V takes the second bottle from Misty, shaking them around, as the older woman stands. Suicide pills… Misty is giving her a way to kill herself, only instead of getting to go to sleep and never wake up, it will speed him up. Rewrite and rework her. Death without the dignity of a true end, one day she just won’t be her.  She’d rather bleed out, rather have been left to rot in that landfill. At least then she would have died as herself.  Least she wouldn’t have to watch and feel as she becomes someone else, as she loses everything that makes her, her. And Misty wants to speed it up… wants to watch her die quicker… 

“Giving me a pill to kill myself… so I can die faster…” V’s broken little voice comes out and she see’s Misty’s eyes go big for a moment, soft and looking at V like a dying animal. Just a sad little thing to be pitied. 

“Listen, you're likely to be fine for a while. But some time down the road. It could turn into pure agony. I'm givin' you options, honey.”

“I have painkillers...I-” 

“Your psyche's gonna die, V. You'll feel… your old self slipping away. At some point, you won't recognize yourself. It'll be terrifying. It'll be painful. But it doesn't have to be.”

V nearly cries, but forces it back, thinking of the road ahead of her. The finality in Misty’s voice echoing Vik’s. So, why is she here, six months of suffering? If she’s lucky. She should have been left to die, least then it’d be a quicker one. A real one, instead of just becoming a stranger in her own body, instead of being rewritten, replaced. 

“Might as well just blow my brains out, be easier.”

Misty shakes her head, “Well, that way you'd kill two souls. Is that what you want?”

And maybe she does. Maybe she doesn’t. V isn't quite sure of the answer, herself. She just doesn’t want to hurt like this, doesn’t want to be here in this moment. Doesn’t want this.  A clean death is easier, instead Vik pieced her back together just so she could suffer. She thinks of laying down in the landfill, before she saw him, and wishes it back. To lay down in the muck, a bleeding mess, and never get back up. 

“I think...I need to lie down,” she says, her bed never looking so tempting. V pulls herself from the wheel chair and sits down on her bed, legs over the edge as she just feels herself sink into her mattress for a moment. After a moment, she feels Misty sitting down next to her. 

“Here,” Misty holds something in her hands, soft green eyes looking at V, “got one more thing for ya. Vik pulled this outta your skull.’

Misty gently pulls on V’s wrist, touch gentle as she makes the merc roll her hand over and presses a necklace into her palm. A circular pendant on a chain, wires suspending a bullet in the center of it. The merc rubs her fingers over the metal, the bullet that killed her. 

“Wha-?”

“A lucky charm?”

“Haven’t you heard, I got a terminal case of bad luck.” 

“Don't be silly. As long as you're alive, there's hope. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise.” 

Misty says that and a part of V believes she believes it. But she said not moments okay, with that same confidence that V is going to die. And the merc can’t help but wonder if Misty even knows which one she believes more. How could V possibly stop this? Vik doesn’t even know what he’s looking at, how the hell could she? Her brain is destroying itself, turning itself into someone new. How do you stop that?

“Really think I can survive this?” V asks, just wanting to know how Misty really feels, if there’s any hope in this situation. 

“'Course you can. I mean, you did already die and come back once, didn't ya?”

“Technically...I guess.” 

“Promise you'll try to get some sleep?” Misty pats her thigh and starts to get up. 

“Misty, wait, um I, about Jackie...” She tangles her fingers in Misty’s sweater, voice catching, she can’t let her go without saying something about him. Misty sits back down. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m, I’m...I’m so fuckin’ sorry, I…” 

“V… “

“I can’t believe he’s gone… It doesn’t feel real…” Tears burn at V’s eyes, falling down her cheeks with a blink. 

“Jackie…  was special. Really spiritually rich. He touched so many people with his love. Don't worry, he'll be around. I don’t think… we ever truly lose the people who meant something to us, a part of them always stays with us, ya know?” 

“Maybe… he… talked about yout lots, you know that? He loved you to pieces.” 

A soft smile starts to pull at Misty’s black painted lips, before it falls again, fingers messing with her hair as she weighs what V’s said. 

“We got into a fight right before he went off to do this job.”

“He wasn’t mad at you. I hope you know that, loved you more than anything.” 

“I know. I just… wish our last moments together could have been… different.” 

“Sure you'll be okay?” 

Misty is too good for all of this, truly, she deserved so much better. And V just wishes she could have brought Jackie home to her.  Misty chews her lip and after a moment she nods, looking up to V. 

“Life is so beautifully powerful, so much more powerful than death, so yeah, I’ll be fine. Not today and probably not tomorrow, but I’ll get there. And so will you.” 

“Maybe…” 

“But right now,” Misty squeezes V’s shoulder,  “you need rest. So sleep, please sleep.”

With that desperate plea, Misty stands up, pushing the wheelchair out through V’s apartment. She only stops once, casting a final somber look at V, as if checking to see if the merc has moved at all. Then she leaves. And V is left alone with her thoughts, with her worries, with her guilt, and fear. 

Body and mind heavy with the weight of it all, she takes out the loaner hearing aids that Vik gave her and pushes herself back into bed. She lays down, feeling the soft of the mattress sink underneath her. V takes another look at the bullet pendant, holding it over her head as she stares at the thing that killed her. Pried from her head and now in her hand, it seems surreal. Everything feels that way lately. 

She lays her head down on her pillow, holding the pendant close as she lets herself just relax for a moment. To just let this all go if only for a few hours, to let her mind and body rest, to figure out what she’s going to do when the morning comes. Her eyelids grow heavy, slipping into sleep. 

There’s an odd, almost electric sound that starts to gently stir her from sleep, like a tv glitching. Followed by a soft thunk, thunk, of something hitting something else. Her heavy eyelid slowly pull open. A man against the wall between her bed and window. Overgrown dark hair, aviators hiding brown eyes, dressed in a bullet proof vest and leather pants. He thumps his head back against the wall, a pent up energy drawing every muscle in his body tight, like a tiger about to pounce. 

“Gotta get out of here, understand? And I kill anyone who gets in my way.” 

And he’s on top of her, in a flicker, a flash, he’s suddenly crouching over her body, staring down at her. Close enough to smell cigarette smoke and a hint of sweat, close enough to see the dirt that clings to his skin, scratches in his flesh.  His silver hand presses against the mattress beside her head, 

“You included.” 

She flinches and kicks out at his warning, the gravel of his voice promising to end her if he has to. And he’s gone, just as easily as he arrived. A dream?  Her heart hammers in her chest, breaths shallow as she tries to calm down. 

Her mind is still foggy  as she starts to sit up in her bed, then she hears the glitching sound again, the thumping noise of a head hitting the wall. V swallows a lump in her throat, blinking at the man who’s back against the wall, thumping his head. 

“Need a smoke,” he demands, seemingly annoyed he has to say it, “where’d you stash yours?” 

A stranger in her apartment, in her mind, trying to bum cigarettes. Her hearing aids still tucked away, yet she hears him clear as day. It’s all surreal. She can’t bring herself to answer immediately, still half out of it, her vision seeming to glitch as she moves. A cyan fuzz to the world as she slowly sits up on the edge of the bed and brings herself to stand up, looking at him. He’s not real, she has to remind herself, even though he looks and smells like it. Just a figment in her head, threatening her life and demanding nicotine. 

“D-don’t smoke.” Is all she can think to say, as stupid as it is, thankful for a moment she can’t hear herself say it, can’t truly take in her own idiocy. As if that’s the most concerning part of this whole mess. 

“Then go out and get some! Just need one last one!” He screams at her, making her flinch, head hurting already. 

“Jesus christ, man,  calm the fuck down.” 

“The fuck kinda joytoy are you s'posed to be?” He sneers at her, looks down his nose at her. Heat and anger rush through her, face warm, asshole. Snide, fucking prick. Not worth it, though, just some asshole rattling around her skull. 

“No, I- I’m not dealing with this.” 

She shakes her head and turns to go to her closet; grab some clothes, pop the pills, take a shower, and figure out what to do from there.  Then he’s in front of her, before she’s even made it past her desk, hands slamming into her chest as he pushes her back. She cries out as she hits the ground, pain shooting through her already injured body. He stands over her, right hand pulled back, ready to strike and his left in front of him. 

“Who you work for? Start talkin'!”

He points a chrome finger at her and her left finger points back him, moving without her consent, world glitching with cyan fuzz around her. She tries to clench it, to pull it back, to control her own body. But nothing and behind his eyes, she sees him looking. Testing it, he unclenches his hand and her own mirrors the motion. He twists his hand around and hers does the same in turn, in perfect sync, like she’s just a puppet. She tries to pull her hand down, but nothing. 

His right arm moves and her own follows the motion, no matter how much tries to pull it back, as muscles aching from her rebellion. Her body listens to him, not her. This can’t be happening, he can’t control her, he can’t make her do things. Vik said six months, it's barely been hours and she already can’t move her own body.

“Fuck…” The man above her curses, turning his palms to his face, her hands doing the same. 

For a moment, she considers begging him to release whatever control he has on her, if he even knows how to do it but stops herself before the broken plea can be heard, nothing but a soft noise dying on her lips. Disgusted she would ever have to beg to have control over her own body, cursing herself as his right hand pushes back into his hair. Her hand does the same, pushing through her hair to rub over her chip-slot.

“Fucking chip,” her fingers pry at the biochip without her permision and she’s reminded of Vik’s warning,  “Rip the thing out myself!

Let him, let the dumb bastard kill them both; she decides just before he tries to rip the chip out. Fingers prying at the damage tech left in her skull,  And she screams, like a shock to her brain, a bolt through every nerve as her vision glitches. Her body tenses, seizes, and somewhere she hears him yell too.  World going dark for just a moment. 

Then red dances across her vision, world and sense slowly returning, she’s somehow twisted to face her window. Not sure how she ended up there, if she had a seizure, if he dragged her. But it looks like he gave up on prying the chip out, because shes’ alive, she thinks. There’s that blue fuzz and static floating around her vision again as she starts trying to get up. 

Before she can get both feet under her, there’s a hand wrenching into her hair, twisting the strands around his fingers and yanking. She cries out as she’s pulled up to her feet by her hair, freshly stitched together scalp being pulled on. V presses her hands to the window sill and glass, trying to get her bearings as she’s pulled back back by the hair. Her reflection stares back at her, her pitiful face wincing in pain, Johnny behind her pulling her around like a ragdoll. 

“I’ll take control!” 

It’s a snarled yell into her ear, his breath on her neck as he slams her head against the window, the a heavy sound of flesh cracking against glass. 

“I’ll find a way!” 

He reels her head back and does it again, glass starting to splinter and break apart under the force. Then he pulls her back, twists her around to face him, moving fast. Hands quick and harsh, tearing at her skin as he wraps both around her throat. Flesh and metal cutting off her air as he slams her against the window, head bouncing against it as she claws at his hands. Finally in control of her limbs, but unable to do anything as he cuts off her air, leaning close enough for her to smell the smoke on his breath. 

“You hear me?!”

He screams in her face, brown eyes glaring over his aviators, harsh and burning into her skin. She can feel the hatred, the anger, all coming off of him in waves. It swims in her head and chest, pressing against her own fear as he strangles her, a snarled look on his face. He wants to kill her, to see her go limp and die under his hands right then and there. She knows that, can feel and read him, knows it as well as she knows her own name. 

Just as darkness pinpricks her vision, she feels the air return, rushing into her… just a moment before he lets go, letting her slide down the window onto the ground. She’s in no place to question it, sucking in deep grateful breathes, lungs burning for it as she watches him pace. 

Haphazardly, she pulls herself to her body, sitting on the edge of it; putting more distance between herself and the window he seems so fond of. She digs through her pockets, finding the omega blockers Misty had given her. V needs him gone like yesterday, to vanish like a bad fucking dream. 

“Not like that!” He yells and smacks the pill bottle from her hand, metal fingers stinging her skin and sending the medication across the room. 

“Fuc-ah!” V yelps as his right hand wraps tightly into her hair, again, yanking at the roots as he forces her to look directly at him, unable to see his eyes through his aviators. 

“Stick some iron in your mouth and pull the trigger!” 

He lets her hair go to reel back his hand, it cracks across her cheek in a heavy smack that sends the merc reeling to the ground. Sharp pain pinkening her cheek as she braces her hands against the floor, everything hurts. Her scalp torn at, her cheek struck, and her throat bruised. She feels it all, a brutal assault as real as anything she’s ever felt. 

“I can feel it,” he talks as he walks across the room, glitching with her vision, “our minds… touching…” 

Across the room, she sees it, beneath his pacing feet is the bottle of pills knocked down. Every muscle seizing, legs refusing to work as her body seems determined to shut down on her. But if she can just get to the pill she can shut him out. 

“I'm like mold on fruit… creepin' into you… Nothing I can do about it,” he rambles to himself, voice tight and angry as she drags herself across the floor, trying to reach the blockers. 

“You hear me!?” He yells, crouching to one knee just over them, taunting her before he flickers across the room again, “I'd puke if I fuckin' could!” 

She focuses on the pills, he’s irrelevant, not even real. Even if he feels like it, even if every strike and yank has left her hurting, he’s not real. V is nearly there, stomach rubbed raw at the drag of her body over the floor. She just needs him gone, far far away, put into whatever corner of his mind she can lock him away in. 

“It's just a copy of the engram - I'm out there somewhere, gotta be…” He keeps talking, keeps rambling, won’t shut the fuck up. 

“Just leave me the fuck alone! Get the fuck out, just go!” 

“Lead to the head is the only thing that’ll fix it,” he points his fingers like a gun at her head, before dropping to a knee in front of her sneering, “hear me bitch!? A bullet to the fuckin’ brain!” 

She grabs a pill from the floor, cramming it in her mouth and swallowing it try, rolling over onto her back as she begs for it to work. And he flickers into view, standing over her, looking down at her like she’s less than filth. Before he glitches out in a mess of static, cyan fuzz erasing him. 

And there’s a moment of relief, left in silence, safe from his hands. Safe from a touch too real for a brain supposedly only in her mind. Him being gone brings a moment, a glimmer of hope, the merc able to breath. To know for however long the pill lasts, she won’t be struck, or taunted. Won’t be plagued with his voice, the rough boom of it still ringing in ears that shouldn’t have heard it. 

This whole thing, the chip, her inevitable death… Vik said Johnny couldn’t help that, had no choice. And she knows from his memories he was put in the chip against his will. 

But this was a choice. The hair yanking, the choking, the screaming, the threats, all of that was his choice. And he made it clear, if it was up to him she’d just die faster. If it was up to him, he’d get the satisfaction of killing her with his hands rather than the chip. A stranger in her body, in her mind, able to control her and he wants her dead, he wants to hurt her. 

She cries, because what else can she do? Tears rushing out anew, it seems to be all she can do lately. V has no idea how to handle this, no idea how to stop it, how to keep him from getting control back. She doesn’t even know how long the pills will last, no clear dosage or instructions, just ‘regularly’. It feels pathetic, crying and weeping with no idea of how to fix it. But she allows herself that much, laying on the floor surrounded by pills, a new intruder in her body; she cries and curls into herself, hugging herself like a child. 

[justskulkingaround]

Lynchpin

Angst Attempt

@alex-fa-ch

Texas had been cleaning his rifle when a shiver runs down his spine and the power of a country floods his system. It feels familiar but so wrong.

He sits bolt upright and drops the gun.

"No..." Texas mutters, his eyes wide.

Texas hops up from his seat, tripping over himself to get back inside and to the kitchen counter, where his phone is charging. He grabs it and tries to call New York, only to get his voice mail. He leaves a few choice words when he hears his computer making noise.

Skype begins to ring.

Falling back into his office chair, Texas opens the meeting to his siblings scrambling and blabbering and scared. And honestly, he is too.

And the pure panic on Virginia's and Delaware's faces does nothing to soothe the terror etching itself into his chest.

"York?" Texas says, his voice quiet, "what's going on?"

"I don't know!" New York shouts, hands on the sides of his head, "Dad isn't picking up his phone, and neither is Russia. Canada is just as concerned as we are, but Russia's states don't think anything is going on!"

Texas swallows. Dread sinks his stomach into his feet.

"And all of us feel weird and Cali isn't answering," Delaware says, his expression appearing calm, but his tone shaky.

"I think I know why," Texas mumbles, looking away.

"Well?" New York barks, "out with it!"

"It feels like I'm a country again!" Texas shouts, shooting to his feet, "And it ain't right! Cuz I'm supposed to be a state! Cali was a country too! I think she's probably panicked because this ain't supposed to happen!"

An unnatural hush falls over the states and they stare at Texas in shock. Texas heaves, tears gathering his eyes.

"Shit!" Massachusetts mutters, breaking the silence.

"Oh fuck! OH FUCK!" New Jersey shouts, and he begins pacing around the room.

New York sits frozen in his seat, his eyes unfocused.

"HEY!" Louisiana shouts, hitting her desk, "ALL Y'ALL! BE QUIET!"

They fall silent before a little voice pipes up.

"Is Daddy okay?" Alaska asks, sniffling.

Louisiana flinches before answering, "Yeah, Daddy's okay, sweet cheeks. Now, York, where was Dad supposed to be today?"

'Lu, you are a bad lier.'

"I-" New Tork is cut off by his phone, "hold on. It's Russia."

'Oh thank God. Maybe he knows what happened.'

But Texas watches as New York's face falls into one of despair and then indescribable anger.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S GONE!?" New York roars, holding the phone in front of his face, close enough to the computer to hear the desperate voice on the other side.

Texas feels his heart freeze in his chest and his breath stutters to a stop.

"NO! SORRY ISN'T FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH YOU MOTHER FUCKING BASTARD! WHERE THE FUCK IS MY FATHER?!"

New York slams his phone into the desk with a cry of despair and Texas couldn't blame him. He felt frozen, and his emotions begin to rage. He swallows back his cries and steels over his expression.

'I will not grieve. Not here. Not now.'

"Massachusetts?" Wyoming asks gruffly, wiping at his eyes, "Can you teleport us to York's house?"

Massachusetts nods, and the world goes green before fading to reveal a messy apartment with New York trashing everything he can touch. Throwing desks and chairs, cracking windows, and screaming. Texas grabs New York, and with New Jersey's help, they wrestle their rabid brother away from the build-in shelf before he rips it out of the wall.

"NEW YORK!" Texas snaps, "For heaven's sake, STOP!"

New York snarls.

"And what should I do instead!?"

"We shouldn't be attacking each other!" Montana exclaims, her hands in the air, and grief audible in her tone.

"Yeah. We're gonna find the mother fucker who did this," North Carolina says darkly, cracking her knuckles.

~

They burst into the bar that Russia's phone call had lead them to, expecting to interrogate the bartender for information on Russia, only to see a familiar hat at the bar. Russia sits on one of the bar stools, surrounded by empty bottles and shot glasses, his face on the table, and his shoulders shaking.

Delaware and Virginia share a glance before Delaware walks forward and Virginia leads the others to the alleyway behind the bar. Once Delaware walks up to Russia, the bartender chimes in.

"Poor guy," the man comments, pity in his voice, "downing it faster than I can give it to him."

Delawares heart sinks. Russia's head pokes up, and Delaware feels relieved that he isn't dead from alcohol poisoning from the empty bottles around him.

"Another one," Russia slurs, his words mixing, and his accent makes it nearly unintelligible.

"I think I'm gonna have to cut you off there, boss."

Russia staggers to his feet and begins cursing at the bartender in what Delaware assumes is Russian. Then he turns around and begins to stumble away, half leaning against the walls in his attempt to leave.

A pathetic sight if Delaware had ever seen one, but he'd also be lying if he had said he wasn't planning to do the exact same thing as soon as he got the chance.

Delaware walks in front of Russia, getting ready to help when Russia stares at him and gasps.

"Delaware?" Russia slurs, a of confusion turns to one of guilt.

Then, Russia muttered something Delaware doesn't understand before trying to go around him.

"Wait," Delaware says, blocking Russia's path, "we need to talk."

"I need more alcohol," Russia replies, his tone empty.

"You're barely coherent!" Delaware yells, throwing his hands in the air, "if anyone needs it, it's ME and my fucking siblings. Now come on, we're gonna have some words with you outside."

Russia stares at him for a second, and his expressions seem to sober up a little. The pain in his eyes almost makes Delaware take a step back. It looked almost as deep as his own heartache, and he almost broke right there. He can barely keep himself from collapsing and bawling right there on the scummy bar floor.

It must have shown on his face because Russia looks away for a second before wrapping him up in a tight bear hug. And Delaware feels himself crack.

'I have to stay strong for my siblings,' Delaware scolds himself, 'I can't be crying.'

Even still, he sobs hard enough to shake his whole body, clinging to Russia like a shipwreck victim clinging to the wreckage to stay afloat.

"He can't be gone," Delaware finds himself saying, his voice cracking and filled with desperation, "he can't be."

"I'm so sorry," Russia slurs in a shaky, quiet tone.

"Why would you let that happen?!" Delaware cries, pulling back and punching Russia in the chest hard enough to knock the breath out of him.

"I couldn't save him," Russia says quietly, wheezing, tears in his eyes, "I tried. I couldn't. I'm so sorry."

Delaware glares at him before glancing away and wiping the tears off his face.

"You're gonna have to explain that to everyone else too," Delaware says, walking toward the exit.

Delaware opens the door and looks behind him, only to see Russia staring at something on his phone, swaying dangerously.

"Russia," Delaware snaps.

Russia's eyes shoot up to meet his, and the tears are streaming down his face. Delaware rolls his eyes.

'I lost my goddamn Dad. You lost a boyfriend,' Delaware thinks bitterly, snarling, 'stop with the tears and tell all of us what happened to our father.'