#of course the second unspoken half of this is that you also have to remember to CHECK these notes later on. during the same transition times

[incandescent-creativity]

I don’t post writing advice as often as I used to anymore, but one of the things I would recommend to people is to take time to do admin work on your story.

This isn’t going to apply to every writing process (what advice does) but if you’re like me, you have a Scrivener file with loads of spaces for notes that will theoretically make your life easier in a few thousand words,

but only if you actually take the time to fill them out.

I’m finding it very helpful to slow down when I reach moments of narrative pause (e.g. just finished a chapter, in between major plot arcs) and look back at what I’ve written, and then go to OTHER sections of my document and write down major takeaways.

Mostly this has been names of side characters that came up, timeline things that I want to stay consistent in the future, stuff that I said I would follow up on later that I will forget to deliver on if I don’t write it down.

[vashtijoy]

"why not join me instead?" akechi's "invitation" in conf 7

People come and go on whether this question of Akechi's is genuine or not. Opinions run the gamut from "I hate him for trying to take you away from your friends" to "Akechi wants Joker to be his accomplice".

Myself, I don't think Akechi means this as a serious question, for a number of reasons. I think this question is rhetorical.

Quick summary:

Conf 7 illustrates the similarity between Joker and Akechi, and that they're both committed to the showdown between them;

Rather than being an invitation, Akechi's question again illustrates that parallel—that neither of them will give up the things that matter to them to join the other, as Joker has asked him to do;

"I'll think about it" does not count towards the third awakening—and I can prove it. Rather, Akechi can't conceive that Joker would ever abandon his friends, and uses it as an outrageous example of something Joker would never do;

Joker's loyalty not only to his principles but to his friends is something Akechi values so much that he won't let Joker sacrifice it;

Akechi is not so much offering Joker a way out in conf 7 (there is no way out) as he's confirming for his own sake that Joker is still in the game. Is this still a battle between rivals, or is it an execution?

Let's take a look.

what is akechi really asking?

[long post is long]

Look at this line. Look at the question he's posing:

Akechi いっそ君がこっちに来るってのは?⋯今の仲間を捨ててさ。 isso kimi ga kocchi ni kuru tte no wa?... ima no nakama o sutete sa Why not join me instead...? All you'd have to do is abandon the teammates you have now.

It's very easy to focus on the first half of this question and miss the second. But that second half is the important part, the sting in the tail. The Japanese is a great example of wa building suspense: "Instead, what if you come over to my side, (AND THEN WHAT, AKECHI???????)"

The sentence is left hanging, with the weight of it unspoken (since wa emphasises what comes after it); Akechi is obviously not done speaking. And indeed, when he continues, it's a doozy:

"though, of course, you'd have to dump the friends you have now." (Yes, I think "friends" is often a much better translation of nakama than "teammates", fight me; it's even often translated as "friend" in P5 itself, or indeed, awkwardly, as "teammates and friends".)

Akechi is using the same verb, suteru, that you use for tossing something in the trash; the parallel meaning, "ending a relationship", exists in Japanese too.

Ryuji, Morgana, Ann, Yusuke, Makoto, Futaba, Haru, everything you've all gone through together and everything you've been—Akechi is suggesting you toss them aside like garbage. For him.

Now, I think part of Akechi would very much like Joker to do that. But he also knows better than to expect it. Because he knows Joker so much better than that.

Akechi has seen firsthand how loyal Joker is to his friends—remember on 1/2 how he says he investigated them all? He's seen some of the things Joker will do for them. He expects that blind faith to lead Joker to his death, much as Yaldabaoth does. But he also respects it.

This boy who's never had a friend, who's convinced himself the whole idea is stupid, is still drawn to the loyalty he sees in Joker. Even as he's preparing his own ultimate betrayal, Akechi recognises Joker's commitment to others. He understands treachery is bad, even though he himself is a traitor—just as he understands that murder is bad, and that doesn't stop him, either.

This question of whether or not Joker will betray his friends (and Akechi specifically) comes back on 2/2, of course—and in force.

so why does he ask

Akechi is not proposing that the two of them run off together. He's not asking to see what Joker will say. He doesn't impulsively make the invitation, and then run away when Joker says yes. He is, in fact, not even asking. He poses the idea of Joker abandoning all his friends as a counterexample. It's supposed to be something Joker would never consider, something he will find morally repugnant.

Which is why, if Joker says yes, Akechi is shocked, and essentially tells Joker not to make such stupid spur-of-the-moment decisions. Akechi is making a rhetorical point about what Joker is asking of him.

Remember Joker's statement that leads into Akechi's question:

Yeah. Joker either suggests that Akechi should give up everything he's doing and everything he believes in (even as Akechi confabulates about what those things really are), or he suggests, with the top option, that he's already done it.

And in return, Akechi says that Joker should join him... and throw away his friends and everything he's working for and everything he believes in, of course.

It's the second response to his question, where Joker turns him down flat, that makes it most obvious that this was what Akechi meant:

Joker それは無理だ sore wa muri da I'm not doing that. No way in hell. Akechi だろうね。 darou ne I thought as much. Akechi 分かるだろ、誰だって今の立場を簡単に捨てられやしないんだよ wakaru daro, dare datte ima no tachiba o kantan ni suterare yashinai n da yo I'm sure you understand. We all have our parts to play, and we can't simply leave those behind.

See what he's saying? ima no tachiba o kantan ni suterare yashinai—"we absolutely must not lightly set aside the positions we hold now".

Incidentally, yes, that's that same verb suteru that he used before, for casting aside or throwing away. Akechi is drawing a parallel between Joker's friends and his own goals—between the things each of them holds most dear, which neither of them will sacrifice, even to save the other. (Assuming you think Akechi would even be down to save Joker—but I do think conf 7 suggests that at this point, he might not be opposed to the possibility. It's just that it doesn't exist.)

the phone call

This parallel returns in the phone call afterwards, if you again tell him that you're rivals:

It's a little hard to tell from the localisation what Akechi is getting at, so let's take a close look:

Akechi 僕らにはお互い譲れないものがあって、そのためにも負けられない。 bokura ni wa otagai yuzurenai mono ga atte, sono tame ni mo makerarenai [lit. for both of us, these are things we cannot compromise on, and because of those things we cannot suffer losing.] Neither of us can afford to lose, because we fight in service of our principles. It's the same for both of us. Neither of us can afford to lose, because of these principles we won't concede. Akechi ⋯だからこそ、もしも君が自分を曲げたりしたら絶対に赦さないよ。 ... dakara koso, moshi mo kimi ga jibun o megetari shitara zettai ni yurusanai yo [lit. that's exactly why, if you were to warp yourself [that way], I would absolutely never let such a sin (t/n: note the kanji) pass.] And that is precisely why... I cannot allow you to change. ... And that's precisely why, if you betrayed yourself that way... I couldn't allow it. Akechi だって、僕が負けたくないのは『君』なんだから。 datte, boku ga maketakunai no wa "kimi" nan da kara [lit. it's you as you are now who I do not want to lose to.] As you are now, as you think now... I cannot allow you to win over me. The person you are now, with those principles, and that determination—that's the one I won't ever allow to beat me.

Here's my attempt at a translation again, so you can see it all together:

Akechi: It's the same for both of us. Neither of us can afford to lose, because of these things we won't concede. Akechi: ...And that's precisely why, if you betrayed yourself that way... I couldn't allow it. Akechi: The person you are now, with those principles, and that determination—that's the one I won't ever allow to beat me.

It turns out that this phone conversation, that was originally quite mystical-sounding and hard to follow (what were you trying to say, Akechi?) is quite straightforward. It ties into to his original question. "Will I join you, Joker? Well, what if you join me instead? Just throw away all your little friends for my sake? Of course you won't—because we're the same. Both of us have things we can't give up, no matter what—and if you tried to do that, I wouldn't let you, because I value you as you are...."

This parallel between the two of them is what conf 7 is about, from the text message that opens it to the phone call that concludes it:

It's the same thing again: neither of you can afford to lose, because you're fighting for your principles. The billiard table is the stage for this wider discussion.

The billiard scene, of course, is interesting for another reason—Akechi is giving Joker a chance to back out; he's testing his commitment, and perhaps hinting that he never intended to be quite where he is, either. He states at the outset that he's being indirect, that what he's saying is a metaphor—and then closes that metaphor with a very direct question: "Do you still intend to play this game?"

Akechi それでも君は、このゲームを降りる気はないの? sore demo kimi wa, kono geemu o oriru ki wa nai no? Even then... do you still intend to play this game? But despite all of that, you still won't fold, will you?

The Japanese is even more specific: Akechi asks Joker if he intends to fold—not whether he still wants to play, but whether he means to give up entirely! "This can't be what you expected, so how about it? Will you just give up? Does this mean as much to you as it does to me? Is this a game we both choose to play, or are you just a victim?"

How much of this is Akechi blowing smoke up his own ass?—casting the fact that he's about to murder the boy in front of him in a glowing, romantic light? Pretty much all of it, I'd say. He's dreamed of having a rival, someone to compete with who challenges him, but what he's got is quite a bit more than that.

Again, the rival imagery is what allows Akechi not only to accept this close relationship, but to frame it as a life-or-death contest that only one of them can win. It confirms to him that what Lavenza describes as "a truly unfair game" is actually fair. It's about making Joker's murder seem as much Joker's fault as his own.

but what happens if you say yes?

Despite all of this, you can choose to have Joker consider Akechi's "offer"—to discard Ryuji, Morgana, Ann, Yusuke, Makoto, Futaba and Haru like trash, and assist Akechi instead. It's tempting, I know.

I don't personally get the impression that Akechi likes this response, for a number of reasons. None of the three responses to his offer score confidant points, but there's something else in play: only one of these responses unlocks his third awakening.

See the F code highlighted in yellow? Only one of these three responses has it. "You're my rival" counts towards the third awakening. Rejecting him, with "I'm not doing that", does not—but more to the point, offering to be with him, with "I'll think about it", also does not!

The issue is confused because a number of us have taken option 1 (or indeed option 2, like me) and still got the third awakening on 2/2. It seems like you need some of the flagged responses, not all of them. But it remains the case that "I'll think about it" does not make Akechi more likely to have his third awakening.

What happens if you take this option?

Joker 考えておく kangaete oku I'll think about it. Akechi へえ、考えてはくれるんだ? hee, kangaete wa kureru n da? Oh? So you'll think about it, at least? What? You mean you'll consider it? Akechi ⋯でも、そういうその場限りの情はやめた方がいい。 ...demo, sou iu sono ba kagiri no jou wa yameta hou ga ii ...But I'd advise you don't say these things without their due consideration. ... Still, it would be better if you didn't trust such fleeting sentiments. Akechi 出来もしない約束はするものじゃないよ。 deki mo shinai yakusoku wa suru mono ja nai yo You shouldn't make promises that you can't keep, anyway. Don't be the sort who promises the earth and walks away.

A few grammar points:

んだ n da on a question demands an explanation; Akechi's question could almost be rendered "Why on earth would you need/want to think about it?"

そういうその場限りの情 sou iu sono ba kagiri no jou—"sentiments that only matter here and now". Essentially, "sentiments that won't last"—or that are makeshift or ad hoc; Joker is making a stupid spur-of-the-moment decision.

yes, 出来もしない約束 deki mo shinai yakusoku translates idiomatically as "promising the earth". The point is not that Joker should not promise; the point is that he shouldn't be the sort of person who promises so much—and then doesn't follow through.

Again, this confidant is all about Akechi's expectations for Joker. It's about the weird belief he has in him, like the belief he has in Shido—that Joker has principles and friends and will stand by them, that those things are important and matter, even if they're diametrically opposed to Akechi's principles and the things he wants.

The fact that they foil each other in this way is a large part of what makes Joker such a worthy opponent for Akechi. So if Joker turns around and says, sure, Akechi, I'll dump all my friends so we can make out?

Akechi does not like that. He thinks better of him!—he loses respect if Joker offers this. Even if that little line about "promising the earth" suggests that, actually, yeah, he would quite like for the two of them to run away together—if only they lived in a world where it was possible.

what about "you're my rival"?

I've discussed this line before, but let's go into it for completeness.

Joker 明智は好敵手だ akechi wa koutekishu da You're my rival. Nah, you're my worthy opponent.

Do you see that Joker names Akechi there? He doesn't just say, "we're worthy opponents", or even "you're my worthy opponent", koutekishu da yo.

No, he picks Akechi out by name, and then tells him exactly what they are to each other. Because wa builds suspense. Akechi wa... (what?! what is he?!) koutekishu da. "I can't run away with you, because I need you to be this to me instead".

And this is the line with the F-code. This is the line that, if you choose it, will build towards Akechi's third awakening—which is centred on his trust in Joker, on the fact that Joker is worthy of that trust.

And how does Akechi respond?

He's astonished. He did not expect this at all, look:

On the left, the top screenshot where he's waiting for your answer; in the centre, the moment of shock, where he's pulled away and dropped his hand and his eyes are wide; on the right, a comparative overlay just to demonstrate that he pulled back.

smiles that aren't smiles

I have a half-assed theory that you can tell when Akechi is really smiling—because the model will smile with him. If you watch, for instance, Ryuji, the model's expressions match the sprite's almost exactly. But if you watch Akechi? Nah, not so much.

Here's an example. Akechi appears to smile quite often through conf 7—but if you glance away from the sprite and textbox to the model, the model is pokerfaced. Five smile sprites on the optimal route through conf 7, and not one of them—not even "you truly are fascinating"—matches the model:

But when you pick "You're my rival"? Suddenly the model's face springs to life:

It's obvious from everything else that this moment is of deep significance to Akechi. But this little detail with the smiles suggests we can confirm it.

and what does he say?

It doesn't take long for him to pull himself together:

Akechi 同意だね、僕らにはなれ合いより対等な関係こそふさわしい。 doui da ne, bokura ni wa nareai yori taitouna kankei koso fusawashii I agree. I think a relationship of equals suits us better than being co-conspirators, anyway...

This is another one that I find unclear in the localisation, so let's have at it.

nareai suggests an illicit or unduly-close union. It suggests "being in bed together" in the business sense—cosying up, colluding, conspiring. It suggests they're working together when they shouldn't be. Jisho uses the screamingly-outdated term "common-law marriage" (what we call "living together") as an example. Essentially, it suggests they're too close—or even co-dependent, in a way that corrupts them both.

In short? Akechi's "co-conspirators", nareai, means "accomplices"—what we might call "murder boyfriends".

taitouna kankei—literally, "an equal relationship"—is a set phrase, and we know what it means. It suggests a relationship where nobody is being cheated; where everyone gets out what they put in. Where the two of them compete on equal terms.

That's a very Akechi way to look at relationships. But it's also a relationship where nobody is in charge; nobody is dominant, and everyone has self-respect. Nobody is chasing after anyone or sacrificing unduly, as either would be if they joined the other. Everyone can be who they are and say what they want. Everyone can say no.

It's the sort of relationship Akechi very notably does not have with Shido. Is it the sort of relationship he has with Joker, when the two of them are hiding so much from each other and lying so much, and there's so much, like, murder going on? Nah. But as an aspiration, as a suggestion of the sort of relationship Akechi would like them to have, alongside everything else he's told us about how he sees the two of them—as similar, as equals and opposites, as bound by their principles, as destined to fight—it's almost touching.

and what does joker think?

Akechi ⋯たとえこの先、何があろうともだ。 ...tatoe kono saki, nani ga arou tomo da ...No matter what else may change. ...No matter what might come next. Akechi それだけの事を言ったんだから、逃げないでよ? sore dake no koto o itta n da kara, nigenaide yo? In any case, what you just said carries great weight. Remember what you decided, and don't run from it. All right? [lit. don't run away just because of what [I/you] said, all right?]

I'm not sure about this. It feels like it should be referring back to Akechi's last line—"don't get cold feet and run away just because I alluded ominously to whatever's coming next, okay?". I guess it could be referring to Joker's commitment, with "You're my rival"? IDK, I'm out on this one, so I'm inclined to give the localisation the benefit of the doubt.

But it doesn't matter. Because the significance of what Joker does next doesn't change:

He nods. Akechi spends the whole confidant hinting that something ominous is coming, and that the two of them are heading to an inevitable confrontation, and Joker nods.

I don't think this is really consistent with interpretations where Joker is a meek little sheep in the interrogation room. Joker might not have chosen this, he might not have wanted it, he might have by far preferred to avoid it. He'd happily back out if Akechi would just drop the whole thing and agree to act sane. But he's committed to it. He agrees to fight.

Remember, conf 7 takes place after Joker hears the murder phone call. He knows what Akechi is. He knows what he's planning. He knows the stakes—and he agrees to play, to face Akechi down.

To quote @nardaviel, that's no sheep. That's a full-on "Phantom Thieves win again, motherfucker" smirk. Joker played Akechi's game, with everything he had—and he played to win.

[ddarker-dreams]

Apologue.

Yan Albedo x F Reader. Commissioned piece.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, Albedo just having this strange unsettling energy... Word count: 3k.

There’s a homely atmosphere to Mondstadt that you don’t experience in other cities. 

Everyone knows one another and does their part. If a neighbor falls ill, without requiring formal organization, the community provides meals so fresh, you can still see steam rising off it. Birthdays are remembered each year, you go to one childhood friend’s wedding then the next, and funerals pack the Favonius Cathedral to its limit. There’s an unspoken sense of togetherness each denizen of the city of freedom possesses. It is invisible, yet tangible, like a gentle breeze. 

That’s why you don’t think much of it when Noelle seeks you out, carrying the news that once again, Klee has been placed in solitary confinement. 

When the stalwart maid departs, you just sigh and shake your head. Klee’s solitary confinement punishment has become synonymous with ‘wait until [First] comes to take her off our hands.’ The Spark Knight may not be your blood relation, yet you often care for and look after her. Her eccentric mother is gone more than she’s around. While you can appreciate Alice’s zest for adventure, you wish she’d take her daughter into account before disappearing for half a year. 

You can practically hear the globe-trotter’s voice from the last time you raised this concern. 

“That’s what I have you for,” Alice would say. “Klee is fortunate to have such a kindhearted influence like you in her life. If it ever gets to be overwhelming, why not rely on her big brother more?” 

At the mention of him, you dropped the topic. If Alice noticed the change in your demeanor, she didn’t comment on it. She instead elected to discuss a stipend you then respectfully refused. Monetary compensation was the last thing on your mind — you were raised in a community that helped one another because they wanted to. 

You slide a bookmark into the latest novel that caught your interest. Chapter five will have to wait until after you’ve rescued Klee from the strange way the Knights try curbing her behavior. 

Not even a second later, a shadow envelops your form on what is otherwise a sunny day. 

“[First],” a calm voice belonging to a certain alchemist greets. Then there’s a gloved hand held out for you to take. “I assume you’re also going to headquarters?” 

Biting down on your bottom lip, you inspect the choice you’ve been presented with. Presently, you’re sitting in a field of fluffy dandelions, right outside Mondstadt’s gates. This particular gesture is harmless enough. It feels like a concession on your part, but nonetheless, you place your palm in his and he hoists you up from the ground. 

You come eye to eye with Mondstadt’s resident genius, Albedo. 

It isn’t until silence resounds that you realize you should respond.

“Yes, I was just about to walk over there now. How did you…?” 

“I heard about Klee’s predicament. As her guardian, I wanted to smooth things over with Jean.” 

“Of course,” you say a little too hastily. Your eyes flicker downward, to where your hands remain connected. Should you tug it back? The thought doesn’t sit well with you, it’s too flagrant. Fortunately, he notes where your attention lingers, and releases his hold. You pray the relief you feel isn’t too palpable. 

You dust some imaginary dirt off your blouse. “I’ll let you get to it, then. I know you’re busy.” 

“You aren’t planning to come with me?” 

His tone isn’t the slightest bit accusatory, and still, you’re burdened with this burning need to defend yourself. 

“Ah, well, there’s no need for both of us to go, right?” 

“Klee’s missed seeing you around, you’re all she talks about,” The edges of Albedo’s lips tug into a smile. His eyelids then droop ever so slightly, and he tilts his head. “I hope your reluctance isn’t because you’re trying to avoid me.” 

Incredulous, you gape at him, heat flooding your face. He’s impossible to get a read on. If eyes are windows to the soul, then that wall of impenetrable teal might as well be shutters. Most consider Albedo to be aloof and polite enough, if not impersonal. He doesn’t entertain conversations longer than necessary and prefers to be left alone to his own devices. You either pique his interest or you don’t. Depending on the category you land in, he’s more willing to show his wry disposition. 

“I’m joking,” Albedo claims, though his composed visage remains impassive. “You’ve already done plenty for her. You’re under no obligation to do more.” 

This snaps you back to reality. “It isn’t like that. Should we discuss this later? I don’t want Klee to be in that dark closet longer than necessary.” 

He takes a moment to study you. You instantly regret the way your words came out, they were more abrasive than you intended. He didn’t technically say anything to incite your displeasure. From a purely logical standpoint, this rings true every time you’ve talked. You’re never given a justification for the apprehension his presence brings. 

At least with a bad omen, you know what to expect, even if it foretells disaster. There’s a paradoxical comfort that comes from learning certain doom awaits. It is kinder to tell a man he’ll be killed tomorrow than to say he’ll be killed sometime in the future. He’ll rest easier the night total oblivion awaits compared to an agitated lifetime of glancing over his shoulder. True anguish comes not from knowledge, but a lack of it. 

This is the limbo you occupy where Albedo is concerned. A permanent state of inertia that could equally be a product of your overimaginative mind or a legitimate threat. A pendulum swings yet tauntingly, yet never fully settles between the two. 

Albedo finally grants clemency from being held prisoner beneath his stare. 

“You’re right. That takes priority,” he relents. When he’s no longer facing you, he then casually adds, “It’s never good to be kept in the dark.” 

You scrunch your lips to the side and follow him into Mondstadt. 

-

“Big sis?” 

Klee sits before you on a red gingham blanket. The little girl pinky promised not to try playing leapfrog with her bombs in Mondstadt’s main square again, but in return, she wanted an outing with you and Albedo. This request was paired with doe eyes and a pout. Although you had your reservations, this infamous combination easily demolished your defenses. So here you are, sitting beneath the shade of the monumental oak tree in Windrise. For the moment, Albedo is absent, the only sign he’d been here is his easel. He said something about needing a more accurate shade to faithfully paint your hair and took off to his workshop. 

“Hm? What is it, Klee?” 

You continue brushing through her platinum blonde locks. In all the excitement today, her signature hairstyle got entangled in knots. 

“Are you mad at big brother?” She inquires, much to your astonishment. You’re grateful she’s situated in such a way that she can’t see your face. “When he comes back from the snowy mountain, I don’t see you as much.” 

Your grip on the hairbrush tightens. Kids are nothing if not observant. “I’m not mad at him, no. I’ve just been busy lately.” 

“All the fun grownups are always busy,” You can practically hear the way she puffs out her cheeks. “No one can tell stories like you, big sis. The chatty lady with a bird tried, but I couldn’t understand.” 

What’s admittedly a cute anecdote tugs on your heart in a painful way. You do come around less often when Albedo is in town. For the longest time, he seemed content to conduct research for months in the frigid climate of Dragonspine. This allowed your interactions to be few and far between. Lately, however, he’s been hovering around Mondstadt like a storm cloud that refuses to dissipate.

Hence your current predicament: avoiding him meant avoiding Klee. It’s a temporary solution in desperate need of a better fix. 

Not wanting to sully the mood, you extend an offer. “Would you like me to tell you a story now to make up for it?” 

She practically leaps up in excitement. Stars twinkle in her eyes as she wraps her arms around your form, pulling you into a tight hug. You can’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. You’ve never found the stories particularly impressive, though Klee would vehemently disagree. It must have to do with your flexibility to retcon Dodoco into every fairytale. He’s been a valiant knight, a mad scientist, an explorer of the sky, and far more. Your humble apartment is decorated with colorful drawings from Klee, depicting these collaborative storytelling efforts. 

Her attention goes up and over your shoulder. “Big bro! Big bro! Big sis is gonna tell a story!” 

He must be back. That was fast. 

“Oh, is that right?” You hear Albedo reply. Klee nods fast enough that it’s a miracle she doesn’t get dizzy. “I had good timing then. It’s been a while since we’ve been treated to a [First] narrative.” 

Is he going to make a point of mentioning that as well? You pay him no mind, instead opting to fix Klee’s hair before she gets too impatient. She sits crisscross, unclasps Dodoco from her backpack, and places him on her lap so he can participate. Meanwhile, Albedo gets to mixing his paints. He’s already roughly sketched various outlines onto the canvas. So far, it’s Klee tugging on your hand, pulling you to some unknown yet fantastical destination. 

Klee once told you her big brother has drawings of you “everywhere” in his laboratory, prolonging the first syllable for emphasis. You still recall how you shuddered upon hearing this revelation. 

“Let’s see… what kind of story would you like to hear, Klee?” 

“A scary story!” 

You knit your eyebrows together. “... A scary story? Are you sure? I don’t want to give you bad dreams.” 

“It’s okay. I have Dodoco and my big brother to protect me,” Klee reassures. “Ms. Lisa told me I can’t check out a scary story until I’m older. She said you’d share one with me instead. Pretty please?” 

That’s one crafty librarian. What is it with the Knights of Favonius and pawning their Klee-related problems off onto you? Your genial nature must lend itself to such dilemmas. After mulling it over a few moments, you arrive at a story that frightened you as a kid, but not excessively so. You’ll still tone down some elements regardless. 

“Once upon a time, there was a poor married couple who lived in the woods. The wife was pregnant with their first child, yet she never had enough to eat. She asked her husband to pick vegetables from a nearby field, believing it’d long been abandoned by its owner, who they never saw. Her husband did as he was asked. He returned with cabbages, carrots, and potatoes. His wife cooked a yummy stew. Full and happy, she no longer had to worry about being hungry. A healthy baby girl was soon born. Their daughter grew up to become a sweet young lady who everyone in the nearby villages loved. Though the family had little, they cherished one another. All seemed well. Until one day, the father went hunting, and came across a man wearing a cloak.” 

Klee’s eyes widen and she leans in closer. 

“The man wearing the cloak revealed himself to be a warlock who had magical powers. He knew that many years ago, the husband had taken vegetables from his garden. The warlock demanded to be paid back for what was stolen. The husband said he had nothing of value. The warlock threatened the husband, saying that he’d place a curse on him and his family for a thousand generations. Unless, that is, he made it right by giving up what he loves most. And there was nothing the husband loved more than his sweet daughter. Left with no other choice, the married couple tearfully gave up their daughter to the warlock.” 

“Oh no!” Klee exclaims in a whisper. “The poor daughter…” 

You nod solemnly in agreement. “And so it was that the daughter was taken to a dark, isolated tower where the sun never shone. The warlock quickly fell in love with the woman, for she was very beautiful and kind. He did everything he could to make the young woman love him too. He gave her the finest jewelry and clothes in the land. Still, she wept bitterly at the sight of him, no matter what he tried. The warlock then thought to use his magic. One night, when he approached her, he created a pretty bundle of the reddest roses from nothing. She—” 

“He made a flower? Like what big brother can do?” 

…

An audible snap can be heard behind you. 

You look over your shoulder to see Albedo holding his paintbrush, which has splintered into two. 

There’s a quiet intensity radiating off him in waves. He’s frowning, though other than that, his countenance remains as unreadable as a tome in a foreign tongue. He ignores you completely and fixes his strange stare on his younger sister. 

“Klee,” he starts in a monotonous voice, “Would you mind running back home and getting me a new paintbrush?” 

“Aw, but big sis is in the middle of her story! I wanna know what happens to the nice girl and evil magic man.” 

“You can find out when you get back. I’d really appreciate your help, Klee.” 

It’s rare that Albedo ever asks for help, much less from her. She promises that she’ll be right back and sets Dodoco onto the picnic blanket, so that “you and big brother won’t get lonely.” She then skips off onto Mondstadt’s main road. Once she’s out of earshot, you stand to your feet, smoothing out the wrinkles on your skirt. 

“Unaware of your own strength, huh?” You ask Albedo, almost absentmindedly. When he doesn’t respond, you swivel on your heel.

The alchemist is scrutinizing his work with a hand on his chin. He must’ve been in the middle of painting your hair when his paintbrush broke, the glossy streaks revealing that it’s still wet. You pull your lips into a straight line. It isn’t like him to zone you out. You’re about to voice a similar sentiment when he finally speaks up. 

“It’s smudged,” he mutters under his breath. 

The impossibly idyllic scene he tried depicting is marred with an imperfection. 

Teal hues scrutinize you next. “Would you be open to changing the tone of the story when Klee returns?” 

“Hm? Why’s that?” You cross your arms over your chest. “It’s important that she learns there are people in the world who don’t take no for an answer, always testing the limits of what they can get away with.” 

It’s such a miniscule motion, you almost miss it, but you know for certain his eye twitched. 

“Is that so?” 

The calm waters of his voice obscure the raging tides hidden beneath the surface. Soft tufts of sandy blonde hair brush against his face as a zephyr passes through, rustling nearby branches with it. To be a citizen of Mondstadt and a child of Barbatos means to ascribe importance to the wind. The direction it blows, its strength, and what scents or sounds may come along with it. The Anemo Archon watches over his people with a certain fondness the other gods lack. 

You wonder what it is he’s trying to get across to you. 

“You have that expression again,” Albedo comments. 

“... What expression?” 

“A prey warily eyeing a predator,” he’s walking toward you now. You go stiff yet remain firmly planted. “Attempting to access the threat level and plan accordingly. To fight back, flee, or do nothing. Do you no longer find the last option appealing?”  

The pendulum errs to the side of warning. 

He still isn’t giving you anything substantial. In passing, you’ve heard of Sumeru scholars who spend their entire lives trying to find rare, elusive species. Camouflage is what allows these lifeforms to go undetected for so long. They slip under the researcher’s noses, almost tauntingly, blending into their surroundings and giving the false impression there’s nothing worthwhile to look at. Then the researcher moves on to the next area, frustrated and at a loss. 

Perhaps you came to a conclusion prematurely. A lack of knowledge may be damning, but possessing it and being unable to do anything might be the cruelest fate of all. 

“I don’t get it. Why don’t you just do something already? Say what’s really on your mind?” You seethe in a fit of frustration, jabbing your fingers at his chest. He doesn’t so much as flinch. “You obviously want something from me that I’m not willing to give. Is this some sort of punishment for not feeling the same way you do?” 

“Nothing I do is intended as a punishment on you, [First].” 

“Then what are you doing?” 

“Waiting.” 

You take a step back as if the word had physically pushed you. “What is it you’re waiting for…?” 

Albedo extends his hand into the air. The sensation surrounding him begins slowly, a focusing of energy. He sees the world for what it can be, not what it currently is. A light golden hue emanates from his outstretched palm. You’ve seen him do this enough times to recognize the alchemical process. For a natural like him, overlooking notes or extensive preparation isn’t necessary. Sucrose often impressed upon you just how prodigious Albedo’s abilities are. 

The gold light fades. 

Dark green stems twist into vivacious hues of blood-colored petals. Utilizing his esoteric knowledge, Albedo produced a bundle of red roses from thin air. He takes one, inspects it for thorns, and once he confirms there are none, nestles it gently behind your ear. He sweeps your hair aside with such tenderness that any passerby might mistake you two as lovers. 

Dumbstruck, you accept the bouquet into your hands at his prompting. 

There it is. That mischievous glint, flickering in his eyes briefly, just long enough to burn. It extinguishes before you can gauge how dangerous the fire will one day become. 

“Finish the story and maybe you’ll find out.” 

[baeklination]

BIRTHDAY BOY

Date: 230506

Warnings: SMUT 🔞, general fucking, fingering, eating out

Pairing: Baekhyun x F. Reader

NOTE: In some parts he's a bit... energetic (goes hard, but he's not rough, manhandling). I'm so happy I managed to post this while it's still his birthday (even if only by minutes)..! PS: Always protect, you know the drill gentlewomen and men.

WC: 2,7k

Masterlist

¤¤

"Hmph…"

Remembering what Baekhyun had said just before falling asleep you can't help chuckling: "So will I find the whole sixth floor looking at me funny if I walk past on Monday?" Not that he's not worth being the first topic of your morning meeting…

°

When Seori suggested you make a quick stop at the fifth floor on your way home there was no incentive to turn it down. Fifth floor belonged to Kim & Friedman; marketing extraordinaire and employers of Byun Baekhyun - attractive extraordinaire. 

Being from separate companies you didn't mix much, but you'd sometimes see him in the grand foyer, cafeteria, or elevator. There was no mistaking he'd seen you too. In whatever fleeting meetings you had he'd made it clear - in unspoken terms - that he's just waiting for a green light from you. So here you are, champagne flute in hand, tilting your head just so when he spots you from across the room.

"I didn't expect to see you ladies here…"

"Seori keeps her ear to the ground and heard the news. Happy birthday, Baekhyun."

"A scout? You should've been a lawyer", he says to Seori, raising his glass a little. 

Hearing someone - several someones - calling for him, he rolls his eyes and laughs.

"Sorry, you know how it is."

With it being Friday there's a relaxed and easy-going feeling different to any other workday, so even though the main event isn't around it's still nice enough to have a chat with the others, some you know better, some less.

"...trust me, sooner or later I'll get in line and buy one like everyone else, no matter the complaining I do."

"Why don't we ask Mr. Byun for his expert opinion?", one of his colleagues replies when he sees Baekhyun coming over.

"Ask me?"

"The necessity of AI lawnmow- wait, are you leaving?"

"I have errands to run early in the morning."

"But you didn't even finish your glass..!"

Putting down the still half full flute - making sure you're noticing - he apologetically puts his hand on his colleagues back:

"My car's in the garage."

"Agh! Of course it is. Eh, if it's a surprise one has to take abandonment into consideration… See you Monday."

The first trick you think of is also the easiest. Waiting two-three minutes, you pretend to be going along with the conversation, then "Oh, excuse me", put your own bubble down and open your purse. Picking up your phone you nod and frown a little and when Seori looks your way you point towards the door and mouth "I've gotta go, sorry. Monday, bye." A small wave and scrunch of the face tops it off perfectly. 

Well out of there, the elevator is up on the fourteenth floor so you jog down the stairs, feeling a touch silly, but innocently naughty at the same time. When you come down to the garage it's completely quiet save for your somewhat increased heartbeat. You don't even know what his car looks like. What if he's left al-

*puipui*

Lights and an engine.

Again jogging, you move towards the Audi, for a flash imagining how awkward it will be if it turns out to not be him, but when you look through the passenger's side window it sure is Baekhyun. 

"I wasn't sure how long I should wait", he admits when you close the door behind.

"I couldn't bolt outta there the second you left", you smile. "Then I didn't know what car was yours. But I made it."

Suddenly the air is heavy, almost pressing with tension when he looks at you.

"Mm. Happy birthday to me."

…

°

While you're busy frowning at the coffee machine, the covers ruffle in the bedroom and soon after Baekhyun steps into the kitchen, with the obvious privilege of men - looking as gorgeous in the morning as they did the day before. 

"Seven buttons and none of them makes coffee."

"Hmf, they all will…", he muses, reaching his arm in front of you, to a dishwasher stand "...if you put the water tube in."

Of course.

"Regular? Espresso?"

"How do you know I'm not a cappuccino girl?"

"You're not…", he states rather than asks, presses espresso, then slides his arms around your waist. "How d'you sleep?"

 His confident touch, his torso enveloping your body, the scent of him are as powerful this morning as yesternight; pulling your (borrowed) shirt from your backside you push out.

"I'm not sure I did."

"I would've asked you out sooner if I knew you were such a cornucopia…"

His mouth is right behind your ear and he says it in such a sticky tone that it drums up a flicker of embarrassment - the titillating, good sort.  

His lips press right where his words fell, his cock brushes against your cheeks.

It's a tight squeeze to get past your entrance, buzzes spread out all around, but once inside he gets coated little-by-little and glides smoothly to stretch you out. There's an overwhelming delicacy to his movement; short, soft, clapping against your body, his hands resting just below your waist and the sound of his airy exhaling.

In the corner of your eye you see the shadowy reflection of this morning carnality in his stainless steel fridge, blurred, as if it's too seedy a scene to watch.

With your hands hanging off the edge of the counter your mouth follows, automatically opening with a soft groan. Reacting or syncing, Baekhyun lets go of an equally faint sound, sliding his hands up, holding firmer. 

"Shh…umm, I've gotta be careful…….ah……"

It's with a sigh of disappointment he moves back, but strokes the side of your face with his thumb, tugging at your bottom lip while the other is on his cock to keep the stimulation going. He moans wetly into your mouth when your palm finds his balls and your fingers press just behind them, but almost instantly takes your wrist as he heads for the bedroom. 

"Come on, you."

The shirt goes over your head to the floor as soon as he lets go and the mattress softly sinks when you put hands and knees on them, waiting while he puts on a condom. 

He's not as slow as he was in the kitchen, pressing back in as soon as he gets behind, dipping deep with a groan of satisfaction at having his cock back inside of you. His grip isn't tough but he manages to keep you nearly perfectly still in order for him to thrust as he pleases - quickly, precisely, chasing the morning's first release. Contrary to last night - maybe with it in mind - he doesn't smack as forcefully, which lets you enjoy how the slight aching mixes with the pleasure while he gets himself closer.

He holds you a little tighter…

Shakes when he breathes out…

Gasps - and bucking, without any real control-

"A-hh!…….…a-h-h!……….mmm!......." 

-lets go of his cum.

Surrendering to fatigue and relaxation, he falls on his back next to you even before the tied up condom hits the bottom of the bin. A perfect glow of sweat covers his body and face, which he frees from his hair with a backwards stroke before shaking his head at you with a smile.

As if first keeping a distance out of respect, the full scent of espresso infiltrates the room to remind you.

"Oh! Coffee..!"

There's no elation similar, knowing that first cup is minutes away, just a quick glance at your phone to see the time.

Five missed calls. A pit the size of Saturn opens in your stomach when you see they're all from the office - but you know you're off today.

"I have to…", you mumble before putting the phone to your ear, then mouth to Baekhyun. "Office."

"There you are! Where have you been..!"

"I…had to visit a friend at the hospital". A boldfaced lie, but a valid reason to be away for that long. "What's going on, everything okay there?"

"Argh..! Kiri's decided to cut her stay short, so she's coming up for the pitch today-"

"What!? When?"

"In…you have forty minutes-"

"WHAT!? I'll…", jumping off the bed you look here, there, everywhere, for your clothes, feeling like a headless chicken "I'll be there! Gotta go!"

Perplexed, Baekhyun looks at you running around.

"What's go-"

"Kiri'scomingtodayinfortyminutes!"

"Shit. Eh… Well, get in the shower, I'll find your clothes."

°

"Look at you. No one would have a clue you're not coming from home", Baekhyun smiles. 

Then he smiles.

And, wrapping his finger around the drawstring of your trousers, pulls it undone. Placing a ball of spit on two fingers he leans forward, opening his mouth to gently catch your lips with his while you feel the lifting of your hem and the brushing of his hand curving under it. It doesn't matter that he hasn't been working you up - his fingertips sliding over your clit is fantastic.

"Ah… I don't have time…"

You angle your legs out to give him more room, and with the extra space he carries down to your entrance and presses his middle finger inside. He hums, holding your lips longer, when he feels there's a slip for him to work with and carefully pushes a second finger in as well.

Standing next to bow-legged, leaning shoulder against the wall for support, you touch the bare skin of his torso. His fingers curving in-and-out, shallow kisses…you're immersed in everything in this quiet scene.

Without a word he moves you with him when he sits down, placing you on his leg. The hallway mirror reveals the picture of Baekhyun in only sweats with the contour of his hand undulating under your pants and you grabbing the armrest with your mouth open. It's only two fingers with short pumps, but it feels thick and your entrance quivers with gratification when his knuckles push onto it. There's no prize for staying composed so you collapse back, grabbing the back of his neck,   the way he doesn't resist putting his hand on your throat.

"Remember, now, I have neighbours", he whispers, angles his slick fingers upwards and rubs, entrance and clit.

"A-hh"

"Shh…" But he couldn't enjoy it more.

"A-hh…"

 Your leg twitches, fingers press his neck and the armrest threatens to crumble in your hands. The tips of his fingers are soft on the skin of your clit even when he flicks sideways; faster, finding a straight line to pull up your orgasm and amidst all the stroking, slipping, jerking, you choke - shaking, releasing it like fireworks onto him.

"Shh, shh", he whispers with delight, half covering your mouth while his fingers stroke down long then draw big circles, smearing out even more fluids.

"Agh..!" 

You twitch and grab his arm when the stimulation gets too strong, so he stops, but stays pressing down his hand.

After allowing you a few seconds to breathe, he sweeps his hand over your head as if tidying it up, laughing a little. 

"You're gonna be late if you don't get going soon."

"You…fuck you, Baekhyun…"

"Ouh, feisty. Or is that another proposition?"

•

Being professional is as easy as turning on a light switch but there's no denying that the light bulb seemed to be flickering a bit, with Baekhyun sneaking his way into your head when the presentations started. Not to mention that sitting down and even crossing your legs came at an aching prize. 

But disaster averted, success concluded, you finally get back home. Getting off work also meant giving your brain free reign and since you got into the taxi you'd been bombarded with the night's adventures, making the short drive home a very long one. 

In a way it's as if you're pretending to only be changing clothes when you pull the curtain half-way; pretending to just be exhausted and wanting to expel work wear and lie down for a minute. But of course it isn't.

Having gotten rid of your trousers and blouse, laying down in the cool sheets is incredible, but not enough to stop those thoughts. From such a cool way of inviting you over came such fire back at his place. His touch, his kissing, temperament, were all exquisite…

The way the contours of his thigh muscles showed when he lowered himself down, and he had such an expression on his face when he understood you thought he was getting on top of you but then realized he was serving up something different. How he had observed you while he put your legs over his shoulders, pulled you back, and pushed his cock down to your entrance…

You had to grip the sheets when he squeezed in. Slowly, but without stopping, he pressed his entire length in from the head to root, stretching your entrance as he thickened. He paused for a second, then drew back. Then in again, pressing deep while a groan escaped under his breath. When he drew back that time there was a devilish tug at his lip - he must've been delighted to see you'd happily go his way - and he didn't spend much time on gradually, moving quickly from a 4/4 of thrusting to letting out his beast entirely.

His hands firmly but not painfully secured your position as he violently snapped his pelvis against your ass, threatening to break himself - promising to bruise you. Shit, you haven't been fucked that hard since you had a punishment due, and maybe not even then… 

He hadn't objected when your legs slid down around him while he paused. No, he had to pace himself. Laughing under his breath, he bit his lip and pressed his body on top of yours, sliding his near bursting cock in again.

Rolling - grinding - into you, his hand enveloped your breast while his mouth caressed your cheek:

"Agh……mh!…why d'you make me wait so long-"

"Mh, fuck, why d'you wait…"

"-a-hh.......hhh……a-h-h…"

His hands, damp with sweat, had cupped your jaw and his eyes gleamed with such fevered excitement before he pressed his mouth onto yours. His kissing was succulent; wet, plush, deep and hot, moving along with the bounce from his hips. He'd broken it with a drawn out moan then steadied himself against the headboard above you. Uh, it was great, him doing one-twenty an hour, and how would you look if you hadn't cushioned his blows with your hands on his sides? God.

How he'd made this sound, like an angry roaring, just before he put everything he had left into it - into you - drilling:

tta, tta, tta,

tta, tta,

tta, tta-

"Aagh!"

Pounding, growling, he'd come. 

And the way he'd sunk down on his forearms to kiss you again and snapped his pelvis, still so turned on…

Feeling the pulsing between your legs you wonder if you shouldn't just call him. Text maybe, to not seem so desperate? "As if he'd take it like that, pff! Shit, should I?" You know he wouldn't mind. And you know you wouldn't mind a second serving…

He hadn't missed a beat when you nudged your knee against his chest. Only hummed "m-hm" and moved you properly over him. Flat, his tongue had run up your clit to taste and you already had to grab onto the headboard and fight the urge to ride or buck when he did his thing - kissing without any notion of force, only giving unadulterated pleasure. It made you feel decadent - depraved, even; in that still room all that was heard was the sound of his lips hugging and letting go while you felt the juice seeping out. And when he freed his glossy lips for a moment to push three fingers in he looked ready to go again - when you glanced back his cock was indeed lying long and hard against his stomach - but he kept on you, stroking his now drenched hand over your pussy.

"Sit down..." Parting your folds, he pointed his tongue and flicked it up and down, then again let the warmth of his mouth cover you, humming appreciatively with each taste while your abdomen tightened. "Mmm…..mmm………..How hard do you wanna come..?"

Even just lightly pulling at your underwear makes you hold your breath from pleasure. Thinking about him has made them slide so easily…

You push them aside…

●

[whiskeyswriting]

Natural | Chapter 4: Bring Me to Life

{ Masterlist }

📝A/N: Song lyrics incorporated will be in bold and blue. Flashbacks will be italicized. Any lines or scenes used from the books and/or movies will be done in green. I do not own the characters of the Divergent series. The credit for that goes to Veronica Roth for creating the series. As such, anything in green or blue are the intellectual property of their respective owners.

〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪

The kiss took you by surprise but you didn't push him away. instead, you pull him closer to you as you deepen the kiss.

“Eric… We can’t.” This time you gently push him away. “I’m just an initiate… Remember?”

“You’re more than just an initiate. You’re a spy. And a damn good one at that.”

“I am just an initiate. I can’t and won’t skip through the ranks.”

Eric steps back and starts pacing. “We can’t be seen together. And don’t think I’ll take it easier on you in training. As a matter of fact, I’ll make it more difficult.”

“I’d never expect anything different from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You take a step back and increase the distance between you. “You know exactly what I mean Eric. We have a mission to complete and we’re not here to make friends.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You have the chance to start over if anything goes wrong.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken, Eric… I’m the one that doesn’t get a promised future. You do. You’re already a faction leader.”

He starts following you in silence as you walk back to your shared sleeping quarters, where a few other initiates are still up.

“I better not find you training past scheduled hours again,”

“Or I’ll hang from the chasm. I know,” you roll your eyes at him. Suddenly, you feel him pulling you by your arm.

“Learn to respect your leaders or you’ll be one of the factionless of you don’t end up dead.”

You yank your arm back. “Have the sleep you deserve…. leader,” you respond, letting the last word drip with anger.

〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪

The next morning starts the last day of training for the physical part of your initiation. It felt like they were trying to weaken everyone for tomorrow’s testing. They had you run, lift weights, and do weapons training.

By the time you are having dinner, you feel as if your limbs are ready to fall off. In all honesty, you don’t want to shower but you do. Once the semi-warm water hits you, you feel the worry of the day leaving you.

No matter what number you land on tomorrow, you tell yourself the next half of initiation will be worse. Not only will others learn of your fears, but you also have to make sure to not let your secret slip into your fear landscapes.

It’s safe to say that you get little to no sleep that day.

〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪

Much to your dismay and aggravation, the faction leaders come wake you all up earlier than normal, as part of the final training.

“We need to see how quick you all are in preparing for the unexpected,” Marcus calls out.

You rub the sleep from your eyes and are quick to change and head upstairs to the training area. There you find a few of the other initiates already waiting.

Once everyone is gathered, Eric stands in the middle of the crowd. “As a reminder from your first day, your ranking serves two purposes,” he says. “The first is that it determines the order in which you will select a job after initiation. There are only a few desirable positions available.” 

You can hear the murmurs of surprise and nervousness of the others. You continue staring ahead, pushing aside the temptation to look at the current rankings.

“The second purpose,” he says, “is that only the top ten initiates are made members.” 

The glances are just as loud as the unspoken questions in the faces of the other initiates. Of course none of this was new to you. Yet, you maintained a stoic glance ahead. 

“There are eleven Dauntless-borns, and nine of you,” Eric continues. “Four initiates will be cut at the end of stage one. The remainder will be cut after the final test.” 

The leaders continue giving more instructions and directions on how the testing will be done and in what order. 

You end up in the middle of the order for each division: hand to hand combat, technology, and weapons. You focus to drown out the noises around you as you stay observing the instructors to learn their combat skills. 

Next thing you know, it’s your turn to fight against Eric. He smirks at you. “Think you can end above the cut off line?” He lunges at you but you’re quick to side step and cause him to stumble.

Instead of replying to him, which you noticed he was using as a distraction, you swipe at his legs then jump on him to pin him down.

He quickly throws you off his back and tries his best to pin you to the ground to get you to tap out but with each attempt, you move so that when he’s sitting back up, you can throw your leg across his chest and wrestle him back to the ground.

You both continue fighting for dominance on the training mat. Eventually, you cause Eric to tap out, much to the cheers of the other initiates. 

After a quick break once everyone has finished the first part, the leaders take you all outside for a five mile run along the city’s center and some ruins. You’re grateful you're able to take a small bottle of water.

As you’re reaching the halfway point of the course, you find that you’re running alone. There’s nobody ahead of you and the rest of the initiates are still behind you. You slow your pace to take a sip of water. 

When you pick up speed again, you feel a sudden sharp pain on your side. Thinking it’s a muscle cramp you continue to push through and keep running. Then you feel another sharp pain. 

At this you decide to massage your side. You feel something wet when you touch it. It’s not until you look down that you see the blood staining your hand.

Another sharp pain hits you. Except now you know it’s not a pain. It’s bullets that have hit you. This last one: dead center in your chest. 

You stumble forward, fighting from close your eyes and refusing to surrender. However, it feels like this is it for you. That you failed at your mission. 

As you lay on the ground, your eyes closed, you can feel life leaving you. Each second that passes, you find yourself weaker and weaker. You want your final thoughts to bring you comfort. You focus on remembering the words of a song you once read:

“Wake me up inside (save me) Call my name and save me from the dark (wake me up) Bid my blood to run (I can’t wake up) Before I come undone (save me) Save me from the nothing I’ve become.”

The last thing you hear before it all fades away is Marcus walking over to you. “We got the spy. She won’t be reporting to anyone anymore.”

- -

🏷️ List: @taina-eny @ghostedgrim @biblophilefox82 @capricorn-anon @zhabahx @emma-andrea1 @l0nelygamer

[spurious]

once again, mcshep fic recs

(I don't remember which "even more" we're on and am too lazy to check)

I've been doing a lot of rereading stuff from my bookmarks lately, but here are some I've collected in the past month and a half or so!

1)

Cool Hand Luke by fiercelydreamed | ~1.5k, rated E

Excerpt from an IM conversation earlier today: fiercelydreamed: this is the weirdest shit i have ever googled for a pwp fiercelydreamed: only in sga fandom fiercelydreamed: would you ever google "tens unit voltage," "prosthesis," "chemical composition of semen," and "factorial function" all for a fic under 2000 words

Basically: John loses a hand. Rodney builds him a better one. It works for both of them. Ohhhh this is just good. It's hot, yeah, but it's also just so perfectly right in that shivery way that a good idea can be, where you just know that this is how it would go?

2)

How Many by cathalin | ~700, rated T

Rodney actually does know how many times John's almost died.

I don't generally think to rec fics of this length, but this had me wanting to SCREAM with how perfect it was. The amount of FEELINGS that are packed into this small amount of words, just, holy shit. I'm a sucker for stuff about the way their experiences have changed them, hurt them, made them frightened and desperate and clinging to each other, and this does that so wonderfully and satisfyingly, I loved it.

3)

Top of the List by Helenish | ~2.6k, rated E

Rodney tries hard.

"So I like it a little rough," Sheppard said. "Sometimes."

There's, I think, a nice little sub-genre of McShep which is "Rodney Finds Out Something About John" (my own butterfly tattoo fic being a personal entry into that canon) which I think is just wonderful because of who Rodney is, as a character. He's stubborn and obsessive and analytical, and pretty much canonically fascinated by John, so of course Finding Something Out About John will make him spin his mental gears till he goes nuts with it in wonderful, tension-breaking ways. Along with that, the idea of John liking it rough, wanting to be thrown around or smacked around is, like super hot in that way that I think only fanfic can be hot, where the sexiness comes from the verisimilitude; with the accuracy of the characterization layered on top of these appealing textual descriptions of sex acts. Anyway!!! This is just very good.

4)

Entanglements by Barb G | not rated but I’d give it an M, ~8k

John falls down, and gets rescued. One is worse than the other.

This is very untagged, I actually only found it due to clicking into a remix of it (which was also good), but anyway! Let me just state plainly here that I have a real thing for fics about John and Rodney having to survive torture and/or imprisonment together. Call me a romantic! I love beautiful descriptions of suffering and the unspoken comfort that they can give to each other just by being there, just because of that immense amount of trust that they share. I love John surrendering his body to abuse because he secretly thinks he deserves it, and doing it without a second thought because he thinks it will keep Rodney safe.

5)

Ride Into the Sun by Cesare | ~14k, rated E

John's fantasies do a lot for him: they restore his sense of control, express his defiance, celebrate his victories, and connect him with feelings he can't access other ways. He never thought they'd get him what he wants.

God this is just fucking brilliant, masterful characterization for John. The inner voice is absolutely perfect, and the explanation for his fantasies, the way he’s conceptualized his own desires, his own submission, in a way that gives him back control over the horrible things that happen to him is just…oh it’s amazing, I love it so so much. And the resolution with Rodney is so good, so incredibly satisfying after what has gone on before in the story!! Just amazing. I’ve read this many many times before but every time I reread it I’m floored by how good it is.

[maraudersmap123]

Us, Forever (Draco Malfoy)

Summary - Based on K. by cigarettes after sex or where two best friends fall in love.

Warning - Mentions of sex. Draco is maybe a bit out of character but it's also post Hogwarts so who knows. Complete fluff to be honest. Not been proofread.

Word count - 6,304

Reading time - 4 mins

***

The young pair sat in a restaurant in central muggle London, both looking out into the street as people rushed passed on the other side of the glass. Draco had decided that they should try out some new places, rather than continuing to regular the ones they had been to since they were children. It had been something he had been trying to do since the end of the war, integrating the muggle world with his own.

The rain poured down harder than she could ever imagine possible. The grey sky had almost turned black and the puddles on the pavement only continued to grow larger and larger. The candle that lit their table painted her in a beautiful light Draco noted. Similar to when she was caught in the bare moonlight. He wondered for a second if it was possible that he had a photo album in his mind filled with her at her most beautiful moments. He was sure that if he did he must have multiple, for they couldn't all fit in one book, not even an imaginary one.

She turned eventually to look at the man in front of her only to realise he was already watching it. He was taken aback by the look in her eyes, one he was sure he was mirroring. She smiled at him and he didn't waste a second in smiling back, kicking her ankle gently with his foot, making her let out a gentle laugh.

"Draco," she eventually said.

"Yes darling," he mumbled back, not breaking eye contact for a second.

"Do you want to stay over tonight?" she asked him, and to his surprise, she sounded shy.

"Of course I do," he responded without much thought.

They had been staying over at each other's houses, then eventually flats after they moved out of their family homes, for as long as either could remember. However recently something had changed. In late August their friends Theodore and Daphne got married, she had been a bride's maid and he was the best man. They had sex for the first time that evening. And now in October, they seemed to have an unspoken agreement. They would have sex and pretend there were no strings attached. They pretended they hadn't loved one another since high school. It was now that Draco realised that the feelings he had so long assumed unrequited didn't seem to be so.

He thought back to only hours ago when the pair were tangled in his bedsheets, her head resting on his naked chest as they caught their breath and his hand ran patterns up her back, soothing her. It had felt different this time, less like sex and more like love.

They walked through the well-lit streets of central London a few days later, his arm wrapped around her shoulder as they walked towards his flat as it was the closest to the pub they had been at. They were both happily tipsy, having celebrated the end of the working week with their old school friends. His fingertips drew patterns on her shoulder as she turned to laugh at him, however the smile fell from her face slightly when she noticed the look on his face as he watched her.

"Draco? What's wrong?" she asked as they slowed to a stop on the pavement beside a dimly lit park.

"You know you're the most important person in my life, don't you?" he told her sincerely, a taxi drove passed them as they looked at one another.

"Of course I do, we've known each other our whole lives" she smiled half-heartedly

"Yeah but it's different now," he told her simply

"It is" she agreed. She knew what he was telling her, it didn't take a genius to work it out. They continued walking down the street, passing the park. He smiled as she slipped her hand into his own, his apartment coming into view as they turn a corner.

The flat was dark and cold, having been uninhabited for the entire day. Turning on one of the lamps Draco quickly turned his attention to the radio in the corner of the room, turning it on to whichever channel came first and keeping it at a quiet volume. She took her coat off beside the door, and slipped off her shoes, tights-clad feet gently walking over to him.

"Dance with me" she whispered, and he smiled down at her, wrapping his arms around her waist while hers wrapped around his neck. He leaned down and kissed her head as they slowly swayed to the sound of the music that floated across the room, blanketing them in a world of temporary bliss.

Her hand ran through the short pieces of hair at the nape of his neck and before she could decide against it she rose to her tiptoes and kissed him as gently as she could. He smiled against her mouth and she couldn't help but laugh.

Draco found it all too telling that in all his life he had never seen so much happiness as he had done in the 2 months that they had become more than friends. He had been happy for many years now, but had he known that happiness like this existed, he was sure he would have thought himself miserable.

They fell into the unmade bed as though they had never left, and he wasted no time in connecting his lips back to her own, his hand grasping at her thigh.

"God I love you so much" he mumbled against her lips and she pulled away slightly, looking up at him. He repeated himself after another second "I love you"

"I love you too Draco" she whispered

"Do you want to be my girlfriend darling?" he asked, sitting up and looking down at her as a look of shock painted itself across her features. "I've wanted to ask for a while now, since 5th year really. Maybe earlier" he told her, his hand brushing a piece of hair out of her face.

"Of course I want to be your girlfriend Draco, I've always wanted to be" she confirmed and he grinned at her, the happiness in the room feeling puncturable.

A few weeks later they awoke one morning with a slight headache and desperately needing a drink of water like they had done many mornings past. He quickly grabbed them two glasses of water from the kitchen before making his way back to bed, wrapping his arms around her stomach and pulling her back into him.

"I'm so happy" she mumbled against his neck

"Me too love, me too" he responded. And it was true. Knowing she was his and he was hers after so many years of dreaming of such an arrangement made him happier than he could ever imagine. He had always known sharing his life with her would be perfect. But for him, it seemed to be so much more.

"I don't want you to ever leave," he said quietly

"I wouldn't dream of it," said the tired woman "forever Draco, it'll be us forever"

[foreverdawning]

Like a Melted Chocolate

This is for the Twilight Christmas Exchange. This is for @percyiackson!

I am also posting this on AO3.

Leah always treasured the moments when she had her thoughts to herself. Seth and Jacob were known to sleep in soundly on the weekends—ever since the leeches had left years ago, there was no reason to do so many patrols. Leah allowed herself to get lost in the forest and feel the soft earth under her paws. In a few more minutes, she’d have two idiots in her head again but for now she could enjoy the freedom.

Unsurprisingly, Jacob’s thoughts came into Leah’s head.

Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.

Leah tried to ignore him unsuccessfully until a question entered her mind. Seth?

He’s still sleeping. He has that final coming up in a few weeks and I gave him the rest of the month off. I tried giving him the whole semester but he’s stubborn.

Leah made a thought of acknowledgement. She slowed her run to a light jog and transformed back to her human form. She could hear Jacob do the same behind her. Leah crouched down to pick up some clothes she’d stashed before her run.

“Where are you headed?” Jacob called out behind her, already dressed in his signature cut offs. Leah ignored him and finished getting dressed and started walking away. Jacob caught up with her.

Leah sighed. “I’m going to Charlie’s house. He and my mom want us to have Sunday breakfast together. But Seth’s not going to make it.”

Jacob laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you love that!”

Leah tried to smile and kept walking. Jacob kept pace with her. “Must be weird, you and Bella being almost stepsiblings.”

“Not as weird as you’re making it out to be. Aren’t you still in love with her?” Leah jabbed at him.

If Jacob was hurt, he didn’t show it. “As I’ve said a billion times, Bella and I are just friends. What crawled up your butt?”

Leah grunted and stopped in her tracks. “You’re very annoying, you know that?” Leah was suddenly glad Seth wasn’t around for this. It would have been awkward doing this half-joking, half-flirting thing with her little brother around.

“I’m known to be a bit of an annoyance on occasion.” Jacob grinned innocently before running off, “I’ll see you at breakfast!”

“I didn’t invite you!” Leah yelled back and then smiled.

…

Jacob could be the only person in the world that felt comfortable showing up unannounced to the Clearwater-Swan awkward family breakfast.

Charlie answered the door, “Hi Jacob. I didn’t expect to see you here.” His face trailed off to Bella in the kitchen standing next to Leah.

“I invited him,” both Leah and Bella said at the same time. They both pointedly looked away from each other and found the cracks in the linoleum floor much more interesting.

“Okay…” Charlie was not the type to ask questions when things got weird.

Things were already weird enough with the unspoken do-not-speak-about-the-Cullens rule. Leah still remembers Bella’s face when she got unceremoniously dumped by Edweird. Bella and Jacob had become inseparable in those months. But of course, once Bella got her bloodsucker back, it was her turn to dump Jacob. Or whatever it’s called when you dump a friend. But now that the leeches have left Bella for a second time, she’s begun calling Jacob more. And it’s really grating on Leah’s last nerves. Especially now seeing Bella sharing private jokes with him.

“Leah, how has your search for a new job been coming?” Charlie asked.

Charlie had always been pleasant to Leah and decent enough to her mother. She bit back the automatic retort she had and instead managed a somewhat nice response. “I’m still looking. It’s not like the prospects have changed much in six days since you last asked.”

Sue gave Leah a warning glance before patting her napkin against her face. “It’s alright, sweetie. This area’s not exactly crawling with jobs.”

“I recently quit working at the Newtons’ hiking store so they’re hiring,” Bella chimed in. “Since I started this new semester at Washington it’s just too hard for me to balance school and work.”

Leah wanted to punch Bella’s annoying ass face in but managed a quick smile and a considerate hum.

Jacob piped up with his usual annoying charm and directed the attention on himself, much to Leah’s relief.

…

 After dinner, Leah and Bella were cleaning the dishes. Jacob, Charlie, and Sue were laughing loudly in the living room.

Neither girl said anything to the other for a long time until Bella spoke. “You know, if I had to get a sister, I’m glad it was you.”

It took everything in Leah not to roll her eyes. “Why is that? You don’t even know me.”

“Jacob talks about you all the time.”

Leah paused momentarily before collecting herself enough to continue wiping the plate in her hand. “He does?” The softness in her voice was on full display and all the usual snark was gone.

Bella nodded. “In fact, he said you were probably his best friend.”

“No he didn’t.” Leah hated being the butt of a joke.

“I’m serious. He told me this the other night. I think he likes you.”

Leah shot a look at Bella, and Bella blushed and looked back and the plate she was drying. Leah prayed that Jacob was not eavesdropping on this conversation. “Let’s just drop it,” Leah gritted out.

…

Jacob offered to give Leah a ride back to the Clearwater residence. Sue spent most of her nights at the Swans’ anyway, but it was too cramped for Leah. Not that their house was any bigger but there was a very obvious lack of Swans that Leah particularly enjoyed.

Seth was hunched over the dining room table with his textbook propped up against a roll of paper towels.

“Hey Seth.”

Seth didn’t look up. “Hey.”

Leah reached out and ruffled Seth’s hair on her way to the fridge. Jacob stepped through the door.

“Leah, you left your phone.” Jacob held the phone up high above his head almost hitting the popcorn ceiling.

“Thanks.” Leah took the phone from him, and Jacob shifted from side to side. “You know,” she started, “you could hang out for a bit if you wanted.”

Jacob honest-to-goodness blushed, and Leah had to look away. Thankfully, Seth was oblivious to the flirtation going on around him. “I actually was wanting to talk to you.”

Leah’s heart began pounding. “Sure, we can talk in my room.”

Walking the few feet it took to get to her door felt like agony. Leah’s heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest. Once both of them were in the room, she closed the door.

Jacob took a moment to look around. Leah felt weirdly naked having Jacob looking at her childhood bedroom and preteen posters still hanging on the walls.

“I don’t know how else to say this…” Jacob scratched the back of his head and stared at the ground. “But I like hanging out with you and was wondering if maybe we could hang out just the two of us.”

Leah snorted. “Is that seriously how you were planning on asking me out?”

Jacob looked at her sheepishly. “I didn’t have some grand plan for it. It just kinda sprung to mind.”

Leah rolled her eyes and stepped closer to Jacob. “Yes, I would like to ‘hang out just the two of us’ sometime.”

Jacob grinned and grabbed her hands. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Jacob hugged Leah and laughed awkwardly.

Seth shouted from the kitchen, “Finally!”

----------

@twilight-secret-gift-exchange

[imtryingmybeskar]

Drabble 10 - Eddie. Eddie x GN! Reader. TW for non-con blood drinking and blood in general.

My starting point with this was "What if Eddie hadn't immediately run into the Slayer when he was turned?"

At 1457 words this is more of a ficlet but oh well. I know Buffy vamps tend not to turn this quickly but allow me my licence. I wrote this when feverishly sick too so I'm sorry for any errors.

The second worst day of your life occurred when the sun was beating down gloriously upon a picture perfect image of suburbia. Your best friend had left you standing on his parents' lawn on that beautiful, bright day, the weather mocking your quietly breaking heart as you waved at his departing car until it was a smudgy dot on the horizon.

And even though you'd spoken on the phone every day in the month since he had been gone, and even though you cursed yourself every time you hung up for not telling him how you felt before he'd gone, you still weren't brave enough to make that leap.

It was time for drastic measures.

One morning you woke up with certainty in your heart, as if your sleeping mind had made the decision for you - you would go to visit him at UC Sunnydale and you wouldn't come back until you had spilled your innermost. And that was the day things started to go wrong.

He missed your call time that evening. It had been your turn and you tried his cell four times before it started going to voicemail, and whomever had answered the public phone in his dorm hadn't seen him.

His cell hadn't been on since, and two days after you had last spoken you were now extremely worried. Eddie's parents were kind but resolute in their belief that he was just distracted by studying, by his workload, by all the new people he was meeting. Unspoken, but nonetheless hanging between you was the notion that he was also distracted by parties and having fun, that the gulf of the eighteen month age gap between you was finally making itself known. Your own parents were far less subtle about it and told you in no uncertain terms that people grew apart and when you went to college next year you would go and have the time of your life and barely remember your life here, and that was as it should be.

But they were wrong. You knew it. Of course it was to be expected that people changed when they went away to college, but not Eddie. Not that quickly. And almost as soon as you got to UC Sunnydale, you realised just how very wrong things were.

You'd gone to the building he said he was housed in, only to be told he hadn't been there in several days. Panic began to slide icy tendrils of fear around your heart and stomach. The name of a club came up - The Bronze - and someone said they thought they had seen him there the previous evening with a girl. The panic turned to sickness and grief. Maybe he had found someone. Maybe you had left it too late...

But you'd come too far to be deterred now, so in another half hour you found yourself surrounded by pounding drums and guitars, a crush of sweaty bodies throwing themselves around. How were you ever going to -

And there he was, the crowd seeming to part around him as he walked directly toward you. He was as gorgeous as ever, except...something was off. As he approached you his demeanour and gait were different and you were struggling to think of a better analogy than that of a wild animal stalking prey. He smiled widely, his dimple winking in his cheek and it was the start of every fantasy you had ever had about telling him that you loved him. But his eyes were red rimmed, their dark depths blank instead of full of their usual sparkle and there was a cruel curl to his grin that had never been there before.

"Heeeeeyyyyy! There you are!" Eddie exclaimed, dragging you into a hug. He held you there for longer than he ordinarily would and you could feel him nosing at your hair and the top of your ear. This wasn't right. This wasn't him.

You pulled back. "Eddie, are you OK?"

"I am better than OK for seeing you," he smiled, and your tension eased. Just a bit. "Do you want to dance?" he asked.

"Aren't you even going to ask me why I'm here?" you replied, and with that question it was like the floodgates opened. "And are you sure you're OK? You didn't make our call time the past few days. No one in your dorm had seen you. I got really worri-"

He stopped your flow of words with his mouth, his soft lips moving over your own like you had always dreamed. You melted into the kiss, steadfastly ignoring the voice in your head that was screaming at you that of all the things that weren't right about the situation, this was top of the list.

Eddie moved you backward, pressed you up against a wall, his tongue now licking at you, demanding entrance at the same time his hands were starting to rove down your back, and you couldn't help but notice how cold he was. His lips moved over your jaw, the lobe of your ear, your neck.

"Eddie," you whispered. "Eddie, stop."

He did, a questioning look in his eyes as he raised them to yours. "I thought this was what you wanted," he said softly.

"I did. I...I mean, I do. I came here to tell you that...well that-"

"That you have feelings for me. I know." Your heart gave a painful squeeze in your chest. He had said that so casually. That could only mean he didn't feel the same. "I've known for a while," he continued, his voice low and purring - almost flirtatious but for the acidity of his words. "I mean, how could I not? Always following me everywhere with those puppydog eyes, desperate for any attention I'd give you."

Your eyes filled with tears at his words, even as anger surged within you. "Eddie...what's wrong with you?! You've never-"

He pulled back further from you, and closed his eyes, a rapturous expression on his face and seeming to feel the effects of something you couldn't distinguish. "I've never been this strong. This powerful. I've never felt as incredible as I do." He looked back at you and you shrank further against the wall at the sheer ferocity in his eyes. "You could feel this way too. If you'll let me share something with you."

"D-drugs?" you managed to stammer out.

He laughed and it was a high, cold thing, far divorced from the warmth he had always exuded. He crowded you against the wall again and ran one pale, cold finger along your jaw. "No, sweet thing. Though I promise that you will feel higher than you ever have in your life."

His speed was incredible. He was holding your arms by your sides and biting - actually biting - you in the blink of an eye. The breath caught in your chest, you couldn't even scream out your pain. Not that it would have mattered, some distant and dying part of yourself noted, the music was too loud to hear anything else.

You could feel the pumping of your heart increase, desperately trying to replenish that which was leaking from your neck. Dizziness overtook you, and if Eddie hadn't been holding you up you would have collapsed. As you struggled for breath he withdrew from your neck and you did manage a weak whimper of terror at the sight of the monstrosity his beautiful face had become. His lips were bloody and he licked them, savouring the warmth you had provided.

"Here baby," he murmured as he cut his own wrist with one sharp fang. "Come be with me forever."

You had no choice. He shoved his arm at you and as the blood met your lips a ravenous hunger unlike any other you had ever felt overtook you. You fed on Eddie, looked into his eyes as you did, and they were suddenly full of love and kindness again as he stroked your hair away from your face.

All too soon he took his wrist away, and you whined piteously at being denied what you wanted most. He laughed and tutted at you. "Greedy," he admonished as he bopped your nose playfully. "But look." He gestured toward the club with a flourish and suddenly you could see all the people in a way you hadn't before. So full of life. So full of vitality. So...pulsating.

You smiled, and the final vestiges of you recognised the predatory cruelty in it before the you of before was gone forever. You turned back to your sire, stroked his dark hair away from his face. He kissed your hand, another primal need asserting itself in his gaze. "Eddie. Honey. Let's go have fun."

@thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities

[obviouslyshy]

Words Graveyard Part 1

I've decided to do a little series here on Tumblr, where I post little snippets of what I call my writing 'graveyard', aka all the writing I've decided to cut out of a fic for whatever reason. I kind of thought it would be fun to put them on here for people to read instead of letting them waste away in my google docs, hidden away forever lol.

This one is from my fic on AO3 called Professional Ninjas Make for Disaster Humans, which is a kind of AU romcom story for the pairing KakaObiRin.

“How’s my favorite housewife?” is the way Genma greets him as Kakashi’s walking out of Hokage’s tower, walking up to him and casually slinging an arm around his shoulders. The few people hanging around within earshot freeze, and then scurry away as if just remembering they had something important that needed to be done far away from this spot. 

“How’s your favorite what now,” Kakashi deadpans, looking Genma right in the eye with an unspoken promise for violence. He doesn’t even whip out his Icha Icha book as he lets Genma steer him in the direction he wants to go, which should really clue Genma in on the immense danger he’s about to be in. 

Instead, Genma’s senbon bounces up and down as he smirks at Kakashi. “Housewife,” he repeats with unnecessary emphasis. 

Kakashi narrows his eye at him. “You have three seconds to explain.” 

“Rin and Obito,” his friend says immediately, and all the murderous intent that was building up immediately drains out of Kakashi. Of course this—whatever it is—is Rin and Obito’s fault. 

“What did they do,” Kakashi sighs, finally pulling out his Icha Icha book and bringing it up in front of his face. Without looking up from the pages he takes note of the direction Genma is leading him—the Academy? Strange, but he won’t mention it. He’s more preoccupied with Genma’s housewife comment right now.  

“Nothing much, actually,” Genma says, and snorts when Kakashi raises an eyebrow, making his disbelief clear. His team (including himself) never do anything by halves, and that includes the ridiculous antics they somehow always manage to get up to. 

“Seriously—it was the shinobi gossip vine at work this time. Kurenai and Asuma were at the hospital for a small training accident and Rin was the medic that tended to them, and she was apparently ranting about ‘stupid teammates’ who ‘know how to cook and sew’ and yet ‘still take care of their health about as well as an unsupervised toddler in a kunai store’. So obviously she was talking about you—” Kakashi pouts behind his mask, and Genma laughs at him— “which means that the Hatake Kakashi, who is notorious for always having food pills on him at any given point in time, can not only cook but also sew. 

“So naturally Asuma and Kurenai told Anko, who then told Gai because she was bored and wanted to cause trouble, and then Izumo and Kotetsu overheard Gai’s passionate praises on his rival’s Youthfulness and Skill, and then they told me.” 

“Ugh,” Kakashi groans, unintentionally lowering his book as he slouches forward. “I will never know peace again.”

“Probably not,” Genma agrees, the asshole. At Kakashi’s glare the other man just laughs and ruffles Kakashi’s hair. “Soon enough Sharingan no Kakashi will be no more, and you’ll be called Housewife no Kakashi instead.”

Genma starts cracking up at his own joke, almost bending in half form laughter, and Kakashi steps out from underneath his arm so he doesn’t end up squished as well. He huffs. “That doesn’t even make any sense.” 

“Sure it does,” Genma says, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye. 

“I can’t be a housewife—I have a career.”

“You’re a housewife in spirit!” 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Kakashi groans, longsuffering, tipping his head back to look at the sky. It’s not even like he has anything against house-spouses—taking care of a home is difficult work, even more so for a clan spouse, and he has nothing but respect for people who do have the patience and will to do all that work—it’s just that he has a literal career, which he knows Genma knows, so it doesn’t make sense! 

“It makes complete sense.”

“You are bad for my brain cells,” Kakashi tells him simply, and Genma cackles. (He must be in a really good mood—even though Genma can often be found smiling or smirking, it’s rare for him to laugh this much and this loudly, and against his will Kakashi feels his lips tugging up in a smile.)

“That’s fine—Iruka has enough brain cells for the both of us,” Genma says when he calms down, dropping his arm around Kakashi’s shoulders again and nodding his chin at the Academy that’s come into view. Kakashi makes an interested noise in his throat, wondering what Genma’s purpose is for bringing him to Iruka.

[commonwealthoccurences]

Back To Eden - ch5

Summary: Sole is a journalist and independent investigator who worked with the famous Detective Nick Valentine before the bombs dropped. They stumble out of Vault 111 with hazy memories of a case gone awry, a sense of desperate yearning, and the bitter experience of already having had to fight for their life to survive against the odds. What's a little nuclear wasteland to a (newly) seasoned investigator?

See masterlist for warnings.

Fic-long tags: Hurt comfort, angst, pining, flashback scenes, noir detective show meets post-apocalyptic chaos, Preston Garvey is a sweetheart, Sole is doing their best and living out of pure spite, slow burn (Nick/Sole), etc etc.

Sole had a hard time talking for a few days after that. There was a certain numbness that overtook them rather quickly. They found themself avoiding glances at the outside world whenever the door opened and they often laid with their back to the rest of the room; they simply faced the dirty wall and started listlessly or slept.

Which, they supposed, was okay. Their body needed rest, especially after they dragged their way to the back of the house to get Preston that key. He hadn’t opened it yet, according to Sturges, who often gave little settlement updates to their back whenever he came in to check on them. Apparently, he wanted Sole to be there; he still felt they had some ownership over the food and it wouldn’t feel right otherwise. Sturges had expressed once, under his breath, that Preston was too good of a man to have come from the wasteland.

The word had slipped out and Sole knew he hadn’t meant for them to hear the comment at all, but they’d fixated on it. The wasteland. That’s what Boston was now, and the rest of the world, too. Just a wasteland. They weren’t sure if they considered themself lucky in the fact that most of their memory from stumbling home had vanished. All they remembered was those brambles, everything else was a blur of shapes, nausea, and cold. 

Sole thought about Nick Valentine a lot in those days they spent mentally isolating themself. They also thought about their parents a lot, about the fact that they hadn’t had much contact after college, but the loss still stung. They thought about the younger woman who managed the local Slocum Joe’s– she often gave Sole a free coffee when they worked on their articles in her shop. Their heart ached, far more than their muscles had. They’d lost everything. They’d never see that life again.

“No you– hold it like this. Move your thumb– not there. You’ve never held a gun before, have you?” Detective Valentine asked, hands on his hips.

Sole laughed and looked at the pistol in their hands. “Once, when I was six. My dad thought it would be a great idea to teach us, so he took us to the range. I fired it once and cried until we left and the entire car ride home.”

“Uh-huh. Explains why you’re an independent investigator and not a cop.” The last part was muttered under his breath, but didn’t go unheard.

“Watch it, Detective, that’s a can of worms you and I don’t want to open.”

“Of course. Now– what are you doing with your foot? I don’t think I’ve ever even seen someone stand like that before.”

Sole sighed and readjusted their stance until they got a half-pleased nod of assent from the Detective. They were watching him actively struggle with the urge to just jump in and adjust the way they were doing everything himself, but it was sort of an unspoken standoff. Sole wasn’t about to ask him to, and they didn’t think he would voice the request. “Okay. Place your finger on the trigger, but don’t squeeze yet.”

They complied, but felt a gross chill crackle its way down their spine. As he’d previously instructed, Sole took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to settle their nerves. “Good.” The Detective said quietly. “Now look where you’re aiming and when you’re ready, squeeze the trigger.”

For a few seconds, Sole simply stared forward at the target, eyes locked with the bullseye. Then, they squeezed, and the resulting BAM made them jump out of their skin. Quickly, they placed the gun down and raised their hands. “I hate it.” 

Detective Valentine was obviously suppressing a laugh, and if Sole wasn’t so uncomfortable from shooting, they would’ve felt a bit smug at being able to make him laugh. Instead, they gave him their best attempt at a withering look. “I’m trying!” 

“I know, I know, it was a… good attempt.” Sole could tell he was doing his best to be genuine, but noticed he swiftly turned away under the guise of pressing the button to push their target to the front.

Sole mimicked his earlier posture, putting their hands on their hips. “Am I blind, where’s the hole?”

The Detective leaned over to them. “I’m impressed, Sole.”

“What? Why?” 

“You completely missed.”

Sole groaned. “You’ll get the hang of it. Come on, I’ll help this time.” The Detective offered.

Sole assumed their best approximation of the stance they had before, but Detective Valentine shook his head. “Here,” he said quietly, moving into their space behind them, “You need to keep your arms like this and your knees like this. Make sure you’re prepared for the recoil this time. Okay, breathe.”

Considering how close he was, it was a bit difficult to follow up on that last instruction. Taking a deep breath was nearly a mistake; the smell of cigarettes overwhelmed them, and while they didn’t mind the scent– they had become very familiar with it over the last three weeks– it was more than distracting. “Alright. Fire.”

Sole complied easily, squeezing the trigger with less hesitation than they’d had before, though they still screwed up their face in discomfort. It definitely helped to have the Detective there to handle the recoil. When they released the breath they took, Detective Valentien patted them on the arm and moved away. “See, you hit the target this time. You’ll get the hang of it.”

While Sole wasn’t pleased to spend the next two hours practicing their aim, they knew it was important. The Detective was right, when he said it was their job to have his back. It was his job, too, to have their back, but they weren’t worried about that. It was unfair for the Detective to have such an uneven dynamic and if something happened to him because they couldn’t do their job, they would never forgive themself.

Sole remembered that day clearly– doing target practice and hand-to-hand with Valentine. It was one of the first solid days that they’d spent together outside of paperwork and the bullshit that the BPD was throwing at them. Suddenly, they felt ridiculous, especially as they remembered their last memory they had with the Detective. He’d taught them so much just to keep them both alive in the face of the danger they had willingly put themselves in. He was the reason they were still around and it almost felt that to give up was to spit in his face. So when Sturges came in to check on them that day, they asked, “Would you mind if I sat outside for a bit?”

“Oh! Yeah, ‘course. We got one of those chairs with wheels from next door just in case you asked. It won’t be the most comfortable, but it’ll have to do.” Sturges was clearly pleasantly surprised as he busied himself with medical supplies Sole had no clue about.

They’d had many salves and bandages pressed over blistered skin and injections– Stimpacks, he’d called them– and creams that tried to fix their damaged blood vessels, different parts of them warmed and cooled, the feeling restored in different limbs and then taken away and restored again. They’d honestly lost track of everything that’d been done to them as they slept away the days in an attempt to rest. Sturges had said that was their one job, that sleeping was their way to heal their body, but it hadn’t been something they tried for. The exhaustion often crept up on them when they least expected it and they were out like a light within minutes.

Sole hadn’t complained a bit about all of the medical antics, though. Slowly but surely their persistent pains eased off into muscle aches, the blisters healed, their eyesight went back to normal, and the antagonistic itching that followed their damaged blood vessels dissipated– for now. What they were left with was a ridiculous amount of muscle weakness that Sturges informed them would be resolved with use, some balance issues, and the occasional migraine. Sure, it sucked, but in the grand scheme of things, they were damn lucky.

They waited quietly, patiently, for Sturges to walk next door and drag the chair over. They could’ve sworn they had their own office chair, well, in their office before the bombs went off, but then again a lot could change in two hundred years. And change it had.

When Sturges made it back, which he did rather quickly, he had Preston in tow along with the discussed chair. Sole cocked their head to the side, confused as to why they needed Preston. “Oh, don’t look at me. He saw me and asked for an update and y’know. Wanted to supervise.” Sturges chuckled and set the chair down next to them before moving to help them sit up.

“Does he hover like a worried mother duck around everyone or am I just that special?” Sole’s teasing was lighthearted and they made sure to flash Preston a grin to show it.

“Oh, that’s his job. You get used to it.”

“I think it’s nice. I may not know much about the world anymore but good people are good people, and from what I heard we’re now in short supply.”

“Well, you’re right about that.”

Preston supervised from the corner as Sturges helped Sole ease from their bed into the chair, pausing every few movements to let them catch their breath and soothe their aches. On the biggest movement, when Sturges had to practically lift them to actually get them into the chair, they saw Preston take a half-step forward, ready to jump in if needed. Once they were sat back and breathing hard from the exertion, he relaxed. “Just, uh, give me a minute. Feels like I aged every one of those two hundred years.” Sole gasped.

“Take your time.” Sturges said quietly.

Sole gave themself a minute to catch their breath and get comfortable, or as comfortable as they could manage. Eventually, they put their feet on the base of the chair. “Alright, let’s go, now or never.”

When Sole had emerged from the vault, they had no sense of dread or apprehension. They had no idea what was waiting for them on the other side– hell, they were barely conscious and functioning. Now it felt like they were finally facing the cards they had been dealt. Reluctantly and bitterly, sure, but they were facing it as Preston grasped the doorknob and began swinging the door open as Sturges pushed them closer. The post-apocalyptic apprentice doctor and his… General? And Sole. The survivor of a nuclear apocalypse and a roughly 226 year old one at that.

“Oh, c’mon old man, is that the best you’ve got?” 

Sole was getting cocky and they knew it, but they didn’t care. At Detective Valentine’s insistence they were in the gym on a mat, finally going toe-to-toe in a little lighthearted practice fighting. Well, it had been lighthearted at first. Sole had always been a competitive person and the Detective was not taking kindly to being shown up for the first time ever by them, but they were exhilarated. Finally, they were good at something. Finally, they were actually better than him at something. Every duck and jab reaffirmed that they had a reason to be there, even though they felt like they were floundering in the field.

“Old man? Really? Am I even that much older than you?” The Detective rolled his eyes, but never fell out of his defensive stance.

Sole looked for an opening and saw none. They faked a punch and immediately went for the resulting weakness his defensive movement provided, but the Detective was quick on his feet despite being tired from their antics. They laughed, breathless. There was something about this that was unraveling all of the tension from the past handful of weeks. They were on even ground. Sole was holding their own.

The round of sparring lasted for several more creeping minutes until Sole finally got their chance and managed to sweep his feet out from under him. The Detective hit the mat with a soft oof and Sole didn’t hesitate to drop down next to him, exhausted but satisfied with the day’s events. Heavy breathing filled the silence of the room; it was nearly two in the morning and it had long been vacated, but apparently the Detective knew the owner. Sole hadn’t been surprised. “You did good today.” He said, between panting breaths.

“Thanks.”

Despite the comforting wear in their muscles and the sleepiness in their bones, the discomfort set back in the longer they were left unoccupied with catching their breath their only task. Sole squirmed a bit, unable to settle with the layer of sweat that had coated their skin. “Detective–”

“Nick. Or Valentine. Whichever.”

“Oh.”

A moment of silence.

“Uh, Nick…”

“Yeah?”

“I– this won’t sound rational, and I know that’s kind of what we’re supposed to do. Well, what you’re supposed to do– I’m new here, so I guess I get a pass. Anyway, I– I don’t know how to explain it but I just have a really bad feeling about Grayson.”

Dete– Nick shifted, too, from the sounds that Sole heard, but they didn’t look over at him. They waited, tense, to be ridiculed. They knew it was illogical. They didn’t have a reason, other than just not getting a good feeling from the guy and the weird thing he said to them in the elevator, but still. Something was up with him. Sole couldn’t say for sure that that was their guy, but there was definitely something wrong there.

“On the record I will tell you as your partner that we will follow the book and look for the evidence, but unfortunately we cannot keep a man detained due to a gut feeling, and that if nothing comes up we’ll simply release and keep an eye on him.”

“... and off the record?”

Valentine sighed. “Off the record, I would agree with you. Somethin’ isn’t right.”

Sole flinched away from the sudden influx of light as the door opened. Even though there were plenty of flaws in their house now, Sturges had made an attempt to seal it up to the point that they had forgotten it was summer. Something about that was so uncomfortable. Falling asleep when it was autumn, nearly winter, and waking up when it’s summer. Sole suppressed a gasp.

The neighborhood, as expected, was absolutely destroyed. No, that wasn’t true. They saw other settlers, the people from Preston and Sturge’s little clan that they hadn’t met yet, doing their absolute best to put it back together. Someone was hammering away at the house across the street, turning the rust and blue shell into a patchwork quilt of a shelter. Someone else was hard at work planting or harvesting some sort of gourd they had never seen before. 

It was hard to see the progress, the survival and determination, past what Sole could only absorb as the wreckage of everything they knew. They knew the people that had lived across from them. They knew what the wife cooked for breakfast every morning (omelets for the adults, pancakes for the kids) and what her husband’s engine sounded like when he left for work (loud, at 5 am no less)and what time their twin boys left for baseball practice (3:30 PM). And now they were gone and no one knew.

And Sole was left with a fierce battle going on between the two halves of their brain and heart. They couldn’t see the point in going on when everything had crumbled while they were away. The neighbors across the street and the man next door and every person they had ever met was gone and all they had left to grasp at were memories and grief. And the heartbreaking thing was, they didn’t even know these people all that well. It was just the little things that made them know them, the things they never thought important. But their old life had slipped out of their grasp and suddenly the sound of that engine was so unbelievably important and 3:30 in the afternoon would never be the same.

But the last thing Sole was was a quitter. They’d fought to get to where they were before the War and they fought to survive everything that had gone down after… and they almost had. They were working on surviving that. And then the bombs started dropping and they couldn’t reach Nick over the phone in time and they were underground and they never got the chance to say goodbye. To him or to anyone.

And then they were here. On their front porch on the other side of the end of the world. And Preston placed his hand on their shoulder and asked in that soft tone he liked to use with them, “Would you like to go back inside?” And they realized they were crying again.

“No. No I– I think I’d like to just sit a while, if that’s okay.”

So Preston leaned back against one of the supports of their awning, his ridiculous looking gun propped up over one shoulder and his hat tilted forward to keep the sun out of his eyes. Sturges sat at the stoop, by their feet. Some of the other people from their group greeted the pair as they walked past, and a few even occasionally said hello to Sole. They weren’t quite sure if they said hello back, but the intention was there.

The sun crept forward into the sky as the minutes ticked into hours. Preston left eventually; he had things to do and a settlement to run– well, try to set up. But Sturges simply shifted in place every now and then to stay comfortable, and didn’t say a word. That is, until Sole finally piped up. “Sturges?”

“Yeah?”

“Does, uh– there used to be a small river, where the bridge leads to Sanctuary, there was a river underneath. I just– is it still there? Does the river still run?”

“Yeah, Sole. The river still runs, it’s still there.”

“The river still runs. And I’m still here.”

Sturges reached up and patted them on the knee. His expression was one they’d grown familiar with, a sort of warm sadness. The river still ran. There were people there, right in front of them, and they were fighting for their lives. They were running out of food and Sole had the key tucked into their pocket. “Sturges?”

“Yeah, Sole?”

“Can you take me to the bunker? Please.”

He turned and looked at them. Not a quick glance, but a bit of a non-judgemental stare, like he was studying them. And the warm sadness turned into a soft grin and he nodded, “Yeah, alright. Let’s go crack that thing open, shall we?”

A/N: There may not be an update for a hot minute as I finish up finals week and work on other important things I have going on. It shouldn't be too long though and I'll try to get another chapter out before the end of the week!

[red-letter-imagines]

heyy there!! can you do another part of the “reaction when you suck on their tongue but with Mikey, Rindou and mitsuya?

You have no idea how happy I am that my work's so well-received! So there's been more than one request for a part 2, but for different characters. This little dove, however, is the first one so I'll be doing this, then the other characters in later parts, alright? Alright.

Now *cracks knuckles* let's begin!

Reaction When You Suck on Their Tongue Part 2 (Sano Manjiro, Haitani Rindou & Mitsuya Takashi)

Sano "Mikey" Manjiro: (Bonten! Mikey)

You sure you don't need a chaser with that? Sanzu snickers from across you, pupils already blown wide from the pills he'd taken half an hour ago. The pure vodka sears your esophagus, a pool of liquid fire in your abdomen. Tears are springing up your eyes and you wince. Truly, it had been a horrible idea on your side to make bets with Sanzu, of all people. That man has had every drug imaginable enter his system and three overdoses later, is still standing. You should've known better than to order Spirytus, but Sanzu has a way of getting under anyone's skin, especially yours.

He knew you had more than several bones to pick with him after he coaxed Mikey into accepting a million-dollar drug deal with some shady Western cartel. Throughout Bonten's history, it was one of the more careless business trades you'd ever gone through, one that put Mikey in a precarious position. The cartel demanded Mikey's audience for the deal to be done, and while Sanzu reassured you that nothing would happen to their "King", that never stopped you from worrying your head off.

A part of you wanted the drugs and alcohol put him into a coma; you just had to hold your liquor until then. Yet this poisonous bastard is still standing, while you barely have the confidence to stand up straight. He's fucking crazy.

You eye the remaining shot glass. It's rim and ridges bounce the bright glow of the chandeliers above you, its crystal clear contents an elegant deception to those unaware. You suck air through your nose and grab it. Before you could down the last drink of your life, a slender hand slides to your shoulder.

You turn to face Mikey's lilac-rimmed gaze, the darkness swimming within sucking you in like a vacuum. Once he sees the flares of red across your cheeks and down your neck, his lips curl a little. Mikey hates alcohol with a passion; he told you early on that he abhorred its bitterness and how it hazed your mind.

Instantly, you cave under his disappointment, and none-too-gracefully drop your shot glass back on the counter. You barely had time to utter his name before he cups your cheek and kisses you. It's gentle, caring yet the pressure of his pecks stamp his dominance into your very soul.

He plunges his tongue into your booze-laced cavern, and you eagerly latch onto it like a hungry pup. He tasted of red bean paste, its sweetness a balm to your burning senses. He keeps a hand on your neck while you have your fill, biting your lower lip when you part.

You're panting, eyes glazed with wanton need. He strokes a thumb under your ear, and you smile.

You could drink all the alcohol you wanted, but nothing could make you drunker than Sano Manjiro's affection.

Haitani Rindou:

You frown to yourself as you waited outside the heavy steel gates of Roppongi's juvenile detention center. It's been six months since the Haitani brothers had been arrested because of Tenjiku. Along with the other Heavenly King named Mucho, they also scored a reduced sentence, and today will be their first taste of freedom in half a year.

You'd been forced to stay behind when the battle happened; Rindou told you that he didn't want to have to look after you while fighting. A cover-up for his worry, of course. The younger Haitani isn't known for being as emotionally apt as his older brother, yet somehow that rigidness of his is one of the things you love most about him. To this day, Ran still loves to give you both shit for it.

Rindou knew that you'd be pissed beyond belief once you got the news; he promised not to leave you alone again like last time. You didn't come to his trial nor see him when he got permitted for visitations. Ran is in a different cell, and he had nothing but time.

Of course, other than being absolutely furious with him, there were other reasons you couldn't come see your bone breaker of a boyfriend. With them detained, no one is left to defend their title as the Kings of Roppongi. No one except you, that is.

You're quite the force of nature yourself, even before meeting Ran and Rindou. Roppongi had been your stomping grounds since you were ten, and when they started making a name for themselves you refused to submit. Thinking back, it was quite a comical scene: a scruffy-looking little girl baring her teeth at two brothers who'd basically killed a man not too long ago. Despite how ruthless they truly are, they never stooped so low as to hit a girl, much less gang up on one to prove a point. Instead you became friends, and later on fell in love with the younger Haitani, and he with you. Together you ruled over Roppongi, and the rest is history.

So while your man stared at white walls in the slammer, you splattered blood across brick walls as warnings to those who thought they could conquer the city. All on your own, you reigned over Roppongi the entirety of their sentence, and now it's time for the kings to reclaim their throne.

You hear them before you see them; Ran's whimsical tones against Rindou's monotone rebuttals. They're wearing casual clothes instead of the jumpsuits, Ran's hair is in braids as always, but Rindou...

The extra inches of hair does something to you. It flowed around his face like a lion's mane, faded blue streaks shining in the noon sun. He's wearing contacts instead of his frames, and his jaw is sharper than you ever remembered it. Fresh out of prison, and he looks every bit the king of carnage you adore.

Licking your lips, you saunter over to them. The clacking of your heels turn their heads, and they smirk at you. You could see Rindou tense for a split second before reigning himself back in. Once you get close enough, you rear a hand back and slam it against his cheek hard.

Then you grab him by the collar and smooch him right in front of the jail gates. His recovery is quick, and he pulls you close in a vice-grip. You press a thumb down his chin and take his tongue right from his mouth. The light graze of your teeth against the flat of it earns a growl from Rindou. You left me again, you fucking asshole you hiss as you pull away. You doubted he really heard you though, because he dived right to your neck after your liplock. You sigh, meeting eyes with a disgusted Ran.

This man is going to be the death of you one day.

Mitsuya Takashi:

Throughout your relationship, Mitsuya is nothing but gentle. It almost gave you whiplash how different he is when he's with you and when he's with Toman. He's more than happy to bash some scumbag's face in, yet he couldn't look you in the eye if he shows up to school bruised the next day. You're one of the reasons he got so good at dodging blows in the first place-all of this just to keep you from remembering just how dangerously he lives.

His carefulness translated through his affections, most of all. He didn't hold you, he cradled you. When he kissed you, you could practically feel the repressed passion just burning beneath the surface. He treats you as if you were a dandelion on a windy day.

And while you thought his unspoken sentiments are nothing short of chivalrous and sweet, you also found it quite stupid. You knew what you were getting into when he sheepishly confessed, knew about him being a captain of Toman's second division. So naturally, you'd braced yourself for all sorts of chaos. Plus, only having to witness one side of him irked something inside of you that you couldn't quite explain. You'd made it perfectly clear that you loved him, bruises and all. Yet when he looked at you with such adoring lavender eyes, you couldn't bear to chide him for wanting to treasure you.

So, you decided to show him through other means.

You're waiting for him to finish inside the sewing club room. He's finishing the hemline of a kimono-a birthday present he's preparing for Draken early on. His eyelids hang low, but his gaze is as intense as ever. Nothing is said between the two of you, but you can't help staring at his pursed lips, now bitten red from his habit when focusing. You internally proclaimed your love for him yet again, unable to stop yourself from wandering over to his hunched form.

Just as he looks up from the sewing machine, you dive in with a kiss that, even you had to admit, is a little too intense to be this sudden. Yet you couldn't help it; even the simplest things he did could turn you into quite the sap.

He doesn't fail to reciprocate it, though. His lips, a little rough and a bit wet, switch from caressing your top and bottom lip each time you return to each other. Somehow, it ended up with you sandwiched between him and his desk, thighs on either side of his hips. His hands never stay in one place, smoothing down your uniform and rubbing your back. He never strays too far down your waist, and that tang of frustration sours your sweet little moment yet again.

Bracing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his jaw, you grind down hard against him. His mouth drops open in a barely contained moan, and you close your lips around his tongue. The noise he made when you licked at it could've put BL voice actors to shame. His fingers rake against the sides of your hips, jolting you out of your sultry scenario and into a bout of giggles. And while you sit there steaming in your embarrassment at ruining such a delicious moment, he simply gapes at what just happened, his face stained a pretty crimson.

Well, that was awkward...but you wouldn't have had it any other way.

[clusterbuck]

how about 4 from the prompts list? "I'm here, aren't I?"

okay fun fact when i sat down to fill this prompt and turned my spotify on shuffle the first song to come up was i'm here by sweet talk radio so like... that's appropriate lmao

thanks for the prompt!!

"i'm here, aren't i?" buck mutters under his breath. "stop looking at me like that! it's rush hour on a friday, i did the best i could with the traffic conditions i had."

"i know, i know," eddie whispers next to him. "i'm not mad at, you, i just—" he cuts himself off and sighs. "i was going to talk to you about something before we went in."

"why am i here, anyway?" buck asks, looking around at all of the parents and teachers milling around the foyer of christopher's school. "i mean, you know i don't mind, but you made it sound really—"

he's interrupted by the sound of a woman's voice, somewhere on eddie's other side. "mr diaz, there you are! and this must be the husband."

buck whirls to look at eddie, because—if eddie has a husband, this is the first he's hearing of it.

please, eddie's expression seems to say, desperate and cornered and a little hopeful. and buck's never been able to deny him anything.

he's always been quick on the uptake, and even if he wasn't, eddie's arm sliding around his waist would probably make the pieces slip into place. so he schools his features into his best approximation of what a husband probably looks like and turns to face the woman next to eddie.

she's bright and bubbly, the platonic ideal of a suburban california soccer mom. she holds out a hand, and buck grins as he shakes it. "that's me," he confirms.

"and are you mr diaz as well?" she asks, and buck breathes an internal sigh of relief when she doesn't add anything along the lines of i don't really know how it works with you people.

"buckley, actually," he tells her. "buck." then he drops his voice and leans in like he's sharing a secret. "makes it easier at work, you know, so our captain knows who he's talking to."

she laughs, and eddie squeezes his hip. "i've heard a lot about you," she says with a smile. then she inclines her head at eddie. "he won't shut up about you, actually."

buck grins. "is that so?" he asks, turning to look at eddie.

eddie rolls his eyes. "i talk about you a normal amount," he says. "don't go getting an ego about this."

the woman introduces herself as somebody's mother. next to him, eddie falls into an easy conversation about math homework and the upcoming science fair, but buck is only half-listening. he's mostly preoccupied by the fact that eddie, apparently, goes around telling people that they're married. which is definitely news to him.

he's also more than a little preoccupied by the warm weight of eddie's arm resting around his waist, and the casual way eddie's hand curls around his hip like it belongs there. before he can think better of it, buck leans further into eddie's embrace, and eddie adjusts his grip mid-sentence like this is something they do every day and not something out of buck's wildest daydreams.

eventually, the woman excuses herself to go and find some teacher or the other.

"husband, huh?" buck asks. "that's funny, i don't remember you proposing. or, you know, asking me out."

as he speaks, eddie detaches himself from buck. when buck turns to look, eddie is already wearing a guilty expression.

eddie sighs. "i was going to tell you," he says. "that's what i wanted to talk to you about before we came in."

"i mean, yeah, knowing ahead of time that i'm supposed to be acting like your husband would have made life a little easier," buck says. "also, uh, why am i supposed to be acting like your husband, again?"

eddie looks away, squirrely in the way buck knows he only gets when he's embarrassed. "there was a teacher a while back," he says. "she kept, uh, hitting on me? so i panicked and said i was married."

"okay, so, why me?" buck asks, and wonders if eddie can hear the unspoken question. why are you pretending to be married to a man? eddie's never given any indication that he's anything other than straight. it's the biggest reason buck has him firmly mentally labelled as never going to happen, buckley, you might as well stop dreaming about it.

it hasn't worked so far, but repetition is key.

"i guess christopher talks about you a lot," eddie says. "she asked if it was you, and it seemed easier to say yes than to invent some kind of fictional spouse that i'd have to remember details about."

"romantic," buck says, and eddie laughs and elbows him.

"shut up."

"so why didn't you just tell me?" buck asks.

"i was going to, if you'd been here when you said you would!"

"hey, it's not my fault the 146 didn't manage their pile-up scene properly and traffic backed up!" buck says. "besides, you could also have told me at any other point in time between now and—how long have you been telling people this?"

"uh... six months, give or take," eddie says. "that's why it was so important you come tonight—i've been making excuses for you at school events, but the other parents have started to question it and i don't want them thinking my imaginary husband is a shitty person."

"clearly you have better taste than that," buck agrees.

eddie sighs again, but it's good-natured. "god, i should have known you'd be insufferable about this."

"and yet you picked me anyway," buck beams. "so why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"i was worried you'd think it's weird," eddie says. "and i really needed you to be here."

"mm, being addressed as your husband out of the blue was definitely less weird," buck says.

"so it didn't go exactly to plan," eddie says. "thanks for just rolling with it, by the way."

"of course," buck says. "i've got your back, remember?"

"somehow, i don't think this is what either of us envisioned back in that hospital parking lot," eddie laughs.

and it's true—buck had envisioned doing a lot of things with eddie, back in those first few days before he'd realised he didn't have a chance, but fake marriage was never one of them.

"so is there anything specific you need me to do?" buck asks, in an effort to distract himself from thoughts of the things he did envision.

"just—sell it, i guess?" eddie says. "i'm pretty sure i've only told people things about you that are true anyway, so there's no elaborate cover story or anything."

"except that we're married," buck says.

"except that we're married," eddie agrees. "for—about a year now, i think i've said?"

"a year, okay," buck repeats. "cool, i'm on it." then he steps closer to eddie again and slips his hand into eddie's back pocket.

"buck," eddie hisses. "what are you doing?"

"selling it," buck replies.

"where? in high school in the year 1987?" eddie asks, but he relaxes into buck's side.

"hey, no judging," buck says. "maybe this is my signature move."

"i mean, you do you," eddie says. buck doesn't argue, because he doesn't want to have to tell eddie that he's mostly doing it because this might be the only opportunity he ever gets to touch eddie's ass.

it's only as they set off to meet with the first of christopher's teachers that buck realises he might have miscalculated. because now his hand is on eddie's ass, and he's suddenly hyperaware of even the smallest twitch of his fingers. how much of it can eddie feel? is eddie going to think he's trying to make a move if he accidentally flexes his fingers a little?

it's not that he doesn't want to make a move. it's just that he doesn't think that eddie would be very receptive to it.

except eddie turns out to be a very affectionate fake husband. if buck's hand isn't in eddie's pocket then eddie is holding it. when they sit side-by-side listening to teachers talk about how smart christopher is, eddie's foot is hooked around buck's ankle. in the hallway between meetings, eddie turns to drop a kiss on buck's cheek, and a shiver radiates through him.

buck doesn't know what to make of it. he's used to a certain amount of physical contact from eddie—shoulders brushing together as they walk next to each other, working together so seamlessly their limbs might as well be extensions of each other on calls—but this feels different. it's not just that the touches are different—there's an ease to eddie's actions that makes buck wonder for the first time in years if maybe his mental label for eddie isn't quite as accurate after all.

he doesn't know how else to explain the fact that eddie keeps touching him. it's more than enough to sell their ruse—bordering on excessive, even, especially for a middle school parent-teacher conference.

and buck isn't exactly innocent himself, either. he wonders if a year into a fictional marriage is too far to claim honeymoon period, because that's the closest he can come to describing the feeling—like now that he has permission to touch eddie, the dam has broken and he can't keep his hands off.

they're still holding hands when they spill out of the school doors and into the dark warmth of the september evening. eddie makes no move to let go, and so neither does buck.

buck's jeep is clear across the other side of the parking lot, but he follows eddie to his truck anyway. they reach the car, and eddie brushes his lips against the corner of buck's mouth, closer than he has all night. buck freezes.

eddie pulls back, horror clear across his face. "i'm sorry," he says. "i didn't—i just—i forgot. that we're not inside anymore."

there's just enough wistfulness in his voice that buck makes a split-second decision. he takes a step forwards and takes eddie's face in his hands, stands still for two heartbeats just in case he's reading everything extremely wrong and eddie wants to protest, and then he's kissing eddie.

eddie kisses the way he does everything else, with a steadiness that keeps buck tethered to reality and a quiet intensity that bubbles just under the surface. it's a combination that's uniquely eddie, one that makes buck feel like he could take on the world and win and like he's coming home.

"i don't want it to be just inside," buck says, just in case eddie didn't get the message. "i don't want it to be fake. i mean, it might be a little soon to get married, but—"

"someday, though," eddie says, and buck laughs.

"someday, yeah."

eddie grins at him. "in the meantime, do you want to come home with me tonight?"

"yeah, i really do."

send me a starter line from this list and i'll write a ficlet for it!

[blzzrdstryr]

By proxy

Platonic yandere!Kaeya & child!gn!reader

Wordcount: 2195

A.N.: My first time writing platonic yanderes, hope you'll enjoy.

It's an impulsive decision for the most part - taking you, that is.

Kaeya trudges through the Wolfendom forest, a couple of his underlings, Addler and Otto, following behind as they trail a group of treasure hoarders. Criminal gang must have known that knights are on their tail, there's no other explanation for their sudden fleeing, leaving an already broken camp behind and taking only the most valuable possessions.

It's raining and he silently curses, even if this will give him advantage in battle, but archons, it's so cold. Huge droplets fall on the ground with a resounding sound, drenching everything and turning the forest landscape deep into nigh impassable terrain. Mud clings to their feet, slowing the group down, as the Sun starts to set. Sky turns all shades of purple and red, dimming light throwing the last rays over the Mondstadt as the darkness settles, yet Kaeya and his group still carry forward through the palisade of tall trees.

“Sir”, Otto carefully starts: “It seems that criminals are already several miles away from us”.

Kaeya nods for the knight to continue, already knowing that it will be an ask to stop - the weather is hellish and the rain is one of the heaviest Kaeya has ever had to experience.

“With how strong this rainfall is, the gang's traces will be gone in under an hour”

"All the more reasons to push on and catch them then", Alberich replies, paying zero attention to Adler's slight trembling or Otto's teeth chattering. The group continues on their path through descending darkness, their footsteps hasting despite the clinging and growing fatigue.

Suddenly, as the knights make their way around the cliff, a slight whimper is heard. It's human enough to stop the group - maybe some unlucky civilian got in the way of the gang, maybe criminals left their injured one. Kaeya just nods to the pair, as Otto and Adler unsheathe their weapons, wordlessly understanding the gesture.

Cavalry captain takes a step into the forest pit with a raised sword, all sight and ears, light blue vision on his belt shining and flickering both in caution and anticipation. He walks slowly and quietly, like a cat, careful not to step on the leaves and twigs lying around, and then he sees you.

You are a child, all thin and small in the way that the sick are. There are dark circles under your tired eyes, and the scrapes all over your body. You look already dead. He runs up to you, as he sees your figure swaying and knees buckling, saving you from the fall. Your skin burns Kaeya as he carries you back to the knights - it must be fever then. You blink at him several times, saying something, but your voice is too small and weak to make out anything among the droplets falling, and then you stop, eyes rolling back and head lolling to the side. You blacked out.

He thinks about handing your body to either of the knights and then continuing to run after the gang into the knight, but then decides against it - heavy rain must have blurred all the footsteps they left. Adler almost fails. You escape your delirium a couple of times, babbling words about forest and rain and wolves, and Kaeya, despite his focus on the trail ahead, can't help but listen to what you say. It's childish nonsense for the most part, an incomprehensible product of the feverish mind, yet sometimes you say meaningful things - I thought I would die, I got scared of wolf howls, The rain was so cold.

Some small part of him shrinks and aches at these words, a long buried hurt resurfacing once again. Kaeya frowns and huffs as he tries to get rid of the images of the days long gone in his mind - rainy night, hunger, pain, cold, he will die here. His lips quirk and a humorless laugh escapes him - the irony is painful.

He drops you off at the church, concerned Barbara taking you to the hospital and Kaeya, after a brief report to Jean, goes home, his mind still stuck on the memories of days long past. You will be fine, he tells himself, the church has good healers and the orphanage is nearby. Once you get better, you’ll get sent there, where devoted nuns will raise to be another disciple.

You had a look of a deadman - a strange catatonic serenity was radiating off of you, as you looked at the captain with a glazed yet piercing eyes, both seeing him and through him. It’s cold, so cold, yet no one is here. There are hot tears on his face, wet tracks burning his skin. His tummy is empty and aching, cold bites at his limbs, but Kaeya patiently waits for the adult to return. Father said that Kaeya was their last hope, so sure he would never leave him to die, right?

Cavalry captain barely sleeps through the night, memories and inner demons eating him from inside. When he does manage to doze off, a vague picture of darkening forests and howling winds wake him up, a fervent chanting buzzing in his head - Where is his father? Where is his father? Where is his father?.

Kaeya comes to you the next day, as his shift ends, legs heading to the towering church at the top on their own. Barbara leads him to your bed, your unconscious form lying limply. Idol explains your health issues to him - fever, malnutrition, inflammation, common cold and slight poisoning. The scratches you had yesterday were healed, Barbara says, but the rest of the problems can't be easily fixed with a bit of a hydro.

"Then, what medicines do they need?", Kaeya asks, understanding the unspoken words. The Church of Favonius, despite the large funding it receives from the city's treasury, still lacks a lot of resources and materials. People are free to come and get cured, without having a single mora to pay, which means that most of the remedies disappear at an alarming rate - be it some herbal balm for aching joints or a simple linen bandage.

The idol rustles in the hidden pockets of her dress, taking out a pencil and sheet of paper and begins to write, the list grows as Kaeya’s eyebrows get higher and higher. There are dried Liyuen herbs, exotic Sumeru fruits, specially treated Snezhnayan and Fontaine tinctures and medicines.

Kaeya is taken aback for a second by the sheer length of the final list - most of the items will have to be ordered and shipped and despite his salary of the captain allowing such expenses, it’s still strange to spend so much mora - a complete stranger. Captain contemplates just leaving you there - nuns will take care of you, but the hurt resurfaces again and he sees another person lying on the small hospital bed - little him, scared and confused.

He ends up buying all the listed things, and despite his efforts not to, continues to regularly check up on you when he has time. Sometimes, Barbara says, you wake up from your slumber, enough to utter some confused noises and questions, but then you drowse off again, both sickness and medicine pulling you back to sleep.

Kaeya, to his displeasure, never catches you conscious in time, until he comes one evening, expecting to spend the time looking at you sleeping again only to see you half sitting on the bed. Your posture gets straight the second you notice him too, an expression of confusion and fear appearing on your face.

"Hello", Kaeya starts, slowly walking up towards you, keeping his posture small and voice as friendly as possible:"I am that knight who carried you here, remember?", he explains, seeing the further abashment on you face.

You nod at him, prompting him to continue:"So, I just decided to visit you to ask you how you got in the forest and why were you alone"

"Sister Barbara said that you came here almost everyday," you reply, voice absolutely flat and face having no expression. Kaeya looks at you briefly - it’s rare for children to speak in such a cold manner, you must have something on your mind then.

"Yes, I did" , he says in the same friendly tone.

"Just to know why I was in the forest?" , your voice betrays you, a hint of hurt seeping into it. Ah, that’s why you asked.

"Hm, of course no! I also wanted to see you get better" , he smiles at the end, leaning a bit closer to you. You mull over his words, thinking of their sincerity, and then a later second you say, with much less caution and guard up:

"Well I am better now and…" you get silent for a good minute:"I don't remember why I was there. I think it's because of the fever". Your voice becomes strangely controlled again - you lie to Kaeya, you didn’t forget anything. A part of cavalry captain swells and purrs, recognizing himself in you,

"Do you want to live with me?". He asks instead of trying to get the truth out of you. Your eyes shine and a surprised noise comes out of your mouth at his suggestion - something between a squeak and high pitched yelp.

His apartment isn't the best place to bring the child in - there are far too many bottles and not enough food - Kaeya lives off the takeout from the Good hunter and the skewers he grills when missions call him to leave the city walls. Nonetheless, you don’t look too disgusted with his living conditions, so he considers it a win, as he heads for the tiny kitchen to make you a soup.

It turns out a bit burnt in the end - Kaeya added too much wood to the stove, but you still gulp it down, not leaving anything and thank him for the meal. He makes a mental note to buy you a bed - right now you’re sleeping on a small couch, and clothes to change.

You are a quiet child, too fast to apologize for the smallest mistakes and wary of him when he’s in a foul mood - it gives Kaeya an idea why you were in the woods. Your days together flow slowly and steady with Kaeya falling into routine - he wakes up, makes a breakfast for the both of you, you eat it, as you shyly tell him about your newest interest or finding - a drawing, a strange bug, a shiny rock of unusual colour, then he leaves for work, instructing you to go to the neighbours if you have issues, and leaving a premade dinner for you. Then he comes back, now listening to you talking about your day - you were drawing again, or you played with the other kids, or you were running and catching the butterflies, the now dead insects left for him to look at.

It’s a mundane life, something that Kaeya thought will never please him. There is a large pit inside of him - it was growing and festering with years - Khaenri’ah, father, Diluc, Crepus, that fight. It’s ugly and snarling and thoroughly scorched, a part of his soul that keeps him awake and anxious and angry and sad during bad nights. The pit quiets a bit when Kaeya takes care of you - toys, foods, games, the same way he wishes he was treated as a child.

Crepus Ragnvindr was a nice person, he took Kaeya in, clothed and fed and kept him safe for years, yet there was always an invisible line that separated Khaenri'ahn from Diluc - warmer voice, higher expectations, more praise. Kaeya doubts Crepus noticed this truly tiny gap in treatment, Diluc for sure didn’t. Alberich did his best to ignore it, yet he couldn’t, this difference nagged him at the back of his mind, alienating him in the newfound home.

That must be why he does his best to spoil you - it's new toys and furniture and evening walks around the Mondstadt with you on his shoulders. Soon, a new rumour starts to travel around Mondstadt - about a stray being picked up by another stray. Amber seemingly forgives him for the incident with Collei, Jean gives him a raise the same month, for child expenses, she succinctly says, Albedo off handedly mentions Klee and her desire for friendships, even Lisa gives him a couple of fairytale books, warning him what will happen if he will be late to return them beforehand. Diluc doesn't comment on the irony the next time they happen to meet, but he sees some Dawn Winery workers looking after you, when he is busy with Favonius stuff.

Kaeya, for the first time in years, feels truly happy. He has family again - you and him this time and he's willing to smother you with affections. He buys you things he wishes he had, and teaches you the skills he thinks will help you in life - how to fight, how to lie, how to kill someone with words alone.

It's a strange love he has for you - never seeing you as you - but it's genuine and all encompassing. Kaeya doesn't want little him to suffer again.

[omg-imagine]

Distraction

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: Johnny distracts V the best way he knows how.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: language, smut (oral + rough sex, choking)

A/N: Please don’t mind the weak plot, this was just an excuse to write p*rn featuring the only character I want to romance in the game but can’t. Also, for the sake of this fic, let’s just say he can touch V and vice versa :)) Hope you enjoy!

V was pissed.

No, she was beyond pissed.

And when V’s beyond pissed, she’s sure to let the whole fucking world know.

“Tone it down, princess,” Johnny cuts in once he’s heard enough of her long-winded rant.

V stops her relentless pacing around the apartment and shoots a menacing glare towards the rocker.

“I warned you not to take that job from the start. Now, look at you, bruised up from head to toe, and cheated out of your eddies.”

“That son of a bitch promised me half the cut,” V recalls bitterly, her chest heaving from the fierce anger spreading all throughout. “I’m gonna make sure Cruz regrets asking me for help.”

The merc stalks off to her stash, muttering low under her breath how she plans on raising hell the next time she crosses paths with him. As V polishes her guns (something she typically does to calm herself), Johnny approaches the small room to the side with the same cocky attitude that would surely piss her off even more.

He can’t help himself at times; he sure does love pushing V’s buttons.

“You done whining or what?”

Rolling her eyes, V turns her head to see Johnny standing there as he takes a drag on his cigarette. Normally, she doesn’t mind him smoking around her, but after an exhausting night where things didn’t work out in her favor, she was quickly reaching her boiling point. “You better clean up all that ash on the floor when you’re done.”

“Since when did you start caring about this shithole of an apartment being neat?” Johnny comments, more so as a tease, and this earns him another scowl. “Don’t waste your energy on Cruz. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”

“Didn’t know you believed in karma,” V adds, narrowing her eyes.

Devilishly, he smirks at her, tossing the cigarette butt to the floor then crushing it with his shoe. “Hon, there’s a lot of things you still don’t know about me.”

“Yeah,” she agrees before brushing past Johnny. “I’m heading out.”

His figure glitches momentarily, reminding V that he was nothing but a ghost residing in her mind, despite how real he feels. Even if she wants to leave this “shithole of an apartment” for some semblance of peace and quiet, she knows Johnny will only follow. He’s tethered to her for what could possibly be the rest of her life.

And yet, no matter how big of an asshole Silverhand was, she’s grown fond of his presence.

Not that she would mention it out loud. Ever.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out,” V simply states, wondering what the point in Johnny asking her that question when he could easily find it out for himself was.

It’s truly unfair how he can read her thoughts, but she can’t read any of his.

He chuckles low. “Gon’ pay a joy toy to fuck tonight?”

“No, I’m going out for a drive, distract myself from that shitshow earlier. You better leave me alone.”

“Well, I’m a little insulted,” Johnny snorts, feigning offense. “I thought you liked my company.”

“I’m tired of your company. You never shut that mouth of yours.”

Before V could head to the door, she feels a metal hand encircling her wrist, holding her in place. She glances behind her, meeting Johnny’s deep, dark eyes, which hid a multitude of secrets. It’s been a while since she has felt a touch that wasn’t full of malice. Though his palm is cold from the material it’s made out of, a distinct heat spreads through her body—

It was a familiar warmth, one that radiates from V at his mere touch.

And when Johnny’s lips curl into a shit-eating grin, she knows that he has sensed it too.

“Shut my mouth? I think I can do something else much better than that.”

Johnny’s gravelly voice fuels the desire burning deep within V as he pulls her closer, her feet moving at their own accord. “God, I wish you came with an off-switch.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this little game we’ve been playing.”

V doesn’t respond, her pulse quickening with anticipation. She lets out a shuddering moan when Johnny leans in, his hot breath grazing her silky skin before his lips crash against hers, possessively. He floods V’s senses all at once as he hungrily kisses her, letting him take the reins.

It would be a lie for V to say she’s never pictured a moment like this. A moment where she finally succumbs to Johnny’s charm and allows him to lay claim on her. It’s always been a constant dance between the two, a chemistry disguised as indifference, a craving left unspoken. Amidst the degrading insults and the snarky attitudes, deep down, they have always wanted the same thing—

To fuck each other’s brains out.

“Still tired of my company, V?”

“Just shut the fuck up for once and take off your pants.”

The grin on his face hasn’t disappeared. It only grows broader. “Ask, and you shall receive.”

Johnny roughly grabs V at the waist, his fingers curling underneath the hem of her shirt as he pushes her towards the bed. His mouth latches onto her neck, no doubt marking her for all of Night City to see.

They fell onto the mattress without finesse, similar to how V kisses Johnny feverishly, all tongue and teeth. Void of tenderness and only driven by the urgency of lust. She was too distracted by her want to care for the taste of tobacco from his last smoke. The hands traveling every inch of V’s frame lights up a fire in her, bringing a high that no drug on the black market could ever do.

Surprisingly, Johnny allows her to take the lead for a bit when she straddles him, his hardening cock pressing up against her aching cunt. She gages his reaction as she grinds on his clothed erection, a wicked smile forming to the sight of him being teased.

“You like that, huh? Fuck, I can’t wait to have you inside of me.” She feels herself growing wetter and wetter, losing patience just as swiftly as the man under her.

Without warning, Johnny flips them both over, the length of his body now pressed against hers from above. He wastes no time peeling V’s shirt and bra off, pausing for the briefest of seconds to admire her bare breasts. His cybernetic hand squeezes one soft mound as his lips descend on the other. She moans, and they were pure music to his ears, sounds that were so beautiful he could write endless songs about them.

“J-Johnny,” V stutters out his name, unable to contain herself anymore. She doesn’t remember the last time someone has quickly reduced her into a mess, and desperately she wanted, needed more.

The way his name trembles from her mouth drives Johnny into a frenzy, simpering at the fact he really hasn’t done much yet, but it was enough to leave V quivering. She looks too sinful beneath Johnny, too delectable. He’s well-aware of how long she’s gone without sex, and he’s now bent on ending that sad streak of hers.

Hastily, Johnny removes V’s pants and underwear in one quick go, his gaze devouring her beauty like a starved man staring at his meal. “Wow, you’re fucking drenched down there.”

“Fuck,” she gasps, one hand reaching forward to grip at his lengthy locks as soon as he delves in to taste her dripping nectar for the first time.

“You enjoying yourself there, baby?” Johnny’s inquiry needs no response. He could already tell she is solely by the way her eyes flutter shut, her head lolling to the side.

One lick. Two licks. Three. He surely knew how to work that deft tongue of his.

Johnny’s cock continues to throb in the confines of his trousers as his lips encircle V’s swollen bud, but he doesn’t end there. She wants more, and he’s willing to give her just that.

More.

V squirms when two chrome fingers enter her heat, stretching out her walls to prepare her for the serious pounding coming up. She’s lost in the sensations, unable to form a coherent thought or word. Johnny’s tempo was slow at first; tantalizing, nearly torturous. But once he starts moving faster, pumping even harder and reaching that sweet, sweet spot of hers, she begins to pant wildly as she fucks herself on his hand to get more friction.

“Holy shit, you’re a goddess,” he croaks after pulling back to study the needy woman looking back at him through half-lidded eyes. V is tight around his fingers, and he could only imagine how it would be like with his cock buried deep inside her instead.

Each rough stroke of Johnny’s digits against her wet walls brought V closer and closer to the brink of orgasm, her moans increasing in both volume and frequency. He urges her to let go, whispering into her ear how he wants to see and feel her coming. The gruffness in his tone turned her on even more, and V soon finds herself falling over the precipice, flushing hot with euphoria as Johnny watches, awestruck.

Satisfied, he beams at his work, which was only half of what he intends to do this evening. Being gracious, Johnny gives V an ample minute to recover, using the downtime to wipe the glistening wetness coating his beard before tasting the juices he’s collected.

Delicious, he thinks. She tastes as good as she looks.

V eventually comes back to her senses, propping herself up on her elbows as she gazes at Johnny with an almost dazed expression. “Perhaps the rumors are actually true.”

“Which one?” Silverhand asks, ridding himself of his clothes at the foot of her bed.

V pauses prior to answering, the sound of metal clinking filling the air as he unbuckles his belt, stripping off his leather pants afterwards.

“That you’re the best pussy eater in town,” she then reveals, glancing up briefly to see the smug look on his face before her gaze falls to his groin again.

Of course, Johnny chooses to go commando, and no, she wasn’t shocked at all.  

Silently, she marvels at the dick nestled in a thick bush of dark hair. Girthy and long with a slight curve upwards, the thought of it being inside her, barely fitting, made her mouth water. He wasn’t lying when he casually mentioned having an impressive cock.

It definitely did not disappoint.

“Oh sweetheart, that was nothing,” Johnny declares before climbing back on top of V, settling in between her legs. “The main act is just beginning.”

She doesn’t wait for Johnny to kiss her. In an instant, V’s lips were on his, her tongue pushing into his mouth, faintly tasting herself at the same time. Meanwhile, Johnny grips the base of his leaking cock, rubbing its engorged head against her slick folds that had her breathing heavily. V cants her hips impatiently, and through their kiss, he chuckles at her eagerness.

“So desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” Johnny husks mockingly. “How badly do you want me, slut? I wanna hear you say it.”

A moan escapes her throat at his words as he rubs his tip against her clit. V wants him so, so bad that she’s begging incessantly, something she never does in any of her past fucks. Usually, she was in complete control, never the one to relinquish her power.

Maybe that was the reason why V was utterly drunk with pleasure from this steamy session with Johnny. It’s good not to be in control for once.

“Shit, Johnny. Please, just fuck me already. Fill me up,” V pleads, now helpless at this point. She has to come again, this time around his cock. She repeats her keening over and over again, hoping that it was enough to feed into Johnny’s ego and finally show her mercy.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Tugging at his cock, Johnny forces V’s legs to spread wider as she waits for him, mesmerized. Her pussy was soaked from his ministrations, but when he starts pushing into V, the burning stretch of her walls trying to accommodate his thick length leaves her in tears.

Those tears, however, weren’t entirely from the pain. V was also shedding tears because of how full Johnny makes her feel.

“Fucking hell, V,” he groans as she clamps down on him. “You’re so fucking tight. Damn, why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“We were too busy pretending to hate each other,” V replies, digging her nails into Johnny’s back when he begins to move.

His thrusts are slow but rough— as if he’s getting accustomed to the wondrous feeling of being inside of V. It doesn’t last long, though. Johnny has always been a hard and fast kind of guy, the one that does two or three more rounds before passing out. He’s bragged about his amazing stamina as well, and despite V believing she could match it, she probably won’t be able to tonight.

Not when he’s fucking her into the mattress like this for their very first time together.

Johnny’s brutal pace doesn’t falter. He pounds into V harder, faster, rougher; as if his life depends on it, the obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh bouncing off every corner of the room. His slick pre-come mixes with her honeyed essence, allowing him to seamlessly reach the depths of her center. Sweat drips down the side of his face as he maneuvers his mechanical hand to wrap around V’s delicate neck, adding pressure when she doesn’t resist.

“That’s it, baby,” Johnny growls next to her ear, rolling his hips as he squeezes her throat tighter. “You’re making me feel so good. I’ve always known you were a dirty whore.”

V’s gasping and thrashing, but she doesn’t want him to stop. She loves the rush of blood through her head far too much, especially with Johnny slamming harshly into her. It gives her a thrill she has never experienced with anyone else. Pretty sure he’s ruining her for others.

But whether this was part of his intentions or not, V doesn’t know. Nor she cares enough to figure it out.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me, V. Look at you, taking all of my cock like the fucking slut you are. You’ve wanted this for a while, haven’t you? You practically dream about me every night, and don’t you deny it.”

She doesn’t. Johnny was right, though it doesn’t really matter at this very second. His hold on V loosens for her to speak, and she inhales as much air her lungs could possibly take. She could feel it again, the ultimate high she’s been chasing once more. Johnny’s shaft dragging against her pulsing walls brings her even closer to it, building up the pleasure rising in the pit of her stomach.

“I-I’m close,” V warns, the pressure inside her threatening to break free. “Shit, Johnny, I’m gonna come soon.”

Johnny’s hips jerked harder, causing V to cry out. “Yeah? You’re gonna come? Don’t worry, I’m gonna make sure you come on my cock.”

Halting, he drapes her left leg over his shoulder, allowing him to slide in deeper than he has before. Johnny then pushes his metallic thumb into V’s mouth, and without prompt, she swirls her tongue around it, coating it with her saliva. Not missing a beat, his movement resumes, all bruising and all punishing. He brings his wetted finger on her sensitive pearl, stroking it as if he’s playing his guitar on stage.

The change in angle proves to be the final straw for V, who’s litany of high-pitch moans spurs Johnny to fuck her even more forcefully. Again and again, she takes everything he gives her, and in turn, she encourages him to follow her into the abyss. Her pussy caresses his cock with every frantic push and pull, and she notices how he’s gradually picking up speed, losing his rhythm in the process.

“Your cunt belongs to mine now,” Johnny mutters, gritting his teeth, and it’s becoming clear to V that he’s holding back just for her. “Come on, V. Let go, let go for me.”

Lust-blown eyes lock with V’s own, wordlessly urging her one last time to come undone. Several sharp thrusts later, she finds herself clenching around Johnny’s cock, her orgasm shooting through her like a rain of bullets. Unabashedly, V shouts as her vision whitens, intense waves of ecstasy washing over her shaking body. She’s too absorbed in bliss to realize right away that Johnny was still in her, dick hard and ready for a similar release.

Once she finds her bearings, V grinds her hips against Johnny’s, and immediately, his nails dig into her as he begins to move inside her yet again.

“Don’t stop, Johnny,” she purrs, watching him fuck her with both fast and long strokes. “I want you to cum deep inside me, baby. Shit, I want it so badly. Please, give it to me. Please…”

With a strained moan, Johnny suddenly climaxes, snarling as he shoots searing ropes of his thick, creamy cum into V, painting her inner walls with white. His features contort with pleasure as he throws his head back, his breathing shallow and ragged. When his heart rate returns somewhat back to normal, he slowly pulls his softening cock out, smirking at the sight of his load dripping out of her.

Afterwards, he flops down beside V with a huff, joining her as she stares blankly up at the ceiling. Johnny clears his throat as he shifts closer to V, who instinctively rests her head on his chest. His cyber arm curls around her, and she sighs deeply, seemingly content.

“How about that for a fucking distraction?” He says, recalling how the two of them got here in the place. “Don’t even have to go on a ride to clear your mind. Feel free to ride me instead.”

V laughs at his jest. “It was a great fuck, the best one I’ve ever had if I’m honest. But I’m still going after Cruz.”

Johnny hums in response, seeing V’s weary eyes growing heavier. “Fine, but just to let you know, what happened between us isn’t a one-time thing.”

“Fuck, I hope not. You’re stuck with me till the end of the world, buddy.”

“It’s a good thing you have an amazing pussy then.”

V smacks him lightly as exhaustion begins to take over. Sure, she was still pissed she didn’t get her eddies, but at least now she knows the prick named Johnny Silverhand was surprisingly a cuddler.

And that piece of information was worth gold.

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