#chrome loses my spot if I leave it for like an hour

[very-small-flower]

Can we discuss the best browsers to use AO3? Because I had been using Chrome, which apparently sucks ass compared to Safari. In safari you can make tab groups to organize the hundred fics I have open and it’s a lot better at holding onto where you are on a page.

#AO3 #archive of our own #read fanfiction #chrome loses my spot if I leave it for like an hour

[stoneworldsimp]

the dying poet

senku x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of food/water deprivation, swearing

day seven.

fuck, fuck, FUCK!

it felt like you had been running for hours, trying to shake this wild animal off. you made sharp turns behind large bushes in hopes of losing it, you’d hold as still as possible behind large roots on the ground, but the animal kept finding you in one way or another.

“please go away,”you panted. “c’mon. you’ve been chasing me fucking forever, can’t you just give up?!”

you were tired; your legs were about to buckle in on themselves. dinner one night was suddenly ruined when you realized the fucker was watching you eat. in the beginning you thought it was only after your food, not you; you threw a random ration away from your camp in hopes to get it away from you. in hindsight, it only worked until you fell asleep.

you were lucky to wake up the next morning alive; your set up had been ripped to shreds, and footprints were on the ground around your body. it was painstakingly slow and nerve wracking to escape your position, but once you had everything you absolutely needed, you booked it.

sprinting for miles after miles proved to be very difficult for quite some time now.

the phone...it’s weighing me down. my bag of food isn’t even half as heavy as the phone.

looking down at the call button in your hand, you thought about tossing the phone. maybe i can fix it.. no, i don’t have any tools, the fucking animal chewed on them like dog bones. is there any way to put the wire back together...?

“FUCK my life!”

you took the phone off your back and threw it to you left, careful not to trip yourself in the process. immediately, you and your body felt the difference. with your new found energy, the run away was becoming easier, and helped you see a large cave just over the horizon. using the last of your energy, you took as large of steps as you can, and practically threw your body into the cave. the animal’s footsteps were nowhere to be heard, but you figured you didn’t want to take any chances and look behind you. you were finally breaking free from being chased, just a little deeper into this cave, and if i can find specific markings then i can backtrack—

a deep, loud rumble took you away from your thoughts. in no time, you were engulfed in dust and thick particles you didn’t know of.

the caved had closed in.

day one.

“i can do it.”

“are you sure? its a pretty perilous trip—“

“you should at least bring one other person with you—“

you sighed, exasperated that you had to defend your case once again. it had been days since the decision was made; you were going to make a trip to another part of the island in hopes to find extremely specific materials for one of senku’s projects... and it was far, far away.

quite frankly, you were the only one fit for the adventure. you were known to travel well on foot, had an exceptional sense of direction and you had a good eye for natural elements, as well as food; you also were unintentionally the least helpful when staying in the village. you didn’t have the crafting skills to successfully make glass or metal components for his experiments, and you never trusted your brain when helping senku with calculations and blueprints.

hearing senku and gen talk about this long trip to another part of the island was almost a dream come true. it was perfect for someone with your skillset, and kept you from being in the way of everybody else.

“it’ll be fine. c’mon, you guys have SOME faith in our traveler, right?”

you turned around, a smile on your face as you caught senku walking out of his lab. thank you, you mouthed.

once senku reached you and the group of villagers crowding near you, he spoke up again. “this trip is a straight shot from the bridge, the only problem would be that it’s going to take some time. possibly a month just to get there. but you,” he turned to face you,”have excellent outdoorsy-type skills that will make it really easy for you to spot what we need right away. everyone needs to stop worrying, because you’ll be there and back in no time. two months will pass like nothing.”

as the rest of the group walked away, mumbling their skepticisms, senku took your hand and tugged you back to the lab.

“what’re you taking me here for? oh wait,”you planted your feet at the front of the lab curtains, keeping the both of you from entering. “are you making me help you with your math again? because—”

“no, you’re pretty terrible at calculations,”he replied. “i have something for you.”

you puffed out your cheeks in embarrassment, but your expression completely changed once the curtain was opened.

on the table, there was a telephone. if was the size of a backpack, but it still had a speaker, a microphone, and a call button.

“i made it for you to take on the trip, in case you have any emergencies. i fully trust you in your own survival skills, but you never know if something extreme happens.”

you gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. as you walked closer to the table, you touched the outer fabric. you turned back to senku. “thank you.”

“you don’t have to thank me. i’m only making something that’s essential to your travels.”

“even still,” you trailed off. “i appreciate it.”

you turned back around and beamed at senku. “i’m not going to call you until i get there. i want to make sure that no enemies try to tail me if they hear me, as much as i’d want to give in right away and hear your voice. something like that...”

“how corny.” senku smiled and pulled you close while you laughed. you jumped a bit when his hands made their way around your waist.

“a bit touchy today,” you asked, grabbing hold of his shoulders. “but i’m not complaining.”

“i’m stockpiling the feeling of you for the weeks to come. we’ve never spent this much time apart before; it’s only logical.”

“i guess you’re right.”

he kissed you, multiple times; each one was deeper than the last.

day eleven.

he brought me a flower every morning, because i always slept in later than him. he’d wake up at the asscrack of dawn, just to have more time to jot ideas down. i used to try and pull him back to sleep with me, but he was so overflowing with plans, i didn’t want to stop him.

you turned on your side.

i remember he went to explore with chrome really early one morning, and apparently they found some huge meadow with a bunch of plants. ever since then, he would bring me a different kind; it was always a single flower, too. they were different colors and shapes, and some were enormous and some were smaller than my finger. he never woke me up for it, though. he would just leave it for me when i woke up on my own. it was always a surprise, almost startling when i’d open my eyes. it was my own pick-me-up for the day, in a sense.. no matter what happened the night before, waking up to a new type of flower would put me in a good mood every time. it was better than a coffee in the morning.

i wonder if he’s looking at the flowers with chrome everyday while i’m gone. man, i still wake up hoping to see a new one in front of me.

sure, reminiscing was fun and felt good, but what’s the point? you had eaten all of your food approximately two days ago, you only had about a teaspoon of water left, and there was no getting out of there. the way you came in had been covered in a dam of rocks. you couldn’t even dig yourself out.

you furiously wiped the tears that fell from your eyes. “senku...why did i think i could go alone?”

day fifteen.

poke, poke—

something was touching you. no, someone was touching you. your head bobbed side to side, in an attempt to shake them off.

damn, that’s persistent.

opening your eyes, you woke up to senku smiling. he was knelt beside your form. “wake up, sleeping beauty! it’s been almost three hours.”

it’s only been three hours?!

you sat up way too fast, and felt lightheaded as you tried to ask,”but...why didn’t you.. wake me up earlier? did everybody...did everyone eat already?”

he laughed. “yeah, sorry. we all thought you were out doing something with chrome. but,” he turned around, to grab something behind him,”i saved some in case you got hungry when you came back.”

you took the food in a dizzy haze. was it even food? you didn’t care too much, it felt like you hadn’t eaten for a long time. any food at this point was good food.

you couldn’t even swallow the first bite. “do you- is there..any water?”

“what?” senku pulled away from you, a look of disbelief painted across his face. it was clear as day.

you hesitated, feeling more lightheaded than before. “w- water?”

“don’t you remember?” he asked. he turned away from you. “there hasn’t been any water in days.”

it’s been days.

your body jolted from its spot, and harsh reality hit you square in the face.

yes, right. you shakily rubbed your eyes to make sure they weren’t cemented shut.

in the cave, finished your food, no water to be found. making yourself walk around was no use, either; without the fuel, your body was essentially just a trembling mess.

you scowled at yourself; unsure of what to do, what to even think.

day eighteen.

you remembered how he kissed you. the first kisses the most; you always had to tell him to not look so terrified. you also had to remind him to not stand like a statue when you kissed. pretty soon, after some reassurance, he got comfortable. there was nothing but confidence in the way he caressed your face in his hands. usually he was the one to pull away; you were so mesmerized, it felt as if the world completely stopped.

they were always quick and out of the way in public. usually, it was on your forehead or your one of your cheeks. the deep kisses you felt when you two were alone were incomparable. soft lips remained on yours for what felt like centuries. he tasted sweet, in his own way—

wait, who?

you licked your lips slowly, trying to think.

it was no use; you couldn’t even remember what he looked like. you lolled your head to the side and stared at the outline of a rock a couple of feet away.

once i get out of here, i’ll kiss him. whoever it was. it won’t matter if it’s just us, or more people. i’ll kiss him forever.

maybe if i go to sleep.. i can see him again.

#dr stone #dr stone x reader #senku ishigami x reader #senku x reader #ishigami senku x reader #ishigami senku #senku ishigami #dr stone imagines #dr stone scenarios #senku ishigami fluff #aahhh this was a little half baked #I’ve been busy what can I say😔 #my semesters almost over and I have a placement test #final drivers test(yes I’m 20 and my ass can’t drive legally) #and another performance with my current schools ensemble #despite all of this. I hope u like what is basically my first attempt with angst! #at* not with ew

[heartofsnark]

Honey, I Laugh When It Sinks In. (Johnny/Fem!V) NSFW

Note: So, ya girl’s having whore hours. And I wrote Johnny getting his butthole reamed by my fem!V’s strap. 

Warnings: peggings, assplay, sex toys, oral sex, cum fixation, dumb jokes

Summary:  Johnny's got his body back, that's nice. Both him and V are super alive, doing great things. Those great things do mostly involved fucking each other and denying the fact they love each other; because they're dumbasses. But more importantly, now that Johnny can interact with real life object, V has a chance to fuck him with a strap-on. And doesn't that just sound like a fun time.

The fact that Johnny to some degree likes his ass played with is a secret to absolutely no one. But especially not to V, she’s not sure the two could have secrets from each other after their time being brain roommates. Dreams of his memories haunted her for months and the guy did a lot of fucking. It wasn’t uncommon to fall asleep and find herself in Johnny’s skin being reamed by Rogue’s strap-on or getting fucked after letting Kerry top for a change.  

There’s not a lot of mystery left between V and Johnny, to say the least.

But, for some reason, Johnny’s ass has remained uncharted territory for the merc. Well, maybe not for no reason at all. Most of their sex life has been while he’s a digital ghost rattling around in her skull and unable to interact with real life objects. And she never quite had the courage to see if that limitation included strap-ons and butt plugs, though she has a sneaking suspicion it probably did, she doubts Arasaka included a butthole exploit in their tech.

However, the two are no longer dependent on Arasaka’s ass related limits. He’s real, now, out of her skull and back in the flesh. His original flesh even, after they found it in the depths of Arasaka’s bullshit amongst the other bodies the corp had gotten their hands on over the years.

It was a whole thing; but he’s here now and they’re fucking again. Because that’s apparently just what they do. Probably because she’s hopelessly… infatuated with him and knows casual sex is probably all she’ll ever get. Because he clearly still loves Rogue and could never want her beyond sex-

V promptly smacks herself in the head, groaning as her thoughts begin to spiral. She twists in her bed, crushing a pillow to her chest. Trying to hype herself up into asking for a chance to peg Johnny turned into wallowing about her stupid fucking feelings. Because every thought about him turns into wallowing about her stupid fucking feelings.

She hears the shower turn off, having nagged Johnny into taking one as soon as they got home. Which means it’s almost time to ask and she wonders why this is making butterflies swim in her stomach, why she’s so nervous? The merc is no stranger to pegging or taking control in the bedroom.

Maybe because she does lean towards the submissive side of things and Johnny leans towards the dominant, the rockerboy having taken charge in most of their bedroom interactions. Maybe because it’s Johnny and the idea that he may not feel comfortable doing this with her, the idea that there’s a part of him he’d give others but not her, makes a pit form in her gut.

She drops the pillow and lightly smacks herself in the head again; for fucks sake she’s asking to peg the man, not asking for his hand in marriage. Not that she would ever ask for that… That would be weird. Her face is bright red at that thought, feeling like a school girl fantasizing about being Mrs. Silverhand someday. Mrs. Linder?

Both of those sound awful, actually.

There’s the padding of footsteps across her apartment as Johnny leaves the bathroom. The merc moving to sit at the edge of the bed as he comes walking closer. Her favorite geriatric rockerboy, condolences to Kerry, is absolutely shameless and as much as she chides him, she certainly doesn’t mind the show.

Johnny is completely naked, save for a towel casually on his shoulders as he ruffles it through his overgrown dark hair. Damn near every inch of skin and chrome on display to the merc. Her mouth dries as she watches a bead of water run down his stomach, past the inked skin of his ribs. V’s eyes then shift to get a look at his ass, her fixation of the night. He’s on the flatter side, to say the least, broad shoulders and narrow trim hips. But it belongs to him and thats all that matters, pancake ass or otherwise.

“You’re tracking water everywhere,” she scolds him, comfortably using her voice around him. Maybe due to left over remnants of his own brain in hers or just because it’s Johnny.

“Eh,  Nibbles will clean it up.”

“What part of  ‘don’t let him drink shower water’ do you not understand?”

“The part where you tell me what to do.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”

“Am I?”

He’s suddenly in her face, hands pressed to the mattress on each side of her hips, as he leans into her space. A smirk on his lips, damp hair falling into his eyes, and forehead nearly knocking into her own. She can feel the heat coming off his body, the droplets of water rolling off his skin and onto hers. And before another word can be said they’re kissing, drawn to each other in a way neither can explain, coming together like this as natural as breathing.

It feels like a tingle of electricity under her skin wherever her touches, every cell in her body begging for his tongue. The pure relief of feeling his tongue push into her mouth, to feel the scratch of his beard on her skin. It feels right, every time, as if this is just how they’re meant to be. Like a part of her soul is finally slotting back into place.

She wraps her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his wet hair as he kisses her, deep and heavy. The taste of cigarette smoke and mint gum still clinging to his tongue, the latter meant to help suppress the cravings for the former. Different from how his kisses tasted as an engram, but still so distinctly him.

V breaks the lip locks when his hands start to push under her shirt, a soft whimper on her lips, as badly as she wants him anyway she can get him, she can’t lose her nerve in asking for what she wants most tonight. His mouth is on her neck in a second, licking and biting at her pulse point, beard scratching the tender skin as she gasps.

“Johnny, I.. fuck,” she whines as he bites at the skin, “can, uh, fuck, can I… peg you?”

His mouth stops moving on her neck and that pit in her gut comes back, terrified she ruined something. Wanting to tell him to forget it, pretend she never asked, as he pulls away from her pulse point and she misses his touch, only a second apart and she’s starved for his affection. But then he pulls away enough for her to see his face, the grin on his lips, and it's a rush of relief.

“That what got you acting like a basket case all day?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Fuckin’ knew something was up; acted like you were a second away from humping my leg all day, then send me off to shower all by myself.”

“I wasn’t that bad.”

“You seriously spent all day thinking about fuckin’ my ass, didn’t you?”

“Not all day.”

“Jesus christ,” he lets out something between a laugh and a breath, she can’t help but giggle too, “well, then, show me what you got, princess.”

And she surges forward, clumsily wrenching  her fingers into his hair as she kisses him, teeth nearly clacking together in her messy excitement. Deep but quick, not wanting to spend much longer in this awkward position, she pulls away with a bite to his lower lip.

“Lay down on the bed, for me?” She asks softly when she breaks away, looking up at him with big eyes and a bat of her eyelashes. And she can see for a moment, the mischievous light in his eyes, the impulse to refuse, to be a brat. But he rolls his eyes and does what she asks, behaving for now.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?” he mimics her words from earlier as plops back with his hair against the pillows and she giggles, scrambling to straddle him. To have him naked beneath her.

And what a sight that makes. Johnny is unfairly gorgeous, something she’s thought for far longer than she’d care to admit. Long dark hair wetting her pillows, deep brown eyes looking up at her with lust, the messy scruff of his beard, the scar over his lip, and the burn scars that trace up the side of his neck.  Beyond the visual, as she settles over him, she can feel his hard cock smearing precum across her skin. Good to know he’s excited.

His hands squeeze her hips, the warmth of flesh and the chill of silver sending sparks up her spine. He squeezes tightly and the hint of a smirk that teases at his lips tells her he’s about to say something stupid.

“Hate to break your heart, V, but, this isn’t exactly what pegging means.”

“I’m not about to just ram a strap-on up your ass dry, Johnny, it’s a process.”

“Oh, I get prep work, damn, didn’t know I was that special.”

“Kiss me before I kill you,” she taunts, leaning over him to capture his lips. She pushes her tongue deep into his mouth, devours that distinct taste of him, getting another fill of it before she forces herself away.

It’s her turn now to latch onto Johnny’s neck, finding a spot to leave a mark not unlike the one he no doubt left her. The taste of his skin beneath her tongue, the heavy sigh of pleasure from his mouth as she sucks, bites and licks. Only when she’s certain, she’s marred his skin, does she pull away with a wet sound. Bruised skin looking back at her. She smiles at her bit of handiwork but can’t admire it for long, wanting to taste him again just as soon as she’s stopped.

V peppers kisses, licks, and bites across his skin. From his shoulder to his jaw, leaving faint little bruises wherever her teeth get involved. He groans and sighs under the touch, just soaking it in, as starved for it as she is. V can feel his cock stiff and leaking against her thigh as she nips his jawline, kisses down and across his throat, to run her tongue along the other side of his neck now. His hands grope and squeeze at her ass as she works him over, feeling the roughness of his scarred skin under her tongue. She gives the same treatment, sucking and biting every inch of flesh she can.

“Fuck,” he curses, rocking his head back further into the pillows, instinctively trying to give her more access.

V shifts her lower body, giving herself room to reach between them and touch him. She wants to make him cum before she even gets the strap in, maybe more than once, overwhelm him with pleasure and get him relaxed before she slides inside fully. The merc wraps her hand around him, feeling the heat and weight of his cock, wet with water and precum. He groans at the touch, a rumble she can feel in his throat as she kisses it.

“Might need an anatomy lesson, sweetheart, that’s not quite my ass,” he taunts, earning him a harsh bite to his neck and a tighter grip on his dick.

“Can you be patient for a fuckin’ minute? I’ll get there when I get there.”

“And will that be some time this year or next? Oh fuck, fuck,” he chokes on his words as she begins stroking him in earnest, using his precum to keep him slick as she works.

The merc has plenty of lube in the little drawer area under her bed, along with all her toys, but for now she wants to stick to the basics. It's just the first round for him and barely a precursor of what's to come. She bites and sucks his neck as she strokes him, first slow and languidly, just feeling every inch of him. Feeling the way he twitches in her hand, the way each stroke brings more precum, how he groans a little louder each time she gets to the head of his cock, flushed red and more sensitive than the rest of him.

Then she starts to get quicker, shorter, almost rougher strokes of her hand, working harder and faster to feel him cum beneath her. His breathing getting quicker, more curses beneath his breath, rumbles of them in his throat. He’s getting close, fingers sinking into her hip tighter and tighter, the other gripping the sheets as she builds his pleasure as high as she can with just her hand.

“Fuck!”

Johnny’s body draws tight, a flush across his skin, as he twitches once more in her hand and cums. White shooting quickly across his stomach and chest, cum sticking to his skin and her’s. It’s nothing compared to how much he’s left inside her before, no floodgates broke open, just enough to make a mess. She shamelessly licks and sucks off what he left on her hand, hearing him groan at the sight, the bitter salty taste of it heavy on her tongue. And she knows it should be gross to her, the taste of it, but she loves it.

Once her hand is licked clean, she moves over him to lave her tongue over his chest, catching the cum that landed over his skin. A rumble of a chuckle in his chest as she works her way down; lapping sweat, water, and cum off of him.

“Swear,  could bust into a cup and you’d down it like water, wouldn’t ya?”

“Fuck off,” she curses against his skin, already having licked the cum off of his rib tattoo, already chasing down drop of it that’s dripped down his stomach.

“Such a little cum whore.” He lazily rubs his hand through her hair, taunting her as she licks his stomach and hips clean of any cum, her face feeling like it’s on fire.

She pulls away from his skin, once she’s convinced she’s gotten most of the cum off his skin and the head of his cock starts to bump her chin.

“Spread,” she demands, trying to maintain some mask of domme-ness as she taps his thigh. Johnny bends his knee, spreading his legs slightly and hands grabbing at the pillow over his head; a painfully beautiful sight to the merc.

“Fuckin’ finally, about time,” he responds, because he’s still an asshole.

“Again, not going in dry, you’re not getting the strap quite yet.”

“Ugh….”

She pinches his thigh and he just grins, finding her annoyance just oh so entertaining. V takes a moment to peel off her shirt, feeling a bit of relief from the fever on her skin, open air hitting her sweaty flesh. And she can feel his eyes on her when she does so, brown eyes staring at her small breasts, following her pierced stiff nipples. As much as he’s bitched about her being a member of the itty bitty titty committee, he seems to always gawk at them when he has a chance.  She likes to think that… means something , but it probably just means he’s a slut.

V considers taking off her panties too, slick and sweat making them stick to her neglected cunt, but that would require far too much maneuvering to make it worth the effort. Especially when tonight isn’t about that. She’s able to balance on her knees to lean over the edge of the bed, rolling out the underneath compartment to get what she needs. And she can feel that stare now hoving on her bent over ass, not that he can even get a decent look at it from where he’s laying. But that won’t stop him from ogling apparently.

“So, when do I get to fuck your ass?” He asks as she’s grabbing lube and a butt plug from her sex toy stash.

“You’ve played with my ass before,” she says, kind of surprised, memories of his fingers and tongue in that specific hole.

“Haven’t fucked it yet, which just seems like a crime, quite frankly.”

“Oh no,” she rolls her eyes, “not a crime, we’ve never done one of those before.”

“Would you let me fuck your ass?”

In a heartbeat, she thinks immediately and is so happy he no longer lives in her skull.

“Hmm, maybe, but it's your ass on the chopping block tonight, I’m ‘fraid.”

“Yours is so much nicer though.”

“Yeah… that’s not saying much, gonna be like fucking a hole in a wooden plank.”

“Or you could just give me a titty fuck, oh wait.”

She grabs the strap-on she intends to use, a big cyan blue one that she’s been waiting entirely too long to try out. And she shakes it in front of him.

“I’m either gonna fuck you or beat you to death with it, I swear to god, Johnny.”

He grins and laughs, she’s laughing too. Unable to help it, their back and forth always bringing a lightness to her chest. It just feels like them, as they should be. Two dumbasses making fun of each other.

V has what she needs except for one other thing, she stretches to reach the night stand and grab her phone, having to lean over Johnny to do so. And she can feel Johnny looking at her funny, brows furrowed for a moment, as he watches her pull up the app she needs.

“Are you checking your fuckin’ email, what is this?”

She laughs, unable to resist a chance to tease;  “Oh yeah, just checking my texts, me and River are supposed to do something after this.”

“Haha, that’s so funny,” he says dryly, a bite to his words, as he suddenly grabs her hair and looks into her eyes, “mention the pig’s name in bed again and I’ll fuck you in front of him.”

His tone is on the harsh side, but his pull in her hair is barely rough enough to feel it. The threat and movement only serving to make her face scarlet and her cunt slicker. Johnny has always had some… jealous, possessive tendencies, especially in the bedroom when she pushes him just a bit. And she knew exactly what she was doing by mentioning River’s name specifically, the former cop always an oddly shaped sore spot for Johnny.

She kisses him, soft and quick, before pulling away. His grip not even hard enough to control her movements.

“It's an app that vibrates the butt plug, Johnny,” she explains, smiling as she quells his worries, though something in her still has to wonder why he has them.

And its faint, but she can see a hint of red come across his cheeks, pink behind the scruff on his cheeks.

“Oh, well, carry on then,” he says, letting go of her hair and running his hand down her back.

“All my attention is on you, promise.”

“Fuckin’ better be,” he grumbles under his breath as he falls back against the pillow, she doesn’t see embarassed Johnny often, his lack of shame truly astounding. But, when she can manage to get him flushed, it's adorable.

“You’re such a gonk.”

“Shouldn’t there be a way to sync it with your neuroware or something, I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“I’m not installing buttplug tech in my brain, Johnny, that’s a malware nightmare waiting to happen.”

“Didn’t have to mention that asshole.”

“Stop pouting, only asshole I’m worried about right now is yours,” she jokes, getting back to where she can comfortable play with him, starting to cover her fingers in a healthy dose of lube.

“Ugh,” he groans, “that was so stupid, its a miracle I’m still hard.”

“Being a slut isn’t a miracle, Johnny.”

“Is the way I do it- fuck,”  he gasps and curses as she slides a lubed up finger inside of him, “you could fuckin’ warn a guy.”

“You said you wanted me to hurry up, you don’t get to bitch about it now.”

He lets out a quiet groan as she works one finger inside of him, feeling the heat of him around the digit. V has small fingers, one of many drawbacks to her petite stature. One finger doesn’t even stretch him, more so just getting lube into him, so everything that comes next has an easier time sliding in. She leaves him empty for just a moment as she coats a second finger in lube and begins to work both digits inside of him.

Tighter with a second finger added, stretching him a bit more as she shifts and scissors them inside of him. He groans a bit at the added pleasure, but his sounds are still soft, her fingers not thick or long enough to give him exactly what he needs. More lube and she adds a third finger, which makes him curses, cock twitching as she does her best to prepare him.

With her other hand she starts to stroke his dick, earning a deep throaty sound, the combined pleasure making him nosier. V works faster, wanting to wring more of those sounds from him, As she works her fingers inside of him quicker, fucking them into him as deeply and fast as she can, a soft squelching noise starts to ring out combining with the wet slide of her hand on his cock.  His hips squirm and writhe, bringing himself down further on her fingers, just to thrust up into her hand.

“Fuck,” he’s reaching up and gripping the pillows again, expression tight as she toys with him, “fuck, fuck, V!”

His cock twitches in her hand she moves to wrap her lips around the head of it, swirling her tongue over his heated skin just as he cums, something between a curse and a growl as he paints the inside of her mouth white. That same salty bitter taste coating her tongue, more of it this time, that she swallows down without shame. She pulls her mouth off of him with a wet pop, her fingers leaving him with another squelching sound.

“Needed it straight from the tap this time?” He tries to sass her, but his voice is a breathy rasp.

“Gon-gonna make you cum one more time before I use the strap, alright?”

Something between a whine and groan leaves his lips, but he spreads his thighs a little wider, pushes his head a bit further back against the pillows. She rolls her eyes, just thankful his stamina is good enough to withstand all the overstimulation. V covers the butt plug in lube, a black silicone one with a flared base, tech inside to make it vibrate. Once it’s covered, slick as it can be, she gently pushes Johnny’s thigh a little big further out and slides it inside, Johnny cussing at the wider stretch of the toy compared to her fingers. There’s not much resistance to the stretch of it inside of him, every fiber of her dying to tease him for being a slut. But she stays nice, instead grabbing her phone with the app open.

Johnny honestly, probably doesn’t need as much prep work as she’s doing, Though, she is mostly doing it because watching him cum his brains out is a fun time. But he clearly is ready for the main attraction of the evening, her strap. So, she won’t drag this one out too long, she decides looking over the vibration settings and hitting the highest.

“Jesus fuck!” He yells out, not expecting the intense vibrations of the plug. His hips grinding and thrusting, squirming from the pleasure of it buzzing against his prostate. The whirr of the toy audible even through his groans and moans.

And she can feel her mouth watering at the sight of him trying not to whimper against the buzz of the toy, hips moving on instinct as it works it’s magic, hard flushed cock twitching with pleasure. V grabs his narrow hips and pins them down against the bed, feeling him squirm under her touch. And she takes his cock back into her mouth, but this time she doesn’t hesitate to swallow him down as deeply as she can, feeling the slide of it on her tongue, the head pressing into her throat.

“God damn it,” he curses and both his hands grab at the back of her head, pressing her down further, “you need more fuckin’ cum?”

She gags a little as he starts fucking her face, no longer able to keep his hips pinned, as he keeps her head in place. V relaxes her throat as best she can, just letting him use it as a fleshlight while the plug vibrates inside of him.  His pace is brutal, trying to match the intensity of the vibration as he fucks her throat.

“Such a fuckin’ whore for my cum, two loads not enough, huh, princess? Needed to feel me cum down your fuckin’ throat too?”

She’s unable to respond, too busy being choked on Johnny’s cock, mouth a drooling mess as he fucks her face. But each word, little comment and taunt makes her clit throb, makes her that much wetter. And the thought of reaching down and fingering herself is so tempting, but Johnny isn’t going to last long. Between her throat around his cock and the toy in his ass, if she bothers to touch herself, she’ll only work herself up more.

Sure enough, just a few more messy thrusts, then his cock is throbbing against her tongue and he’s cumming down her throat just like he promised. That familiar taste coating her mouth as she swallows every last drop, even when she catches herself nearly coughing on it.

He pulls his hands from her hair, still whining as the toy vibrates, V having to take a minute to come up for air and catch her breath. Once the lightheaded feeling passes away she grabs her phone and turns off the vibrating, Johnny’s body relaxing as he gets a break from stimulation, though not for long. She gives him a moment to adjust before softly pulling the plug out of him, earning a sound suspiciously close to a whimper. V puts the plug aside and grabs the strap, Johnny catching his breath, still hard and leaking by some miracle,  as she secures it over her underwear.

A bright vivid blue strap, thick and long. She slathers it in lube, no such thing as too wet, as she empties the rest of the tube over the toy. The blue silicone shining with the slick gel. Johnny watches her as she lubes it up, she can nearly feel the impatience radiating off of him.

“Any position you prefer for this?” She asks, wanting to make sure he’s as comfortable as possible. Johnny responds by rolling over onto his knees, ass up in the air with his face in the pillow.

“Should be easier like this,” he murmurs into the pillow and then chooses to wiggle his ass at her, like the weirdo he is.

“Don’t exactly have much worth shaking, Johnny,” she taunts, giving him a small sharp smack to the ass.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to fuck it so bad.”

She rolls her eyes and prepares to finally peg Johnny. She’s on her knees behind him and would like to line up her toy with his asshole, but… there seems to be a newly discovered logistical issue. She tries to raise herself up higher, but her hips can’t quite align with his ass. She’s well aware that Johnny is over a foot taller than her, but it only becomes a problem at the weirdest of times. She kind of assumed since he can fuck her from behind, she’d have no trouble returning the favor, but… alas.

“Can you get your butt any lower?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No… “

“This is what I get for fuckin’ a hobbit, I swear.”

“Just lower your ass, please.”

Johnny does his best to bring his ass down as low as he can and with a little finagling and the knowledge that she’ll probably have awful leg cramps for it, she’s able to get the head of the strap aligned with his hole.

She grips his hips and brings him back onto it as she slowly slides it inside as deeply as she can. A long low groan leaves Johnny’s throat, something that sounds like the word ‘finally’ With a bit of effort, she’s able to start slowly thrusting into him, watching it slide in and out of him. Hearing each grunt and curse as she fills him, the squelching of the strap sliding inside his slick hole. Slow direct long pushes into him, her thigh muscles already burning from the effort.

V runs her hand down the expanse of his back, the freckled skin of his shoulders, and she wants to kiss it. To kiss his  back and shoulders while she fucks him. And when she does her best to lay further over his back, she can barely kiss his shoulders with entirely too much effort, she must look ridiculous. This is ridiculous, she finds herself giggling, stomach hurting as she laughs.

“Are you- are you laughing?” Johnny asks, voice incredulous and she feels bad to beg him for a chance to do this, but in this position it’s just not working well.

“I’m sorry, I just, I feel like a Chihuahua trying to hump a Doberman, Johnny.” She says through laughter as she pulls the strap-on out of him. And he’s laughing too, chuckling as he rolls back over, staring at her.

And she’s sure she looks ridiculous, red faced and giggling with a blue lubed strap-on around her hips. She buries her face in her hands, unable to stop laughing at how fucking ridiculous it is, she’s too short to peg that way. Then his hands are wrapping around her wrists and he’s pulling them down, back in her space. And there’s a soft smile on his lips, that forms soft wrinkles around his eyes, a gentleness in his gaze. He’s so pretty and she can’t even fuck him right, the world is cruel. Johnny kisses her through her laugher, a soft press of their lips, before he pulls away. He lays back against the pillows, like he was before the not so bright idea of trying doggy style.

“Here,” he spreads his legs, smile still on his lips, “let’s try it like this.”

“Thank you,” she says through a giggle, moving to try this again.

It’s much easier with him laying down on his back, able to raise his hips easily to meet the strap-on. And she can look at his face now, which she definitely considers a plus. She can stay in a comfortable kneeling position as she lines it up perfectly and sinks into him again. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, head shifting back as she fills him again. Comfortably so this time and able to see his cock leaking precum onto his stomach as she fucks him.

Her nails dig into his hips as she begins thrusting into him, listening to the wet sound of it pushing inside of him. She keeps her motions slow and smooth, not wanting to fuck him senseless quite yet, watching for ever sharp intake of air from him. Staring at the flush across his skin, the sheen of sweat across his flesh. The groans, the sighs, and curses he lets out with every thrust of the toy into him.

“Faster, V, fuck, I ain’t gonna break.”

“Know what I’m doing,” she says,  just barely speeds up, wanting to tease him, to drag it out.

“That remains to be seen, fuck, c’mon, harder,” he tries to demand, writing his hips to meet each thrust of the strap, trying to change the pace.

“Nothing wrong with me taking my time, patience won’t kill you,” she teases, getting just a little harsher with the thrusts, just enough to hear the slap of her thighs hitting his, the soft pap of skin hitting skin. And he groans, eyes closed for a minute before opening again, a look in them that she’s seen too many times before.

“Nah, fuck this,” he says, then she’s being pushed back, metal and flesh hand shoving her against the bed as the world shifts around her.

“Hey!” She yells out as she’s suddenly on her back, looking up at Johnny who’s now straddling her hips. But she doesn’t have it in her to be mad, not when he’s naked on top of her, with hair falling into his eyes.

The shift in position made the strap-on slide out of him again, but Johnny wastes no time, bringing his ass down onto it, filling himself with the dildo. And she realizes he’s going to ride it cowgirl… cowboy style. He leans puts his hands back on the bed behind him, for leverage as he begins to do just that, bouncing on the silicone cock, hard and fast.

“Won’t fuck me right, gotta do it my goddamn self.”

“Swear to fuck,” she squeezes his hips, watching the way his cock bounces as he fucks himself on her strap, “next time I’m tying you down and gagging you.”

“Look forward to it,” he says, a wicked grin telling her how powerful her threat really is.

Johnny sets a brutal pace, as he’s one to do, his weight coming down on his hips heavy and powerful with every bounce. He barely pulls himself off of it with every movement, lifting himself just an inch off the slick toy before he’s bringing his weight back down. Its desperate, frenetic movements, just fucking himself on the toy. Each movement brings the slap of flesh clapping together, the squelch of the toy pushing into him, and the soft grind of the strap’s harness into her clit through her underwear. Not enough to get her off, but enough to make her whine.

And she tries to meet his pace, to thrust up into him, but Johnny doesn’t give her a chance, every time his weight comes down on her, it pins her hips in place, leaves her to lay there and let him have his fun. Just to watch as he rides it, as it slides in and out of him, barely out as he’s just desperate to grind the toy into the deepest parts of him. Let her mouth water as she watches his flushed red cock drip with precum and bounce along with his body.

“Fuck, you look so good like this, Johnny,” she tells him, just staring and Johnny groans, grinding himself down onto the dildo.

“Yeah,” his voice is breathy, panting through the words, “like watching me ride your cock?”

“Mmhmm, so fuckin’ beautiful…”

Her words trail off vaguely, squeezing his hips, just staring at him. Sweaty tanned skin, the ink that marks his ribs and arm, the rough flesh of his scars, freckles she could map out with her tongue if he let her. Broad shoulders, muscled bicep on one side and solid chrome on the other. Long dark hair with those deep brown eyes. The thick trail of hair that goes down his stomach. The trim narrow hips grinding him down onto the blue toy, his thick cock that really does deserve all the hype he gives it.

“Christ V,” he curses, voice rough and she can see the flush across his cheeks again, “stop fuckin’ looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” She asks, watching him rub a hand over his face, why is he embarrassed? Does he not expect her to look at him when he’s fucking himself on her silicone dick?

“Like, like, fuck!”

V gasps as his body goes tight, cock twitching as cum splashes across chest and chin, hot on her skin. A stray drop hitting her lip, only there for a moment before she licks it off, Johnny goes slack on top of her. Body relaxed and loose as his orgasms works its way through him, cock throbbing as a few more dribbles of cum drip onto her stomach. After a moment, Johnny curses again, blinking as he comes back to earth. Another moment and he starts to pull himself off of the strap.

“Can’t say that went exactly how I planned, but-eep!”

V squeals as he starts ripping off the strap-on harness, throwing it aside without any care before he’s yanking her underwear off, air hitting her slick cunt. He throws her panties across the apartment without another thought.

“Johnny, what are you do- oh fuck!”

Before she can finish the sentence he’s between her thighs, legs thrown over his shoulder as he buries his tongue inside of her. She grabs onto his hair on instinct as he begins to lick up every drop of slick inside of her, painfully wet after all she’d done to him with no relief for herself. Johnny eats pussy like a man starved, making groans and grunts of pleasure against her core as laps at her insides. Like he could really lick away every drop of slick, even as each swipe of his tongue makes her whine and as she just gets wetter.

Then his mouth is at her swollen clit and she’s seeing stars as focuses in on the most sensitive part of her. Never knowing when he’s going to lick patterns against the bundle of nerves or suck on it, his actions are quick and unpredictable, but everything makes her cry out. Her hips squirm and grind against his face, hands unintentionally pushing her into her center at the same time. Johnny’s arms wrap around hips and pin them to the mattress.

“Fuck, I-I’m close, Johnny, I-”

A harsh suck on her clit, the scratch of his beard against her core, and she’s gone. Toes curling and fingers tight in his hair, a keening moan on her tongue as the world goes blank. Pleasure hitting its peak and overcoming every cell in her body, a mess of her wet coating Johnny’s tongue and chin, that he licks up without hesitation.

After another moment he comes up for air, leaving her boneless and panting as she tries to get her bearings back. She didn’t expect for Johnny to touch her like the, meaning for the night to be completely about the pegging, but she really should have known. V’s sure the rockerboy would take it as personal offense if she didn’t cum at least once during sex with him.

The merc is pulled up to the pillows and against Johnny’s chest, the two settling in as they catch their breath. She’s sure the apartment is a wreck right now, things thrown haphazardly, there’s lube in her bedsheets, but can’t find the energy to truly care. V buries her head into his chest, listening to his heartbeat, smelling the musk of his skin, at peace just laying here against him.

“Can’t sleep with your hearing aids in, you know that, V,” Johnny says, skimming his fingers over the shell of her ears, just barely touching the little devices.

“I can sometimes…” She whines, wanting to fully hear his heartbeat and snoring while she sleeps. .

“And you’ll wake up with your ears rubbed raw.”

She glares up at him, pouting as he takes her hearing aids out for her, putting them on the side table. He looks back down at her, then brings his hands as high as he can so she can see them.

“Good night, princess,” he signs and she can’t be upset anymore, the sight of his admittedly sloppy sign language always making her heart melt. A flush of red crawling up her cheeks as she nuzzles her face into his chest, unable to hear his heartbeat, but still feeling the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. Mururing a good night against his skin as she drifts off.

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #female v #silverv #cp2077

[cajunquandary]

Hands that Heal

Link: (coming soon to Ao3)

Summary: Sometimes all you need is a little push the right direction...

Created for: @negans-lucille-tblr SPN Secret Santa Fic Exchange

Rating: 18+ only

Pairing: Dean x OFC (Jay)

Warnings: Jealous Dean, fluff, smut, smidge of angst, medical IV (briefly), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap the willy)

Wordcount: 3.8k

A/N: Happy Holidays, @jay-and-dean! I was so ecstatic to have received your name and hope that my ramblings make you smile a little.

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It’s a funny thing, the way everyone goes on about the eyes being windows to the soul. Of course, they can be very telling, and if you ever catch yourself getting lost in those of the Winchesters, how could you believe anything else? Or perhaps you are more like Jay. 

Jay has been with the Winchesters for quite some time. She’s been lost in those eyes. And she’s been found. The pure green folds of Dean’s have scooped her up, swaddled her, saved her. So have Sam’s hazel, but not in quite the same way. Not that either brother knows. Only Cas. 

Cas has seen the way her deep brown eyes linger just a little longer than they ought to, can feel the ache in her chest. There are times when Jay meets the angel’s gaze just afterwards but looks away just as quickly. They both know, but they won’t talk about it. And that’s okay. 

But for Jay, she can see beyond the green. Beyond the freckles and blushing pensive lips, the curve of his jaw, the gently rolling hills of his chest and arms. She traces the majestic waves and ripples beneath his warm skin with only her eyes and her heart. They come to rest just past strong wrists and fall like weighted feathers upon Dean’s weathered hands. 

You see, that’s where the soul really reveals itself closest to visible flesh. Each scar and busted knuckle tell a story. The pattern of freckles and tan lines speak of years in the sun. The calluses of his palm and fingertips disclose a rough life, a tough job. They are toned with skill, accurate in all things. They can field strip a gun and put it back together in the blink of an eye, tie complicated knots with dexterity, bait a hook and cast a line without hesitation, and even mold and create custom parts for Baby as they fix her up.

And yet, the skin between those marks is soft, no longer as elastic as it once was, but still full of life and love. The very muscles that hold together the bone and sinew have the capacity to both take life, and give it. Jay has watched them rip apart monsters and gently caress and hold victims within the same minute. 

Such an extreme duality shouldn’t be so neatly wrapped up in one man, but it was. It was both Dean’s light and his curse. Jay shivered as she hesitated just a moment too long on the fantasy of those thick muscled, deadly, yet oh-so-gentle hands, imagining how they might tickle as they might glide over her smooth skin. Of course, Dean notices. 

“There’s no way you’re cold, Jay. It’s a hundred friggin degrees outside!”

Right. Jay had to remind herself that they were on a case. No distractions. “Yeah, I-I’m good. Just got a chill because, ya know, we’re next to human refrigerators.” She swallowed hard and clenched her teeth to help ground herself back to reality. 

It really was hotter than a witch’s tit out there and not much cooler inside the mortuary. Dean continued to read silently from some forms on the coroner’s clipboard before licking his thumb and index finger to turn the page. Heat washed over Jay, spreading like drunken honey from her scalp all the way to her toes. She tried to steady her breathing, remain in persona as a stoney FBI agent, but the hot red of her cheeks was giving her away. 

She tore her gaze away to inspect the body. Not that anything she made mental note of would stick at this point. Dean cleared his throat and pulled the clipboard closer to his face before setting his thumbnail between his teeth the way he always did when he was laser-focused on something. She only caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye, but it was the final bit to break her. 

With a huff, Jay exclaimed a little too loudly, “There’s nothing here for us, Dean. I’ll be in the car.” Her legs carried her much too quickly out the swinging doors and up the stairs. 

“Um, okay?” Dean grumbled to himself before setting the paperwork back in its place and following Jay. “What the hell got into her?” 

Jay was glad to leave Texas. Mid-July heat drained her, along with every plant and tree scorched under the unrelenting and searing white sun. The world around them was bleached and bathed in the almost-eerie too-bright light. Well, everything except what existed in the shadows of the Impala. The sparse countryside rolled away mile by mile as time ticked by with every song on Dean’s favorite cassette. 

The air conditioning just couldn’t keep up, so Dean rolled down the windows. Jay tied up her locks in frustration, leaving a messy excuse for a bun resting on top of her head. The leather seats did nothing to help as she sweat through her shorts until she was nearly sliding off the seat. 

“How much longer until Oklahoma?” She sighed. For the third time that hour.

Dean shot a glare in her direction before settling his attention back on the highway. The heat was getting to him too, and even with sunglasses on, spots were gathering in his vision and impairing him with every piercing flash of the sun off of the windshields of passing cars. “Jay, I swear if you ask me ‘are we there yet’ one more time, I’m going to friggin pull over.”

“Ugh, FINE.” Jay wished to be nearly anywhere but here. Resignation set in and she slumped in the seat and let her bare feet hang out the window, crossing her arms. 

Dean turned the music louder, trying to drown out his own misery rather than her. He began to belt out slightly off-key to “Dazed and Confused.”

Jay cracked a half smile but hid it from Dean. 

He rapped out the solos on the steering wheel, his hands keeping perfect time as they danced upon the taught leather. 

Maybe pulling over wouldn’t be a half-bad idea, Jay thought. 

She closed her eyes, allowing the steady rumble of the engine to echo through her as hot wind whipped through the cab. She cracked them open again just long enough to witness the stretch of tight skin over Dean’s knuckles, the way the washed out wilderness blurred past behind them and accentuated the tan he’d gained from driving. 

The image was burned into her mind. To help pass the time, Jay granted herself permission to linger on it, explore it. Despite the heat outside, a new, different heat grew steadily in her core, stirring somewhere deep between her heart and soul. 

Not too long after, the Impala slowed and turned into a run down gas station--the first one in an hour. As Dean filled up, Jay took the opportunity to find shelter in some air conditioning and hopefully an ice-cold drink. Inside the store was no better. In fact, it was worse. The air was still and thick with humidity from the cooler, which buzzed and whirred as if it were possessed. 

“Sorry, Miss. Cooler is out. Hot drinks only,” a disheveled and sweat-drenched employee slouched over the register. 

“Thanks… got any pie?” Jay decided that if they had to drink hot water, they may as well have some comfort food. 

“Whatever we got is over there.” The clerk motioned with his eyes, no strength to even lift a finger. 

Jay stalked back to the car empty handed and more pissed than ever. If the summer heat was something tangible, she could just strangle it. Kick it, punch it. Anything to fight it. 

Dean finished up just in time, careful not to touch the scorching black paint and chrome on the car. “What, you go pee and come out with nothing? I’m dyin’ here!”

Jay snapped. “NO DRINKS. NO PIE. NOTHING. K?!” 

Dean was taken aback by the outburst. It was then he noticed the sunken look and dark circles under her eyes and the red sheen over her face and neck. She was getting pale and wasn’t sweating anymore.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” His brows knit as he drove slowly through the town, hoping for a decent motel to rest at for a while. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait but a few blocks before The Moonlight Motel came into view. 

Pay by the hour may not be the greatest, but at least it was cheap and would likely be empty this time of day. 

Jay was losing touch and the following events were a blur. The next thing she truly could grasp and remember was lying mostly clothed in a cold shower. Dean sat facing her atop the closed toilet seat, a worried face perched upon clasped hands. Still a bit out of it, Jay relaxed into the cool water as it slowly washed the fever down the drain. The world slipped away, replaced by a gentle, dark nothing.

When Jay stirred, the room was too dim to still be day and shadows were held at bay by only a small lamp on the far side of the dingy room. She couldn’t remember how she got there at first, but as she woke, things gradually came back to her. 

Dean had practically carried her to the room. He’d carefully set her in the bathtub and removed her belt, overshirt and boots. He’d turned on the cold water and at first, she’d protested, but slipped in and out of consciousness. He’d retrieved ice from the machine down the hall and poured it over her as he constantly monitored her vitals and temperature. 

He’d withdrawn her, a soaking wet dead weight, stripped away the sopping clothes while careful not to look where it would make her uncomfortable, and buttoned her up in the softest flannel he had. 

Jay glanced down at her right hand, as it felt stiff and sore. A needle was taped there, no longer hooked to the empty bag of saline, taped down and left in place just in case. Jay wiggled slightly when she realized that her other arm had gone quite numb beneath her and--Dean?

His soft snores disrupted as she shifted, equally mortified and elated to be nestled into the crook of his arm. Dean woke and rubbed his eyes, as if pretending he’d been awake the whole time. His voice was low and gravely from sleep. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He looked down at her, so small in his arms, furious with himself for not taking better care of her. 

“M-good,” Jay choked out, completely entranced by being so close to the hunter. Close enough for their breath to mix and his cologne to shroud her senses. Close enough to see the flecks of golds and blues and dark greens in the folds of his irises. Her breath caught and she shivered. Again. Jay mentally kicked herself for that tell. “Thank you… Sorry I was being a brat.”

“No. No, this is on me. You were sun-sick. I’m sorry. I should’ve--”

Jay put a finger to his parted lips with only the intention to stop Dean from blaming himself (like always,) but the touch sent electric pulses through her fingertips and set fire to every nerve in her body. They were impossibly soft and warm. 

Dean caught her hand tenderly in his before she could pull away and planted a slow kiss on her knuckles. He watched anxiously as her pupils dilated and her breathing became more shallow. Pulling their hands out of the way, Dean leaned forward just slightly and planted a firm, reassuring kiss to her forehead. 

Jay’s mind was a mess. This was more than familial. Were they crossing a line? Or maybe it just meant that Dean was comfortable with her, and concerned. But even as the thoughts swirled, her lips had a mind of their own. As Dean traced his nose down hers until their heads were pressed together, Jay angled upward to meet him. 

When their lips locked, there was no more question. Jay loved Dean, and he knew and he loved her back. It was soft and sweet, with their eyes shut tight, just exploring and tasting and sucking gently. 

The remainder of the trip back to the bunker was spent with Dean humming, a stupid smile plastered on his face, and Jay resting across the front seat, her head in his lap. Dean stroked her soft, brown hair adoringly. The night was much cooler and comfortably dark with only dim, scattered stars to blanket the hunters. 

~

Everything was different after the motel. The kiss. 

Almost six months had gone by and for the most part, they’d been wonderful. Jay spent more time in Dean’s room than her own, and the hunts had been good so far, like old times. 

Until this one. 

Jay, Sam, and Dean were doing a bit of recon at a local bar to dig up some answers, or at the very least, a lead. Jay had dressed to stun, as usual. (After all, men’s lips tended to be a bit more loose around a pretty girl.)

Dean was hovering. Everytime Jay got close to some useful information, Dean would scare off the burly locals with a death glare. 

Until this one. 

This man was built like a tank. He towered even over Sam by a few inches and dwarfed Jay in comparison. Sam eyed her uncomfortably from a few tables over, but he always got like that when someone was bigger than him. Dean didn’t adjust his tactics at all, and when the big guy had enough of Dean dancing around him and bumping his chair with an insincere, “sorry, man,” the guy stood up and puffed out his chest. Dean moved to both protect Jay and get in a prime fighting position, but Jay yanked him away by the collar of his jacket faster than he could complain. 

She didn’t stop until they were completely outside the bar, then shoved him into the soot-covered brick wall. Dean opened his mouth to spout something pigheaded, but stopped himself as he felt the chill of her glare more than the chill of the snow flurries swirling around them. 

“Would you just trust me to do my job? What is your problem?” 

“I do! I just--” Dean waved in a flustered motion, unable to find the words. All he knew was that when she got a little too... comfortable... with anyone, he saw red. 

Still, Jay seemed to understand. She reached up and held his face firmly between her palms, forcing him to maintain eye contact. 

“I’m yours. I know that you worry, what you fear. I’m not going to leave you. Ever. No one can ever take me from you, either, because I’ll haunt your ass and you know it.”

Dean’s bottom lips quivered just barely, and he quickly bit it back. “Don’t you even joke about that,” his voice broke. 

“De- I’m right here, okay?”

 He nodded and leaned into her until his face was buried in her neck. He squeezed his arms around her, never wanting to know what it would feel like to have to let go. 

A muffled “let’s go back to the motel” emanated from somewhere within Jay’s scarf and she nodded in response. 

Dean grasped her hand as they walked the short distance back to the rented room. Jay stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide and pointing over to the edge of the woods. A startled “Dean!” escaped her, and Dean dropped her hand and withdrew his gun, ready for a fight. His plumes of hot breath on the air slowed to nearly nothing as he steadied himself and visually searched the area. 

What had she seen?

Before he could ask, something hard, round and icey struck the back of his shoulder with decent force. He spun on his heels and lowered his weapon to find Jay wide-mouthed and laughing, another snowball forming in her hands. 

“Son of a bitch! You want to play dirty, huh?” Dean howled. He holstered the pistol and raced to close the distance between them. With a squeal and a grunt, the two ended up in a heap in the wet, mushy snow. 

Jay managed to end up on top of him and leaned in for a deep kiss. She could feel the smile on his lips as his tongue graced across hers. When at last they came up for air, Dean was moving his arms and legs haphazardly. 

“A slush-angel?” Jay giggled at the sorry creation. 

“What, my art not good enough for you?” Dean retorted while wearing a shit-eating grin. “And no, actually, it’s a Yeti.” 

The wet chill began to sink into their bones, so they hurried onward. Dean fiddled with the key card but the lock gave him fits. 

“C’mon, Dean! I’m freezing to death!” 

“Yeah, yeah, me too. Hold your horses.”

At last, the door swung open and Jay rushed inside, leaving Dean to close and lock the door behind them. She’d already started stripping off the wet outer layers when Dean approached. With every step bringing him closer, his heartbeat rose and he wrestled out of his own layers. 

Jay moved to lift off her shirt, but Dean covered her hands with his, intertwining their fingers. He stood against her, and in one swift move, wrapped both of her wrists in a single firm grip behind her, and with the other, pressed an open palm against her belly. 

Jay gasped, her knees going weak with what she knew was coming next. Despite the weather, his touch was toasty. Coarse skin slid over her soft flesh, causing a friction that left Jay needing more. Heat flushed her cheeks and pooled deep in her stomach. Dean melted with every shuttered breath of hers as he stroked up and down beneath the fabric of her shirt, making sure to linger over the more sensitive areas as she twitched and bit down on her lip. 

Dean massaged her breasts with skilled fingers for a few moments, but a sensual twist of her nipple sent Jay reeling backwards, supported only by Dean’s other arm. With her head tilted back, Dean took the opportunity to kiss and suck and nip zig-zagged lines over the most delicate parts of her neck and along her collarbone. 

Jay squirmed and panted with lust-blown pupils and a cry just on the tip of her tongue. Dean’s grasp only steadied her against him more until he found himself grinding into her, faint moans already filling the air. The growing bulge in his pants drove Jay mad. She wanted to be covered by him, skin on skin, needed him inside her. 

“D-Dean please, please…” Jay whimpered and attempted to wiggle out of his hold once more to no avail. 

“Please, what, pretty girl? Tell me what you want.” Dean breathed against her ear, just above a whisper. He sucked and nibbled in the hollow behind it.

A shudder wracked Jay, but this time, she didn’t mind the tell. She had him. He was hers. But right then, she needed more and she knew he was holding back. “Unnghh, please… need you, now,” she managed.

“Okay, Baby,” Dean crashed his lips to hers and shifted until Jay was suspended in the air and straddling him as he walked them towards the bed. He dropped her playfully and they scrambled to see who could lose their remaining clothes the fastest.

In a fray of scattered clothing, Dean climbed on top of her, comfortably crushing Jay into the lumpy mattress. He let his full weight rest upon her. 

“Stop it,” she giggled as his scruff tickled her cheek. 

“Why don’t you make me?” Dean grinned between planting kisses everywhere he could reach. 

Before he could react, Jay had him rolled onto the floor. She straddled him and tried to concentrate despite his hard cock resting perfectly between her hot, dripping folds. Her hair created a curtain around their faces, blocking out everything but that moment and the sensations it was riddled with. Dean’s eyes closed and mouth opened like a fish out of water. His breaths were shallow and shaky. Jay fought the urge to lift her hips just so, knowing that if she did, and she came back down upon him, his throbbing dick would line up just perfectly… and they’d end up on the floor for the remainder of their romp. 

She rose to her feet, grasping his hand and pulling him up with her. Dean’s eyes were full of question, longing. His cheeks were flushed and hot to the touch. He was melting at every touch and could do nothing about it but wait for her. 

Jay led him over to the chair and pushed him into it. He nearly tripped on his way down. That stupid smile she loved so much spread across his face again as he dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her onto him. She let out a yelp as the broad head of his large cock spread her entrance, dripping with precum, and buried itself deep inside until her walls stretched almost uncomfortably. The shock of his size was something she’d never get used to. Each time was like the first, the same butterflies swarming in her stomach, the same jolts of pure lust burning through her veins.

Dean gasped and held her close to him, trembling hands roaming her back and squeezing her ass. Jay carded her hands through his hair and pulled just slightly at the nape of his neck as he whined in approval. Those laments made her head swim and her limbs weak. Drunk on Dean, she adjusted her position until he was sunk deep into the spot that was just right, then began to move back and forth, slow and steady. Dean’s breaths stuttered and his head fell back, leaving his neck open for Jay to take into her mouth. 

“Fuck--Baby you feel s-so good,” he stammered between increasing moans and grunts. She could see in his eyes that he was losing control.

Jay cried out as he began to fight her movements with his own, pounding up in all the right spots. She arched her back as the coil wound tighter… higher… tighter… higher... until she shattered in his arms, his name and curses spilling from her gaping mouth. 

He held her through it and chased his own orgasm, sucking a mark onto her chest before he spilled into her. Everyone would know she was his, and only his. Her walls clenched in waves and he pulsed within them, his delicious sounds filling her ears as she came down. 

Jay crashed her lips into his, and he returned with fervor until they were both completely breathless. Wrapped there in Dean’s arms, Jay was home. 

No, nothing was ever the same after that first kiss. And that was okay. It was amazing.

.

.

WAYWARD PEEPS:

@carryonmywaywardcaptain @manawhaat @supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79-blog @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @taste-of-dean @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby @wonder-cole @itsangelpie @thinkinghardhardlythinking

ANGST BABES:

@trexrambling​ @abbessolute @emptywithout

ALL ABOUT THAT DEAN:

@akshi8278 @will-winchester

@waywardbaby* the smut was heavily inspired by The Scene. Tagged as promised lol

Tag List now open!

#spnsecretsantaficexchange #hands that heal #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x ofc #dean x jay #fluff #smut #supernatural

[neongraveyard]

Guess its time to post a random drabble of Female V and Johnny

Possible trigger warning. It doesn’t outright mention suicide but eludes to the possibility. 

1,469 words. Could be V x Johnny if you want. 

"Would it hurt if I jumped?" She glances over at Johnny as the words leave her lips.

  He stares down at the grotesque waters below. The sea lost the blue-green a long time ago. Now it just looked murky and dead, nothing living beneath the soft waves.

  He flicks the digital ashes over the side. They'd land in the water if he were real. "Yeah, it would," He breathes out smoke and watches the rippling waters below. His shades made the water look even worse than it did. Yet, wasn't far off from the real look of the toxic waters.

He watches her quietly. She's leaning against the half wall that surrounded this part of the bridge leading into Westbrook. He can feel the weight on her mind and hear her thoughts turning in her head. Her weighing all of her options. Yet, yet it was almost as if he couldn't really hear them. They shared the same headspace, so of course, he heard them. He felt the weight of every thought as they passed through.

  "V?" He asks after two minutes of static between the two of them. She'd been studying the water below, almost wondering if the fall from this height would kill her. If she'd even want it to.

"Don't fucking tell me you're jumping, especially not after all this," She smiles at the anger in his words. The bitterness mixed with a little bit of fear. The fear that the journey was over and he never kept his word. She'd never get her body back. The fear that he wouldn't get to fix all the shit he fucked up. He wasn't the asshole that everyone knew him to be.

  "I'm tired, Johnny." She rests her hands on the wall and looks over at him. She can feel his glare from under the crimson shades. His flesh hand balled into a fist while the chrome fingers of his other pulled the cigarette away from his mouth. He breathes out the smoke in her direction and looks away from her. She sighs and shakes her head at him. His failure to hide his anger and resentment towards her possible choice and the situation as a whole. Everything was fucked and they both knew it.

"Tired of all the shit that's happened and the shit yet to. I'm tired of being stuck with a temperamental brain parasite and seizures that shred me each time they happen. I don't think you realize how hard it is to run around finding leads and doing jobs to pay off debts. At least you don't act like it." She paces back and forth, not straying far from her original spot. She wasn't angry initially which was probably yet another side effect to sharing a brain. His anger was hers and vice versa.

"No V, no I don't." He tosses the cigarette to the ground and steps towards her. "But I know what it does to you, I feel every damn thing you do." He jabs a finger in her chest. "I know what it takes from you. You've almost given up a million times but you didn't. You pushed past that. So why now huh? Why when we're so fucking close to being done with this shit?" He throws his hands up, gesturing to everything around them. He shakes his head and curses her name under his breath. "I can't believe this shit," The words just above a whisper and he goes back to staring at the water again.

  She sighs and rests against the wall again. She folds her arms on top of the wall and rests her head on them. It was stupid to be angry at each other right now. Not like they'd get anywhere with it.

  He looks over at her and watches her shoulders fall. Her head hangs low again and he takes notice of the shift in her emotions. Never were stable, those. Anger kicked up inside her but the sadness settled in again. The feeling of defeat and being lost replaced the frustration.

  "V, I'm-" He was gonna apologize. Apologize as if that would fix everything. Like it would make her feel ready to go and finish out their journey. But he didn't get the chance to.

"Fucking pointless, this." She rifles through her jacket pocket for her lighter and Evelyn's cig case Judy gave her. She finds both and lights one up to take the edge off. Breathe in something more than whatever the city had to offer.  Make Johnny happy in the process considering he's always nagging her for a smoke. He sits beside her on the wall and watches the cars fly past them. She could get hit by one of them but 's not like she was concerned about it. From how this was going, probably welcome that outcome.

  They sit in silence again. She joins Johnny up on the wall and watches the cars with him. A few people that passed gave her a weird look but she disregarded them. She was smoking with her brain parasite and contemplating the rest of this whole expedition they were on. Not much to see there.

"Ever tell Vik about these feelings o' yours?" He breaks the silence with that question and she'd laugh if she had it in her to. They would've started the journey a lot sooner if he was this concerned from the very beginning. She leaves him in silence for a bit longer. Relishing the moment for what it was. The silence in her head, save for the noise happening around him. The calm water and highway they were sitting on.

  "Vik's my ripper, not my psychologist," She states after some time with a bit of a laugh. No matter how many times Johnny seems concerned for her, which was a lot,  it would never fail to make her smile. The terrorist Rockstar did have a heart. A heart that seemed to only belong to her for the time being.

  "He's your friend too," He points out.

"Yeah, yeah he is." She nods along with her statement and laughs a bit. Though the laugh was somewhat bittersweet. Slowly realizing how many hands have been stretched out for her and how she'd ignored them all. She helped her friends out but refused to accept the help they'd offer her. "But he has other things to worry about. Bigger things than me," Sadness laces her words. Vik's busy dealing with the aftermath of losing another friend. He wouldn't have time for her.

  "He does have time for you, besides promised he'd do everything to help you out, remember? I know you weren't passed out for that bit," He smiles when she rolls her eyes at him for reading her thought. He couldn't help it, he was surrounded by them!

"He did... but I can't just dump all this on him. Emotions aren't his specialty," She exhales the smoke in her lungs and stares at the cars going by.

  "His emotions aren't his specialty," He corrects her. "Plus, he wants to help you. All your friends do. I do,"

Silence yet again as she processes all his words and how true they were.

"You wanna take the wheel for a while?" She suggests after pondering the thought of her living the rest of the day out. Barely made it this far today, going a couple more hours would prove even harder.

  Johnny blinks a few times at her words and looks wildly confused after processing them. "Vik already yelled at us once, want him to do it more?" He laughs and shakes his head when she nods. This will go really well.

  "Since when do you care what he thinks?"

"Since he fucking hates my guts? Besides, he's right. Could fuck this whole thing up more, make shit worse."

"Huh, never thought you'd ever care what anyone thinks about you. But besides that, Johnny 'm tired. I don't wanna exist right now, it fucking sucks. It'd just be for the rest of the day, you can do whatever you want."

The offer was tempting, especially him having free reign. Though he doesn't wanna fuck this up more. Do something that breaks their trust.

  "Go hang with Rogue, Kerry. Play another gig for all I care, just have fun. For me."

"Got permission to go talk to Vik?"

She blinks, honestly shocked that's what he wants to do for the day. Of all the things in the world, he wants to go talk to Vik. "Sure, if that's what you want,"

"You're not gonna tell him about what's going on, and if things go to shit. Rather him not hate my guts."

She rolls her eyes at his words and sighs. "Whatever Johnny, just be easy on us, yeah?"

"I will,"

"Promise?"

"Promise."

#johnny silverhand #johnny x v #Viktor Vector #cyberpunk 2077 #drabble #am anxious to post this but whatever #have whatever this is

[geniusgub]

unauthorized//matthew gray gubler

based on mgg’s new unauthorized documentaries

genre: fluff 

warnings: none!

word count: 3.4k

one last apology for the delay on posting these. fuck migraines!! iykyk. anyways, here it is. im really close to 200 followers and when i get there, ill be doing a preview of my new spencer fic called “north” so be ready to see that v soon! enjoy and don’t forget to give me some feedback!🖤

Getting to visit Matthew while he’s filming is a rare, yet special, occurrence. I always try to make the best of it when I get the change to head up to Vancouver, whether it be for a quick weekend or a whole week. When the final season of the show started, I did what I could to get to Vancouver for as long as I possibly could. I’d grown close to the cast, not to mention my boyfriend of six years. I wanted to make the best of this final season and make as many memories as I could, even if I’m not a member of the cast. They always joke that I’m an honorary member.

When, one night, Matthew mentioned reviving the Unauthorized Documentaries for the final season of Criminal Minds, I thought he meant it as a joke. He mentioned it so nonchalantly that I’d almost laughed. I thought he’d be too busy to worry about filming something on his own. But on his first week filming, during one of our first nightly FaceTimes, he ran a whole slew of ideas by me and I knew he was serious. 

At least once a week, he would run an idea by me and would judge the quality by my quantity of laughter. I didn’t even need to comment or give my input, he’d just rattle off jokes and concepts and then either check them off or cross them out when I react. He did this every week up until this week, when he started filming. 

“Do I look good?” Matthew brings my attention up from my laptop as he tugs on the lapel of his dress jacket, then holds out his hands to reveal his outfit. He’s dressed for the scenes he’s filming today, a scene with

Aubrey, so I’m not entirely sure why he’s so worried about how he’s dressed, but I’m not composing about the open request to check him out. “I’m about to go start filming the documentary with Andy,” 

I drag my eyes up and down his body, my fingers stilling over the keys as I admire his figure. When I reach his eyes again, his eyebrows are raised because he can tell I’m doing more than just evaluating his outfit. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I nod, pushing my laptop aside and reaching my hands out for him. “You look very good, bunny,” 

Matthew chuckles as I successfully grab his hands and tug him closer to me. “No, no,” he doesn’t resist as I twist my fingers in his belt loops, “I gotta go work,”

“I know,” I pout, letting go of him and sitting back in the too-comfy armchair I’m in. I’d give anything to grab him again and drag him into this chair with me. “Go film, I’ll probably be here when you get back,”

“Probably?” He picks up his script and, like the diva he is, checks his hair in the mirror and heads towards his trailer door, peeking back at me. 

“I might follow you, I might stay here and keep doing the work I’ve been procrastinating,” I shrug and gesture back to my discarded laptop, flashing with a blank Google Doc, a doc that has been blank for weeks on end. Being a writer is hard and frustrating and not easy, by any means. What made me think getting a degree in writing would be a good idea? Shaking off my frustrations, I smile cutely at my boyfriend, tilting my head to the side. “Give me a kiss before you leave?”

Matthew nods and stalks back over, leaning over to peck my lips. “Whatever you write,” he whispers, warm breath fanning across my face, “will be absolutely amazing and beautiful and I’ll be honored to read it,”

“Oh, you give me too much credit,” I scoff, watching Matthew roll his eyes.

“And you don’t give yourself enough,” he responds, and then hastily checks his watch. “Okay, I’ve gotta go, but this conversation is not over. I’ll see you later. Love you,”

“Love you too. Go be funny,” I wave goodbye at him as he goes bouncing out of the trailer, closing the door behind him, leaving me to my empty Google Doc. 

///

An hour later, my head is starting to hurt from staring down at a bright screen so I decide to take a break and get something to eat from catering. I haven’t heard anything from Matthew and I’m not sure what he’s up to, so I grab my phone and throw on one of his hoodies that’s a bit too big on me and head out of his trailer. 

As soon as I do, though, I run right into Matthew with a pile of shoes in his hands, making them tumble to the asphalt. He curses and keeps a straight face as he tries to pick them up again. Then he sees an opportunity in me and starts to shove shoes into my hands to help him, but they’re still tumbling out. I resist the urge to laugh because I know this would ruin his bit, and I just let him silently shove Daniel’s shoes into my arms. 

But then he runs off, leaving me with shoes in my arms. Without any direction or guidance from my boyfriend, I turn to Andy, who’s holding the camera, and shrug my shoulders, dropping Daniel’s shoes to the floor before walking off to my original destination- catering. Those two boys can clean up the mess they devised. I’m hungry. 

Matthew finds me just twenty minutes later, taking me by surprise when he wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind, pressing kisses to my cheek. “Thanks for helping me,”

He pulls out the chair beside me and scoots as close as he can to me, our thighs touching. “I mean, I wasn’t really expecting it but it was funny. I was internally laughing,” I let my head fall onto his shoulder, feeling his arm snake around my waist. I peer up at him, feeling my pupils dilating into hearts at the sight of my stunning boyfriend. I’ll never stop being floored by his eyes and his jawline and his dimples and his lips and his smile and how fucking beautiful he is. “I liked that idea from the beginning.”

“I know you did,” he quips, not-so-sneakily swiping a chip from my plate and popping it into his mouth. “Maybe you’ll appear in another episode. Who knows?”

I don’t see Matthew until the end of the day because he’s busy doing his job, as he should be. I spend my day writing in his trailer and filling up my previously empty Google Doc. When the cast has a long break, Matthew comes in to film a scene that I recognize as the ending to the second episode. He’s sitting at his open trailer door, supposedly watching videos of Daniel modeling. He’d only waved at me when he came in, not wanting to bother my work. I wish he would distract me more. Maybe I’d take action on my fantasy of melting into this armchair with him. 

His exaggerated and focused facial expression is enough to make me suppress a giggle, but then I spot a baby girl hat from Shemar on the counter and a light bulb starts floating over my head. 

“Psst,” I hiss, and Matthew looks up at me, his eyebrows raised. I hold up the hat to him, and his eyes light up with a childlike excitement. He holds up his hands and I toss the hat to him, and as soon as he puts it on, I let out the laugh I’ve been holding in. “Perfect, you look perfect, baby,” Matthew winks at me and then gives a thumbs up to Andy, putting on his exaggerated face yet again and staring down at his phone. I tuck my face in my laptop so I don’t laugh again, typing diligently. 

The next day is when I’m, yet again, roped into Matthew’s documentary. I don’t mind though. His ideas are hilarious and they never fail to make me laugh. 

I sit in Matthew’s trailer for an hour without him, staring at a blinking cursor. I don’t write a single word and I know that sitting in the same spot won’t make inspiration suddenly strike. I decide to change my scene up and bring my laptop to catering. I grab a snack and take a seat at an empty table, crossing my legs under me, beginning to mull over combinations of words and debate definitions of words. It’d been relatively quiet in catering for a while, but it all comes to an end when Matthew comes marching up to me.

“Hi, babe,” he says sweetly, a bit too sweetly, pulling out the chair next to me and taking a seat. Like yesterday, I give him a confused look, and when he gives me the same adorable smile that he always does, my heart practically melts. The ways this man makes me fall so easily. I’ll never understand.

“Hi, there,” I respond, and then glance up at Andy holding the camera. “Can I help you?” 

“Could you possibly google something for me?” Matthew says and directs his attention to my laptop. The way he’s not giving me any type of attention or physical affection let’s me know that he really is filming his documentary again, so I play into it again. What do I have to lose? I’m not writing anyway.

“Yeah, sure,” I switch to Chrome and pull up Google. “What is it?”

“Could you search Daniel Henry?” Matthew keeps a straight face and it’s moments like this that remind me how great of an actor he is. Who can keep a straight face while regurgitating an incorrect name?

I turn my head to him, biting my lip to hold back my laugh. “Henry?” 

Matthew nods. “Yeah, I know, it sounds like a girl's name. I thought it was a girls name at first. Daniel,” He repeats it as if that clarifies anything at all. I just narrow my eyes at him again, and when I don’t search the obviously incorrect name that he’s giving me, he sits back in his chair, finally looking at me again with his eyes narrowed. “Do you-“ he lets out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest, “do you think there’s any chance he could be taller than me?”

“Okay, we can stop there,” Andy cuts us off, dropping the camera from focus.

“I think you missed your calling in life, love,” Matthew chuckles, pulling me into his arms, attacking my face with kisses. “I’m sorry to spring that on you, but-“

“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t really getting anywhere anyway. If you need help with anything else, you know I’m around for the rest of the week.”

Surely, he cashed in on that offer. It was accidental. It was my fault, really. I was just trying to get back to Matthew’s trailer the next day after having lunch with Kirsten and Daniel, to which Matthew jokingly called me a traitor. I heard Matthew’s loud voice from all the way down the hallway and I should have turned and left, but I didn’t. 

So, iced coffee in hand, I stroll down the hallway and when I make it to the clearing, I stop in my tracks. Now, you’d think that after being with this man for five years and living with him, nothing would surprise me anymore. But he still has his moments, and this is definitely one of them. He has these wooden boxes and he’s got a roll of packing tape, and he’s taping the boxes to his feet. Maybe this shouldn’t surprise me, because he’s told me about this idea of his, but seeing him actually doing it with my own eyes is a whole different thing. 

It only takes him a moment to notice my presence, and when he does, he waves me over. “Babe, babe, hey babe, babe, babe,” he says quickly, waving his hand quickly, holding the wooden box against his foot. “Come help me,”

Keeping up the same attitude I’ve had in the past, I let out a dramatic sigh and drag myself over to him, sitting down on the floor and putting my coffee on the floor. But the moment I do, Matthew snatches it up and starts drinking it as I grab the dangling packing tape. Gosh, if he actually acted like this, I’d have broken up with him forever ago. 

I wrap the tape around his foot and the box and then around his ankle, making sure to not make it too tight so that I hurt him. He’s still sipping my coffee and staring into the camera like some cocky asshole when I move onto the other foot, and then I eventually run out of tape.

I sit back on my heels and look up at him. “I’m out,” Wow, this position we’re in right now? If Matthew didn’t have wooden boxes strapped to his feet and we weren’t in the middle of the Criminal Minds offices, I’d probably be reaching for his belt. But I can’t let my mind go there or else we’ll be hooking up in a bathroom or his trailer, and that never ends well for anyone.

“Okay,” he mumbles, and I watch in amusement for way too long as he struggles to get up to his feet. I don’t even help him, I just sit back and giggle. “Here, you can have this back,” he holds my coffee out to me, and just as soon as I reach for it, he pulls it back. “Wait,” he takes a long sip, “okay here.” I finally grab my coffee again and then move to lean against the wall, watching him struggle to take the first few steps with boxes taped to his feet. 

He hobbles down the hallway, all the way to BJ and proceeds to ask her to paint the boxes like shoes. And once he gets the shot he wants of this scene, Andy wanders off and he comes wobbling back to me with a cute, dumb smile on his face. “Will you help me get these off?”

I nod, sitting down on the floor again to pull off the tape around his feet. “Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t trip and fall on your face,”

“Me too,” he laughs, sighing with relief when I take the first box off and set it aside. “But hey, this is my last break and then I’m gonna be working late today. I don’t know if it’s worth it to stick around set. I’m not gonna be able to come see you or anything,”

“Maybe I’ll go back to your house. I can make some dinner instead of ordering out,” I pull off the last bit of tape and then swiftly reach up to press it against Matthew’s cheek, watching it hang there limply. 

He gives me a deadpan look as I devolve into giggles, falling over his lap and holding onto his misplaced elbow pads to hold me up. “Ha ha, very funny. I’m laughing so much. That was so funny,” His voice is void of any humor as he holds my shaking body from hitting the carpeted floor. 

“I know, I’m just so funny,” I quip, pulling myself together enough to crane my neck and kiss his cheek. “But I am probably gonna go back to your house. Sounds like a good idea,” 

“Okay, just let me know when you get there,” Matthew pats my thigh and signals me to get up, and once we’re on our feet again, he moves the wooden boxes aside. “I might not respond but-“

“Text you so you know I’m safe. I’ve got it,” I finish for him, fixing the lapel of his jacket. I push my pointer finger against the tip of his nose, making him scrunch it up in the insanely adorable way he does. The sight brings a smile to my face and it makes my heart beat faster. “I’ll see you later, okay? Go be brilliant.”

///

The sound of the front door opening lifts my head, taking my attention away from the glass of wine in my hand and the laptop in front of me, yet again. I glance at the timer on the oven and then jump to my feet, padding towards the foyer.

Matthew is dropping his backpack by the door when I get to him, and pauses halfway through reaching for his jacket. “Hi, love bug,” he murmurs, giving me a weak smile.

I grab Matthew’s jacket for him and slide it off his shoulders. “Hi, bunny,” When I turn to hang the teddy bear jacket on the coat rack, I feel his hands on my waist, drawing me closer to him. He successfully pulls me against his chest, lips leaving a trail against my shoulder. “Long day, huh?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, voice wavering as he tucks his face into my neck, “long, and repetitive, and tiring, and I’m very hungry and I smell food,” 

I turn myself around in Matthew’s arms and face him, placing my hands on his cheeks. “I got pizza dough on my way home and I made homemade pizza. It’s in the oven and it’ll be done in about ten minutes. And I poured you a glass of wine too,”

Matthew’s eyes flutter closed and he presses his forehead against mine. “You’re an angel. You’re a goddamn angel, sent from heaven to bless me with your presence,”

“Oh, stop,” I laugh, patting his cheek gently. “Let’s just get wine drunk and eat pizza and watch movies all night. You don’t have work tomorrow and I’m tired of looking at my damn laptop,”

“You make us sound like two teenage girls,” Matthew unwinds from my embrace and wanders into the kitchen, swiping the full glass of wine from the counter. He takes a sip and then pecks my lips again, and I revel in the sweetness of his lips. 

Matthew sits at the counter, right in front of my laptop, taking another long gulp of his wine. I check on the pizza, just to make sure it’s not burnt, but when Matthew is silent for too long, I look back to make sure he’s okay. Sometimes when he has a hard or long day at work, he tends to shut down and not open up to me, and I don’t want that to happen. But when I turn to check up on him, I find him leaning into my laptop, his eyes darting across the screen. 

I gasp, stepping forward and slamming my laptop shut, ripping it away. “Hey! You know I don’t like it when you read my work before it’s edited and finished,” 

Matthew pouts, hiding his face behind his wine. “Sorry, I just- well, you’ve been talking about it so much and it was right here and I wanted to see how it was going,” I go into the other room and put my laptop into my bag, out of sight and out of mind. When I return to the kitchen, Matthew is pulling the pizza out of the oven just as the timer goes off. “If it means anything, of what I did read, it was really good. I only got through the first two paragraphs, but I really loved it.”

“Well, thanks,” I mumble, going onto my toes to kiss his cheek before grabbing the pizza cutter. “I’m not mad, I just-“

“I get it. You don’t let me read your writing until it’s done and I don’t let you see anything I’ve filmed until it’s done,” 

“Oh, so, I can’t see any of the documentary until it’s done?” 

“Maybe I’ll make an exception for that,” he quips, grabbing the pizza cutter from me and digging it into the hot pizza crust. “I don’t trust you with this thing anymore. Not after you ended up in the hospital last year with Sandy,” he turns to me with a pointed look.

“It was an accident and you know it!”

“Oh, really?” He guffaws, tossing the pizza cutter aside and reaching for my waist. But I dodge him, taking a step back. He accepts this as his challenge, reaching for me again, and when I dodge him one more time with a confident smirk, a playful fire ignites behind his eyes. “Fuck the pizza. I’m coming for you.”

#matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x oc #matthew gubler #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fic #nikos writing #matthew gray gubler one shot

[miaouerie]

whumptober 2020 ------ day 30. wound reveal

@whumptober2020​  Rebelcaptain Hunger Games AU: Cassian is Jyn’s mentor in the 70th Hunger Games. After being crowned victor at fifteen years old, Cassian is all-too-familiar with what it takes to bring a tribute home, and what becoming a victor really means.

content warnings: none

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“And remember, Jyn: one fighter with a sharp stick and nothing to lose…”

“Can take the day,” Jyn finishes reciting faithfully.

Saw looks at her with pride, before lowering his voice. “It is my hope you’ll have more than a sharp stick in the Arena. Your mentor will be whom you rely on to improve your odds; impress him and he can get you what you need to survive. I’ve taught you plenty—but how far you get won’t be based on your fighting skills alone.”

Jyn frowns; he can only be talking about Cassian Andor. “He hasn’t brought back any of his tributes. How can I trust him to help me?”

Saw lowers his voice even further. “You can’t. He’s been in the eyes of the Capitol for too long. But he’s your only hope in the Arena. Therefore, your only hope to get out.”

-

Saw’s words rattle around in her head as Jyn lies in her bunk. The way the train car gently sways on its tracks as it speeds its way towards the Capitol could almost be soothing, except for the fact that they’re hurtling their way to near-certain death.

…no, she can’t think like that. She tells herself it’s only a reflexive fear, borne of the circumstances that she’s been forced into of all the sheer, rotten luck in Panem. If only she hadn’t gotten reaped, she and Saw would have been able to complete their mission, then abscond out of District 5 as planned. She could have been seeing her mother again in a week’s time. If only…

Well, no use in dwelling on it now. She turns onto her side facing the bulkhead, determined to get some shut-eye before the morning brings with it the next day.

And with the next day will come the next time she sees Cassian. What transpired a few hours ago comes to mind unbidden—she had thought herself clever for kissing him to quiet his words (was he really so foolish to not think about the train being bugged?), but after he spotted the Peacekeeper approaching he reacted in kind. Taking her into his arms in a false display of intimacy like that. And it worked; the Peacekeeper quickly left them alone.

But then there was that kiss before they bid each other goodnight. He didn’t have to kiss her then, did he?

Jyn forces herself to stop thinking so she can go to sleep.

-

The morning of their first full day in the Capitol has Jyn waking up to three sharp knocks on her door.

“Jyn Erso. Breakfast is in the dining room.” That Capitol accent can only belong to Davits Draven, their escort. “I’d advise you to eat before you have your meeting with your stylist.”

The stylist. Kay. She had met them and the other stylist for Joule last night when they were prepared for the Opening Ceremony. But she already knew who they were in the way that most people in the districts, from the Games’ mandatory viewing, were familiar with the faces of stylists and mentors and victors and commentators amidst the ever-changing pool of tributes. Kay’s surgical augmentations were distinctive compared to the Capitol trends that ranged between somewhat natural and grotesque; his body was covered with a matte chrome synth skin, save for his face and hands which were kept as—presumably—his own pale skin tone. His eyes shone with a luminescence in the viewing stands that she could see from the chariot as the horses pulled to a stop around the City Circle during last night’s Opening Ceremony.  

Jyn gets out of bed, selects a normal-looking outfit from the closet, and joins the rest of the party in the dining room. Joule is talking to Cassian, probably for the first time since he went catatonic at the reaping. But at the sound of the glass doors sliding open, their attention is turned to her.

“Good morning Jyn,” Cassian says, his tone perfectly placid. “Care for some breakfast?”

She sits there and eats quietly while the conversation flows around her. Compared to the intensity that radiated off of him last night, his conversation with Joule gives off the feeling of being polite yet distant; she vaguely wonders if he wrote off her district partner as she already has.

At the conclusion of their breakfast and after Draven comes to collect Joule first for the meeting with his stylist, Cassian crosses over to her side of the table and sits down next to her. “He’s pleasant enough,” he says about Joule, “but I’m not convinced he has a chance to make it out of the bloodbath if he freezes up like that again.” He gives her a wry look. “I trust that I don’t have to worry about that with you?”

Jyn knows he’s thinking about the way she slammed the cabin door shut on the train and then tried to fight her way through a squadron of Peacekeepers; she recalls the memory with a grin. “Trust goes both ways, right? I’ll show you what I’ve got in the Training Center.”

-

Draven brings the three of them down to the level that houses the enormous gymnasium they’re to train in for the next three days and leaves them there. Joule seems at a loss for what to do but Cassian offers to point out some of the more useful, rudimentary survival skill stations, so Jyn decides to take her own tour around the periphery.

There’s the weapon stations, of course: swords, spears, knife-throwing and the like. Then there’s the skill stations, like knot tying and snares and camouflage. Then she sees there are trainers available for hand-to-hand combat.

Her hands have been itching to come to blows with someone since that Peacekeeper held a gun to her head and Draven informed her, in his gratingly crisp Capitol accent, that there was no escaping the fate decided for her the moment her name was drawn in the reaping. She decided right then and there she was going to change it in her favor.

So she goes to the combat station and easily spars with a Capitol attendant there. It’s just like sparring with Uncle Saw, so with a few words and a jerk of her head she has the other trainers that were supposed to be available for other tributes join in; first, as two against her, and then she takes on all three. The sparring match finally ends when she’s knocked to the ground and a foot is planted firmly on her chest, but the grin the trainer’s giving her doesn’t seem  mean-spirited as they help her back up. It’s only while she takes a moment to fix her bun and catch her breath that she sees what an audience she’s gathered, including attention from the Gamemakers, and that’s when the lunch session is called.

Disappointingly, Cassian is nowhere to be seen when she quickly scans the people who had been watching her. But she does accept the invitation from the Career pack to sit at their table for lunch.

-

Jyn doesn’t see Cassian again until that evening after Draven comes to collect them back up to their floor in the Tower. He’s sitting in the dining room with Kay, in different clothes than she saw him in that morning. Not that she noticed.

“I heard you impressed quite a few people in training today,” Cassian says as they eat their dinner. “How was she, Joule?”

Joule has gone quiet again. He fleetingly makes eye contact between her and Cassian before he nods his head, once.

Jyn decides to save them from the awkward pause that’ll follow. “If you stuck around, perhaps you would’ve seen it.”

A look of surprise crosses his face before Cassian lets out a short laugh. “I would’ve loved to see you sweep three trainers, but I’ll have to wait and see you in the Games. It’s up to you if you want to team up with the Careers or not but you’ve certainly got their attention, both as a potential ally and an enemy; take care to remember that. I want the both of you to check out all the weapons stations to get an idea of what will be available in the Arena but make sure you spend enough time learning survival skills. And Joule…”

The stricken sixteen-year-old boy looks up.

Cassian softens his tone. “I’m doing my best to secure sponsors for both of you. It’ll pay off in the Arena but I need you to survive for that to happen, so make the best of the next two training days and then we’ll go over final interview strategy with Draven. Alright?”

Surely he must know that Joule doesn’t stand a chance, Jyn thinks. But there’s something in the set of his shoulders, giving her the impression that he’s giving himself a pep talk as much as he is to them.

-

The evening following their private sessions with the Gamemakers is when the tributes’ evaluation scores are released. For the gamblers the scores dictated the odds to bet on in macabre betting pools; for the tributes, each score was a sign of who’s a threat and who can be ignored or—for the Careers—who will be easy pickings. When Jyn’s picture is shown on the screen followed by a 11, the others congratulate her and she smiles her thanks as she thinks about Saw. Is he watching her on national broadcast? He has to be, if he’s still in District 5. Would he feel proud of her so far?

But then she has an upsetting thought: what if he’s already left the district? What if he was able to complete the mission without her and he’s already gone off to the rendezvous? What if he’s already written her off as good as dead?  

She can’t afford to think about that. After dinner she goes to the roof, wanting to get some air and privacy without locking herself up in her room. This will be the only time she’ll let herself cry, and then it’s game on. Tomorrow is the last day before the Games begin, and she’ll be spending the entirety of it with Draven and Cassian.

She finds a bench to sit down on, draws her knees up to her chest and hugs her face to her thighs. It takes a moment for the tears to come, as unused to crying as she is, but she lets out the sobs and sniffles as much as she’s able to without letting herself dwelling too much on her doubts.

When someone sits down next to her she somehow already knows it’s Cassian. He lightly touches her shoulder as if to ask permission, and when she finally peeks at him from the shelter of her arms he scoots a little closer and carefully wraps a comforting arm around her back.

They stay like that for a while until Jyn’s sure the tears have dried up. Then she asks, “Why’d you follow me up here?”

“I’m your mentor. You’re my tribute,” he says with amusement, as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “But… I wanted make sure you’re alright. You’ve held up strong so far, Jyn. I know you’re committed to winning this thing.”

“I am, it’s just…” Jyn bites her lip. “I can’t help being nervous.”

“Nobody can.”

“I keep thinking about the worst.”

“…Do you want help getting your mind off of it?”

Jyn can’t help how her lips quirk up at that. “Why, are you offering?”

Cassian doesn’t hesitate. “Whatever you need. I said it on the first night; I want to help you in any way possible.”

She knows there’s suggestive intent in his words. But the way that he says it expresses a pure, earnest wish to help.

So, she doesn’t feel bad when she leans in to kiss him.

-

She can’t help but think about that last kiss and the make-out session that followed each time a silver parachute comes to her in the Arena. She’s received ten so far; in the past Games Jyn’s watched, it’s the Careers who receive the most gifts from sponsors eager to help their favored tributes win. While there were some morally repugnant people in the districts who were betting on the same tributes, ultimately only those in the Capitol could impact the odds; nobody in the districts had that much spare money to frittle away gambling on the deaths of children.

As the Games continued on, the price of sending gifts and aid increased. Even in the Capitol there was a hierarchy to sponsorship, with only the wealthiest sponsors holding sway in the endgame. The Games commentators often interviewed those uber philanthropists on the public broadcast of the Games and so Jyn even knew some of their names: Laertes Crake, Cygnus Vondel, Trimalchio Plena. Having made it this far, she wonders if any of the boons she’s received were sponsored by any of them.

It’s nighttime in the Arena. Jyn rests in the shadows of a ruined entryway, taking care to remain concealed. An unnaturally full moon illuminates the ruins of the game field; the Gamemakers made it so that each night alternated between bright moonlight and the darkness of a new moon. With each night, instead of resting, the tributes found themselves playing a deadly game of moving shadows and evasion and hunts in the dark.

Jyn wouldn’t have gotten this far in the Games without Cassian’s help; he had sent her heat vision goggles early on. The gift enabled her to evade the other tributes until more death cannons were fired, and when it came time to go on the offensive she had a frightening advantage.

But that boy from the Career pack must have gotten his hands on a pair too, because how else could he have known she was going to ambush them? He’d cut her with his blade, poisoning her with a paralytic, and she had genuinely believed she was going to die that very night. But true to her mentor’s word, the sight of a silver parachute some hours into the darkness of a new moon cut through her panic; inside was a sweet syrup that faded away the worsening stiffness in her body and left her feeling rejuvenated. She was able to get some good, actual rest for once that night.

This night hopefully she will, too. Tomorrow will be the day she has to attack the alliance stronghold, otherwise the Gamemakers might decide to set muttations on them or create some other disaster to force them into action. As she starts to doze she thinks about him. Cassian.

Going into the Games she knew she had an advantage not even the Career tributes could fathom, by virtue of being secretly trained in insurgent and resistance tactics by her uncle. But she had also known that what Saw said in their last words to each other was right: she wouldn’t make it far without help from her mentor. She would make it past the bloodbath and survive maybe a few days, but when the real challenges began she’d get killed by something or other, and there’d go any chance of her making it back to District 5 to complete the mission and get away with Saw.

While Jyn knew she must have earned some sponsors with her score from the Gamemakers’ evaluations, Cassian was ultimately the one in charge of handling them and dispensing gifts to her in the Arena. He might even have marshalled for her cause when she was in dire straits, such as when she got poisoned by that blade. Back in the Capitol he must be doing a lot for her and she can’t even begin to grasp what all of that could possibly entail; she owed him more than she could put words to.

And better still yet, after each night and day of fighting to stay alive, it felt nice and reassuring to be cared for. To know that somewhere beyond the Arena there was somebody from back home who was doing everything they could to help you. Because they believed in you. If she died in the ensuing struggle tomorrow she could at least die knowing that.

But if… when she wins, it wouldn’t be a lie to say she’s looking forward to seeing him again. To thank him. To let him know he sustained her both physically and emotionally throughout the Games. That just thinking of their last kiss on the rooftop did something to help to temper her fears, soothe her nerves after the stress of each day, and feel more ready to face the world about to kill her.

She thinks about these things, tucks them into the warm recesses of her heart. She might be facing certain death tomorrow but she won’t let his help be in vain.

And then disaster strikes with the earthquake.

-

Time is moving too erratically for Jyn to keep up.

It had seemed immeasurably long when the earth and the Arena shook beneath her feet, sifting the crumbling ruins to dust and debris on top and around her. It was a miracle that she was still alive, that the collapse of ruins she was by had pinned her leg to the ground beneath two walls that fell to support each other. Her heart beat in absolute terror, loudly and wildly out of her chest, as she waited for the dust to settle and for any possible aftershocks to finally strike her dead.

But time sped up once more once she had freed herself and made it to the general location that the alliance hideout formerly was. One moment she was emerging from her almost-tomb and in the next moment she’s leaning against the remains of a doorway to catch her breath, hardly knowing how many tributes she could take on or how many even survived.

When that dust-covered hand grabbed her ankle she had fallen in slow motion; after the eternity of one long second she was on her back, coughing as the wind was knocked out of her. Then it took several minutes to dig out her last foe—slitting her throat had only taken a second—and longer minutes still for her to bleed out and die.

Then a hovercraft whisks her away from the Arena faster than she could blink. But when it touches down and she disembarks in a stumble, the first person she sees is Cassian.

He looked as beautiful as anyone Jyn had ever known; time slows down in the beat of two seconds but she doesn’t even make it into his arms before she feels a prick and her vision suddenly tunnels out. But she still saw him, and when she sees him still in the strange, continual twilight the sedatives keep her under she’s comforted.

-

He’s there when she wakes up.

It takes a while for the disorientation to wear off, but when it does she realizes that the warmth in her left hand is his hand holding hers, gently. Her vision’s still blurry but she doesn’t need to wait for it to clear to know that it’s Cassian sitting next to her, just like she knew it was him that night on the roof. Aside from his genuine smile he looks so flawlessly styled—manufactured—as all things were in the Capitol. She had liked the scruff on his jawline and the stubble heading down his throat from when they had boarded the train, but after they arrived  Kay had personally made sure Cassian’s facial hair was meticulously groomed. Not a hair where it needn’t be.

She wonders how long it will take to grow back once they’re back in District 5. Back home in District 5…

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“How long have I been out for?”

“Five days. The poison that Career used to paralyze you came from a muttation; they had to detoxify your blood and run a lot of tests to make sure that it was all gone. Now, how are you feeling?”

Jyn tries to answer, but the way Cassian is looking at her makes her feel a little floaty, a little warm; like maybe the sedatives haven’t fully worn off yet. But she does manage to say, “I’m feeling okay. Thank you. Really. For taking care of me in there.”

Cassian’s gaze softens to something less intense, but still profound. He looked at her the same way after their make-out session on the rooftop, so she isn’t surprised when he leans in to kiss her.

He has to prop one arm on the other side of the bed to steady himself as their lips meet. It’s soft, chaste; they meet again, and again, and then he leans in close to her ear.

“Do you remember our first kiss on the train?”

Of course she does. “I do; why?”

“Can you pretend like that for me again? Once we’re out of here?”

It’s said like a flirt, but his words snap Jyn back to full awareness of their situation: she has just won the 70th Hunger Games. She had been resting and unconscious for the past few days but once she’s discharged Kay and the prep team are going to prepare her for the Closing Ceremony. To be paraded in front of the Capitol on Panem’s national broadcast as the newest victor, with her stylist, prep team, escort, and mentor. And then she will be crowned by President Snow.

Her mind flits over all of their conversations. Are they in trouble? They had talked about treasonous things, but that was under the sound of a thousand tinkling wind chimes; she’s sure that Cassian wouldn’t have brought her there for a private talk to be eavesdropped on.

Or by ‘pretend’, does he mean how they faked a passionate moment to deflect suspicion?

That must be it; she can read in his face the plea for her to understand. With him this close to her, she notices there’s a tension to his body that belies the playfulness of his words.

Jyn nods before reaching to pull him closer to her and kiss him again. For now she wants to ease his worry; Cassian will tell her in due time, and then they can face it together. After the last two weeks Jyn is confident they can.

#whumptober2020 #no.30 #wound reveal #rogue one #the hunger games #fic #sacchi writes #cassian andor #jyn erso #rebelcaptain #we finally got here lads #no warnings except if you've been keeping up with this story expect a boatload of dramatic irony angst #word count: 3.6k

[poetatertxt]

32 + sangcheng!

32. “Keep your eyes on me.” 

Jiang Cheng has a secret.

It isn’t a very cool secret. He doesn’t bite his nails or lose sleep over it; he doesn’t lock it away in a box. It’s the kind of secret held in plain sight—a secret of nonadmission, made in the simple absence of telling.

Jiang Cheng has a secret and it is this: he can sing.

The Jiang’s aren’t the most artistically-inclined family on the block. Wei Ying’s paintings look like splattered tea; A-Jie’s dancing is just satisfactory. Jiang Cheng can’t bake to save his life. 

But there’s one thing they all share: the voice. A familial art passed from elder to younger, cultivated in lullabies, poetry, and spoken tales, until each carried a separate piece of a full choir. Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan bookend their quintet, while the three Jiang children fill the middle: Jiang Yanli in mezzo soprano, Wei Wuxian in tenor, and Jiang Cheng in baritone.

Jiang Cheng isn’t sure if he’s good. He’ s not showy like Wei Wuxian, who always gets the leads in school musicals, or carefree like A-Jie, who sings wherever she goes. Jiang Cheng’s music is a skill he’s never bothered to share. There are few reasons to sing beyond family lessons. So he doesn’t.

Until Nie Huaisang.

“There’s a new karaoke place,” he says over lunch one day. “Over next to the bowling alley. Do you want to go?”

Jiang Cheng shrugs. “It’s up to you.” He pauses, glancing. “Are you going to finish those?”

Nie Huaisang sighs and shoves the tray across the table.

Now Nie Huaisang—he’s artistic. In fact, Jiang Cheng is positive there isn’t a single unimaginative bone in Nie Huaisang’s body. He breathes art from the way he moves—elegant and graceful, a dancer’s body—to the way he laughs—musical and bright, like a glass struck gently. 

The very sight of him makes Jiang Cheng want to simultaneously hide and bask in his presence. It’s maddening.

One wouldn’t think them to be friends. At a glance, one certainly wouldn’t think them to be boyfriends. Where Nie Huaisang is crafty and sweet, Jiang Cheng is blunt and sour. He doesn’t play word games or listen to gossip. He just is.

Jiang Cheng, the expert at being an expert of nothing.

But he loves Nie Huaisang. Really, he does—a terrifying kind of love in its greatness and newness, like discovering the universe’s vast landscape. He loves the way Nie Huaisang wrinkles his nose in thought, or the way he secretly snorts when he laughs too hard. He loves everything about him.

Which is why, when Nie Huaisang pushes to go to karaoke, he agrees.

Jiang Cheng does his best not to quail under Nie Mingjue’s heavy gaze as he picks up Nie Huaisang from his house. They may be about to have their five month anniversary, but the elder Nie brother terrifies him no less than when he first discovered Jiang Cheng leaving a love letter in the mailbox. 

An unfortunate memory, that one.

“You look good,” he tells Nie Huaisang. He’s dressed for the occasion in green pants and a cream sweater big enough to hang over his palms. Jiang Cheng wants to squeeze him. “Cute.”

Nie Huaisang flushes gently. He’s a perfect match for the sunset like this: pink-tinged, soft and pale. Jiang Cheng aches to kiss him, so he does. And then again. And again.

“Stop,” Nie Huaisang mumbles against his lips. He’s laughing already, bright and sweet. “Karaoke, remember? We have to make it there first.”

Jiang Cheng sighs, but acquiesces. “I didn’t know you were big on singing,” he says. “I thought you preferred oil paints. And ballet. And cake decorating.”

“I do.” Nie Huaisang jabs at a crosswalk button. “But I also like to sing.” He slides a sideways glance. “What about you?”

What about him? Jiang Cheng looks back, steadfast. “What?”

“What do you prefer?”

A loaded question. Jiang Cheng is getting better at answering those. 

“I like,” he decides, following Nie Huaisang’s lead across the street, “to watch others perform.”

“But you don’t perform yourself.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “Why do you think?” He gestures at himself with his free hand, ignoring the sudden bitterness in his throat. “Who would want to see this?”

Nie Huaisang gazes back at him. “I could think of a few,” he murmurs softly. “But only if you want to.”

An open invitation—a way out. But will Jiang Cheng take it? Will he hide this secret away for another that may never come?

“We’ll see,” he tells him. “We’ll see.”

The karaoke place is shiny and bright. Gaggles of girls cluster around the front sign, their laughter echoing into the establishment. There are neon road signs hanging and black and white tiles; there’s a food bar, formica and chrome, with a glowing sign above. Jiang Cheng’s never been into a retro joint before, but he’d like to think this place exactly fits the bill. It’s visually loud.

“Wow,” Nie Huaisang breathes. “We should take Wei Ying and Lan Zhan here next time.”

The idea of going anywhere where Wei Ying can show off gives Jiang Cheng a premature migraine. “Or not,” he mutters, and steps up to the counter.

The place is pay-by-the-hour. Jiang Cheng pays for two (“my treat,” he tells Nie Huaisang, “since you paid last time,”) and a whole order of fried chicken to take in with them. 

“Room Six,” the attendant girl says. She smiles, passing the key. “Enjoy!”

The room is small. Cozy. There’s a squeaky plastic booth, a table for their food, and a giant TV with eight microphones that can be turned on and off at will. 

Jiang Cheng gulps.

They start off slow. Nie Huaisang turns on some slow ballads to croon while Jiang Cheng digs into the fried chicken. It’s pleasant like this: gentle piano keys, Nie Huaisang’s sweet tenor, the disco lamp’s slow spin at the center of the room. 

And then Nie Huaisang has an idea.

“Do they have pop music in here?” He scrolls with the remote. “Jiang Cheng, get a microphone. I want to sing a duet.”

“Huh?” He squints up from his chicken. “But..”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes go big, his bottom lip jutting out. “You.. don’t want to sing with me?”

Jiang Cheng hesitates. Sets down his chicken. Stands.

“Fine,” he mutters, shuffling forward to take the proffered mic. Nie Huaisang beams. “I’ll do it.”

He doesn’t look when Nie Huaisang picks a song. There’s a strange bubbling rising in his stomach; his palms, tingling, begin to sweat. 

It’s not a big deal. Really. It’s just..

The lights dim. The disco lamp begins to spin steadily again—faster this time, with bright spots of lemon and rose. Heady bass thrums between them into the room.

Nie Huaisang turns, smile playing at his lips.

Keep your eyes on me.. 

It’s one of Nie Huaisang’s favorites. Jiang Cheng isn’t one for indie pop himself, but he’s heard it enough to know the lyrics. He watches Nie Huaisang sing for a moment, voice wrapping like a caress in the dark, and finally—pushing past his nerves—sucks in a breath to join.

You make me focus

When you love someone the rest just falls away..

Nie Huaisang’s eyes widen. His lips part, eyelashes fluttering, but he rallies surprisingly quick. Before Jiang Cheng can stop—does he really sound that bad?—Nie Huaisang joins in again, layering over his baritone in dulcet tones.

It all just falls away..

Jiang Cheng’s heart thrums in his chest. It’s.. strange. Letting go feels like stepping forward off of a railing or letting go of a tire swing: a freefall, weightless and exhilarating, that makes his bones sing with an unspoken voice. He can’t stop looking at Nie Huaisang, who can’t stop looking at him, and they sound so good together— 

More, his heart whispers. I want to sing with you more.

When the song finally comes to an end, Nie Huaisang is close enough to kiss. So he does.

Nie Huaisang sighs against his lips. “You should have told me.”

Jiang Cheng’s blood pumps through his veins. “What?” he breathes.

“You..” Nie Huaisang’s blushing again, golden eyes bright like faraway stars. “Jiang Cheng, you sing beautifully.”

And it shouldn’t mean much. He’s no performer—not like Wei Wuxian, flashy and bright, or A-Jie, solemn and open. He’s just Jiang Cheng.

But the way Nie Huaisang glows through the darkness, excitement all over his beautiful face, makes Jiang Cheng want to sing for him again. And again. And again, until all the notes in the world have been given new life through Nie Huaisang’s ears.

So he does. He chooses another song—a solo, one of Nie Huaisang’s favorites again—and cradles his head close, rasping into the mic, until they’re kissing instead of singing and the backtrack trails away, leaving them lost in the darkness together. 

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #sangcheng #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #YES IT'S AN ALLIE X SONG AGAIN.. I DO WHAT I WANT #Anonymous

[dearcat1]

Boss’ Responsibilities

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn

Relationship: Sawada Tsunayoshi & Vongola Tenth Generation, Sawada Tsunayoshi & Xanxus

.

To be honest, Tsuna’s sense of personal boundaries died a painful but slow death at the hands of Reborn, who has yet to stop randomly showing up to sleep in his bedroom, and the rest of Tsuna’s guardians. All of them seem to believe that whatever belongs to Tsuna, including Tsuna himself, is theirs too by default.

Dino has the same problem.

So when Timoteo puts Tsuna under Xanxus’ command for a year (”to strengthen bonds, my boy”), Tsuna takes the same attitude with him to the Varia castle. Which means that one day when he’s cold as hell and discovers all of his hoodies stolen, he sees nothing wrong in going right ahead and stealing one of Xanxus’ in turn. Xanxus is his boss right now, isn’t he? Tsuna is entitled to this.

It’s way too big on him but it’s also warm and nice and smells likes Tsuna’s temporary boss. Tsuna loves it, he thinks he might understand now why his guardians are so set on stealing his things. By this point, Tsuna has already been under Xanxus’ command for about three months and, as a result, has learned to associate this smell with safety and warmth and grumpy looking-after.

He falls asleep with his nose buried inside the fabric of his stolen hoodie under his mountain of equally stolen blankets. It’s nice, he decides, when he wakes up, all warm and refreshed and somehow relaxed even as the Varia dissolves in chaos around him. Not that it’s very different of the chaos his own house had been turning into but it’s still mostly startling to wake up to screams and death threats. 

Not this time, though. This is Tsuna’s free day and Tsuna plans on enjoying it fully, so he burrows deeper into his bed, most of his face hidden under the hood, and tries his hardest to go back to sleep. 

Waking up hours later, dangling from Xanxus’ grip with a red-eyed glare aimed his way, would be scarier if he wasn’t so used to it by this point. Xanxus takes in the hoodie, Tsuna’s entirely unrepentant look and the mess of blankets on the bed and then snorts. “Wake up, baby-trash. Training.”

Tsuna doesn’t bother complaining, he’s learned by now that Xanxus’ idea of a free day is sleeping in a couple of hours more before work. He does, however, carefully hide his stolen hoodie so nobody steals it from him. He also leaves a sticky note with a warning because sometimes those work better. 

Somehow, it becomes a habit after that. It’s like having stolen the first one opened the dam, now Tsuna feels absolutely no shame in doing so time and again. Even when he doesn’t really need to because he somehow has far more hoodies, blankets and pillows than he remembers ever buying. 

He has never had blankets and hoodies coming in faster than his guardians can steal them, it leaves Tsuna with a strange thrill and a sort of appreciation for Xanxus’ budget. He vaguely wonders under what category this expense is under. 

Luckily for everybody (Tsuna has a temper even if he refuses to lose it at every little thing), nobody steals from Tsuna’s somewhat rotating stash of stolen Xanxus’ hoodies. He just… likes the smell, ok? Sue him. And he knows the pain of being left with no hoodies at all, so he just returns some as he steals others. It’s a working system. 

Xanxus keeps sending him looks but Tsuna refuses to acknowledge them. Reborn said that a boss has to take care of the needs of his subordinates and Tsuna needs these hoodies, ok? They’re good for his stress levels and overall comfort. Say anything you want about Xanxus, he takes care of his people and right now Tsuna is one of his.

So, hoodies.

The day Chrome simply shows up in his room is a day like any other. Tsuna is just back from a mission he had with Lussuria, to whom he had gracefully lent one of his stolen hoodies because the usually enthusiastic man seemed to need the comfort. 

Chrome herself looks ready to burst into tears, so Tsuna nods to himself and changes gears. He can’t be subordinate-Tsuna right now, he needs to be boss-Tsuna. He takes a good look around and decides that he needs more space than this. With Chrome here, it’s just a matter of time before Mukuro shows up.

With both guardians here and Takeshi already slanted to show up at some point during the day, the rest of them will sooner or later be attracted back to them. Whatever boss radar they have going is crazy accurate. Tsuna has stopped questioning it a long time ago. 

Having decided that, Tsuna takes Chrome by the hand and guides her to the living room. There will be enough space there. All of the Varia are already in the room, watching some sort of show but Tsuna ignores them other than noting that they should stay away from blocking the TV. 

He builds a bastard child of a pillow-fort mixed in with a bed, pulls Chrome into it and pulls his worn hoodie over his shoulders to offer to her. She takes it and sniffles as Tsuna rearranges the blankets around them both, spotting Xanxus’ uniform jacket on the couch, he steals it for himself. Tsuna thinks he might have heard a whispered “what” but it was too low to really tell. 

Tsuna is in the middle of murmuring comfort to her, ignoring the weight of Mukuro on his back, by the time Takeshi finally arrives.

“Heey Tsuna! Squalo!” As cheerful as ever, Takeshi strides into the room, “oh? are we puppy piling?” Without waiting for an answer, he leaves and comes back with an armful of pillows. 

The brand new pillows that Tsuna kind of adores. Tsuna groans, “I liked those, too.”

Takeshi ignores him, of course, flops on the bed by Tsuna’s right side and drops an arm over the entire pile of them. At some point, Tsuna falls asleep, warm under all the bodies and with Chrome’s soft breath warming his neck. He wakes up hours later by some sort of Reborn-instilled paranoia to find the Varia looking at them and a pleased-with-himself Reborn.

It’s better not to question it.

Little by little, his guardians start waking up too. The first ones to leave are Chrome and Mukuro, who are probably off to create chaos and mayhem in the name of revenge. Tsuna can’t be bothered to care as long as it doesn’t come back to bite any of them in the ass.

Gokudera is next, surprisingly, and he drags Ryohei with him. Tsuna doesn’t lift a finger until Lambo reaches for Xanxus’ stolen coat. Most of the pillows and blankets are gone already. Chrome took Tsuna's hoodie with her.

Tsuna bares his teeth then and snatches the coat back.

“Big brother Tsuna!” The brat has the gall to complain but Tsuna is not moved.

“My boss, not yours.”

Thankfully, Lambo doesn’t push it and Tsuna busies himself with cleaning up the mess left in the living room, carefully working around Takeshi’s still sleeping form. 

“What.” Xanxus repeats louder once all the awake brats are gone from the living room, Tsunayoshi still holding on to Xanxus’ coat.

“I,” Reborn informs them smugly, “am running a social experiment. It seems to be working.”

“What the fuck.”

#fanfiction #khr fanfic #sawada tsunayoshi #humor #xanxus #vongola tenth generation #varia khr #Reborn: messing with people for shits and giggles

[one-boring-person]

You Died!

Alaric Saltzman x Reader

Context: Set towards the end of episode 20 of season 3, just after Alaric has completed his transformation. The reader is Ric's best friend and is distraught after finding out he will ultimately die, not yet knowing Esther has made him complete the transition.

Warnings: Blood, some death, "lethal" biting

A/N: This is my first time using Tumblr as a writing platform, so forgive me if the format is a bit off.

Exhilaration courses through me at the sensation of the wind rushing around me, the cold air blocked out by my riding leathers, thankfully, my helmet preventing my eyes from tearing up, keeping my vision clear enough for me to navigate the dark, twisting road with ease. Beneath me, my black and chrome roadster growls loudly, the vehicle responding to my every move with a sensitivity it’s always had, the engines revving as I push the bike into a faster pace, knowing no one else will hear me out here. Normally, I would never consider going out at this time, especially not on the motorbike, and definitely not at this ungodly speed, but after today’s events, I feel as if nothing else will clear my head sufficiently.

Tightening my grip on the handlebars, I try to ignore the grief gnawing away at my heart, planning to deal with it tomorrow in whatever way I feel fit, whether that be drinking ridiculous volumes of whiskey or beating up some poor punching bag somewhere, or doing something much more dangerous. For now, all I want to do is forget about the fact that my best friend died, or is currently dying, and that there’s nothing I can do about it. And I never got to tell him how I really feel. At that, I grit my teeth and accelerate the motorbike again, nearly hitting the 100 mph mark on the metre as I drive around the winding bends of the deserted road, the thrill at riding at such a speed doing little to cure my current state of mind, only reminding me of what he would say if he saw me being as reckless as this. Under my helmet visor, I feel a tear roll down my cheek, leaving a hot trail in its wake.

Turning a corner, I brake a little as I catch sight of the thick bank of fog that seems to occupy the road, unsure of whether or not to continue on into it; after all, Klaus is still out there and up to his tricks. Too late, I figure out the bike won't slow down in time to avoid it, so I carry on through the eerie white mist, cutting the speed slightly, only to push it back up again as I decide to get through it as fast as possible, even if I can barely see a thing. The headlight seems to do nothing, the pale light catching on the fog, making it appear thicker than it actually is, illuminating only what is directly in front of the front tyre.

For what feels like hours but is in fact only minutes, I drive through the bank of fog, slightly confused as to its sudden appearance, until I reach an abrupt break in the suffocating cover, everything becoming clear and visible very swiftly. I only have a second to register the figure standing in the road, in which time I sharply pull the handlebars to the side, tilting the bike dangerously as it skids past, the wheels losing traction on the slick tarmac, careening into the side of the road. As it makes contact with the barrier, I am flung from the seat, the world spinning in my view briefly before I crash to the floor, my body smashing against rocks and tree branches as it rolls over and over, coming to a halt at the base of a road sign, pain exploding across me from multiple points of my body. Breathing hard, I try to move, only to find myself incapable of doing so without invoking a sharp stab of agony from my new injuries, leaving me lying helplessly at the side of the road, bruises littering my skin, my conscience slowly starting to fade.

A pair of hands on my waist snap me from the cloud of pain, the appendages roughly pulling me up onto someone's shoulder as they carry me back onto the road, their breathing as heavy as mine. A whimper of pain leaves my lips at the jolting motions, the air leaving my lungs as I am thrown, violently, onto the tarmac, my head cracking against it slightly as my helmet absorbs the shock. Agony erupts in my limbs and chest, drawing a long, low groan from me as I try to find my assailant, confusion and horror filling me as I recognise the person standing over me. Bending over, he harshly pulls my helmet off my head, revealing my bruised face to the world as he looks down into it in disgust.

“Alaric?” I croak out coarsely, thinking I’m hallucinating, spitting out a mouthful of blood as it wells up in my throat, signalling to me that I have internal bleeding. Above me, my best friend and crush of six years eyes the trail of crimson liquid as it flows over my face, a hungry look in his now-dark eyes.

“(Y/N).” His voice is low and sinister, the tone proving to me it’s not the caring man I know and love, but the side of him I’ve come to call Psycho Alaric, due to his murderous tendencies.

“Y-You died...” The words are forced as I feel the agony of my injuries, both mental and physical, start to take over my body, more blood flowing from my parted lips.

Above me, Alaric crouches down to my level, a predatory look on his handsome face as he stares at my prone figure, taking in the torn riding leathers, as well as the darkening bruises surrounding my jaw and temple.

“I did.” He simply states before reaching down to me, pushing his arms under my torso as he pulls my body closer to his, one of his hands cupping the back of my head, threading his fingers tightly in my hair, the overall movement wringing a quiet whimper from me. Hearing this, Alaric licks his lips, his eyes roaming over the blood covering my chin, dropping to the skin at my neck.

“What...What're you doing?” I question him, fear starting to accompany the throbbing pain in my body as he lowers his face to mine, his breath fanning over my skin, hotly. At any other time, I would’ve felt giddy at the thought of being so close to him, but now it scares me – there’s something off about him.

In way of reply, Alaric leans further into me, his familiar scent overwhelming me, as well as the sharp odour of blood, swiftly swiping his tongue over my chin, drawing up the crimson liquid staining my skin, a surprised grunt leaving my lips as a hungry groan leaves his. Pulling away, he looks down at me with obvious desire, his face suddenly changing as familiar veins form under his eyes, his lips pulling back to reveal razor sharp fangs, the overall expression not unlike that of a vampire's. In seconds, he pulls me to him, crushing my body against his as he sinks his teeth into my neck, biting into the soft skin with ease, blood flowing from the wound into his mouth, his hot tongue swiping over the area a few times to draw up every drop of the hot liquid. Around my head and shoulders, his grip tightens, the sensation of him sucking my blood out of my arteries somehow feeling euphoric in comparison with the previous, agonising pain from the crash, a sigh falling from my tongue, moans and grunts of appreciation and need leaving the lips he has pressed against my neck.

Already, I feel my conscience leaving me, black spots appearing all over my vision as he finally pulls away, blood coating his chin and lips, satisfaction evident in his eyes as the veins and fangs retreat, dropping my limp body to the ground as he stands, wiping the substance away with his sleeve. Giving me one last glance, he smirks down at me before leaving my broken body lying on the tarmac, the pain becoming too much for me to bear as I finally fall into the darkness at the edge of my vision.

*

Bright light assaults my eyes as I crack them open, a dull ache starting in my head as I try to lift my hands to rub them, trying my best to remember where I am and how I got here. Coming up blank initially, I look around at the room I’m in, recognising the bed beneath me as belonging to one of the Salvatores, Damon in particular, meaning I'm in the boarding house.

“Morning, sleepy head.” A familiar voice greets me from the corner behind the bed, a quick look proving to me that it is, in fact, Damon.

“W-what happened?” I manage to croak out at him, confusion lacing my voice as I try to recall how I got here, staring blearily at the raven haired vampire as he rolls his eyes, exasperated at my question.

“You crashed your motorbike, I think. I found you a couple of hours ago with your body broken and bruised as hell, and with an impressive bite mark to top it all off. You were nearly completely drained of blood.” He responds, his tone light even though I can see the worry in his piercing eyes.

At his words, the events that got me here rush back, the images of Alaric drinking from my neck sparking a sense of dread in me.

“Alaric.” I mumble, knowing Damon will hear me, even from his position across the room. Instantly, I find the vampire standing at the side of the bed, having used his unnatural speed to reach me, a confused and curious look in his eyes.

“Alaric? What do you mean?” His voice is tight at the thought of his friend.

Swiftly, I explain everything to him, watching as a look of grim horror crosses his handsome face, realisation setting into me. Alaric, somehow, made the transition.

As if on cue, a bang from another room interrupts the silence that has settled on us, drawing my attention towards the door, a confused look on my face.

“That’ll be Bonnie.” Damon muses, brow creased a little as he stands, looking back down at me.

“Bonnie?” I question him, puzzled.

“Yeah, Alaric got her, too.”

Shock fixes me in place for a second before I can speak again.

“He did? How?”

A pained expression crosses his face at my question, the subject obviously a sensitive one.

“Our old friend the Original Witch possessed her to go and help him complete the transition. It was her blood that sealed the deal.”

“Esther did this?” Horror and hopelessness well up in at the idea of the witch being back, especially when I consider the fact that Alaric's fate has been sealed by her, at which point anger accompanies the initial feelings.

“Yep. I’m gonna go deal with Bonnie now. Get some rest, you'll need it for tomorrow.” Damon suggests, smiling slightly as he turns and leaves the room, allowing me to try and fall asleep once more, which is easier said than done, what with the turbulent thoughts and crippling grief churning around in my mind. Eventually, though, I manage to tire myself out, my body forcing itself to sleep.

#alaric saltzman #alaricxreader #the vampire diares imagine #tvd #psychoRic #writing #imagine #Alaric

[rainwaterapothecary]

@999week 

Day 5: Junpei (Had a really bad mental health day so I didn’t end up writing this until 2 am) 

As the screen door closed Tenmyoji Junpei looked up over the pencil he had been balancing on his upper lip. The piece of stationery clattered to the counter as he smiled.

“Hey babe. Hot today?”

The blind man shook his head exasperatedly.

“No Junpei, I sweat all over my favorite shirt to make a statement.”

Junpei’s eyes trailed down his boyfriend’s torso.

“That’s not your favorite shirt, that’s one of mine- Hey!”

Light chuckled and hung up his keys. Junpei saved his report and slid off the kitchen stool.

He kissed the back of Light Field’s neck, right below the poofy ponytail he would make fun of until his dying day. 

Junpei pulled a face.

“Gross, you are all sweaty.”

“I am not in the habit of lying, Junpei.”

With a snort Junpei ran a hand down his friend’s spine and turned to return to his homework.

A strong, cold hand caught his wrist and a quick look back revealed one upraised eyebrow from the elder Field sibling. Junpei chuckled and Light’s prosthetic squeezed a touch harder before letting go.

The Japanese man laughed brightly and shook his head as he folded himself back onto the stool.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Tell me you don’t enjoy it, Tenmyoji.”

“No can do, Field.” The shorter man clicked his laptop awake and listened to Light’s soft footfalls as he got himself something from the fridge.

“I am going to shower, Junpei.”

“Gen eds and statistics, babe. Gen eds and statistics.” Light heard his lover’s fingers clacking away at his keyboard and he leaned back against the chrome refrigerator. He rolled his eyes, sight having nothing to do with the show of attitude.

“Had I known I would be losing both my boyfriend and my favorite spot at the island I would have put up more of a fight at the prospect of continuing your education.” Junpei just chuckled and shook his head. 

Light heard his friend’s fingers hit his pencil in the rhythmic way that meant he was twirling it. He lost more writing implements to his pursuit of looking ‘cool’ than Clover or Light himself would ever let him live down.

“Maybe later, babe.”

“I will hold you to that, darling.” The pencil hit the floor and Junpei swore.

The blind man had no way of knowing if it was his term of endearment that caused the loss of a pencil, but as he had aimed for that outcome he chose to believe he achieved it.

----

It had been a late night already by the time Junpei returned from the corner store with a coke and a declaration.

“I think I wanna go back to school.” The Field siblings looked up from where they were cheating against each other in cards.

Clover caught the way her brother’s hand tensed around his cards and she knew.

He thought Junpei was leaving them. 

Leaving him. 

No, leaving them.

The man in question melted into the couch above them, his eyes moving to the plaster designs of their ceiling.

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one gun-calloused hand. “I was actually in marketing before...” before I was kidnapped.

Clover laid her hand face down on the carpet through force of habit and leaned onto the couch.

“Really? I guess that makes sense, you were able to get everyone on the same page back then.” back in Nevada.

Junpei looked at her in surprise.

“Huh.” He looked at the ceiling again. “I guess that works. I was in media marketing though, which is a little different from HR.” Clover chuckled as he lightly pushed her with his foot.

Light let out a silent breath and unfanned his own hand. He tapped it vertically against one leg as he parsed out what to say.

He didn’t want to stand in the way of Junpei bettering his life or doing something that would be genuinely good for him... but he was still shaky on English so he would most likely outsource to Japan-

“You think there’s any online stuff I could pull off? I’m not sure my English is conversation-ready enough to go to a local campus.”

Light was having trouble breathing.

Junpei would stay? He hadn’t even thought of leaving? Then he... he enjoyed being with them?

“What are you TALKING about Junpei? This is FBI territory we’ve got all KINDS of different languages going all the time.”

“Would you be going back into marketing?” Light finally found his voice, thought his hands stilled as he listened now.

“Iiii don’t know. I kinda want to pick something back up again because I was good at my classes- Don’t even look at me like that Clover, I was.” The pink haired girl blew a raspberry and laughed.

“Why Junpei dearest I never implied-“

“Oh like you wouldn’t take any excuse to call me dumb.”

Light shook his head as the two people dearest to him bickered.

-*-*-*-

Junpei broke the silence of their nighttime routine once they had been lying beside one another in the dark for a couple hours.

“I’m..I’m gonna go into criminal justice.” Light felt his ribs crack around his heart at Junpei’s quiet reveal. The blind man reached over to cover one of his bedmate’s hands with his own. The other man slid his hand beneath Light’s searching one.

“Your degree... You mean your future degree, correct?” He heard Junpei nod, brown hair shushing against the pillowcase.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Junpei seemed to rally himself before pulling the bedsheet closer around his own shoulder.

“You aren’t...Are you making this decision for her or for you, Junpei? I want you to thrive, of course, but I doubt you will reach your full potential if you are living your life for another again.” Especially that woman remaining unsaid but tangibly felt.

If you’re letting her use you again. 

If you’re giving in to the forced enmeshment.

The other man took a shaky breath and flipped his hand so their palms were pressed against one anothers’, Light’s larger hand surrounding Junpei’s darker one. It was comfortable. It was grounding. Junpei was shuddering.

“Light-“ He was choking up? Light’s brow wrinkled in his concern.

“I’m doing this because of her.” He interlocked their fingers and held on when Light tried to yank his hand away and continued. “And because of Hongou, and Santa, and Nijisaki and all those people Alice helps bring down. I can’t justify studying marketing when people- real people are out there hurting each other and I-“ Big brown eyes blinked away moisture before he continued. “- can do something, anything, about it. I can’t let something happen to kids like you and Clover all those years ago. I can’t...I can’t.” He breathed in a breath shaky with emotion and hot with unshed tears.

Light felt like the air around him existed in a vacuum. He had heard what Junpei had said, but now the absence of words roared like the wind over a mountaintop.

“I think... I understand.” Light replied quietly. Long fingers reached over to trace tear streaks down tanned cheeks and cupped them. The two men breathed shakily before Light kissed lips that tasted of salt and helplessness.

Deceptively muscular arms cradled their lover as he wept, the unfairness that had cost his best friends their innocence crashing down on Junpei like an ice floe. Warm lips met the singer’s again and again, whispering apologies that were wiped away with the reverent warm breath of the other. ‘Love’ and ‘Junpei’ and ‘it’s okay’s’ filled the space between them when their lips were not otherwise occupied.

Light thought Junpei was leaving.

Junpei wanted nothing more than to stay.

To love.

To protect.

To grow.

And he wanted to do it with the Field siblings. To do it for them. His self-sacrificing fool of a best friend and bedmate. 

Light was in love. He was deeply and hopelessly in love with the man who rested against his collarbone when the nights got long.

----

Following the grumbling of the college student, Light planted one foot on his boyfriend’s back. The pencil scattered further out of reach as Junpei tipped forward and collapsed onto the kitchen floor.

“Asshole.”

Light smiled into his bottled water.

“Enjoy your schoolwork, love.”

As the blind man wandered down the hall to the bathroom his heightened hearing definitely picked out a ‘motherfucker’ and he smiled, picking out another one of his man’s shirts to change into once he got out of the shower. 

Life was good, or at least that’s what his pilfered shirt said.

#999 spoilers #999 week #my writings #cross posting on ao3 #ze #ok to rb!!

[dpimagines]

History; Nathan Summers

warnings/info: smut (masturbation, then oral, both receiving), accidental (and then purposeful) invasion of privacy, purity kink, age gap, and that’s about all I’ve got. Can be read as virginity loss or just inexperienced!reader. let me know if there’s anything else I need to add. Semi-inspired by this fic.

Nathan’s friendship with you started out… Innocent.

It first began when he was still struggling with night terrors about what happened to his wife and daughter, sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of Irish coffee. You entered the kitchen, glanced at him, and proceeded to make a bag of popcorn, taking a can of soda from the fridge.

“Isn’t it a little late for sugar?” he instinctively asked, cringing afterwards. He didn’t even know your name, or how old you were. You could be an adult, for fuck’s sake.

“Isn’t it a little early for stealing Wolverine’s alcohol?” You’d retorted with a somehow knowing smile, sitting at the opposite side of the island, opening your laptop.

“What’re you working on?” he asked, curious for something to distract him from the torturous regretful thoughts that filled his mind.

“College apps. Trying to get into someplace close, so I can keep living here,” you explained with a small smile. He didn’t bother you after that, knowing how important what you were working on was.

The next night, you showed up without your computer, and got two bowls down for your popcorn.

Nathan enjoys your company still, even if you’re a little more busy with college now.

“I like your top,” you tell a girl as you enter the mansion’s courtyard to meet him for lunch. He wonders why you bother to waste so much of your allotted lunch time getting to him and back, instead of having a longer break with other friends, but he doesn’t dare speak his question out loud for fear of making you realize your time is better spent elsewhere.

“Thanks, I got it at Old Navy,” the girl replies. “I think it might still be on sale.”

Olde Navy… Nathan notes mentally. Your birthday’s coming up, and he definitely wouldn’t mind seeing you come bounding up after a long day of school in that.

“Nate! Hey!” you greet him like you’re surprised, every time, because you’re just that happy to see him. “How much do I owe you?” you ask him of the pizza, but he just rolls his eyes.

You put your backpack down on the bench, sitting down with him, the pizza box between the two of you.

“How’s your day been?” You ask him, taking a slice of pizza.

“Alright. Pretty uneventful, though. I miss summer break, you being around gave me something to do.”

You choke on your pizza, coughing violently, and he looks at you quizzically.

“God, I really should’ve listened when they told us in Kindergarten to chew, how many times was it? I don’t even remember,” you laugh it off, still a little red.

Nathan takes a bite of his own pizza, shaking his head at your antics.

“Anyways, Wade’s been pestering me to tell him how this planet fucks itself over so he can build a doomsday bunker.”

“To be fair, it’s-”

“The corporations. I know. Always the corporations with you and your generation,” Nate teases, despite being from a much-later generation. “You’re right, but if I tell him that, he’ll gun down all the CEOs and it’ll majorly affect the timeline. Oh.” There’s a little smear of tomato sauce, and he swipes it off of your cheek with his thumb and without thinking.

Nathan realizes that he either offers it to you, like a weirdo, or licks it off his thumb, like a weirdo. He goes for the latter, and notices your face is a bit flushed.

“Do you think you could be allergic to something in the sauce?” Nate wonders. “You’ve been kinda red since we started eating, and your throat being a little tight would explain how you got choked up.”

“Oh, uh, maybe,” you reply with a meek smile. “But if it’s not life-threatening, I’ll continue to devour this pizza forever. Or, at least, for the next fifty years.”

“Ha. Ha,” Nate replies. Once you finish your slice, you get your school stuff together.

“Hey, you wouldn’t mind taking some books to my room for me, would you? I mean, I can carry them, but since you’re here and you’re the best…?”

“No need to butter me up, Y/N, you know I-“ ...would do anything for you. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you so much!” You put the books where you were sitting before. “I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” Nathan responds, and you give him a half-hug before heading off. He watches you leave, lost in thought as he munches on a second slice of pizza.

“Cable is a pervert, Cable is a pervert!” Wade sing-songs, and Nate bops him over the head with a book. “Ow! You know I’m right, Y/N is way younger than you.”

“It’s not like that! I just-” Well, now that Nathan really thinks about it, he is a pervert. He likes you for your kind, wholesome nature and has a genuine crush on you, but that doesn’t mean you’ve never made your way into the darker parts of his mind. He smirks a little bit thinking about it, before shame takes over. You’re so pure and sweet, even if you’re an adult, it’s… Well, it’s perverted!

“Oh my god. Do you think her love will turn you into a real boy, One-Eyed Very-Horny Flying Purple People-Eater?!” Wade’s wacky exclamations draw the attention of bystanders, and Nathan whacks him again with the book. “Damn! You’re lethal with just about anything, huh? I should warn Y/N about your sword next time I see her.”

“Shut up,” Nathan grumbles, done with entertaining the talkative merc who brought him here in the first place.

“Well, don’t be too embarrassed. She clearly likes you, too.”

“Clearly?” Nathan skeptically questions, knowing he’s probably taking some form of bait.

“Yup! See you around, lover-boy!” Wade replies, skipping off without an explanation. Nathan finishes his second pizza slice, wiping his hands on his pants before putting your books in his messenger bag, carrying the leftover pizza inside and putting it in the fridge before heading up to your room to drop off the books.

When Nate puts the books down on your desk, he spots your computer and realizes that this is the perfect time to look up that shirt you liked earlier. He turns on the computer, opening Chrome.

Olde, he types, but as soon as he presses the e and before he presses the spacebar, he notices an Autofill option:

Older Man Younger Woman Porn Videos | Pornhub.com

Nathan feels the blood rush to his face, not to mention elsewhere. This is your personal computer, no one else has regular enough access to be comfortable looking up porn.

Despite knowing how wrong it is, Nathan delves into your full internet history, looking at the specific videos you’ve watched that you haven’t cleared from your history and, for lack of a better word, studying them.

Once Nate’s finished watching the videos, he first realizes he’s hard as a fucking rock. He caresses his sizable length through his jeans before unzipping his pants and pulling it from his boxers.He spits on his hand before stroking his cock, slow and loose, before eventually tightening his grip and speeding up, imagining what it’d be like to lose himself in your soaking wet-

Nathan covers his mouth to muffle the long, loud groan that erupts from his lips as he continues to rub himself through the orgasm, cum spurting out. He steals a couple tissues from the box on your nightstand to clean himself up, hoping the small spot on his shirt isn’t noticeable.

The next thing he realizes is that you’ve probably jerked off while sitting in the chair he’s in right now, curling your fingers inside yourself, maybe propping a foot against your desk for a better angle, panting like you do in training.

And the last realization that Nate has is that he won’t be able to stop thinking about this until he addresses it with you.

Fortunately for him, it’s only a couple hours until you’re back. He goes to his own room, looking over his weapons and brainstorming modifications to distract him from the short but painful wait.

Luckily for him, you stop by his room when you get back, knocking on the door frame. He turns to look at you, but then he sees that it’s just Wade and rolls his eyes, turning around to work on the gun he’d selected.

“Aw, come on, we’re friends, too!” Wade protests. “Besides, your little girlfriend’s busy trying to figure out who was on her computer while she was at school, apparently they left behind their earbuds. You wouldn’t know anything about that, though, would you?”

“Fuck,” Nathan mutters, temporarily abandoning his work to go talk to you.

When you see him in the doorway, your expression immediately brightens. You’re sitting in the chair he sat when he jerked off earlier, of course, because it’s your chair.

“Oh, right! Nate!” You realize. “Whew, that makes me feel a lot better, I thought for sure someone was snooping in my room. Here’s your earbuds.”

“Right,” Nathan responds, feeling immensely guilty because he was, in fact, snooping, even if it was just on your computer. He enters the room as opposed to standing outside, shutting the door behind him.

“Nate?” you wonder.

“Oh, um…” Nathan feels like an idiot, unsure of how to explain what happened. “I was thinking about how your birthday is soon, and since I was already in here, I decided to just look up that shirt you liked earlier on the Olde Navy website, but when I typed Olde…”

You furrow your brows, confused, before it hits you.

“Uh- Um- I- Hm- Well- I-I’m sorry,” you go for the apology. For what? For him being your theoretical type? For having a crush on him? For him having a crush on you? For him seeing that you watch porn? For finding out that he saw the porn you like? Any of those? None of them? You’re unsure, so is he.

“Nothing to be sorry for, darlin’,” he reassures you. “I’m the one who should be sorry. But I’m not.”

“You’re not?” You ask, looking to him with an adorable sort of bewilderment in your eyes.

“No,” Nathan repeats, fixing you with a stare you’ve never seen him give anyone, one that makes your insides burn.

“Why?” you wonder, hoping you understand, hoping that he’ll do to you what you want him to, despite, well, everything. He locks the door, and you suck in a shallow breath, standing from your chair and pushing it in. You eye him nervously, not sure how this is going to go. He steps closer to you, cradling your face once he can reach it and forcing you to look at him.

“Do you want this?” he asks.

“Y-yeah, for a while now,” you admit, blushing a little.

Nathan gives a crooked smile before capturing your lips with his own, lowering you onto your bed as the two of you continue to kiss. The two of you part, and he sucks on your neck rather roughly, teeth scraping and nipping at the sensitive skin.

You writhe underneath him, forcing your lips shut to keep from whimpering at the sensations.

He stops, though, propping himself up on his arms and looking at you, concerned.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he asks, stroking your face.

“Mhm,” you hum, not sure why he stopped. “Why?”

“You’re fidgeting a lot, not saying anything. Just worried about you.” Nathan’s kind eyes always seem to peer into you, and you find yourself blushing.

“Oh, sorry, I was, uh, trying to be quiet,” you softly explain, feeling guilty for concerning him.

“That’s cute, kid. Don’t be shy, though, I wanna hear those pretty little sounds, or those pretty loud ones, whatever comes out. I wanna know how to make it happen and hear it again, and again, and again.” His hand slowly drags up your body before resting on your neck as he speaks, and your breath stills.

You feel even more embarrassed when you recognize that Nate fulfills basically all of your fantasies and you don’t even know what any of his are.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” you find yourself asking, and he chuckles.

“You’re doing just fine being yourself, baby, trust me,” he honestly replies, going back to kissing your neck, this time massaging one of your breasts with his metal hand. Your hips buck up a little, legs parting as you let out a few soft moans. “Good girl,” he purrs.

“Th-thank you,” you reply, heart pounding in your ears.

Nathan smiles, straddling you as opposed to just being on top, to help you take off your over-sized flannel, as well as to take off his own shirt. You’d both seen each other shirtless due to training, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t a sight either of you enjoyed.

“So this is what you wear when you’re not in that cute little sports bra,” Nathan notes, moistening his lips before placing a kiss on your breast, continuing to knead the other with his metal hand.

“Ah, yeah- Yeah,” you pant, legs spreading wider and knees pulling back, so that his bulge moves against your heat with every forward motion. “Oh f- Oh, Nathan.”

“Say it again,” he tells you, sinking his teeth into your breast. “Fuck, say my name, baby.”

“Nathan! Oh god, I-“ you gasp, rocking against his length through the layers of clothes that you’re both still wearing, sadly. “I need- I want-“

“What do you want, little girl? Anything, anything you want,” Nate responds, enjoying the friction just as much as you are. He licks a stripe up your neck, and you shudder.

“C-can I please, um… Suckyourdickplease?” You request, and he pulls away from your neck, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” He asks.

“Uh-huh,” you confirm, and he grins before rolling off of you, allowing you to be on top of him before he pulls you in for a kiss.

Once the kiss is done, you look to him nervously for guidance as you unbutton and unzip his pants.

“Here, back up, I’ll pull it out for you,” he offers. You obey, sitting on your knees between his legs.

He’s big, not ridiculously long but nothing to laugh at, either, and girthy. You’re a little worried about how he’s going to fit in your mouth at all.

“It’s okay if you changed your mind, Y/N.”

You shake your head before laying on your stomach so that you’re more level with him, propping your arms around his hips and on the bed as you continue to observe his cock with slightly-widened eyes. You finally just go for it and put your lips around the head, swirling your tongue around and around. 

“Fuck, that’s good. Just a little more, baby.”

You attempt to force more of him into your mouth, but gag, so you pull back, realizing you can fit more if you ease into it, and you slowly train yourself until you can get almost all of it in, bobbing your head up and down and using your tongue to provide extra stimulation.

“That’s a lot, sweethea- Hea-” he loses his breath, stroking your face with his metal hand and tangling the digits on his flesh one in your hair, but not applying any pressure, more than content to let you have this your way.

“Sh-shit, babygirl,” Nathan stammers. “Slow down, or I’ll- Fuck…” He lets out a low moan, and you continue to suck him off as he orgasms, doing your best to ignore the taste and instead letting his seed serve as extra lubrication.

“Sorry I didn’t swallow,” you apologize after you remove your lips from his manhood with the most obscene pop sound.

“You’re lucky that this is our first time together, or I’d have you over my knee for making me cum like that,” he tells you, but there’s no anger in his tone, of course. He’s just enjoying taunting you.

You pout at his words and he chuckles, tugging you upwards and kissing you again.

“Jesus, fuck, kid, how did you stand that? I’m so sorry, it’s just been a while, I didn’t think about how it’d taste.”

“Uh, well, I didn’t really have anything to compare it to, and I wasn’t exactly expecting it to taste like candy...” you admit. He snickers, grabbing your hips and putting you upright.

“I thought- I thought it took a little bit, for… You know.”

“Oh, it’ll probably take a while at this point. That doesn’t mean I can’t return the favor. Sit on my face, doll.”

“I- I might not be good at that, I’ve never…”

“Well, in that case...” Nate flips you over so that you’re back under him, and you inhale sharply.

You know he’s strong, but it shocks you every time he uses that strength on you. He yanks down your leggings, or attempts to, but he just rips a huge strip off with his metal hand, exposing you. Your face heats up, looking at him looking at your underwear.

“Well,” Nathan chuckles, an almost predatory grin on his face that makes your heart race. You never thought you would get to see this side of him before, but you’re so, so glad you have the privilege. “Aren’t you prepared?”

“I just like matching, that’s all. Makes me feel like I’ve got my life together,” you bashfully explain, and he pulls your leggings off more gently this time. He pauses after, though, looking at you underneath him, seeming even more vulnerable than how he usually sees you, and that’s saying something. 

“I hope you know that I really do like you, Y/N,” he tells you, stroking the soft inner part of each of your thighs. You’re not sure which hand feels better. “I wanted you like this way long before I saw your internet history.”

“Really?” You’re stunned but not terribly shocked, considering you had feelings for him as well, and the kinds of feelings you had don’t come from nowhere. Sexually tense moments during training, late night talks about your pasts, lots of shared meals he’d always refuse to let you pay for… It was only briefly a simple friendship.

“Really,” he responds. “Damn, why’d you have to milk me for all I’m worth? I- Jesus Christ, I wanna fuck you so fucking bad.” You can see it in his eyes that it’s the truth, his teeth gritted together in frustration.

“If it’s that bad, invest in some Viagra, you perverted old man,” you tease, having gained a small bit of confidence that your relationship was still the same after his confession that his feelings for you were consistent.

“Maybe I will, you dirty little brat,” he retorts. “Can I…?” He hooks a finger into your underwear, and you gasp softly at the feeling of his cold, metal finger against your hip. You nod, and he drags your underwear down your legs, tossing them aside. “Wow.”

“Is- Is it-?”

“Good wow,” Nathan clarifies, rubbing your vulva before sliding a finger inside of you and curling, steadily increasing the pace.

“N-Nathan, oh- Oh my god, don’t stop,“ you pant, and he slides another finger in easily, gathering moisture before stroking your clit in the most perfect pattern. “Mm, please, gonna- Gonna-“

He moves his hand away, and you loudly whine, questioning why. Your legs tremble, especially when he laughs at you.

“That’s why. You just make it so fun, with those begging eyes of yours. I told you I was going to return the favor, you should’ve known,” he teases you.

“Please make me cum?” You request, feeling so small in the best way, and he smiles at you. You think he’s never smiled this much before, and you hope he doesn’t stop being happy with you once this is over.

“Anything for you,” Nathan reminds you, pulling your legs up over his shoulders and going down on you, making you squirm. “God, you taste so fucking good,” he groans, lapping up everything you have to offer.

You try to clutch the sheets, but he keeps switching between absolutely devastating your clit to fucking you with his tongue and all you want is for him to focus on that bundle of nerve endings, to allow you release.

Before you know it, your fingers are tangled in that always perfectly-styled gray hair of his, and you’re leading him straight to Heaven, moaning and rocking your hips against him before you jump over the edge, sobbing in relief while your eyes roll back. You let him go, and he continues to lick at your most sensitive place before eventually stopping.

“You-“ he starts, taking a trembling breath.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve said something. Are you okay?” You ask.

“...Are perfect,” he finishes his statement, taking in your nearly naked body with still-hungry eyes. “Please say we can make this official.”

You nod, and he kisses you deeply before rolling off of you, laying on his side in just his pants.

“What took us so long?” He wonders.

“All the reasons I had of seem pretty stupid now,” you admit, sliding under the covers instead of laying on top of them.

“All the reasons?” Nathan asks.

“Well, I figured you would think I was too immature or otherwise deny me on principle, and then I also didn’t want you to feel pressured to move on, and I just kind of wrote off all the signs of chemistry as accidents, coincidences, or really good friendship,” you explain. “I’m sure you had reasons, too.”

“Mostly the age thing, but I’ll admit it eventually became a turn-on… Mostly it’s just that you’re so wholesome and pure, I didn’t feel like I deserved you.”

“Pure? I just gave you a blowy!” you protest, and he chuckles, pulling you closer.

“You didn’t swear once during that whole encounter, and when I was giving you head you actually apologized for helping me. It’s not a diss, babygirl. I like your whimpers and your begging and how you blush, like right now.”

You bury your face in his chest with a quiet whine.

“Okay, point proven,” you concede, and he strokes your back carefully, as if you’ll break if he’s too rough.

“I know you can handle yourself, in the logical part of my brain,” he tells you quietly. “But- But you’re so delicate to the rest of me, I can barely even think sometimes. I’m glad you’re mine now, that you think I deserve you even if I’m not sure.”

You respond wordlessly, smiling and lifting the covers so that he can cozy up with you under them.

#nathan summers #nathan summers x reader #nathan summers imagine #nathan summers fanfiction #cable #cable x reader #cable imagine #cable fanfiction #deadpool 2 #deadpool 2 fanfiction #deadpool 2 imagine #smut #marvel #x-men #marvel fanfiction #x-men fanfiction

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Pinnacle

Prompt: Whumptober Day 8, Stab Wound

Summary: Google Chrome and Yandereplier are at a seedy club when a fight breaks out. It's not long before one of them gets hurt.

Warnings: Blood, violence (I mean, the prompt is “Stab Wound,” so :p )

Tagging: @peribloke (ask to be tagged!)

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober Series)

Enjoy!

~

Contrary to what the name suggests, “Pinnacle” is one of the seediest, shadiest clubs in the city. It’s got a name flashy enough to attract careless tourists, and a reputation that attracts the patronage of the least respectable people in the city.

Which is half the reason Yandereplier likes it there so much. The other half is that they never check IDs.

“This place is gonna get shut down before the year is out,” Chrome mutters from his seat at his and Yandere’s two-person table. Yandere smirks, fruity cocktail in one hand.

“According to the regulars, Pinnacle’s been around forever,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. “It was here before you were made, and Yami’s even been here before for business.”

“Business?” Chrome raises an eyebrow. Yandere laughs and leans in closer to Chrome.

“I’d bet about half the guys in here belong to some gang or another,” Yandere says, hushed but still grinning, “Employees included.”

“Great,” Chrome growls, slumping into his seat in annoyance. Yandere laughs again and ruffles Chrome’s hair with his free hand.

“The safe clubs are boring,” Yandere tells him, “Places like these are where the fun is.”

Chrome does have to admit that the club is at least clean, and the music isn’t too bad, either. It’s a bit of a cramped space, though. There’s people pressed all around him and Yandere at other tables, and the dance floor is packed. It’s the reason Yandere is sitting here drinking instead of dancing; there’s no space available yet. But it isn’t that late, and Yandere can party later than most humans care to. He’s prepared to wait, so long as he has something to drink. Chrome wishes he could get drunk; maybe he’d have more fun.

His attention is eventually grabbed by something happening near the center of the dance floor. Several people have stopped dancing, and seem to be conversing – no, yelling. It’s hard to tell through the volume of the club.

“What’s up, Aka-kun?” Yandere asks him, noticing his staring beyond Yandere.

“There’s some guys arguing on the dance floor,” Chrome answers. Yandere turns around in his seat to look, just as the argument becomes loud enough to attract attention from the other patrons without enhanced hearing.

“Huh,” Yandere says. He thinks. “I wonder if they’re gonna fight.”

“That seems like a strong possibility,” Chrome sighs.

Sure enough, the men arguing start shoving each other, and before Chrome can comment on it, he spies a flash of something silver. The patrons nearest to the fight start shouting, too, and start trying to leave. But the crowd is still impressively thick, and the escape is slow. The men fighting must be in a gang, because other people around the dance floor and at tables start pulling out their own weapons. Mostly knives, but Chrome spies a few pairs of brass knuckles and even a revolver. The other people around begin to shout and panic, too, and before long, the club is swarming with gangsters brawling and people clamoring to get out.

Yandere observes the scene with a slowly spreading grin. He looks over at Chrome with red eyes.

“I told you, Aka-kun,” he says, “This is where the fun is.” He pulls something out of his shirt; not his katana, but a shorter, fatter knife, better for close quarters.

“Yandere,” Chrome warns, “I swear if you even thi–”

It’s too late. Yandere’s already jumped into the fray, knife in hand.

Chrome growls under his breath as he gets up to follow. He’ll admit to being a little worried about Yandere’s safety, but mostly he’s just annoyed at having to stick around in this club. The heaving mass of panicking people is hard even for Chrome to wade through; he imagines it’s only Yandere’s small size and agility that’s enabled him to move deeper into the club with such ease. Chrome’s not really in the mood to get stabbed tonight, so he treads as carefully as possible, avoiding those with weapons.

Before long, though, he bumps into someone with both a pair of brass knuckles and fighting glare on.

“Watch it, asshole!” he yells, rearing back to punch. Chrome catches his fist before it comes close to his face.

“Have you been punching everyone who runs into you? In this packed, tight space?” Chrome deadpans. He tightens his fist, and the man howls as his hand is crushed in Chrome’s. “Have some sense and fuck off.”

The man bolts – or tries to, the crowd is still thicker than syrup. Chrome lets him leave and continues into the fray, but snippets of conversation reach his ears.

“Did you see that? That guy broke Tito’s hand!”

“Let’s show ‘im what happens when people mess with our boys!”

“Fuck me,” Chrome mutters under his breath.

Moments later he’s swarmed by gangsters (it must be easy to get through the crowd when one’s waving weapons around). It’s hard to fight in such close quarters, but Chrome is designed to be good at it. Unlike the first gangster, though, the others don’t flee when Chrome breaks their noses or snaps their knives in two. The energy of the crowd makes them feral, and the support of their metaphorical brothers in arms makes them reckless and relentless. Eventually, though, all have retreated but two, and their attack pattern is nearly unpredictable. Chrome has to wonder if the pair are brother and sister in normal life as well as gang life; it would explain their synchronization. One plays offense and one plays defense, but they switch every second, and they’re both good at avoiding a punch. Chrome knows he’s not as strong as he could be right now, either; the club is hot, so sweltering from the packed bodies that Chrome’s hardware is on the verge of overheating.

Chrome is busy blocking a slash from the man when the woman sneaks underneath and stabs him in the chest. Chrome chokes, body stuttering, as his pain sensors register the damage. What genius decided to make robots that could feel pain? he thinks as he grabs the woman who stabbed him by her ponytail and twists her head backwards. He dispatches the brother next, fully sick of this fight and tired of letting his assailants escape alive. He looks down at himself, at the gash near the center of his chest, and watches black oil flow out. All at once, vertigo hits, and Chrome staggers, slamming a hand down on a nearby table to ground himself, other hand instinctively moving to cover his wound. He isn’t squeamish, why is he reacting so strongly? Warning alerts pop up in his mind:

DANGER: Core breached, functionality at 91%. Repair immediately!

Fuck.

Now that Chrome knows that, he can sort of feel the notch in his core from the woman’s knife. Of all the things that knife could’ve hit, his core is the worst. Where humans have their hearts, Chrome and his android brothers have their cores: Spherical blocks of metal and hardware about twice the size of a human heart in the direct center of their chest. They store battery power and disperse it accordingly, circulate antifreeze, and keep the unit functioning. A Google unit can lose limbs, have senses destroyed, or sustain traumatic brain injury, and still survive if they keep calm and get repaired within a few hours. But cores are delicate things, and even the slightest damage can be catastrophic. If an arm is severed, the oil can be diverted away to elsewhere in the body to keep from bleeding out. But a core cannot delegate its own functions, so any injury quickly gets worse and worse as the core keeps working. And for a core, expected functionality is no lower than 98%, ideally more, at any time. Anything even slightly lower is cause for concern. 91% is far beyond concerning, and Chrome knows it’ll only get lower from here.

But dammit, Yandere’s still somewhere in the club, and like hell Chrome’s going to leave without him. He’ll probably need his help soon, too, with his core functionality dropping by the second.

The crowd has thinned to a degree since Chrome’s fight started, and the only people still in the club are in pairs or groups, beating the tar out of each other. A few people are sprawled out on the floor, unconscious…probably. Chrome doesn’t care enough to check. None of them are Yandere, so it doesn’t matter. Chrome’s body doesn’t want to move; energy is being diverted to his core, so much so that his fingers and toes start to feel numb and useless. But he pushes himself forward regardless, struggling along to find Yandere. Eventually, a gunshot rings out from the back of the club, and people scatter once more, abandoning their fights to escape. Chrome distantly remembers seeing a gun in someone’s hand earlier in the night, he’s surprised it took them so long to use it. Among the throng of people running from the back to escape the building is, finally, Yandere.

“Hey,” he says, practically skipping up to Chrome. His clothes are splattered in blood that isn’t his, and his eyes are bright red, pupils blown wide. “Some idiot tried to shoot me, can you imagine?” He laughs, but quickly notices Chrome’s listliss posture and how he’s holding his chest. “Aka-kun, are you okay?”

“Got stabbed,” Chrome wheezes. Talking is harder than he thought it’d be. “Nicked my core.”

Yandere’s expression instantly changes to shock. He knows how cores work, Chrome told him about it ages ago.

“What’s the functionality?” Yandere asks, eyes already darkening back to brown.

“Seven…” He sways, only barely catching himself. “Seventy-six percent.”

Yandere says something in Japanese, probably a swear, but Chrome can’t concentrate enough to translate. Yandere goes to his side, pulling the arm Chrome hasn’t pressed to his wound across his shoulders.

“I’ll get us home, don’t worry,” Yandere tells him, “Let’s go out through the back. It’s closer and safer.”

Chrome nods, and the simple motion makes spots appear in his eyes. He’s really in no position to protest Yandere’s decision even if he wanted to. He keeps walking alongside Yandere, trying not to lean on him too much, but he feels duller and heavier with every passing moment. At one point, his vision blinks out for a few seconds and he nearly collapses into Yandere’s side. Yandere yelps and only barely manages to keep him standing.

“Hey, don’t pass out, Aka-kun!” Yandere cries, “You have to walk with me, I can’t carry you!”

Chrome knows. He’s too heavy even for Yandere’s above-average strength. But the thought flits out of his head a moment later as more and more of his energy goes to support his fluttering core. His feet and hands are numb now, hard to walk on, hard to grab with. By the time Yandere gets Chrome to the employees-only back door, the numbness has reached Chrome’s elbows and knees. Yandere pushes the door open with the shoulder Chrome’s not leaning on and pulls him into the night air and out of Pinnacle. Chrome can hear the crowd on the other side of the building, hear sirens in the distance getting closer.

“Dammit, of course,” Yandere mutters, “Now we have to go through the alleys to avoid the cops.”

Chrome’s body is just about done moving, though, and he sags, slumping against Pinnacle’s back wall.

“Can’t go,” Chrome gasps. He coughs, and oil comes up.

“Okay, okay,” Yandere says, frantic, “I’m calling Yami, he’ll get out of here.”

Chrome can feel his core pulsing painfully. The notch has morphed into gaping cavern, leaking power.

“Core’s…” Chrome coughs again. “Thirty-eight…percent.”

A core doesn’t need to hit zero for an android to die. It can happen any time once the functionality hits 20%. Chrome’s chest feels like fire. It’s the only thing he can still feel.

“You’ll be okay, Aka-kun, you’ll–” He pulls his cell phone away from his ear, face drawn with anguish. “Chikusho! Answer me, Yami!!” He presses a button and puts his phone back to his ear. “It’s only twelve-thirty, you have to still be up!”

“Wilf…?” Chrome can’t finish the question. Too much effort.

“He shot his phone yesterday and hasn’t replaced it yet,” Yandere answers, shivering with nerves as he waits for Dark to pick up. Chrome suddenly realizes that Yandere is crying. “Oh god, fuck, fuck, he has to pick up, I can’t get you home in time–”

“Yan…” Chrome gasps. He tries to lift his hand to wipe Yandere’s tears, but his arm won’t move anymore. “Onii-san…s’okay.”

Yandere bites his lip and brushes Chrome’s hair out of his forehead. There’s oil on his hands. There’s oil all over.

“I’ll be okay when you are,” Yandere tells him, voice shaky. “So just stay awake for me, okay, otouto?”

Chrome nods weakly, leaning into Yandere’s hand as it moves from Chrome’s hair to his cheek.

“Yami?” Yandere suddenly gasps. “Oh my god, Yami, I need your help! Aka-kun and I are at Pinnacle, at the back door, and Aka-kun got stabbed! It hurt his core and he’s dying Yami, please–”

There’s a rushing of wind as something like a black hole opens up in front of Chrome and Yandere. In only a moment, the rushing dies down and the smoke clears, leaving Darkiplier standing there, phone still in hand.

“Yami,” Yandere gasps, relief heavy in his tone.

Chrome is glad that Yandere is relieved. He’s almost forgotten that he’s the reason Yandere’s upset in the first place. Everything feels distant now. His body is beyond being numb; it doesn’t feel like his. Even his chest, even his sputtering core feels dull and chilled. The gash continues leaking energy, festering in his chest. Objectively, he knows this, but he cannot feel it, he cannot speak, and he cannot keep his eyes open.

Dark, meanwhile, doesn’t say a word, only teleports the group back to Ego Inc. in a flash of dark smoke. The void, for all its cold and emptiness, feels no different to Chrome than the night air outside of Pinnacle. It only looks darker, and darker, and darker, and Chrome cannot stay awake long enough to see where Dark has taken him.

#whumptober2019 #no.8 #googleplier #google red #yandereplier #markiplier #kristin says stuff #fanfic #my writing #will ever stop writing about yan and chrome getting into fights with random assholes #no #also how dare you #:p

[uniformbravo]

every iteration of this website is so stupidly broken both desktop & mobile

app:

constantly goes “u h oh blOOp boOP where ht INTErnet go Bye ByewhOOPSie daisy!!1″ even tho every other app has No Problem w/ the internet, i literally have to restart this thing 20 fuckin times a day to get it to load basic ass shit like the fuckign dashboard & search & my notifications & literally every other function there possibly is

search on blogs is garbage & even if u go into an actual tag on a blog it won’t show everything in the tag bc fuck you

the dash randomly teleporting u to a different spot on it after reblogging smth sometimes, usually after u turned off ur phone screen & then went back to it later, even if u didnt leave the app (the same process is a source of the “bloop boop” messages)

the instant messaging thing doesn’t show u new messages sometimes even if u have the same convo open on desktop. in fact it works the other way around too. tumblr in general does NOT like it when u have the same convo open on different devices

sometimes straight up doesn’t give me notifications for conversations & i have to find out i was accidentally ignoring someone hours later when i get on my laptop (if i even decide to use it that day!)

the amount of storage this app sucks up is Annoyingly A Lot. constantly clearing the cache bc it’s usually like 80 fuckin mb

desktop: 

if u use pages instead of infinite scroll on the dash the previous page button straight up does not work & will just take u to the current front page no matter how many pages in u were

hitting the back button on ur browser (or at least on chrome) does the exact same thing, unless you 1. wait for the page ur on to finish loading, 2. scroll down a little bit (just don’t leave it at the top of the page), and then hit the browser’s back arrow, then there’s a better chance it’ll work properly (yeah that’s right it doesn’t even work 100% of the time u just gotta hope & keep going back until it works)

tumblr literally just randomly changing the page url from like “/dashboard/20″ to just “/dashboard” so that both refreshing & clicking the back button just take u to the front page again

related to the last one, if ur like 20 pages deep in ur dash & u leave the tab for too long that ur browser (or again at least in chrome’s case) has to reload the page, when u go back to it it just gives u the current front page bc it changed the url to “/dashboard” & now it thinks this is the front page (if u were back further than like page 2 u can try to fix this by hitting the browser’s back button & hoping for the best)

the fact that u can’t manually go to random pages on ur dash by typing “dashboard/[number]” anymore bc why would we hold onto useless functionality like that. so if ur rly far back in ur dash & u lose the page bc of any of the previously mentioned garbage ur fucked 

(unless u go into ur actual browser history & find the page w/ the correct url like “/dashboard/25″ or if u don’t know the specific number then usually the url w/ the biggest number. u can also kind of estimate by opening the page from ur history & hovering over the top right corner of any post to see what time in ur timezone that particular post was made/reblogged, that way u can find the page w/ the earliest or most accurate to your memory timestamp & assume that’s the right one. i just thought of this method today & i am very pleased with myself but also very annoyed that this website is so shitty i have to find such convoluted workarounds GOD)

search is just straight up garbage. the ONLY thing that mobile has over desktop is that the search actually shows the most recent posts w/o skipping any (any of the posts that actually Made it into search results, that is)

app-less mobile gets an honorable mention bc i don’t use it anymore & haven’t for years but 1. that thing where u try to like a post & it’s like “ohh you don’t have the app?? you fucking loser??? you fucking whiny ass child can’t even use our mobile app???? eat shit” is really annoying and 2. the dash has this header that’s like “open this in the app!” so one time i was like “ok” bc i had the app at that point & it didn’t even take me to the app it just opened up the tumblr download page on app store like fuckin. Ok

anyway theres so much more i could complain about especially on the topic of search but this is so much longer than i meant to go on for anyway so basically. the “this site is barely held together by glue & duct tape” sentiment is NO exaggeration, u couldnt make this shit up, jeez

#im not like actually angry or anything more like just. exhausted #idk why this is framed like me complaining but also giving out semi-helpful advice??? #really it's just a cry for help like. why am i here often enough that this kinda thing is this relevant to my life #my biggest concerns include trying to keep my 20+ page dashboard streak going instead of giving up at that point & going outside or smth #i rly am just trapped here for life huh......... #retag later #talkin bout stuff

[thefandomdirtymind]

Infiltration beauty

Lucifer x Curvy Reader

Warning : Self body shaming, sexual allusion, Anxiety 

* I feel kind of sad to post that story in the recent new about the show. I do my best to save it with the other fans and hope we will have good news. But, for the moment, all I can do it’s let you read this and ask you to help us tweeting #Savelucifer.    

The building of the LAPD was in ebullition. A really creative serial killer had let a growing trail of corpse behind him, keeping the Detective Decker and the other really busy. As an humble and fresh agent, you help them as more as you can, bring them files and sometimes even a coffee or two. 

Of course, you had heard many stories in the break room about the handsome Lucifer Morningstar. Citizen consultant, club owner of one of the most popular bar of L.A and oddly sure he was the actually the real Devil, he even do his famous desire trick on many of your feminine coworker. But, you always try to stay away of his strange revelation power, the fact that you find him to attractive to be true was enough like that.  

Heading to the office of the detective, Chloe’s favorite mug in your hand and few folders she’d asked you in the crock of your elbow, you arrive in what it seem like an uneasy discussion.

“ That party is our only chance to catch him, we know he will be there “Detective Espinoza claim, clearly exasperate. 

“ I know Dan, but he already saw both Ella and me and Lucifer can’t go alone ! “ Chloe respond, demonstrate of his open hand the man in question, perfectly dress like usual, calmly sit in the chair in front of the desk “ We need to find someone else “ 

Putting the coffee on the desk, you try to not interrupt them or cross the gaze of the beautiful man. 

“ Why not her “ The British accent say, making you raise your head of surprise, the files still in your hand “ The killer don’t know her and we will enter easily and punish him as he need to be” 

“ That’s not a bad idea Lucifer” Decker thoughtful reply , smiling kindly at you. “ You already know the case and you have good result at you gun exam, can you do it Y/N ?“

Opening you mouth, you close it shortly before open it again. 

“ I...I don’t know if it will work, i’m not really the style Mr. Morningstar have usually as is arms, it’s can be suspect “ You let escape, comparing you mentally to the gorgeous detective “ I’m not really the normal L.A style neither” 

Putting his hand on you shoulder in a comforting gesture, she give you a soft smile. 

“ Don’t worry, you will be alright and will do a great job, I believe in you” 

Not wanting to disappoint your mentor, you nod of the head, trying to find how you will manage to pass a whole evening with Lucifer without make him feeling ashamed or embarrassed. It wasn’t that you aren’t pretty, but, you had a little bonus of weight you wish to lose but never could and you wasn’t a big fan of your own body. So, living at L.A for few time now, surround by so different kind of beautiful woman sharing all the same shape, make you feel more uncomfortable that ever. But, for the woman who help you from the day one, you will make an effort.

Lost in your though, you only catch few phrase of the planning. Apparently, Ella will help you to prepare yourself and you will have to join Lucifer at his penthouse in few hours, then meet the other for put your electronic equipment and finally play the perfect escort. Leaving earlier with the short and optimiste woman for search a suitable dress in your wardrobe, you though that maybe, you should have stay in bed this morning or not.

Waiting in the elevator of the LUX, you nervously play with the handle of your little bag, fixing your deformed reflect in the chrome of the door, trying to shut the little voice screaming in your head. Reaching the penthouse, you step in it, trying to watch everything in only one view. 

“ Welcome Y/N” Lucifer greeting you, turning on his heels to see you, a glass of whiskey in hand. “ Well Well Well, agent, what a shame to cover so much beauty under this ugly police uniform, your sublime.” 

You had to admit that Ella does a really great job. Wearing a flattering black and silver skater skirt dress, putting your breast and leg in value, you standing in balance on the only fancy pair of high heels you possesses. You’re make up and hairs ,style in a totally different and L.A extravagante way, finishing the look you would never dare put all by yourself. 

“ Thank you, but you don’t have to, Ella is really talented but i’m aware of how I look, it’s not necessary to push you to be nice with me.” You said, feeling suddenly that your skirt was too short.  

“ I never lie sweetheart, it’s one of my pride “ He said, smiling drinking a gulp of his glass, before raising his brown eyes on you, noticing even with his strong narcissistic nature that you wasn’t really comfortable. “ Oh, you are one of this kind do you ?” 

“ One of this kind ?” You ask, confuse, watching him put his glass on his personal bar. 

“ Your don’t like your body, what a shame, you have so much to offert “ He reply, approaching you, looking you with a new light in your eyes. 

“ Don’t laugh at me Mr. Morningstar that’s not funny.” You said, confuse.

“ Lucifer, Agent Y/N, i’m not joking, your curve could make swear a saint " He said, browsing your body with his eyes " just looking at you right now my brain can’t stop to thinking of all these think I could do to you“

Meeting his gaze, you discover more lust in his eyes that you never seen before.

" You know what, I think we will have time for some fun " He continu, undoing his tie, happy like a child. " I can't wait to see what's hiding under that pretty dress."

Thunderstruck, you watch his almost striptease, regaining you mind only when he attack the last small bouton of his white shirt.

" No, wait, I mean, we will not have enough time...they wait for us in less that ten minutes" You try to resonate yourself and him by the same time." And i'm not sur to be able to put all this together again "

" You're right, we will probably need more time, maybe even hours." He respond, thoughtful.

“ Because of my weight ?” You ask, more confuse that ever and even doubting that you really have these conversation with the amazing man.

“ Your weight ? No, no it’s more all the idea I have and the fact I will take my time to explore all these beautiful skin.“ The British accent rolling on you like a blanket. 

Feeling your body becoming hot, you cough, taking a last glace of his naked and perfect torso before he was perfectly dress like always. 

“ Since we run out of time for now, we will have to reschedule this later, coming ?” 

Only nodding of the head, you follow him in the elevator, mind blow by all this situation. 

The party was the usual kind in L.A. Full of bikini beauties, small celebrities, loud music,alcohols and drugs. Lucifer truly in his element, was walking like if he own the place. It didn’t take you long to spot the suspect, alone in his corner, you could tell by the way he was looking at the bombshell around the pool that he was choosing, or already spying, his new prey. In your ears, you hear Chloe give you instruction. 

“ Hey man, can I borrow her for some fun time ?” A strange ask to Lucifer, taking you apparently for his propriety. 

“ I’m afraid to have to say no” Your tall companion respond, kidnapping briefly your lips in a passionate kiss. “ I feeling not like sharing tonight “ 

Breathless you lost your focus on the killer for a minute or two. For a unknown reason, the world “ Tonight” bring you back at the little conversation and almost sexual intercourse you had in the penthouse. You only realize you mistake when you hear a feminine scream and the voice of detective Decker asking you for a report of what happen. 

Leaving Lucifer in the crowd of guest, you start to run in the scream direction, your gun ferme in your hand, all good and bad  though gone of your head. What happen next seem to be the fast fifteen minute of your life. The injurie woman again in his arms, his bloody knife already attacking you, you had no other choice that shot on him, protecting in that way the present and futur victim and yourself. 

The time only seem to regain his normal speed when, sit in the ambulance after giving your rapport to your mentor, a white bandage on your arm, you see Lucifer Morningstar walking in your direction, a relieve expression on his face. 

“ Y/N, i’m glad that you’re okay” The habitual so selfish man tell “ It’s could be a shame that you die before we could finish what we start earlier” 

Kind off glad he was bring that again, you through feel the need to clarified things. 

“ Mr Morningstar ” You start. 

“Lucifer please “ 

“You don’t need to do that. Yes I not like my body but you don’t have to ...kiss me or have sex with me if the only goal of all this is to change my mind about myself, I will be okay...I swear “ You say, almost finding you crazy to refusing is so tentative invitation. 

“ Changing your mind isn’t the goal of this. Have hot, playful and kinky sex is. I already tell you, I never lies. So, I kiss you because I desired to, and, if I ask you one more time to have sex with me, you will almost approche the record of negative answer of the detective Decker and make me think that your immune too to my devil power ” The man retort.

Laughing, you bite your lips. 

“ I assure you that you power is perfectly working” You answer, making the little voice in your head shut up. It maybe didn’t last long, but, for tonight you wanted to believe him and feel desirable. 

Giving you a warm smile, he help you to get down of the ambulance. 

“ Then what are we waiting for ? I have a really great whisky I can’t wait to drink in you navel, I had thinking of the best millennium to pour in it all the evening.” He joyfully confess, guiding you at his beautiful car.  

Like everyone else, you always find it kind of odd that Lucifer was taking himself for the Devil, but, tonight, you didn’t really care. He’s more hot that hell and make you feel more beautiful that ever. And, to be true, you just can’t wait to discover what having sex with that fallen angel look like. Probably the best night of your life. 

#lucifer #lucifer morningstar #savelucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #tom ellis #hell #body #anxiety #shame

[obduratemoon]

Sedimentary City 17: STALE INFINITY

Jan saw before him an elderly man who had begun to stoop with age, even as he sat with the arrogance of a king or perhaps the insouciance of a street urchin. Around him stood an assemblage of young graceful men, slender as saplings, inclined towards their boss.

“Here he is, boss.” Pyotr said with sudden deference, head bowed and downcast eyes as if scanning the floor.

“Ah, Jan. I heard you had a bit of a run in, but good to see that you made it. I sent my best, a jackal and a force of nature, a born destroyer of men. Thank you, Pyotr.”

Pyotr made a small bow and receded, leaving Jan before the boss. Rollo had disappeared some time ago.

The old autocrat flicked two fingers up and a thin attendant came to his side with an open box. He withdrew a cigarette and perched it then between parched lips. Here in this throne room it was yet dark and in the weak grey light the man’s lips looked ashen and desaturated. The attendant lit the end of the cigarette and the boss inhaled, slow and languorous like a yawn or a stretch. The cherry glowed bright and threw off a remarkable amount of warmth and reddening light. Jan could finally see the man’s face against that cherried flame: pale and wrinkled, the lines and folds of his skin looking like fine filigree work on an ivory sculpture. His eyes were dull and black like two pinpricks in the fabric of reality, as if the world were a mirage projected upon a skein and only through these two perforations could one glimpse at the uncompromising blackness behind it.

The old man coughed, a loud and extended hacking which reverberated around the room and went on for some time. Jan watched as this sentient organism was reduced to a series of automatic and uncontrollable spasms. An attendant came with a scrap of fabric into which the decrepit man spat some sputum.

“You see Jan, I owe your father a lot. We made a deal, a good deal for both of us. He is a powerful man up there,” he motioned his hands, gesturing upwards, “and I am a powerful man down here. I gave him my word to take care of you. I heard you got scratched during your journey, huh?”

“Yes, but it is patched up now,” Jan replied. 

After the attack the three trekked in silence and in haste for a long time, Rollo hanging far behind and sporadically returning, smelling of fresh blood and viscera. At last the narrow corridors opened up to a large room with ceilings so high the light from the headlamps seemed spent before reaching any destination. It had three doors set in what seemed like an endless obsidian slab.

“We’re almost there -- one door gets us home. The other two: death. Another kind of home.” Pyotr smiled sardonically, “I hope I remember.”

Once inside Jan saw that it was a catacomb of pathways and dwellings, a hive for a listless population who cast furtive looks of awe and fear upon them. Many wore threadbare All-Suits and had the pallid and forlorn look of purposeless men. Everyone was given what they needed to live but what was this subterranean group of men to hope for besides their deaths. They would die stranded in this place, their lineage, which had groped like the proboscis of life itself suddenly curtailed in an egressless finality. For a human to want to continue living, pulled forward as if caught in the midst of a cavalcade by the hope of the myriad days ahead, the reality of the end must be constantly held at bay

“Good, good!” exclaimed the boss man. “Wouldn't do to have you damaged. Would you like to see what was exchanged for you?”

A beautiful youth with a shorn head and a neck muscled like a bull pushed in a large box covered by a crimson fabric. The frail authority stood up and circumambulated the box and, like a magician, he pulled off the covering.

Inside was a transparent box which held a pair of lungs, disembodied but breathing and animated, filling and unfilling in slow metronomic regularity. It was set like a gem in a pool of dark vermillion liquid like a siamese amphibian. The young man pointed a dull lamp at it so that it was spot-lit like a rare treasure. The old one smiled sweetly beckoned for Jan to come closer. 

“What do you think, huh? They tell me this comes from a promising athlete. I wonder what happened for him to lose these. Probably threw it all away for some trifling idea. I hope you are not like one of these stubborn young men, so disinclined towards the project of staying alive.” 

Jan peered into the box. It was an unnatural sight, the unconnected organ, removed from a former body and made to be all by itself, self contained and purposeless. At the moment it was respiring for no one.

The old man held up his hand and a lithe attendant handed him a lit cigarette. He took a drag and was racked by stuttering coughs. At length he regained control over his diaphragm. 

“As you can see, my lungs won’t last much longer,” he looked at Jan, “I think it was a good trade. A life for a life. Your father will keep me alive for as long as you are alive. So, my boy, you must live here a good long while!” 

Jan was not listening but rather he was still transfixed by the sight of the lungs breathing automatically in its mechanical bardo. Although organ transplants had long been routine and easy, Jan wondered at the uncanniness of it, this emigration of foreign flesh.

The surgery capsule has the shape of an octagonal cylinder, a solid slip of chrome. It is a kind of metallic sarcophagus. Contained inside is an array of arms and tools: auto-cauterizing scalpels, tubes, needles. The unit handles almost all surgeries including transplants. It can keep the organ bathed in a nutritious pseudo plasma until time for its incorporating into the target body. It is also capable of keeping a patient on multiple bypass for hours, a man can lay there fully eviscerated and organ-less for almost a  week. It’s manifold tiny arms structured like a splay tree can suture the fractalized interface of vessels and nerves in parallel, drastically speeding up the critical step of connecting a new body component. Once the capsule is sealed it is absolutely sterile preventing any chance of infection.

The ability to so easily switch out organs heralded an age of semi immortality.  The IV feeds deliver an assortment of nutrients, chemicals, and biologic nanobots: immuno-manipulators which can up or down regulate precise aspects of the body’s homeostasis as needed. 

Medical science provides a pseudo immortality. While the brain could not be replaced, most organs could be transplanted, most limbs could be made cybernetic.

“This is your room, Jan, one of the best. I live nearby if you need me. Rollo lives in the barracks. I can show you sometime. We have arranged a companion for you as well, she will take care of all your needs.” At this Pyotr gave him a sly and significant look and repeated: “All of your needs.”

“She?”

“Yes, you’ll see what I mean. Don’t be put off, you are lucky. Very. You saw those people from before, you don’t want to be them. The boss man wants to give you something of your old life. You don’t have to worry about anything, she will bring you anything you need.”

Jan looked around the grey box of a room. A large low bed, a table with chairs, some organizers, a strange sculpture in the corner, a kind of interior obelisk. On one side an All Suit hung from the wall. On the other was a doorless entrance to another room, the bathroom.

“There’s no plumbing here, so she will bring you water and take care of your chamber pot. And food. The food they deliver here is laced with sedative. They want to keep us sleepy. We extract it out, don’t worry, but she will also bring you the pills we make from the extraction. There is a little extra in them. Rollo and I are not allowed to take them, we have to stay sharp. But you, Jan, you are on vacation now, haha.”

“What’s her name?”

“Her name? I forget, you can ask her, or maybe you can make one up for her.”

They stood there for a few moments in silence, the ineffable weight of reality coalescing in Jan’s chest. Was this the rest of his life?

“You’ll be ok. This is the land of no future. And the past is too distant. Here is only present. And there are no gods, only men. We didn’t make this world. We are free to kill and destroy, but also to create and be good. We arelike actors living in this nightmare, but at least it’s not our nightmare.”

Jan thought back to the pain amplifier, the phantasms that were urgent and real even though he knew they were crafted and implanted.

“Jan, I ask you. When you have nightmares, or dreams, there are people in them yes? Do you think those people suffer as much as the dreamer himself?”

“I’m not sure. Is there any difference between the dreamer and the dreamed?”

“Ah yes, I wonder too. Maybe the same. To kill is to die as well. That would make me and Rollo ghosts, yes? Haha!”

With a wry and bitter smile Pyotr turned to leave. Jan layed on the bed and looked up at the featureless ceiling. Long bereft of his old All Suit and belongings, he could not bring up a hologram of Eva nor anyone nor anything else from his past life. He ruminated over them in his mind but each pass of remembering seem to only wear out an image already vague and faded. To recollect is like bringing a deep sea creature up from the depths. On the surface it dies.

He lay like this for a long while, motionless and horizontal slowly passing and in out of consciousness, not sure if the room was a room or merely the shape of a room. Room shaped, just as he was Jan shaped. Then he heard a slight shuffle and saw someone laying things on the table. His heart raced.

“Eva?”

She turned, “Yes?”

Jan got up too quickly for his blood to catch up and felt dizzy. He saw a woman with short black hair and delicate features looking at him steadily without expression. Instead of an all suit she wore a dress, a simple one piece without much color or ornamentation.

“Oh … are you? No, you’re not. You’re the one Pyotr told me about?”

“Yes, I am to be your companion.” The sound of her voice was dusky and complex, imbued with rich harmonics and a hint of rasp. Jan took a few steps closer. Her skin was white as sheet paper, subtly translucent and pink displaying an intimation of blood flowing within her. She was neither tall nor short but very slight and insubstantial.

“I brought you some food.” she said, gesturing towards the table. A square of nutrition cube, brown and replete, sat upon a crude dish. Next to it were two pills and a glass of water. “The pills are the sedatives. It takes the edge off time.”

“Time.” Jan said to himself. The weight of time hit him in that moment; the aeons that came before him and would come after him, unceasing and unconcerned that within its endless expanse it contained all life and reality, all sadness and joy. It simply moved on like a ship apathetic of its boundless cargo. 

Jan sat down and ate, an act which was no great pleasure nor chore. The nutritional cube tasted like garlic and mud. The woman sat across from him and simply watched, sometimes at him and sometimes beyond him. In a place with no windows, a person had nowhere else to look through.

“What is your name?”

“You can give me one. Perhaps Eva?”

Jan looked up at her in shock, into black eyes. There was a small smile on her face, an inviting look, or perhaps a simulacrum of one.

“No, I’d rather not call you that.”

After finishing his meal, he walked outside and looked down the long corridors which led off in both directions. Either terminated in darkness. The walls were bare except for doors and there was no one in sight. Except for the weak light escaping from his room, there was no illumination. All around him a forest of silence hemmed and contained the world into a small and quiet place. There was nowhere to go and nothing to do.

In the room the woman had scarcely moved. The table had been cleared except for the two pills and the glass of water. She sat with her head bowed and back slumped slightly as if in some indolent prayer. 

Jan returned and swallowed the pills. He drank down the water like a man parched and lost in a desert. He lay down on the bed and the light seemed to dim and grow warmer with hues of vermillion and yellow. He felt a slackening and letting go throughout his body and could sense the viscosity of the fluid coursing through his veins and arteries. The bed, which had been firm and ungiving, seemed to depress in order to cradle him and give him the soft sensation of a perpetual and endless sinking. He was going down, further and further. He imagined sinking into a shallow grave where he could sleep forever within its downy indentation.

The woman came to lay on her side next to him and gently held him in her hands. Slowly she stroked his hair and the side of his face as his pupils dilated wide and round. She nuzzled him sweetly and the warmth of her thin body made Jan feel like he could live in eternity if only he were a rock or piece of dirt, thoughtless and un-discomfited by the howling wraiths inside him. Her light embrace reminded him of the cocoon he always yearned for, the start and the end.

It seemed like a blink of an eye but somehow now she was crouched above him. He saw her face above him, her keen eyes miscegenated with sorrow and cruelty. He could now see her Adam's apple working underneath the white skin of her neck and the veins blue as cobalt. She bent down to kiss his face now wet with tears. Her face blurred and oscillated between Eva’s and her’s, and sometimes to a third face which looked like no one he knew at all, a blank and abstract kind of face that seemed alien and suprahuman.

“Eva?”

“Yes”, she replied, her reed thin body arched over him like a leopard over prey.

#sedimentary city