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the-likesofus · 2 months

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never known comfort like laying next to you

9-1-1 on ABC | Buddie | 2.6k words | cuddling and snuggling, confessions, sharing a bed, soft boys being soft

A long shift ends with a quiet pizza and movie night within the walls of the Diaz house followed by a quiet confession beneath Eddie’s duvet

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When Buck and Eddie finally drag themselves over the threshold of Eddie's front door Buck feels the last of his strength fall to the floor along with his duffle bag and he absently follows Eddie to the couch.

"I could sleep for a month," Eddie whines as he lazes back against the cushions.

"So could I," Buck agrees. "But we've gotta pick up Chris."

Eddie groans and Buck watches the movement out of the corner of his squinted eyes as Eddie rolls his head back and forth against the back of the couch. "Not for like an hour."

Buck hums and breathes deeply. His bones ache and his feet tingle from standing all day. None of their calls today had been out of the ordinary but they had been never-ending. They'd barely get back to the station before they'd be loading up again and if Buck has to see another exploded rice cooker ever again it'll be too soon.

"Do you want to shower first?" Buck asks.

"Yeah, thanks," Eddie says. "Just give me a minute. I can't feel my legs yet."

Buck laughs but it comes out as more of a wheeze, even his lungs are tired. He stares at the ceiling as the light fixture blurs in and out of focus. He feels the cushions shift as Eddie slumps to the side and then there’s a weight against Buck’s shoulder and a soft puff of air across his throat.

“Eddie, we gotta stay awake.” Buck mumbles but his words slur together, his tongue heavy in his mouth. “Eds?”

He gets a half attempt at a grumble from Eddie and nothing more before Buck's eyelids fall shut under the weight of his exhaustion and the world fades away.

He wakes sometime later to the sound of the front door closing and the clack of crutches against the floor. Oh shit, Christopher!

Buck is about to scramble out of his seat but he’s held in place by the weight of Eddie still sound asleep against Buck’s chest and then Carla comes into view and Buck goes slack again as relief takes him over.

“What time is it?” Buck rushes to ask though it comes out slurred.

“Just after half past three.” Then she must take in the panic on Buck’s face as she smiles and comes over to rub a hand over Buck’s shoulder before she takes a seat in the armchair across from Eddie’s couch. “Oh no, were you boys so tired you forgot you already had me rostered to pick up Chris?”

Buck yawns. “Thank you, Carla. What would we do without you?”

Carla laughs and stands up again. “I’m sure you’d manage but I’m happy to help. I believe Chris has gone straight to his room. They got a new science project today and he was excited to start it as soon as he got home. I’m sure he’ll come out as say ‘hello’ soon enough.”

Buck yawns again and Carla rolls her eyes. “Get some sleep, Buck. Eddie’s got the right idea.” She nods down at where Eddie is drooling on Buck’s uniform t-shirt and Buck feels heat start to climb up his neck as he remembers that Eddie is still sprawled out against him and sound asleep. Carla waves goodbye and then she’s out the door again.

Buck should probably wake Eddie, tell him to go have that shower, and make him go sleep in his actual bed so that he doesn’t end up with a crick in his neck but Eddie looks so peaceful and something is reassuring about the weight of him against Buck's chest and he just can’t bring himself to disturb him.

The sound of Christopher’s crutches makes themselves known once more as he comes into the living room from the hallway. The boy pauses for a moment when he notices both Buck and his Dad on the couch.

“Is Dad asleep?” He asks, his voice drops to a whisper and Buck smiles and beckons him over.

“Yeah, he is.” Buck reaches up to hug Chris with his free arm as the boy teeters forward to hug Buck over Eddie’s head. “Did you have a good day at school, Buddy?”

“Yeah! “ In his excitement, Chris forgot to whisper, and then sudden volume causes Eddie to grumble and stir, his nose scrunches up and Buck watches his eyebrows furrow as he presses his face into Buck. Buck rubs an absent hand up the back of Eddie’s head and Eddie sighs contently and settles again. When Buck looks up, Chris is watching them with an inquisitive expression on his face.

“How about pizza for dinner tonight?” Buck asks and Chris nods excitedly. “Okay, can you get my phone for me? It’s in the outside pocket of my work bag.”

Buck points to where he thinks he remembers setting his bag down and Chris makes quick work of finding his phone and bringing it back to him. “Can we get pepperoni?”

“Of course, Bud. Hey, how about you go finish your homework while we wait for the pizza to arrive.”

“Okay. Are you going to wake up Dad?”

“When the pizza arrives,” Buck says, already navigating to the pizza website awkwardly with his phone in his left hand and placing their usual order.

True to his word, Buck reluctantly shakes Eddie awake when his phone beeps with a text notifying him that their order is on its way.

Eddie wakes slower than Buck did, his eyes opening and dropping closed again a few times as Buck squeezes his shoulder.

“Hey, Eds. Sorry, man, but you gotta wake up now.”

“Wah? What time is it?” Eddie asks, his head still firmly pressed into Buck’s chest.

“Almost dinner time, Carla brought Chris home for you.”

Eddie pauses momentarily, taking in the information before he sits up and looks around. “Oh. Oh, yeah that’s good. I forgot she was getting him today.”

He yawns rubs his hands up his face as he leans back against the couch and then freezes and drops his hands to look at Buck. Eddie’s sleep-glazed gaze flits between Buck’s face and the damp patch on Buck’s chest and he ducks his head embarrassed. “Sorry, about your shirt.”

Buck shrugs. “You’re good. I ordered pizza, it should be here in a minute. You probably have time for a quick shower if you want.”

Eddie rubs at one eye with a fist and nods, slowly getting to his feet. “Okay, thanks.”

Eddie disappears down the hallway, still yawning as Buck sits up and stretches out his numb shoulder. His side is cold where Eddie was lying just moments ago and he dings through the nearest duffle to him for a sweatshirt. As he tugs it over his head he realizes that it’s probably Eddie’s but at this point, it barely matters. Their wardrobes have merged almost indecipherably over the years.

Buck summons Christopher to help set the table while Buck pulls two beers out of the fridge and pours a glass of juice for Chris. In the distance, he can hear the shower turn off and Eddie shuffling around his bedroom getting dressed. As Chris lays out cutlery and Buck passes him plates Chris chats excitedly about his new science project and Buck promises to help him with the actual experiment tomorrow.

Chris is making all sorts of other plans for their Saturday, including a trip to the park, when Eddie comes back into the kitchen. His hair is still damp and hanging over his forehead in a way that forces Buck to look away and turn his attention back to looking for the bottle opener—which always seems to find its way to the very back of Eddie’s drawer—so that he can open the beers.

“Dad, can we go to the skate park tomorrow?”

“If the weather is nice, then yeah.” Eddie shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”

“Cool! Buck is going to teach me how to do a kickflip.” Chris says brightly.

Buck laughs and holds a now-open beer out to Eddie who takes it with a quiet smile. “I said no such thing! I can’t even do a kickflip, Chris.”

“Well, maybe I’ll figure it out, and then I can teach you,” Chris says with full confidence. Secretly, Buck does know how to do a kickflip but the last time he did one he was fourteen and it ended in a trip to the emergency center with a broken nose, a piece of information he is sure Eddie will thank him for not sharing. Besides, Chris literally cannot fall off his skateboard thanks to the frame Eddie and Buck built for him, the frame that recently needed modification to accommodate Christopher’s latest growth spurt. The kid has been growing like a weed since the summer.

The doorbell rings and Buck shuffles around Eddie, past the counter, and out to the front door to get their pizza. When he returns with the boxes in his arms Chris and Eddie and both sitting at the table waiting for him. Eddie has brought Buck’s beer out from the kitchen for him and it is waiting for him at his seat.

Together they make room on the table for the boxes and then they dig in. They talk as they eat, Christopher with pizza sauce smeared across his cheek and a dozen questions about what makes a rice cooker explode, Buck patiently explaining the science of pressure mechanisms to him, and Eddie watching them as he contently chews on his slice of three meat barbeque pizza.

“Can we watch a movie tonight?” Chris asks around a mouthful of pizza. Buck pulls a napkin from the pile in the middle of the table and passes it to Chris.

“Have you done your homework?” Eddie asks.

“He was doing it while you were snoozing,” Buck says and Chris giggles, bright and gleeful. Eddie just rolls his eyes.

“It’s Friday, Dad. I have all weekend to finish it. Jason was talking about this old movie at school today and it sounded funny.”

“What was the movie?” Eddie asks.

“Shark Story or something?”

Buck struggles not to choke on his pizza and sends a horrified look in Eddie’s direction. “Shark Tale, you mean?”

Christopher’s face lights up. “Yeah, yeah. That one.”

The movie is a hit and Christopher vows to ask Jason for more movie recommendations the following week at school, right before he falls asleep against Buck's shoulder.

“I seem to make a pretty good pillow tonight.” He jokes and Eddie’s cheeks flush pink.

“I did say I was sorry,” Eddie grumbles, getting up from the couch to clear away their beer bottles and the empty popcorn bowl.

“No, no. It’s fine, Eds. I was just teasing.” Buck leans back against the couch and watches Eddie walk into the kitchen and back again. “You want me to carry him?”

Eddie glances down at Christopher who is slowly sinking lower and lower down Buck's side and filling out the space Eddie left when he stood up. He shakes his head. “No, don't worry about it. I don't want to wake him, he can sleep on the couch tonight. It's not like he has school tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay.” Buck says. He slowly eases himself up off the couch, lowering Christopher’s head down to meet the pillow Eddie pulls from the cupboard and passes to Buck. The pillow that is usually Buck’s when he stays over. The pillow he thought he would be using tonight. “I'll get out of your hair then.”

“What?” Eddie looks up at him, startled.

Buck waves to Christopher now snoring lightly on the couch in front of them, Buck's usual duvet tucked up around his chin. “Well, we're not both gonna fit on there.” He jokes.

“Oh, right.” Eddie chews on the end of his thumb. “Still, you don't have to go home. I was hoping for pancakes in the morning.”

“Oh, were you now?” Buck raises an eyebrow and gives Eddie a playful shove. “I'll take Chris’ bed then, I guess.”

“You're too long for Chris’ bed.”

“I'm too long for that couch too but that hasn't seemed to matter for the last however many years I've been sleeping on it.”

Eddie stares past him for a moment as if he's lost in thought.

“It's okay, I'll go home and I'll come back first thing in the morning to make your panca—.”

“Stay with me.”

“Huh?” Eloquent.

“With me,” Eddie repeats as if that will make it make sense. “In my bed. It's not like we haven't shared before. Besides, I hear you make a good pillow.”

Buck feels heat start to rise in his cheeks and he ducks his head, stalking down the hall. “Well, come on then. It's getting late.”

They get ready for bed in relative silence. Buck finds his spare toothbrush in the bathroom and Eddie passes him a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt. Buck is pretty sure the pants are some of his own that he'd left here at some point. The T-shirt is definitely Eddie's. It's pale grey and worn thin with a small hole at the hem but it hangs softly over Buck’s shoulders.

Eddie knocks before coming into the bathroom to brush his teeth next to Buck in the mirror. There's something so normal about it that even though they have done this dozens of times before it still blows Buck away at the comfort such a simple process when done together can bring him.

They climb into opposite sides of the bed—Eddie by the door and Buck by the window—they don't even have to talk about it.

Buck expects it to be awkward. The first night they had shared a bed during quarantine they had both lain stiff as boards for hours before eventually Eddie had kicked him in the shin and they'd gone to sleep. It got easier each night after that.

Now, they lay loose-limbed next to each other with barely a foot of space between them. If Buck stretched out his fingers he could probably find Eddie's hand right by his. So he does—in a moment of stupid bravery—and Eddie grips his fingers back, threading his between Buck's, locking them together.

“Thank you for staying,” Eddie whispers.

“Thank you for not letting me leave,” Buck replies.

“I never like it when you do,” Eddie says and it feels like a confession.

Buck rolls onto his side, facing Eddie and pulling their intertwined hands up to rest on the mattress between their heads. Eddie turns his head to him. “I'd stay forever if you'd have me.”

Eddie rolls over and places his other hand over their joint fists. “You already have me .”

Something hot and radiant boils up in Buck's chest. He reaches up and hesitates a moment with his hand hovering over Eddie's cheek, but then Eddie turns his face up into it and noses along the edge of Buck's thumb.

“Roll over.” Eddie pushes at Buck's shoulder till he's flat on his back. “I want my pillow back.”

Buck can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him as Eddie shuffles closer and practically drapes himself over Buck, resting his head in the juncture between his shoulder and his neck. He sinks into the mattress beneath him, letting the weight of Eddie settle over him like a blanket.

“You do make a good pillow.”

“Stay.” Buck whispers against Eddie's forehead.

“Forever, if you'll have me,” Eddie replies, laying his hand palm down on Buck's chest, right over his steadily beating heart.

Buck lays his hand over Eddie's. “You already have me .”

#buddie #buddie fic #911 #911 abc #meegs writes stuff #evan 'buck' buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #911fic #911 fic

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taggedmemes · 3 months

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SENTENCE MEME BALDUR'S GATE 3 / PART SIX

leave us in peace and we shall leave you in kind.

cut the crap.

we just want to go home.

enough of this charade.

i'll not play pretend anymore.

you'll soon learn what it means to ally yourself with the likes of this garbage.

i'm free now, and i'm never going back.

fuck them.

felt good letting off a little steam.

if i burn any hotter, i might explode.

don't get too close until i've found a way to calm down.

it's a bit early to be getting into tragic backstories.

let's save the scar-show for later after we've worked up an appetite for tragedy.

in the grand scheme of things, i'm inconsequential [to her].

she favored me like a child favors a captive pet.

it had the makings of a good stage show, but i did not want to be one of the players.

torture, bloodsport? or perhaps just a good old-fashioned walloping?

you owe me nothing.

i could extort you, if that's what you want.

you're teasing me now.

ignorance is alive and well it seems.

don't make me get the wooden spoon.

you'd best have one hells of an apology for me.

if you think your precious little god holds any power here, you're in for a surprise.

do you treat all your guests so poorly?

i don't like busybodies.

you are as thick as they come.

are you telling me you made love to a goddess?

i shared a bed with a goddess and yet i wasn't satisfied.

shall i share the story behind it or would you rather head straight to its sordid finale?

how are you still alive?

we've come this far together and we'll continue on together.

even i am tired of the sound of my own voice.

i'll rip your spine out of your asshole.

i'll use your blood to spice my stew.

i'll keep you alive until i've sucked the marrow from your bones.

killing me is a waste of time.

you bastard, you ruined everything.

this is an interesting way of thanking me.

a slap is all you deserve.

a hag was never going to help you.

they don't help anyone but themselves.

that double-crossing, filthy, lying hag.

focus on the positive.

forgive the aroma.

perhaps that is why i have survived so long where more fearsome peers have not.

your loyalty is admirable but misplaced.

his kind have charm beyond our mortal means to resist.

who'd keep a secret like that from his friends?

you can't trust anyone these days.

even in the middle of nowhere, he can reach me.

why do you insist on exhuming the past?

people think the biggest threat to a vampire is a cleric with a stake.

they're scheming, paranoid, power-hungry beasts.

i am what i must be, says what i must be.

how does it feel to be a devil?

i can't tell if you're being silly or serious.

you have to admire the man's ambition.

i promise i will not betray your trust.

you kept me by your side despite the menace i am.

i learned quick how to stay alive.

to feel invincible again.

this isn't where i thought i'd end up.

maybe when this is all done, you can show me where you came from.

i'm not normally one to begrudge someone their secrets, but..

i'm already blessed to have you at my side.

don't you cut a fine figure.

i am not some lower city coinlad offering you a tumble.

there is nothing so depressing as learning one's true value.

i could use someone with your skills.

they're ravenous predators with fangs like daggers.

it's hardly an irrational fear to harbor.

you've been decent to me, so far.

everyone's got their own fears.

maybe that's what i like about you.

all of this was for nothing.

if you're here to help, get to the fight quickly.

gods, i thought you were one of those beasts.

i'm not chasing after it, if that's what you're thinking.

the little beast's charming once you get accustomed to the smell of rotting flesh.

#sentence meme #rp meme #sentence starters #roleplay meme #starter sentences #rp starters #rpc #starter meme #sentence prompts #sentence prompt #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #writing prompt #bg3 meme

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blasphemecel · 4 months

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Shidou Ryuusei — Like Teeth

PAIRING: Shidou Ryuusei/Reader WORD COUNT: 3.6k TYPE: Humor, Feelings realization, idfk what this even is but i threw in some surprise fluff at the end WARNING(S): Nsfw jokes but cmon it's shidou you gotta forgive me for finding sex funny this once, play-fighting that doesn't seem very playful, canon-typical mental illness, canon-typical unnecessary dramatics, canon-typical overly intense soccer rivalry NOTE: Reader is a part of the blue lock project but no concrete gender identity or pronouns are specified

It starts like this:

After the freaky nerd from the ceremony whose name you hadn’t bothered remembering finishes with his instructions about this game of tag you’re supposed to be playing, the biggest asshole in the room immediately targets you once he realizes you’re the one with the highest number on your jersey. You trap the ball with ease and then kick it straight into his face with as much power as you can muster, knocking him out, the force sending him reeling.

While the timer continues ticking, no one dares to make a move or even exhale too loudly in your presence, scared you might take their bodily functions as a challenge to your authority. Like every opponent before, they’ve submitted to you.

You stare at the ceiling, your lips set in a tight line, the despair settling in. Just this once, you want to meet someone who can excite you, and you’d hoped this ridiculous place could help.

___

As the top scorer of your pathetic excuse for a team — though behind your back they call you ‘the top red card holder,’ but considering how far up your own ass your head is, you’re yet to pay attention to this remark — by the second qualifying match they already know to pass the ball to you no matter what. In your defense, you’re not any more tyrannical than the average douche in this competition. It’s not your fault they’re too worthless to do what you can.

Two of the opponents are blocking your path, and you shuffle the ball between your feet trying to get the positioning right while they attempt to steal it. Everyone is making noises, but they never mean anything to you. You back up once you’ve felt that the stars have aligned and strike the ball through the tight opening between their bodies, taking the first goal of the match.

“You’re good!”

You blink, the words bringing you out of your perpetual trance to look at the guy in front of you. He starts rambling some nonsense about explosions and how he’s going to beat the ass of anyone who can’t give a good show and you think at some point he has started finding new roundabout ways of saying that he basically wants to bust a nut on the field. It is absurd. You understand it down to your bones, except maybe the last thing. For the first time, everything is coming into view. You can make out his face and you can hear his words and you see your teammates in your peripheral vision. How you didn’t notice him before, what with the hairstyle and his cartoonishly beautiful eyelashes, you’re not sure, but you’ve never been more present during a game before.

“Alright, gyaru,” you say. “Show me how you explode.”

“Gyaru?” he tilts his head, grin wide like a demon’s. “You think I’m pretty?”

Though Jinpachi Ego officially writes down what ensues as a round-robin tourney in his notes, the spectators (meaning literally anyone else who was in your physical proximity) would describe it as ‘The Longest Dick Measuring Contest They’ve Ever Seen.’

The way he moves fascinates you like nothing else. Just like you, he is a creature of instinct. You both circle around while trying to score or steal the ball, only to find that stopping the other is impossible.

After this match, two monsters glance at each other and think, ‘Maybe there is someone out here who understands me.’

___

There are still jitters in your veins. You can’t sleep. Is it ridiculous and maybe parasocial that the thought of ‘I want to see this guy again’ is keeping you up at night? Yeah, probably. You also feel like a creep lying down in the dark with your eyes wide open, yearning to bulldoze through something like you do when you want to calm down.

Frustrated, you slip out of the futon and leave the room while the rest of them are sleeping. The hallways let out ominous flickers, trailing after you while your steps echo and bounce off the walls. This building looks like a prison, you think, though you hadn’t noticed before.

You hate to think that your desperation is so strong you’ve developed the power of manifestation overnight, but when you step inside of the training room, he’s already there. He doesn’t have the decency to seem surprised at your entrance when you close in on him. His arms are crossed and he has a smug aura about him, but for the love of everything you cannot comprehend why he’s standing there doing nothing. At least you planned on being productive when you headed here with your plan to obliterate whatever you could get your hands on. Just so happens it’s him that you found.

The weird silence stretches, but it doesn’t bother either of you because as it turns out you have the same kind of social incompetence. You realize you don’t even know the guy’s name, but he declares, “You really came.”

You don’t really know what he means by this considering you didn’t arrange to meet here beforehand, but he’s saying it as if this was some unanimous agreement you came to earlier. “Waiting for me in the middle of the night all by yourself, handsome?”

“Every cell in my body was calling out to yours,” he says as if it explains anything. His expression is bordering on maniacal. Anyone else might’ve realized this was a bad idea, read the warning signs, but to someone like you who has lived their entire life sleepwalking, the excitement of such a strange encounter is addictive. “We’re the same… That’s why you felt it.”

“In that case, please avoid summoning me so late,” you say. “I value good sleep.”

He cannot tell if you’re just taking the piss or if you’re on the same page, but it’s rare that anyone entertains him when he says anything of that nature. To him, this is an amusing turn of events. “They say you’re some kinda unhinged delinquent. ‘s that true?”

“Sure, if that’s what you call putting a few sorry bums down in their place after they crossed me.”

“So you know how to scrap too, right?”

Right now, Shidou Ryuusei is like a kid at the candy store. You can’t discern any reason for him to swing at you, but he does, smiling all the while. After you respond to his provocation with a duck and a kick of your own — you avoid using your hands for anything if you can avoid it, finding it beneath you — you decide to consider this your friendly introduction to each other.

If he wants to coax the crazy out of you with his punches, then you’re trying to get him to settle down every time you retaliate, daring him to pipe down and turn boring just like everyone else. You’re not sure for how long you duke it out, but at some point you grow sloppy, and the last you remember of it before succumbing to your exhaustion is the last round of boneless slaps you offered each other.

___

Two of your teammates hatefully watch you and Shidou from across the cafeteria. You’re a selfish and insensitive person, of course, they know that. Before this, you’d always eat alone, but ever since the match where they were forced to watch you two flex on them, you’d hang out with him. Still, “I can’t believe [L/n] would rather have a romantic dinner with the only goddamn bastard in this goddamn building who gets better meals than share with us! I’m sick of this natto.”

“You’re telling me,” the other boy says, sadly eating a radish.

This must be an advanced form of psychological torture administered by Ego himself. Even if you don’t notice the audience, Shidou seems to be reveling in the negative attention. They can only watch and drool while you two push at each other and try to steal ingredients. At some point, you put Shidou in a suplex, making him cough out something. Then he wrestles his way out of your maneuver and shoves your head into your plate, forces you up again, and licks the food off your face while you scowl at him.

“I’d hardly call that a romantic dinner, though.”

“A guy from blondie’s team said he caught them asleep on top of each other in the training facility once.”

“Do you think they’re-?!”

“Oh my god, they’re…!”

They scream and point at each other and then hug as if traumatized. To add insult to injury, your voice rings from afar, “Are your eyes really pink? There’s no way that’s natural,” while some of the sauce still sticks to your skin.

“What? You think I’m some kinda fake?” asks Shidou, apparently offended.

“I’m gonna expose you, trust.”

How are you blowing everyone in your cell out of the water in terms of performance? You have to be the dumbest person in this entire wing.

___

“I want you,” he says.

Granted, this is out of context, but you still find that the words have some effect on you. But this won’t do no matter how hard you want to give in. With the first stage of the second selection cleared, you can’t continue as you are. You’ve been complacent in your talent. To expand your abilities, you need to observe whatever other powerful players there are in here instead of still chasing after him. Even the wet wipes on your old team have started catching up.

Besides, you’d always thought your appeal to him is as an opponent, someone who he wants on the other side of the field to face off against, and now Shidou is demanding to work together with you.

“I was in a coma before I met you,” you say. He pinches his eyebrows together, which is probably the first time you’ve seen him pull such an expression. To think you have the ability to utter something so strange, it weirds out even Shidou. “You pulled me out of it, but now I need to see other things, too.”

“If you tell me you wanna go watch other guys, I might get jealous.” Despite the initial waver, he sticks his tongue out at you, trying to be playful like always.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Shidou grabs you by the collar of your jersey and pushes you against the wall. You blink at him, finding this an inappropriate time for a spar seeing as this is regular enough for him, but then he invades your personal space in a way which doesn’t feel particularly combative, your noses brushing against each other, and he blatantly glances at your lips before closing his eyes. You don’t think about it when you pull him in by the neck, your body reacting to his cues.

It’s not even that great, he’s not really being effective at what he’s doing, mashing your mouth against his almost pointlessly, teeth clashing and all before moving far too quickly onto the tonguing part of making out. Your nails are digging into his neck and his hold against your waist is tight enough to bother you. There’s a latent aggression in it like there is in any other interaction between you two.

And you don’t enjoy this for the surface-level sensations but rather for the strange tightness in your chest, the headrush, the closeness where somehow he’s enveloping you and you’re enveloping him at the same time and it feels like you’re about to fuse. You don’t want to let go yet, maybe under the assumption that if you keep kissing him, he’s going to be polite and return your breath to you.

Steps come near the entrance of the hallway and then, “Ah! Uhhh…”

You snap out of it and push Shidou off of you. He has the gall to look offended, glaring.

There’s some puny kid with a buzz cut, standing there with his confusion clear on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, uh… whatever it was you were doing!” he says in a panic, waving his hands back and forth.

Yeah, that’s a good point. What the fuck were you doing? You just jumped at each other on instinct, ruled by some bizarre, mysterious need.

It must be because the air is so charged between you. Shidou is always in overdrive and he has a penchant for pulling you into his madness. You’re always doing something when you’re together — trading blows, trying to show the other up in soccer, saying heavy-handed things for no reason — and now a moment of stagnancy happened and you both turned into even bigger morons than usual.

He didn’t think about it either, you’re sure. Besides, even if you’re a crazy bastard on the field, you’re not like him. Shidou will meet even stronger players once he advances and he’ll move onto his next obsession. This doesn’t mean anything, at least not to him, you’re convinced.

You untangle yourself from him and ram your shoulder into his as goodbye before lamely saying, “I’m going now,” and offering a nonchalant wave.

He frowns before kicking imaginary dust off the floor. “Sure, fine. Be this way!”

Igaguri isn’t super puritanical or anything. Yeah, he grew up in a temple and all, but seeing two people kiss doesn’t offend his sensibilities. What freaked him out was how you managed to make it look like a fight while you were going at it, and like, he knows the hallway was deserted before he came out of thin air, but this is still a public place. Whatever happened to shame?

And now he has to be in the same vicinity as this scary guy who’s glaring daggers at the spot you were standing in, vein bursting out of his forehead and all, as if you ruined his life by walking out of here. He looks like a manchild who’s sulking because his mom forgot to make him chicken nuggies. A bead of nervous sweat rolls down his forehead.

___

Ever since the beginning, Isagi has been honing his technique, always hungry to add another skill to his repertoire. Rin and Shidou have no synergy; fine, he thinks, it’s not like he really even wants to set up a goal using them. It’s not enough to satisfy him anymore, not after the last match. He’d much rather score himself.

But the problem with the spatial awareness he has developed is that he can’t turn it off at will, or say ‘la-la-la’ and ignore something to focus on what’s important.

Well, being on the same stage as you and Shidou has to be the worst thing of all time. He wants to smell a goal for himself, but the most likely chemical reaction he can predict is one between you two, and you’re not even on the same team. It’s like a ticking time bomb, like those explosions Shidou has been vaguely rambling about, and it permeates the air.

You’ve started adapting his bodily control and precision, almost coming close to scoring with your back on the net. And Shidou has managed to pull off one of ridiculously tight angled shots to break through a two-on-one, passing the ball to Rin. If the phenomenon Isagi observed and achieved before is ‘consumption,’ then he has a first row seat to watch you two cannibalize each other.

The most unfortunate thing is the chase. The ball will come to you, but Shidou will steal it. He’ll be in the air ready to strike, but you’ll sabotage him from below. Isagi recognizes this as an unconscious prediction — on a molecular level, you know where the other one will be, and you’ll race there. It’s like he’s watching both of you swing neon signs and desperately scream ‘Please look at me!’ and overall beg for attention while also stubbornly refusing to make eye contact in fear of rejection.

It is revolting. He wants to gag.

Sure, Ego talked about how luck is a skill and how a pro takes advantage of it, but he never mentioned what to do when someone on his team is living through a low-rated soap opera episode with an opponent. With all of the emotional constipation among the participants of this godforsaken project, he’s sure this won’t be the last time he’ll need it.

___

Sitting down in the middle of practice isn’t productive, but you’re ‘taking a break,’ by which you mean you want to snap someone’s neck. It’s been boring again, ever since Shidou started disregarding your presence. You’re even on the same team now and it’s like you’re no better than air to him.

Of course, you’d predicted he’d find someone new to excite him. You just hadn’t anticipated it’d hurt your feelings. Why do you care, anyway? You should be used to this. The soccer you’ve played has always been selfish and lonely, and moping and jealousy are below you.

But during the match against U-20, you saw him look at Itoshi Sae the same way he first looked at you on the day you met, spouting nonsense with his unique expert-level yappery. And you don’t like that. You don’t like it at all.

He’s off doing his own thing again when you search for him with your eyes. You stand up.

And then you don’t think at all, breaking out into a sprint at full speed.

You’re behind him in the matter of a minute or so, slipping your foot between his and kicking the ball overhead so it lands behind him. He bristles, perhaps at your unwanted company, but you’ve already turned on your heel to run in the other direction.

You’re dribbling the ball when you glance over your shoulder. He’s onto you, trademark grin on his face. You’re not even sure what you’re trying to accomplish here, but all that comes to mind is, It doesn’t matter if it’s going way too fast or way too hard anymore. Just chase after me one more time.

You’re almost all the way over to the other goal, maintaining your lead, when Shidou kicks the ball after lunging around your side. It slips off half-assedly, but you don’t have much time to mock him for his technique because he grabs you by the wrists and pins you down, straddling you to the ground.

“That’s a foul,” you say, displeased.

“I don’t care.” His smile is so big you feel like he’s going to need to visit an orthodontist after you’re done here. The annoying strands of hair he keeps loose are hovering near your face, taunting you.

Your eyes dart again with your head in the fake grass and you see it straying off. “And the ball didn’t make it. To be honest, you were sloppy.”

“I don’t care.”

“You… don’t?”

There’s that sick fluttering feeling in your stomach again and your heart kicks against your chest painfully. Your cheeks are growing warm and you feel uncomfortable by the heat with Shidou so close to you. What the hell is wrong with you? Seriously, he didn’t even tell you a line or anything. He just said ‘I don’t care’ twice. That’s not game! You need to get a grip.

“Yeah, why should I? I’ve got you right where I want you now.”

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow. If making you look like an idiot is his revenge to you for making him mad, then fine, you’re going to pretend you can’t make your way out of his grip with ease.

“You can’t give me a big dopamine hit like that and pull away,” he says, leaning closer. By this point you really can’t see much apart from his big ass head right in your face. Does he even know what he’s implying to you while looking at you straight-on? Does he realize you know his weird euphemisms are all figures of speech for whatever makes him horny?

“What do you mean?”

“Tellin’ me all that romantic stuff and running away…” Shidou narrows his eyes as if the memory is enough to annoy him.

You blink. Oh. You thought he was throwing a temper tantrum because you refused to team up with him. But once again, you’re unimpressed. “So did that turn you on or what? I don’t get it.”

“Well, I’d put it in other words, like, let’s say, hypothetically, maybe you made me explode because you’re an oxidizer and I’m an organic-”

“Ok, I know, but I’m trying to figure out what’s going on here-”

He retreats and rolls away from you, allowing you to sit up again, so you cease talking without reaching the point you were trying to make. It flies out of your head anyway when he links his hand with yours, staring at you, seemingly subdued now. You’re not sure why you’re both acting like shy middle schoolers now while indulging in something so chaste considering you’ve done way more indecent things together, but you intertwine your fingers and offer him a smile. The sight catches him off-guard.

Before he can bask in another achievement (this time being the first person to make you express any kind of joy when everyone knows you’re one distant asshole), a ball hits him straight on the forehead.

Without any preamble, Rin deems it fit to announce his presence by saying, “Your lukewarm displays are appalling. You should both just die.”

You stare at him and then at each other and burst out in laughter, pointing at him. Though you finish your laughing fits at about the same time, you spur on another one by asking, “Do you think he even knows what lukewarm means?”

“No, I seriously doubt it!”

Rin thinks to ask you how come you think it’s chill when your shitty boyfriend or whatever he is says the grossest things imaginable, but suddenly it’s a problem when he wants to say his favorite word, though he doesn’t want to seem too offended or otherwise invested.

___

Im sorry if this is in any way contradictory or shitty or sucks balls I havent slept in 4 days except for a one-off 3 hour nap and wrote this while possessed. Maybe ill sleep again at some point and this will be the worst thing ive ever seen and ill have to delete it. God forbid.

#shidou x reader #shidou ryuusei x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x you

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youaremyhome · 1 year

Text

Pieces of the Night: Resisting the New Moon

Warnings: Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader, 18+ NSFW, smut, HEAVY non-con/dub-con, drug use, possessive behavior, blackmail, manipulation, DARK. More to add. Read at your own risk!

Notes: 3.0k words. I just to thank everyone that has been patiently waiting for my updates and i am SO SORRY for how long this took. Bad news: this is pretty plot-heavy so no smut, good news: next chapter is Rafe's POV! so i really hope yall like it so tell me if you do or don't, i just wanna hear from ya'll!! it means so much to read what you guys think as you read and i find it just as entertaining as writing the series lol

Taglist: @belcalis9503 @ACRAZYBIOTCH374 @fangirlwithlou@malfoytargaryen @RAFECAMERONSBADUSSY @takin-care-of-business@watersquirtpewpewboomm @magnificantmermaid @mk15x @abbybarnesstuff @lavenderhue

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! (And I’m sorry if I missed you, I love you)

Coming home should be relaxing.

Instead, a ball of dread sits in your esophagus as you turn the key, inching the door open. Silence greets you, shoulders dropping with the weight rolling down your back. You’re truly alone now, with no greedy hands or nipping teeth to get you.

It was a struggle to leave Rafe’s apartment. A wake-up call of kisses and an encore of his performance in the alley started your morning off, followed by an insufferable breakfast with his roommates, Topper and Kelce. Both boys seemed confused as you sat at the dining table, dressed in Rafe’s t-shirt and boxers as he placed the coffee in front of you. The boyish leers and whistles followed you down the hall when you excused yourself, their eyes pinned to the various bruises scattered on you like exploded stars.

Rafe tried insisting on you skipping class with sweet promises that escalated into whispered threats. Fortunately, you were able to escape. It costed you another pair of underwear.

Dragging yourself to your room, your body and mind argue about who’s more exhausted.

While muscles felt strained and bones felt weak, your mind had no inner voice for once. On autopilot as you change, dumping your things to the ground. A muted consciousness fogs your senses, moving like a sim controlled by a child; clumsy and aimless. Collapsing on the bed is the last thing that happens before the screen turns black.

“Get up!”

Your name is being yelled in layers, crusty eyes peeking open as your friends storm in like an army brigade. Andi squeals and jumps into your bed as their voices overlap.

“How could you keep this from us you bitch?!”

“Everyone’s talking about it –"

“Talking about what?” Your sleepy voice cracks.

“You and Rafe, duh!”

Springing up, an instant flush blisters your face, the girls hitching up an octave as they point it out. Their eyes and questions are like needlepoints poking at your skin.

Rubbing your face with both hands, you press the heels to your eyes. “It just sorta… happened.” Little specks of black and silver sprinkle your vision once you’re done squishing your eyes. There’s no point in lying to them. Well, more than you have to.

Looking between the three of them you ask, “How’d you even know so fast? I left his apartment this morning.”

“Oh, please.” Dan huffs, flicking her wrist. “Those frat boys are worst gossips than us. I heard from Mary, who got a text from Liz whose sleeping with Matt, that Topper told him how you did the walk of shame straight to your class."

Louise strikes out, pulling the neckline of your sweater down, revealing the fresh bruises on your skin. They titter, the girls settling on your bed as you pull your knees up, hugging them tightly to your chest. You tell them what they want to hear.

How Rafe had been persisting you in class while you secretly – hated – loved it, cautious because of his reputation. Leading him to beg for a date and the modified version of the dirty details. As you weave the story, struggling is replaced with play fighting, crying with giggling. The lies stumble through your dry mouth, but they assume it's from your shy demeanor.

“So, do you like… like him?” Louise asks with an impish grin and wonder in her eye. Ever the romantic.

“Personality-wise?” You can’t help the grimace on your face. “He’s alright, I guess.”

Clearly, it isn’t the answer she was hoping for; she shrugs, saying people start dating from being fuck buddies nowadays. Controlling your bodily reaction to your relationship named as that is difficult, a weak nod is all you give.

You can see the excitement they hold for you like little offerings you’re supposed to lap up. In any other case, you would be squealing along with them, maybe even having butterflies in your stomach with fuzzy wings instead of knives.

They probe for more intimate details, something you all do after a new boy. Only this time feels…dirty, that these details should never see the light of day for how dark they are. Further despising Rafe for another thing he has unknowingly ruined: the enjoyment of gossiping with your friends. You’re holding back now and it doesn’t feel right. You should be telling them how you cry at the sight of him, not that you orgasm every time (though that is begrudgingly true, too).

“Just be careful, okay?” Danielle says after the conversation winds down. Reaching over, she lays her hand on yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. It’s a simple caring gesture that has you almost breaking. The touch is innocent and good-natured, something you haven’t felt in weeks.

It reminisces the first time you had told them about Rafe. Danielle always had a better judge of character than you. Repeatedly telling you how there were some people that rather burn than put a fire out. Now, you were encircled in a hellish blue fire that licked at your skin.

You hold eye contact, a wall trembling to fall but you reinforce it with a smile. “Of course.”

Over the course of the next couple weeks, other Greek life people you knew were asking about you and Rafe. You knew the community was big enough to not know everyone, but small enough for word to spread like a slow forest fire, contained in an area before it latches onto a lingering branch, lighting its way through the whole campus.

Questions of if you were dating seemed constant, a hardy no was always the answer. Not understanding the fuss of a random frat boy sleeping with a random college girl. Frustrated with it, you had asked a sorority girl that shared the same class with you and Rafe why it even mattered.

“You’re kidding, right?” You frowned and shook your head. “Everyone knows the rich, crazy VP that loves partying more than girls has never had a girlfriend. Especially one so nice.”

You repeated to her and anyone with ears that you and Rafe were absolutely not dating.

That didn’t stop him from heightening the rumors, walking you to and from classes, a kiss hello and goodbye. Arm stretched behind your chair during lecture, playing with the ends of your hair. Public displays of affection that curdled low in your belly. It only reminded you of the leash he has on you. So taut, that with any wrong move, he’ll turn it into a cage.

Even parties weren’t as fun anymore, Rafe making an appearance more likely than not. Those nights usually ended with you drunk, high, fucked out, or a combination of the three. It didn’t matter if you tried hiding somewhere in the packed houses or fought with him there, it ended with you in his bed.

Today you were especially ticked off.

Hungover and crabby, you’re grumbly and feeling like all over shit. You don’t know why your body hurts more, from your intense hungover or the way Rafe had slammed you down to the bed last night. He was already up when you awoke, only in sweats as he ruffled through his desk drawers. He gave you a distracted morning as you got up and dressed. Though you’ve been appeasing him as of late, you don’t bother with a response.

The sound of sharp inhaling has your eyes rolling to the back of your head in annoyance. After a few moments, you feel his stare as you push your last night's clothes into your bag.

“Wanna bump?” He thumbs his nose, lounging back on the chair. “Make you feel better.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

The words are clipped and maybe a little sarcastic, focusing on getting everything you need so you can leave. Easily ignoring him as you round the bed to head to the bathroom.

“It’ll get that stick outta your ass you woke up with.” He mutters, but you know you’re meant to hear it.

Mild annoyance flicks into anger. Anger that has you whirling back to him, letting it dominate you like he has done so many times. Arm lashing out, you swipe the rest of the cocaine off the desk. The collected powder floats into a cloud of dust as its disturbed, satisfaction thrumming through you.

“What the fuck?!”

Rafe’s up in a blink of an eye, chair clambering back to the floor. Your delight dries up when livid eyes pierce you, and before you know what you're doing, you're running away.

There’s shouting of your name, bare feet slapping the floor as he gives chase.

The hallway between his door and the entrance narrows before you, distorting into something longer, inescapable. You don’t know where you're going to go with being shoeless and phoneless but you need to get out of here before –

You’re pushed to the side, inches from the front door and your temple bounces off the wall. Hands spin you around, facing Rafe with his eyes wide and skin taunt as he gives you a jagged shake.

“You stupid bitch –"

“Fucking jackass –"

“Hey, woah!”

You both freeze.

As Rafe turns his head to look behind, you cock your head to the side. Topper stands at the small dining table, dimpled chin hanging low and a bowl of cereal sitting in front of him. Bewildered eyes asses the way Rafe is hunching over you, the twisted grip on your upper arms.

“Rafe, man…let her go,” Topper says calmly, one hand lowly reaching out. Something akin to concern filling out his expression.

With a grunt tickling your ear, Rafe releases you, his chest still pressed to yours. He commands under his breath, “go back to the room.”

If it weren’t for the essentials you left, you would’ve disregarded him completely. Glowering, you check shoulders with him as you go, Topper’s worried questions echo down the hall.

Fear, anger, and misplaced embarrassment from the witnessed scuffle rattle up your head down to your chest. The scene plays in your mind’s eye over and over, a loop that changes only in perspective like a movie. One that doesn’t happen to you, only to a girl that’s looking for her lost voice. She had it before.

Only once under the shelter of being in public does relief settle over you like a cool mist. You don’t know what would’ve happened if Topper hadn’t been here.

🌙

“So, what are your plans for spring break?"

“Um, to go home?”

Confused, you tilt your head to stare down at the phone, Lauren combined with numerous heart emojis displayed on the screen. Your laptop is set on your knees as you complete homework while chatting with her. Hair still wet from your shower and Rafe’s texts unanswered. Apologizes filled the text history from him, all left on read which led to missed calls and increasingly agitated texts.

“Uhhh, no.” The crinkle of fabric as Lauren packs for an upcoming trip accompanies her words. “Dad didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“He and mom are gonna go back to that little island we stayed at for Christmas.” Your heart drops, your oblivious sister continues, “…yeah, apparently Dad and that Wade guy hit it off and they’re doing business.”

Your dad’s a commercial architect, designing retail and office spaces across the west coast. He sometimes takes the odd job at the beginning of the new year so your family would be able to enjoy your summer in a new city. It usually took months of permits and construction to fully finish the project, your dad liked to stay with them till the end. You don’t even know what Ward does, just that he must’ve made a good impression, yet you can’t remember because you had a nuisance sitting beside you.

A gnawing pit opens at the bottom of your stomach, feeding on the fear that drips like a broken faucet. If this deal with Ward goes through, you’ll be spending your summer in Kildare, possibly longer with no job lined up for yourself.

A summer of Rafe. A summer of suffering through all the shit he’ll pull. No doubt he’ll be hearing of the news soon, having been privy to the calls with his dad, wanting to be a part of the business.

Before now, you’ve resigned yourself to placating him until May, until graduation and then you’d be across the country, far away, and never looking back. As Lauren’s voice hums in the background, your eyes stare at the keyboard in thought. A hand grazing over the tender spot of the side of your head.

This changes how you’ve been dealing with the situation. Handling Rafe like a spoiled child, giving him limited access to his favorite toy. It was the best strategy you had, believing you had an end date to this mess. However, with summer looming towards you with its long shadows and unrelenting heat, you know you can’t do it any longer. You can’t deal with the constant touching, the faux sweet gestures, and the rough treatment. It makes your head flutter with sickly butterflies just thinking of it, your chest feels light as you breathe in deeper.

You need a new plan, now. One that frees you from the shackles of Rafe Cameron. How you were going to do that…you had no idea. Once he learns of the deal, he won’t let it go. He won’t let his dad say no to it, and won’t let you say no to coming with.

The rest of the phone call is a distant thing, the laptop closed and you don’t even know if you saved your work. Amongst the quiet of the night, you drift into your mind, visualizing an alternate world.

A world where you never saw Rafe on the beach that night, or even went to the Outer Banks at all. How after winter break, you still would’ve had a class together. Still had that fated reunion. With no pogues around to deface him, you might’ve liked the attention from him.

Played it coy, compelling him to make the first move, maybe after lecture one day and walk you home. Having a nice, normal conversation with him. How you would’ve agreed to see him again, to have sex with him again.

This other you gets the Rafe you had first met. A jerk, yes, but one that listened to you, that had self-control. Was soft with you. She gets the normal progression of fuck buddies to a situationship. Because despite all the faults he clearly has, other you would’ve been able to look past them. Giving him leeway with his transgressions, not considering it a big deal since it wasn’t a serious thing anyways.

Other you has weeks and months to see the red flags rising up, one by one. The excessive drinking turns him nasty, the blow that levels him out and becomes emotional. Other you would’ve ignored them, chalked it up to typical college behavior until he eventually hurt you. You’d like to think other you would immediately end it, no matter how much he had manipulated you into liking him.

It's at this point of the dark tale where you know the universe is out to get you, an age-old revenge set upon your very soul. Because if other you tried to end it with him, would he have turned just as vicious as before?

Yes, you think, yes, he would in a heartbeat.

Separate paths: one with a smooth, sandy trail as the other grapples with high seas. These two lives are so separate, so unlike the other but still converging in the end, the same destination. A desisted beach with just a blond boy, ready to meld hands and bodies together. No path to take and no boat to ride on.

Gusts of wind brusquely whip around you like nature herself is propelling you forward, toward him. A warp of stumbling and muted colors as the rough waves crash to the shoreline, deafening and ferocious. The blond stays there, waiting. As if he knows you’ll be coming to him, even though you don’t want to. Like he knows no element will stop this journey of yours deeper into the sand.

You can’t see his face but fright ghosts over you like a disembodied entity. You want to go the other way, back to what was before.

The sand starts to flow, gentler than the water, luring you nearer to him, closer to what you know is bad, bad, bad. You think you scream, or maybe there’s another roaring of the waves as your arm's length away now. Details filling out his face come into a sharp focus, the edges around him blurry as Rafe smiles at you.

He seems unaffected by the storm happening viciously around the two of you. Spontaneously, you’re in his arms and you’ve never felt so small. Resisting only seems like it's the sand moving your bodies to and fro, not the intense effort you give. There are words being eaten around you, Rafe telling you something with that giant grin of his.

What? You mouth, your voice is sucked into the vacuum of noise and boomerangs back at you.

YOU’RE MINE. Rafe shouts with a manic glee like a god’s voice booming down below from the heavens. His laughter pushes the waves closer, sand and sea mixing together.

Terror is all you know, from the beginning of time to the end of your days. Rafe’s hold feels more like tentacles than hands, squeezing and capturing you tight. There’s merely the scream of delight by the ocean and the sob of horror from you.

Just as you’re there, you’re not.

Woken in a slick sweat that coats your hairline to the back of your knees. Your heart sputtering from the nightmare and the harsh yank back into the conscious world. After taking a moment that this is reality, that you’re not being swallowed into the vortex of Rafe; do you relax back into bed. Smothering your face back into the pillow, you whimper with the ruminants of irrational fear. That little nub in your brain is lightened up, alarming you that there is real danger near you.

A danger you have to face head-on.

#pieces of the night #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #smut #dark!rafe cameron #dark fic #tws #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #obx smut

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po-cky-o-o · 1 year

Text

He does not know what spirit compelled him to pounce on her like an animal in heat.

It was far from being the first time they shared a bed, so much so he could barely remember the last time he slept without being wrapped in the warmth of another.

Ever since the Dendro Archon had left him under Lumine’s care he had already found every excuse in the book to slip under her covers. He didn’t know when it started, this sudden thirst for her presence that couldn’t be quenched no matter how hard he tried.

And try he did.

But when she looked at him, when she tore away his skin and bones and looked, directly into his black and rotten heart and cradled it oh so gently into her awaiting hands, he broke.

Like a moth to the flame, he stopped running and flew straight into that blinding light, hoping it would be kind enough not to burn him.

It was insanity, he knew that, but he could not help but fall.

But he would not fall alone.

She did not stop him when he took her hand, nor when he glared at anyone that dared to get too close to her. She didn’t even question whenever his sheets would mysteriously burn away, forcing them to cuddle up. He just hoped she wouldn’t stop him now.

“Think nothing of it. I just don’t feel like being sick,” he said, burying himself deeper into her neck, as her scent drowned away the voices shaming him for his weakness.

He didn’t get sick - she knew he didn’t - but she let him do as he pleased, humming a foreign tune into his ear until sleep finally claimed her. And if she noticed he would always wait for her breath to even out before falling asleep, she didn’t mention it either.

Despite all their nights together, they had yet to take any steps further, so it came as a surprise to him the way his body would react to the slow rise and fall of her chest brushing against his own. He could feel the way her plush thighs slipped between his legs, his mind waging a battle of wills against his overwhelming need to rut against it.

He was not oblivious to the throes of passion humans would involve themselves in, but he thought himself to be immune to earthly carnal desires, but the traveler always had a knack for proving him wrong.

To think that his once most hated enemy would now be laying so vulnerably under his hands.

It was so unfair, she had taken his gnosis, ripped the very heart of his godhood right from his chest and dared to replace it with a new one. A human one that beats for her and her alone.

The drum of her chest was the only beat capable of lulling him into sleep, the sole reminder he needed to know that she was there, alive and breathing in his arms. That maybe she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

He needed her.

He needed her now.

The sheets brushed against his sensitive skin as his hips began to roll. He could feel his own blood trailing down his throat as he bit his lips hard enough to bruise, holding back his moans as he grinded against the goddess in his arms.

What if she woke up? Would she push him away, too disgusted to ever look him in the eyes again? Or would she hold him closer, her arms wrapped around his waist as she guided him exactly where she wanted him to be?

His heart, the treacherous thing, beat wildly in his chest at the mere thought of her hands on him. So he ignores the shame coloring his cheeks and keeps moving, faster and faster and something inside him begins to coil, like a volcano at the edge of exploding.

“Ungh,, L-lumi.”

How could he let himself plummet this low?

Under the moonlight she looked almost like an angel. Like starlight had taken human form and descended upon earth , all to be tainted by a mere puppet discarded by a god. He knew she was out of his reach, he was chained at the bottom of a well trying to reach for the skies, but he could not let her go. If he could not go up, he would have to bring her down.

Alas, it was too late to hold back now. The dam inside him was about to break, he was so close, it would only take a bit more.

But then, her eyes opened.

It was as if time froze, he had been caught red handed, there was nothing he could do to explain himself.

Would she leave him? He didn’t think he could survive being abandoned again, not by her. He needed her.

“Why did you stop?”

“…Huh?”

A tilt of her head. “I said, why did you stop?” A beat before those eyes, those stupidly beautiful eyes gazed down at him. “You seemed to be having so much fun, don’t be shy now.”

“You… were awake?” He thought for sure she would be enraged at his actions. Why did she seem so calm?

“Mhm,” she hummed, nosing her way beneath his chin, silently asking him to raise his head. “You look so pretty like this.” A kiss. “So sweet for me.” A suck. “So desperate.”

His entire body shook as shivers ran along his spine with every open mouthed kiss she would leave on his neck. Switching between her tongue and teeth, she gave attention to his pale column, leaving not even an inch unattended as the pain of her marks was quickly swept away with a sweet lick to the forming bruises.

The heat inside him was steadily rising back as her hands slipped beneath the thin shirt he had stolen from her, roaming around his back before trailing lower and grabbing his bottom, ruthlessly grinding his crotch back into her.

It was overwhelming how good he felt. His own hand tangled itself into her hair, desperate to hold onto something as the pleasure consumed him, while he bit the other to try and hold back his moans. She had barely touched him, yet he was already falling apart.

So distracted, his mind didn’t even have time to process that she had pulled his arm away, until she replaced it with her lips.

Contrasting her hungry hands, roughly pushing him closer and closer to her, her kiss was so gentle he could almost feel tears welling up in the corner of his eye.

For over five hundred years he had been alone. Abandoned and discarded as nothing but a worthless imitation of a god, undeserving of any love or attention even by his very creator. He had continuously yearned for someone to fill the empty void in his torso, all to be betrayed yet and yet again until he had finally learned the folly of his ways and given up on the idea he might once receive what he longed for. And yet, the moment her lips laid upon his, all the walls he had constructed around him came crashing down.

Weak.

Pathetic.

Loved.

How dare she?

How dare she crash into his life, turning everything he once knew upside down, without a care for the chaos she left in her wake.

He should have known better. Believing in such sweet lies would bring nothing but pain and disaster upon him, but it was so easy to fall.

Lost in the whirlwind of his thoughts, he noticed too late when her hand dared to adventure further, her nails gently tracing the planes of his stomach making goosebumps rise on his skin until finally, finally reaching where he wanted her most.

Part of him wants to hide in embarrassment at the mewl that leaves his lips the moment her hand wraps around his cock. That thought is promptly shut down as she licks the trail of saliva left behind at their kiss before diving back in.

She is slow, deliberate, never once giving him a moment of reprieve, but also not allowing him to reach the peak he so desperately needs. He is unsure whether to scream or cry, bucking his hips against her fist with wild abandon, but she remains unrelenting.

Her thumb brushes against his slit, spreading the leaking precum over his entire length, alternating between squeezing and pumping up and down at the same pace her tongue swirls in his mouth.

It is torture, he concludes. Payback for all the suffering he brought upon her.

He wants to believe he doesn’t enjoy this as much as his body thinks he does, but when the flick of her wrist picks up speed, tightening her grip ever so slightly as her other hand rubs open circles against his head, he cannot deny the shudder that wrecks his entire body.

And yet, she stops.

His ecstasy is replaced with a cold dread that sinks on his stomach.

Why did she pull away? Did she change her mind? Did she no longer want him?

Panicking, he examined her face in search for any hints he could use to convince her to stay, but all he found was an expression of pure bliss.

“Unlike you,” her supple chest rose and fell as she spoke. “I need air.

Right. Mortals needed to breathe.

His breath of relief was drowned away by her giggles.

“I told you already,” her thumb brushed against his lower lip. “I am not leaving.”

“I wasn’t worried.” He tried defending himself.

She planned to retort, but was quickly shut off by his lips wrapping around her thumb, putting on a show on sucking them off.

Albeit hesitant at first, he quickly grew confident as he saw the burning fire of her gaze, watching him like a starved woman being presented with a feast before her.

To his dismay, the moment is cut short as it seems she didn’t like the smug smirk plastered across his face, because the next thing he knows her hands are on his waist and she swings him right onto her lap.

His confusion must have been etched onto his face, as she is quick to clarify.

“Didn’t you know it is quite rude to wake up a lady in the middle of the night?” Lumine purred, moving her hands slowly over his torso. “It is only fair I ask you to put in some work, wouldn’t you agree?”

“What… what are you- hnn…” He doesn't get to finish his question as she grabs the waistband of his shorts and rips the fabric away, tossing whatever was left of it onto the ground.

One of her thighs promptly finds its way between his legs. With him now perched upon her lap, she has free access to his backside and she takes full advantage of that, happily grabbing his bottom, ripping out a rather undignified squeal out of him.

“You seemed very eager to hump me before, so I’ll allow you to continue.” She says, guiding his hips back and forth. At odds with his better judgment, he follows immediately, groaning as his length rubs nicely against her smooth skin. “Just like that. Good boy.”

He flushes at the nickname, the empty void in his chest fluttering at the thought of pleasing her. His grinding increases its pace, hoping to hear more of those sweet praises fall out of her lips.

“Archons, look at you. So good for me.” She smiles, sinking her teeth again and again into his flesh before licking the pain away. “Is this why you woke me up? Did you want me to fuck you that badly?”

The ecstasy jolts through him in shockwaves, panting heavily as his knees threaten to give out beneath him.

A few drops of precum land on Lumine’s leg when she tugs his hair harshly, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Answer me or I’ll stop.”

“Y-yes… hmm! D-don’t you dare… s-stop… Please…” He whimpers, the corners of his eyes shining with unshed tears as he tries to ignore the shame building up inside him.

Thankfully she seems pleased at his response, claiming his mouth hard and hot as his reward.

When her hands let go of his back, he lets out an involuntary whine of displeasure that gets interrupted as her now free fingers lodge themselves onto his chest, teasing his neglected nipples and for a second he is afraid he might pass out.

It’s too much. It’s way too much. For all his life he did everything in his power to try and stomp down any disgustingly human feelings that dared to sink their claws into him. And yet, this woman - no - this goddess now slithered her way into his non-existent heart, assaulting his every sense with indescribable pleasure. Try as he might, he cannot stop the tears from pouring down.

“Lumine…!” He repeats her name like a prayer, feeling the roughness of her tongue as she laps the teardrops away.

“Do you want to cum, baby?”

His voice quivers as he answers. “Mmm! Y-yeah… A-ah… please…!

The blonde presses him flat against her chest, redoubling the efforts on his nipples, pinching and twisting as her free hand spreads his asscheeks and she bounces her thigh up and down before moving to stroke his throbbing dick.

He cries out between kisses, his whole body being racked with shudders, every cell of his body being filled with her and only her.

“There you go,” she whispers, caressing him so passionately it almost makes him believe the love in her eyes might be real. “Just let go, baby.”

So he does.

It only takes one more stroke before he throws his head back, shouting when the full intensity of his orgasm hits. His eyes rolling back into his skull, Lumine helping him ride out his climax, searing loving praises into him with every kiss she leaves on his skin.

From the distance he could feel her mouth softly pressing against his cheeks, nose, eyelids, before finally reaching back to his lips. “You did so good, sweetie.”

If he had any strength left he would have kept her there, but as it was he remained limp in her arms, face buried in the crook of her neck, tiredly sucking his own marks in the column of her throat.

“You okay, love?” She asks, carefully wiping the remnants of tears and saliva on his face, not seeming to mind the mess left behind.

“Mhm…” He murmurs, staring enchanted at the concern shining in her eyes.

She makes a move to disentangle herself from him, but he is quicker, wrapping himself around her like a koala would to a tree before she can escape. “Don’t go.”

She blinks surprised, but ends up breaking into a chuckle. “I’m not going anywhere,” she says, carefully brushing through his purple locks. “But we need to take a bath.”

Not giving in, he simply cuddles closer. “Later… let’s sleep now”

“Alright, alright,” she giggles. “Let me at least take off this dress.”

He backs away just enough to see the drying cum marrying the front of her once pristine dress and hesitantly lets her go.

He takes a small moment to admire the curves of her body, her muscles rippling with every move highlighting her plush skin littered with scars from head to toe.

Beautiful, he thinks.

“Decent,” He says.

Her answer consists of dragging him by his feet back into her arms - perhaps with a bit more force than necessary. His legs instantly wrap around her waist and he could have happily stayed there for the rest of the night, if only she didn’t drop him back into the mattress.

He didn’t hesitate to drag her down with him when he believed she was taking too long to lie down.

“Geez, calm down you brat,” she huffed, but her false annoyance was betrayed by the soft kiss she placed on the crown of his head when he snuggled into her open arms.

“Never,” was the last thing she heard him utter before sleep claimed her.

Only her breath slowed back into its usual pace, did he finally allow himself to close his eyes. “Good night, starlight.”

#why is tumblr formatting so wanky?#scaralumi #lumiscara #lumine #scaramouche #wanderer #wanderlumi #top lumine #lumi harem #bottom scaramouche #smut #tw somno #mine

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t0ast-ghost · 5 days

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S2 episode 25 (Bread And Circuses) oh goodness oh my. I’m not ready. I’m so ready.

Okay get ready:

- They’re all standing on the enterprise bridge completely still. As if in tableau.

- Of course they’re beaming down to a dangerous planet with only the top three officers. Why even use reason at this point.

- Kirk outside the ship in his green shirt <3 (I keep thinking of it as his pjs)

- McCoy is very hostile towards Spock today. Hope they don’t get put in a situation with sharp objects…

- “Once, just once, I’d like to land someplace and say, ‘behold, I am the archangel Gabriel.’” “I fail to see the humour in that situation, Doctor.” “Naturally. You could hardly claim to be an angel with those point ears, Mr. Spock. But say you landed someplace with a pitchfork.” This is proving my theory that they’re the angel and devil on Kirk’s shoulders

- “We come from another… province.” Canadian moment

- “What do you call those?” “I call them ears.” There is no end to Spock’s audacity

- “Captain, I thought you might find this interesting.” Spock hands Kirk a newspaper with a shirtless man on the cover

- “Will you help us?” No one can outright deny this twunk

- Spock in a hat

- McCoy in a regular short sleeve shirt and bell bottom pants is <3

- no words for this one

- it’s like this episodes message is mirroring our own world or something… nah

- McCoy is already picking fights. Spock is indulging him. They’re not enemies to lovers. They’re enemies AND lovers.

- McCoy not afraid to slap a bitch

- So Merrick killed all of his crew… right?

- McCoy and Spock just flirting (debating) in public

- AND they threatened McCoy and Spock

- As Jim takes the communicator to assumedly order the crew down he has a shit eating grin… so it’s safe to assume he’s not gonna do that

- “Must you always be so blasted honest?!”

- He’s just talking on his cellphone

- Scotty is talking to his diary, Uhura is listening

- Jim is so scared for what’s about to happen

- McCoy and Spock about to face off against two shirtless men

- “I don’t mind fighting but… why you?” That gladiator took one look at them and went, ‘why are they making us fight these two nerds?’

- Camera goes to McCoy -> sound guy ups the catcalls

- I love Spock fighting really hard in the background and McCoy just.. he don’t want to

- “Do you need any help, Doctor?” “What ever gave you that idea?” “[random gladiator]Fight, you pointed eared freak!” “You tell him, buster! Of all the completely… ridiculous, illogical questions I ever heard in my life!” Then Bones falls on his ass and Spock comes to his rescue, happily ever after

- Those pants make Kirk’s ass look flat… unfair

- Spock trying to break the bars while McCoy sits in the most strange way possible

- Spock has tried to get them out the same way fifteen times. He wants his boyfriends safe.

- Me: awww McCoy and Spock having a genuine moment… nope they can’t last ten seconds (maybe they are divorced)

- McCoy pins Spock against the wall of the cell to make his point

- Spock’s pouty expression…

- “Why you wouldn’t know what to do with a genuine warm decent feeling.” “Really doctor?” They’re giving each other ‘fuck me’ eyes

- Their fight ended with “I’m worried about Jim too” like McCoy knows Spock feels emotions but represses them and is ‘trying’ to understand him

- Kirk, I implore you not to kiss this woman- that went out the window so fast

- Never mind what I said about the pants making his ass flat. I was severely wrong. Forgive me.

- KIRK STRAIGHT UP KILLED THOSE GUYS

- Ohhh Merrick stole the communicator

- Kirk giving commendation to Scotty for not breaking the prime directive is priceless. ‘Good self control, Mr Scott.’

- I love how Spock and McCoy are both saying things about Flavius (agreeing with each other)and as soon as Spock speaks about studying the sun religion, McCoy looks like he’s going to explode

I both like and hate the relationship they have with Spock and McCoy in this one cause it’s so magnetic but I don’t know if it’ll ever be evolved past this and that makes me sad.

Masterpost

Episode written by Gene Roddenberry and Gene L. Coon

#star trek #star trek tos #star trek the original series #spock #s'chn t'gai spock #tos spock #leonard bones mccoy #tos bones #tos mccoy #captain james kirk #tos kirk

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80s4life · 2 years

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Some Kind Of Wonderful

Word Count: 2,220

Status: Requested!

Ask: Hiii can you do anything for Randall Pink Floyd

@: a very interesting anon that loves forgotten movies like me! (seriously, Dazed and Confused doesn’t get enough attention)

Fandom: Dazed And Confused 1993

Relationship: Randall “Pink” Floyd x Reader

Summary: Time’s slowly running out and the dangers of adulthood are starting to near too quickly. When finishing off the last year of high school starts to truly seep into your bones, you realize someone’s wasting a gift you simply couldn’t just be handed.

Warnings: explicit language, sexual jokes, weed, alcohol, weed and alcohol consumption, underage drinking/smoking/partying

Masterlist Dazed And Confused Masterlist

{gif is not mine, credits go to @dazed--and--confused}

Heaving yourself over the chain link fence, Slater is quick to clumsily follow behind. Giggling, you drop down drunkenly, scrambling to your feet to help Slater carefully tumble over the other side.

“I got it. I got it,” he smiles, using your shoulders as support as he tries to stand on the flimsy wraps of metal without anything to hold onto. “Alright, go away.”

Stepping back as he had asked, it takes all about ten seconds before he’s colliding with the ground with a hard thud. You try your best to stay quiet, but the groans that follow soon after cause you to explode. As best as you can manage, you wheeze while taking his hand and lifting him up, “Don’t got it.”

“Hey, I was up there for a long time! Try beating that!”

“Nah, I’d rather keep my head in tact,” you slur, handing him the indiscreet bottle wrapped inside a paper bag.

He happily obliges, eyes quickly being entertained with holding the bottle without spilling, your eyes scanning the field to find the rest of the gang. Just along the other side of the football field, the familiar cackling of young teens tells you that you guys showed up too late.

“Hey, there they are!” you can hear Don shouting, voice echoing throughout the stands and bleachers.

Shoving Slater, you guys fall into a not-so-sturdy race, feet flying about and hands scattered in all directions to prevent falling on your faces again. The group, staring at your liquid-enhanced happiness, laugh as they decide to move towards the center of the field.

Sucking in greedy breaths of air, you both go tumbling into the grass before the group. Slater rolls into Pink and Simone while you crash into Don’s awaiting arms.

“Perfect landing,” he grins into your ear, making sure to leave a teasing nibble on the lobe, eyes digging straight into the particularly long haired brunette across from him.

“Shut up,” you groan, lifting off of him to sit cross-legged besides Slater once more.

For some time, you indulge in the adventures of David Wooderson; the many women he’s been with, the crazy shit he got himself into and how he got out of it, the places he’s been. Although they were bizarre, they kept the group entertained through their buzzed hazes, laughing and giggling at every punch line.

Laying across Slater’s thighs, you support your head with both of your crossed arms. Beside you, Slater takes turns in passing the joint between you both, one arm supporting his own head as he stares up at the stars.

The group had fallen in a comfortable silence, indulging in the short-lived peace that is soon to be destroyed as the morning light comes up. Slowly, with the peaking sun just above the treeline, Shavonne and Simone make their exit through the front gate of the school’s football stadium.

You sadly let them go, knowing that senior year is just about over for you, hugging them as they depart. Wooderson is next to leave, still tipsy over last night’s drinks, he comfortably grabs the bottle of tequila he was nursing, leaving before the cops have a chance to get him.

Watching the clouds turn a deep shade of orange like gold, you, Slater, and Pink all sit up side by side to watch the end of the show.

“Hey man...woman....this isn’t the end of us, is it?” Slater slurs, turning briefly to look the each of you in the eye.

“Hell no!” you yell, looking at him as if he’s crazy, “You’re my best friend, Slater, my partner in crime. I’m not done with you yet.”

He smiles at the drastic bit of reassurance, sharing a look of fond companionship. Swiftly, the both of you nudge shoulders and turn towards Pink, expectant eyes waiting for his answer that didn’t come as naturally as it should’ve.

He looks Slater in the eyes, then they slip to yours in a sense of regret and premature sadness. Sighing, he blows, “I don’t known, man. We hung out with each other because we were stuck with each other. Now we have no reason to be around - hang out like we used to. We aren’t kids anymore, we’re adults about to enter the big, wide world we’ve been dying for. Who knows what the next year or two will take us.”

“That’s why we make sure it doesn’t happen,” you counter, staring off at the sky again.

“And how can you ensure that, Y/N?” Pink asks with a defensiveness you aren’t quite used to hearing.

“Because,” you snap your head towards him sharply, “If we want to be in each other’s lives, we’ll make damn sure that we stick around.” Your eyes, stern and soft at the same time, bore into his own with and intensity and determination set.

Neither Pink nor Slater argue you, Pink still staring at you with disbelief and no change in his thoughts. He doesn’t believe you, not completely.

“Pink,” you try to compose yourself, setting your voice to a lighter tone to avoid further argument. “If you’re friends and truly scared of losing them, the love and bond you share should say enough. You don’t just fucking disappear on your own, you’ll let that shit happen and you’ll know you’re doing it, too. We’ve lost a lot of good friends, but they weren’t built to last. Our friendship, well, it’ll last a lifetime.”

Slater pulls you in by your shoulder, side hugging you with a warm, kooked-out smile, “Yeah man. Even our kids will be friends.”

You laugh at that, looking back at Pink, his head down and hands playing with the grass. “I don’t know,” his voice cracks a bit.

Looking back at Slater, he nods, whispering in your ear, “Tell him Y/N, you’ve got nothing to lose. He needs you.” You smile at his unnatural encouragement, he’s always good at finding the right words, as rare as they come. Getting up from the grass and waving his goodbye, he winks at you, going back through the woods in which you came silently.

“Pink,” you mumble, shuffling closer to him and placing a hand underneath his head, pulling him up to look at you by his chin. When he looks up, his eyes are glossy and threatening to break down at any moment, softening as you look at him. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, you hear me?”

“I just don’t want to lose us,” he chokes, a tear sneaking past him before he could wipe it away.

“We won’t. We- I-,” you stutter to find the words. You know what you want to tell him, but you don’t know how to - too scared of the possibility of rejection. “I love you, Pink, always have, always will. I’ve stuck around this long without an inch of expectation from you, what makes you think it’ll change now? You’re gonna go places, Pink, but don’t think I won’t be too far behind you, making sure you get just where you need to be.”

For once, he smiles at you, a glossy wet smile that cracks through the shadows of doubt swirling in his head. “You’re talking about the pledge, aren’t you.”

“Oh, you’re signing that pledge, don’t get me wrong, but no, I’m talking about anywhere and wherever you go. You don’t have to be this huge NFL football player for me to love you just the same, you’re always gonna be Pink from Lee High School in good, old Austin, Texas, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smirks, looking down at the grass again.

“Hey,” you pull his head up again, “I’m serious, Pink.”

“I know,” he mumbles, “Just scared for our futures, you know? I don’t know where I’m going yet.”

“And you’re not gonna know for a long time, you’re still in high school. You’ll figure life out just like the rest of us, you just have to get through the last year of high school. Shit, I mean, I don’t even know what the fuck to do with myself yet and I just graduated.”

He laughs at that, smiling wide for you to see as he gives you a once over, “You’re gonna do just fine, Y/N. You always get your shit together. You have nothing to worried about.”

“Neither do you,” your smirk, poking his arm.

You guys fall into a comfortable silence for a moment or two, riddled with your own thoughts before Pink speaks up again, “So, you love me, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” your face heats up, this time being the one to look at the grass for answers. “I knew you’d pick that up.”

“How could I not, it was such a beautiful speech, really made me tear up.”

You laugh at him, shoving his shoulder as you get back up on your feet. Outstretching your hand, Pink takes it, frame towering over yours with his natural height and intensity.

Slowly, you guys make your way to the front gate of the football field. There, you find Slater, stomping out his half-smoked joint just as Coach Bronco emerges from the parking lot, holding a finger up to his lips with a smile.

“Ah, Randy,” Bronco chirps, acting as if he hadn’t been waiting for a while, “You sign that pledge yet?”

“Actually,” you step before him, “He was just going to sign it now, do you have a pen?” You smile nice a sweet, Bronco pulling out a pen and handing it to you. “Oh, and we kind of lost the paper,” you smirk innocently, “You know, with the parties and stuff tonight, it got lost.”

“Oh sure, I’ve got a copy,” he runs back to his car to fetch another paper.

Pink elbows you in the side and you turn to smile devilishly at him, “You’ve got a gift, I’m not going to stand by and watch you spoil it, Pink.”

“Here you are,” Coach Bronco smiles.

“Thank you,” you take it from him, handing it over to Pink and turning around, offering your back for him to use to sign it. Begrudgingly he does as you’d silently instructed, signing the paper and handing it back.

“Thanks Randy, we look forward to seeing you next year. Don’t get soft on us,” then Bronco leans in, whispering something you can’t quite make out, turning to sneak a peak at Slater, hiding in the bushes. “And don’t let that one go, that one knows what they’re talking about. A good influence...special.”

“Alright! Thanks Coach, I’ll see you next year,” Pink exclaims, motioning towards his want for Bronco to leave.

“Thanks Coach B, he’ll be back better than ever. You just wait!”

“I hope so,” and with that, Bronco leaves seemingly happy with the outcome.

“That doesn’t mean I’m not smoking this summer,” Pink mutters.

“All you had to do was sign it, now you’re free,” you smile. “Come on, lets go home, we need to sleep at some point.”

Waving at Slater, he comes bounding out of the bushes again, a tipsy smile on his face. “Does that mean I have to find a new smoking buddy?”

“Nah, I’m not done yet,” Pink smirks.

“Hey, I thought I was your smoking buddy?” you punch Slater’s arm.

“Ow!” he exclaims dramatically. “You are my smoking best friend,” he corrects.

“So, I’m more special then?”

“Sure,” he smirks.

Walking down the parking lot, you part ways, hugging Pink before you turn back to Slater, wrapping your arm around his waist due to his height. Pink goes the other direction with a giggle, watching as Slater puts all of his weight onto you, wobbling down the road.

Before he turns the corner, Pink calls out, “Oh, and Y/N?!”

Turning around, you look back at him, “Yeah?”

“I love you, too!”

Confusion laces your features as quickly as his blow, looking up at Slater to make sure you heard it right. Slater looks down at you, eyebrows raised with a shrug. Turning back to Pink, a huge smile breaks across your face.

Down the road, Pink smiles back with a red hue to his cheeks, “Did you hear me?”

Suddenly, you let go of Slater and bound towards Pink, almost tackling him as you jump on him. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he chuckles loud, smirking down at you as he places a kiss to your nose.

“Are you serious?” you ask, looking up at him with bewilderment.

“Well, you didn’t really give me a chance to say it back, did you?”

“You’re not answering my question.”

“Do I need to say it again?”

“For clarification purposes, please?”

“I love you, Y/N Y/L/N. I have since we were Freshmen.”

Turning around, you give Slater a double thumbs up, him smiling and imitating a gagging motion. “I love you, too, Randall Floyd.”

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blackjackkent · 4 months

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Shoutout to @genderdotcom for letting me know that Jaheira doesn't take up a standard party slot so we can still bring her along with us! I have reloaded and added her into the party. :D

Jaheira gets a badass pre-battle speech, because she is amazing.

"At the ready, Harpers! In this light, there will be victory! In this light, we will avenge the fallen!"

Lots of cheering from the onlooking Harpers.

"The time has come. Ketheric will taste of death at last."

Somewhat comically, after this dramatic setup, literally nothing happened; presumably the game is waiting for me to take the lead and push forward, but it was pretty funny to see all the Harpers cheer and then everyone just stand perfectly still.

Jaheira did have another ambient line afterwards:

Hell yeah. \o/

We're able to loot some more bodies here, some of which have more tadpoles to steal. I've got a collection of eight of them at the moment beyond the ones I already had Hector consume; need to sit down and figure out what other skills are worth spending a worm on.

Quick chat with the quartermaster who is also here and apparently brought her whole stock to the battlefield, and then we're off up into the tower!

We've got what looks like a boss fight coming up straight in the door, as Disciple Z'rell is already set up with some mirror images and some guards. And Mig!

I'm legitimately kind of bummed about this; I felt like we bonded with Mig over being the only people who knew about the meat in the walls. But I guess we have to fight her too. :( Sad times.

Z'rell is pretty ticked off:

"You dare show yourself here, after all you've done? You have betrayed me! You have betrayed General Thorm! You have betrayed our god!"

One could, perhaps, make the argument that she doesn't know we betrayed anyone; all she knows is she sent us off to help Balthazar with Aylin and then Aylin was free. For all she knows we didn't even get there, or got knocked out by a Justiciar on the doorstep of the temple.

Maybe I just suck at my job, Z'rell. Did you ever think of that?

"And for what? These Harpers? Moonrise will be their tomb, and in death, you will all serve the Absolute!"

Hector has three available conversation options here (besides just attacking immediately):

Generally speaking, #2 is the most Hector-ish response; he's not a fan of killing even though he's had to do a lot of it, and for a lot of the people duped by the Absolute, he would be willing to allow them a peaceful surrender. But his first experience with Z'rell was watching her explode all the blood vessels in someone's head with a snap of her fingers for funsies, and to be honest, she's not really going to recover from that in his estimation.

So we're going to go with #3.

"I've looked forward to killing you since the moment we met," Hector tells her coldly.

Z'rell grins. "You hid it well. I thought you'd be another notch on my bedpost, but instead I'll make a trophy of your bones."

Hector stares at her. Notch in your bedpost? The idea makes his skin crawl.

Z'rell's grin widens, seeing his discomfiture, and she pulls the blade from her back, turning the point in his direction. "Boys, make this traitor bleed!"

------

"Hec," Karlach says dryly as she brandishes her blade and the battle lines are drawn. "We have got to have a talk about the effect you have on people."

"I'm not doing it deliberately!" Hector says, somewhat strangled. "We talked to her once! I think I *glared* at her! You know, when she killed someone with her mind?"

"I mean you are pretty hot when you're angry."

"We are not having this discussion right now."

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #bjk writes her own party banter

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mcclainwilla · 11 months

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Writing Fight Scenes Part 5 - Kicks

I mean to write/post this two months ago, but I got sad and busy with school. I am still a little sad but I'm of school so let's fuckin go

As someone who did a lot of taekwondo, I know a thing or two about kicks.

Purposes of kicks:

Creating/diminishing distance - if you hold out your arm and your leg at the same time, you'll see that your leg stretches farther. Because a kick reaches farther than a punch, they can be used to stun an opponent while moving closer, or keep them from pursuing when withdrawing

Wearing down an opponent - repeated kicks to the legs/hips/etc. won't end a fight, but it'll definitely take a toll on a character

Power strike - kicks are very powerful and can be used to pretty severely fuck up an opponent **women can often kick harder than men! This is something I will talk about in depth, in another post

Risks of kicks:

Kicks sap more energy - a kick is a 'larger' movement that requires more effort than a punch

Kicks are slower - because a kick moves more mass (a leg is heavier than an arm) and requires a character to shift their weight, they take longer to reach their target and are therefore easier to dodge

Kicks leave you vulnerable - while a character's kick is en route/returning after being thrown, they are standing on one foot hoping no one knocks them over

Now I'll talk about some different types of kicks, their uses, and whether or not I ever want you to write about them

Stun kicks:

As the name implies, these kicks aren't meant to wreck an opponent, they're meant to stop an opponent from getting too close/set up more powerful attacks. Remember when I talked about the sparring stance? (If not, go look at part four.) When standing in a sparring stance, stun kicks are thrown with the front leg. This takes away their power, but makes them faster

Snap front kick:

Travels in a straight line. Lead with the knee, hit with the heel; the height of the kick depends on how high a character lifts their knee. Hit anywhere soft, honestly. Ribs, diaphragm and face are all lovely targets

I see these a lot in traditional boxing/MMA fighting. Useful!

Snap roundhouse:

Travels in a curve - imagine someone is going for a handshake, and a character wants to kick their hand. Once again, lead with the knee, but hit with the ball of the foot (NOT the toes. 'Pull' the goes back to avoid breaking them). Aim at ribs, kidneys, liver or face.

I also see these a lot in professional fighting. They're just a little slower than snap front kicks because a character has to turn the foot they're balancing on to avoid torqueing their knee

Crescent kick:

Travels in an arc (when I was teaching little kiddos, we'd call these rainbow kicks. Maybe that helps with visualization). There's two main types - outside in, and inside out. Either way, they're almost like a slap-in-the-face kick. Crescent kicks are some of the ONLY times a character needs to point their toes - this engages the muscles in the blades of their feet, which is the part of the foot this kick uses. Aim to the face, mostly

I do not recommend these - they're slow (and therefore easier to dodge) and they fucked up my hips

Power kicks

Now we're talking! From a sparring stance, power kicks are thrown with the back foot - this allows a character to gain momentum and, therefore, power. They're slower than stun kicks, but if they land, their worth the hassle

Power front:

Same as the snap front, lead with the knee, hit with the heel. Only this time, a character will 1. Use their back foot and 2. Crunch inward, only to explode outward with the kick - foot goes forward, shoulders go back. This allows a character to put more hip movement into the kick, which increases the power tenfold. Aim mostly to the ribs/stomach - keeping as much of your character's leg bones directly behind the line of the kick makes it more powerful (as such, kicking towards the face with these kinda ruins the purpose)

Highly recommend. Fuck it up, buttercup

Muay Thai roundhouse:

I liken this kick to swinging a baseball bat. This is the other ONLY time your character should point their toes while kicking (if they leave their foot flexed and miss, they'll fold their foot bones in half. Sad!) With the balancing foot, step wide and turn the foot out. Swing other leg towards target, only extending the leg at the last moment. Hit with the shin, and hit low - think ribs and hips

Highly recommend. But be careful not to let your character fuck up their knee - if they miss, they better be prepared to pivot all the way around on that balancing foot, because there's no bailing

Side kick:

This is one I haven't talked about at all yet. Your character will pivot on their balancing leg until they're facing sideways, their back leg now at a 90 degree angle to their body (think sitting in a chair). Then, aiming with their asscheek (not kidding. Point the ass at the target), extend the leg, throwing the hips into the motion by leaning the torso backwards. Hit with the heel, aim for ribs and hips.

Highly recommend. Can you tell I like power kicks?

Fun anecdote, I used to have a sparring partner who was VERY good at these. He'd leave literal black and blue bruises on my hips (bitch) and when we were practicing these using big cushy pads, it wasn't rare for him to blast me halfway across the room

Back kick:

Back kicks are basically side kicks, but with an added turn. This turn generates extra power, but it comes with risks. 1. There's a brief moment wherein your character takes their eyes off their opponent, 2. the opponent will definitely know what's coming, and 3. the turn can knock your character off-balance if they're not careful. The direction of the turn can be tricky to understand, so just know that the character will turn towards their back foot. Then, look over the shoulder/find the target, aim with the ass, and do a side kick with a 20% power buff

Like I mentioned, these are more powerful than side kicks, but riskier too. A good time for your character to practice using these would be while sparring a less-skilled partner!

That's about it. Sorry again this took me so long to make :( but I'll start drafting whatever I'm doing for part six next so maybe I'll make another post sometime within the next three months

#writing #writing advice #fight scene #wip #wip stuff #martial arts #willa mcclain #sparring partner slander #kicks #how to write #writing help #writing tips and tricks

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gmariam19 · 2 years

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It's done! Another battlefield kiss, for a prompt from @ghost-in--the-room. I hope you like it even though it's not quite what you suggested! But there is still a crash, a rescue, and a kiss! And at 1900 words, it's far more than a drabble. Thank you for the prompt! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)

PS. Send more battlefield kiss prompts if you have 'em! :)

Always Have, Always Will

Finn banks his speeder to the left, narrowly avoiding the towering trees of the Farodin Woods. He’d rather take his time, slow down and not crash into the local fauna, but the bounty hunters currently chasing them mean he needs to move fast. Poe is already ahead of him, his natural piloting skills easily adapting to the complex terrain. Finn is decent on a speeder, but he had been trained on the newer First Order bikes and these are Clone Era combat speeders, tucked into a back alley of Lonisa City. They’d been lucky to find them, and even luckier that they actually worked. Unfortunately, their quick getaway had been ruined by the two bounty hunters currently in pursuit. Even six months after Exegol, they are apparently still worth something to someone. Probably the Hutts.

A blaster bolt hits close, shattering wood splinters above him. Finn swears and hits the pedal, but the armored hunter stays with him. He tries to remember some of the defensive moves he’s learned from Poe and swerves, but he’s also forced to slow down to avoid crashing into the trees. The bounty hunter gains on him. Sometimes it feels like nothing has changed: they are still fighting, still running, still waiting for the life they’d hoped for after the war.

Suddenly Poe is there, flying straight at the pursing speeder and firing his laser canons with a loud whoop. The bounty hunter goes down in a fireball behind him, and Finn floors it, hoping to gain some distance. Poe loops back around to join him, but the second hunter comes speeding in from the side, firing his laser canons. Poe goes down, falling twenty feet into the forest as his bike explodes.

“No!” Finn shouts and pulls his blaster from the holster. It’s an impossible shot, but he takes it anyway—once, twice, and the bounty hunter falls, his bike continuing on its own before plunging toward the ground. Finn doubles back to where Poe went down, panic threatening to overwhelm him. Did the hunter hit him? Could he survive a fall like that? Poe can’t be gone. He can’t. Finn can’t do this without him, any of this. Poe is why he’s there, why he stayed with the Resistance, why he’s a general in the New Republic.

The smoking wreckage of the speeder on the forest floor below him almost stops Finn’s heart. He slams to a stop, jumping off his bike as he shouts Poe’s name. He barely hears a faint voice over the pounding of his heart. Glancing up, he sees Poe high above him, hanging over the large limb of a tree. He’s barely conscious, one arm clinging desperately to the branch; he’s probably not getting down on his own.

“Nice shot,” Poe calls down, his voice almost a slur. Finn can see a large cut on Poe’s head, and suspects there is a broken bone somewhere from the pain he can sense coming from the other man. This was supposed to be an easy trip to Valo to meet with the commander of a First Order cell that wanted to surrender; instead, they were attacked by bounty hunters and forced to fight their way out.

“Same to you,” Finn shouts up to him, trying to focus on the present and not the past. “You can let go. I’ll catch you.”

He can see Poe’s eyes widen from where he’s standing on the ground. The other man shakes his head. “No, no…I’ll just…um…” He lifts his head and glances around, drops it with a groan. “I’d climb down but my head hurts, and I’m pretty sure my shoulder is dislocated.”

Finn swears under his breath. “Hit the tree?”

“Hit the tree.” Poe laughs, but it turns into a cough. “Maybe give me a minute and I’ll try to climb down, er…with my good arm.”

“Just let go,” Finn tells him. “Trust me. I got you.”

“I trust you,” Poe replies. “I don’t trust the ground, though. Looks hard.”

“You won’t hit it, I promise,” Finn says. “Don’t be stubborn. You’re hurt. Let’s get out of here and go home before more bounty hunters come after us. Let go.”

“Finn, I really don’t know about—”

Finn shakes his head and waves his hand, gently pushing Poe away from the limb he’s clinging too. Poe yells in surprise as he begins to move, but Finn moves his hand again and slows the pilot’s descent. Rey had shown him how to use to the Force to move rocks, why shouldn’t he use it to move people? To help people. He guides Poe gently downward so that he lands on his feet. Only his leg buckles, and the other man sits down almost immediately, clutching his left shoulder as he stares at Finn in wonder.

“You used the Force,” he breathes.

Finn tries not to flinch, as it’s not something they’ve talked about much. He’s not sure why he’s uncomfortable sharing that part of his life with Poe more—well, no, he knows exactly why. He’s scared. That’s all. He’s scared that Poe will look at him differently, will act differently around him. He’s worried Poe will pull away from him every time he’s reminded that Finn is learning to use the Force. And he doesn’t want to lose Poe.

It’s been hard trying to keep up with his responsibilities as a general while trying to learn as much as he can from Rey. Poe has been nothing but supportive; Finn couldn’t do this, any of this, without Poe, and that includes learning more about the Force. It’s Finn’s own insecurities that hold him back, keep him from sharing more, but he can’t keep tiptoeing around it forever. He wants Poe to accept him as he is, like he did when Finn was a Stormtrooper defecting to the Resistance. He wants Poe to know that he’s not any different, he’s exactly who he has always been, only now he can move rocks with his mind. Or people. And maybe someday he will carry a lightsaber.

“You pushed me off that branch using the Force,” Poe continues when Finn doesn’t say anything, too wrapped up in yet another identity crisis. It’s been constant, the struggle to find himself now that the war is over. Mostly over. It’s things like this that make Finn wish more than anything he wasn’t still a general and didn’t have to keep leading what was left of the Resistance. He wants to learn more about the Force. Only he also wants to stay with Poe, who will never leave, not until peace is a surety.

More than anything, Finn wants a normal life without the running and fighting.

“And you used the Force to bring me down, all that way, to help me land without crashing, and you…and I…Finn…!” Poe’s babbling, at a loss for words. Finn kneels in front of him with a frown. Maybe Poe is hurt worse than he thought. He turns Poe’s head to look at his injury. There is blood dripping down his face and neck, and his eyes are slightly unfocused. But as Finn turns his face back, Poe smiles and puts a hand on Finn’s shoulder.

“That was amazing,” he says, his voice quieter, more calm. And genuine. “You’re amazing. Thank you.”

It’s the sign Finn didn’t know he needed, the words he didn’t realize he wanted so desperately to hear. He leans forward and presses his lips to Poe’s, not for too long but not too short either. Enough to let Poe know how glad Finn is that he’s okay, that Poe’s not upset, that Poe might even be happy for him. When he pulls back, Poe searches his eyes for something; he must find it because he moves his right hand up to the back of Finn’s neck and pulls him in close for another kiss. Longer and harder, and Finn finds himself melting into it. Even bloody and injured, Poe kisses like he means it, and Finn already knows he could do this for hours, now that they’ve finally, finally started. Only Poe stops and sits back, breathing heavily, and Finn notices the other man swaying as his eyes slip closed.

“Wow,” Poe says. “Either you literally took my breath away or—”

“You hit your head harder than you thought,” Finn finishes. He reaches under Poe’s good shoulder and helps him to stand.

“Maybe a little of both,” Poe admits. He tries to grin, but it looks more like a grimace. “And my leg hurts, too. I think he hit me.”

Finn sees a glancing blaster burn on the back of Poe’s shin and swears again. He wishes he had Rey’s healing power, but he doesn’t. Maybe someday, so he can not only help people but save them. For now, all he can do is get Poe back to the ship and get him patched up before they head back to base.

“Let’s go,” Finn says, and they move carefully into the forest. He hopes they’re not too far from the ship, or it’s going to be a rough walk for Poe. Poe stops him before they’ve gone ten feet.

“Wait,” he says. “Just wait. Finn, I—” He drops his head. “I can’t believe this is finally happening, right now, here, like this.” He meets Finn’s eyes. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to.”

“Well, I beat you to it,” Finn replies. “Got tired of waiting, I guess.” Which isn’t completely true, but close enough. He’s wanted it for a long time as well.

Poe snorts. “If I’d thought you were waiting, I’d have said something…done something…a lot sooner. So thanks.”

“For what?”

Poe leans in to kiss him, slow and gentle this time, and Finn almost chases his lips when the other man pulls away. “For saving me, over and over. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Which is exactly what Finn had been thinking earlier, that heart stopping moment when Poe had fallen from his bike. He wouldn’t be anything without Poe. He swallows, determined not to choke up. “And you are reason I’m here,” he murmurs. “Thank you, for saving me. And for accepting me—my past, and my future.”

Poe gives him a crooked grin and starts them moving again. “You really are amazing, you know.”

Finn swallows, sets aside those doubts yet again. “I know,” he replies with false bravado, earning a laugh from Poe like he’d hoped.

“Humble, too,” Poe teases.

“You’re not one to talk,” Finn laughs with him. “And you’re pretty amazing yourself, you know. It’s probably why I love you.”

“Why you—” Poe stops again. “You what? You do?” Finn smiles, and Poe shakes his head, that look of wonder on his face once more. “Because I thought maybe we could have dinner first, see where his goes…” He trails off as Finn rolls his eyes, leans closer until his lips are right next to Finn’s.

“I love you, too,” he murmurs. “Always have, always will.”

They kiss again, Poe’s good hand coming up to caress Finn’s face. Maybe the words slipped out, but it’s true. And maybe they should keep moving, but Finn wants to enjoy the moment. The war may have ended months ago, but only now does Finn feel like he can finally move on to the life he’d hoped for. With Poe.

#Finnpoe #Stormpilot #finn (star wars)#Poe Dameron #Battlefield Kisses

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skloomdumpster · 1 year

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Andylind + AU in which they both faked their deaths and are supposed to raise Bea together

Andreas wasn't a man to be easily surprised. Not after everything in his life had so royally fucked up, at this point he was very much a "going through the motions" guy.

Dying and coming back (with one collapsed lung, shh don't worry about it)? Easy peasy. Son kidnapped by ex-lover-bestfriend-murderer? Of course. Surprise baby girl whom he's supposed to raise in secret?... After all, why not?

Rosalind's death is no more a surprise than water being wet. With Luna as the newly appointed queen, Aster Dell being claimed to having been completely overtaken by Burned Ones and Farah (Farah) taking over as the new headmistress... It was like waiting for the clock hand to strike the next hour, completely predictable and expected.

Finding her standing at his porch... Was not.

"You're dead" He said, mouth suddenly dry, head spinning. The woman in front of him looked a mess, in clothes he did not recognize and he was sure she had stolen, with purple marks on her wrists from where the runic limiters had been placed. She looked skinnier too. Gaunt.

"Okay, can I be dead inside?" Rosalind rolled her eyes, pushed him out of the way and forced her way inside.

She was dead, he had seen her funeral be televised, he had... He had drunk himself sick that night and sobbed like a little girl in the old specialist sweater he had. She was dead, he knew it-

And yet the woman entering his kitchen was flesh and bones and very much alive. Opening his fridge and starting to go through his leftovers, "how's the asset?"

"The..." he closed the door, blinking quickly "... What?"

"The baby" she shrugged, biting on the corn cake and drinking straight from the carton of orange juice, "how is it?"

"She," he corrected without thinking, "Bea's fine.... How?"

"Andreas" she groaned, "get yourself together, would you? Wake up."

"No!" He finally exploded "I saw your funeral, I watched it! I- ... You didn't leave a single instruction, you just... Just left! You died!"

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, "are we done with the dramatics?"

"Fuck you," he spat, but his whole body felt jittery and laughter bubbled up his throat. Fuck, she was alive. Alive and just as impertinent as always, just as arrogant, just as... Everything he had ever wanted, physical, in front of him.

Her lips curled in a smile, one that actually did reach her eyes, fond and amused, "you wish, baby," Rosalind snorted, kicking the fridge closed and crossing the room. Her hands, frail and shaking, bruised, came to cup his face and push his hair back, "O ye of little faith"

He chuckled hysterically, turned his face and mushed his nose in the palm of her hand. She was real. Her fingers traced down his cheek and he bit them as they passed over his lips, "I'm sorry."

He was so ashamed for not believing her. Thomas, demanding to see the wounds, "I'm so sorry."

"It's quite alright," she combed his hair back once more, scratched her nails over the beard he sported, "I'm here now."

Andreas let his eyes slip closed, leaned on her touch and forward, planting his forehead against his general's. She breathed out and he inhaled the orange juice in her breath, leaned in and planted his lips over hers, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing, squeezing until he felt her groan in his mouth, her ribs complain under his hands.

He wanted to sink his fingers in the space between her ribs and tangle them together for good. He settled for allowing her to push him back, much more gentler than Rosalind ever had been.

"So... The asset?"

"Her name is Beatrix" he corrected, tracing his nose against her temple, biting at her ear, burying his face in her hair, "she's asleep."

"You've gotten attached already," Rosalind scoffed, face in his neck and he chuckled, pressed himself even closer to her. Of all of her orders, that was the one he would never be able to fulfill.

She couldn't hand him a baby, a daughter, and tell him to raise it and not love it. Not when it was her passing that child onto him, not when it was the product of her, even if indirectly. Her weapon, his baby girl, their daughter, same thing.

"I'm sorry, ma'am" he whispered in her ear, "sorry, but I have a soft spot for air fairies."

Rosalind laughed, full body laughed still wrapped around him and he felt it rumble in his chest. He hadn't heard her laugh in so long, it stung his eyes and made him squeeze her tighter, want to swallow up those girlish giggles that he hadn't heard in fucking forever, if ever.

"You sentimental fuck" she whispered, then turned her head, kissed him again, "let me go see her."

He followed her back to the nursery and true to his words, Beatrix was asleep. He shared a bed with her, so she didn't have a crib and she was lying on his pillow, so tiny he could hold her with one hand.

His daughter, pride, joy, asset, weapon, weakness. Everything.

"Told ya, she's fucking cute," he leaned on the doorway, crossed his arms to his chest and watched Rosalind sit gingerly at the edge of the bed, inspecting the baby as if it was a lab experiment, not his entire fucking world.

"I guess" Roz relented, smoothing her hand over Bea's peach fuzz ginger hair, "we can't stay here, Andreas. They'll be looking for me."

They. We.

We.

"You're not... You're not gonna take her from me, are you?"

Rosalind whipped her head like a snake, glared at him, "no" she said sharply, meaning don't push it, drop it, "but we have to leave."

"Okay" he nodded, then crossed the room to take Beatrix. She was so soft, curling up against his shoulder like a kitten, little breaths against his neck and tummy pressed to his sternum. He could feel her heartbeat. Andreas planted his lips on top of her head, offered a hand to help Rosalind up from the bed, "car key's are in the kitchen, let's go."

#fate the winx saga #fate: the winx saga #hellooooow andylind #this one is going to ao3 #andylind #mywriting

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i-can-even-burn-salad · 2 years

Text

15: Outside

Heal my Wounds

outside/(found) family/funeral

Warnings: Alcohol (well, he’s drunk), blood

This is part of a series. If you haven’t, I suggest starting at Part 1.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

It was very rude of the walls to change direction while he was walking in a straight line. Even ruder of the floor to ripple, making his legs shake. Valadan stayed close to the wall, bumping into it, leaning against it, letting his feet carry him wherever they wanted.

When they stopped, almost dropping him to his knees as they did so, he found himself in front of a door. He peered down the hall and back into the direction he had come from, squinting in the hopeless attempt to see through the headache pounding behind his eyes. His thoughts fell slowly into place. Fuck. It was Josephine’s door. He’d been here only once, walking with her while planning their departure on the next day.

He wished his feet hadn’t remembered the way.

Valadan gave in to the urge to sit down, sliding down the wall and leaning against it. The world was spinning. He felt sick. He wasn’t sure if it was the guilt, the pain or the beer. Probably all of it.

He had managed to get inside before the rain had truly started, but his clothes were still wet. Wet, soaked with blood and covered in mud. Which meant he probably looked at least half as miserable as he felt. At least his nose had stopped bleeding, but it was still pulsing with pain, and the taste of copper lingered in his mouth. When he reached for his lip, his finger came back glistening red.

At least this time it was his blood. Valadan pressed on what would soon be a bruise on his cheek. No matter how often he’d get himself beat up, how much he hurt, it wouldn’t change anything about what happened to her. He’d do anything to turn back the time, to take back his arrogance, his misguided hate.

He still hated the image of her he had formed so carefully in his mind. A spoiled noble daughter, not having to lift a single finger to get whatever she wanted. Just that the image didn’t fit her any longer. She was a brave woman, who hadn’t hesitated to put her life on the line to save those she was responsible for. As it should have been his job. It should have been him in the mountain. Not that he would have been able to stop the rocks, to give the others time to escape. If not for her and her magic, they would have died.

With the adrenaline fading and the cold seeping into his bones, everything hurt even more. By the Seven, his head was about to explode. Valadan shivered and pressed his hand against his temple, only realizing he had started to cry when the first tear dropped from his chin. More tears came, and soon a sob followed, muffled as he buried his face in his arms.

What a pathetic piece of shit he was. Crying on the floor, instead of finding the courage to knock at her door. To see that she was truly well again. To leave her a worthless apology. To go, because why was he even still here.

When the door suddenly opened and a shadow fell over him, he didn’t find the courage to look up, either.

“What… hey, are you… wait, Valadan?” A short pause, then she mumbled, “What the fuck. Why are you sitting outside my room?”

Before he could manage to find an answer — and try to convince his tongue to form it — she must have seen the blood on his clothes. She crouched down in front of him, putting her fingers to his chin, lifting it.

“What happened?”

Her gaze was full of concern. Valadan looked away.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing,” she repeated. “Do you need a healer for your nothing?”

Valadan could have laughed. “No.” As if he could afford one now, even if he did need one.

With a sigh, Josephine stood up. He would have expected her to leave, to tell him to get lost and close the door behind her. Instead she offered him her hand, pulling him to his feet as he reached for it. Standing, he remembered why he had been sitting in the first place. With a groan, he leaned against the wall, panting in the desperate attempt to keep the contents of his stomach down.

Whatever Josephine said was lost to the rushing of blood in his ears. Then he was sitting, and he could barely remember how he had made it to the chair. Josephine was sitting across the corner from him, her face way, way too close.

“Can you tell me your name?” she asked.

Gods, he wished he couldn’t. If only he could forget his miserable name and his miserable life and his miserable future. “Valadan,” he said. “Ebonheart.”

“Do you know what day it is?”

“I don’t.” How many times had he slept behind the stables, how long had he spent at her side? What day had it even been when they had returned? “Pretty sure I already didn’t know before I got hit in the head,” he added as he noticed her concerned frown.

“Okay. What’s my name?”

“Josephine —” he started, only to be interrupted.

“Josephine, huh?” She raised her hand, softly brushing over the bruise around his eye. “Perhaps you should see a healer after all.”

Something about the look she gave him, her touch, her words, was too much. Before he could stop it, new tears started to spill. She should scream at him, hit him, throw him out. Instead she was sitting here, all gentle and concerned, and he couldn’t deal with it. He had to leave. As soon as he managed to figure out how his legs worked. Which, unfortunately, he seemed to have said out loud.

“You’re not going anywhere like this.”

It wasn’t even an order, not like all the ones he had ignored before. He still obeyed, sitting still, hands folded awkwardly. He didn’t know what to do with them, or with himself, or with his thoughts.

Watching Josephine get up and go to a cupboard, he tried to think of something to say. Anything that wasn’t “I’m sorry” over and over and over again. She took something out, closing the cupboard door with a push of her elbow.

“Alcohol?” If it wouldn’t have hurt so much, Valadan would have raised his eyebrows. As it was, he only stared at the bottle. “Don’t you think I’ve had enough?”

“That,” Josephine said, setting the bottle down with a thud, “is for me.”

She sat down, placing a shot glass next to the bottle. Valadan was so busy giving the thick, carved crystal glass a dirty look, it took him a moment to notice how Josephine pinned the bottle against her side with her right arm, fumbling with the cork with her left. Eventually she managed to open it, pouring herself some of the alcohol. Holding the bottle. Setting it down. Picking up the glass, raising it. She did all of it with her left hand.

Valadan looked at her right arm, at the spot where her short sleeve ended. The skin was covered in thick scars, reaching down to her hand, across the back of it, and even along her fingers. Three of them didn’t move as she picked up the cork, twisting it between thumb and index finger.

“Your arm,” Valadan said tonelessly.

“Yeah.” She chugged down the contents of the glass and poured a second one.

Valadan wished it had been him in the mountain.

Tagging: @dont-touch-my-soup @whump-in-the-moonlight

#Heal my Wounds #write me a novel #whump #fantasy whump #blood tw #alcohol tw #my writing

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thatonehighschoolreject · 3 months

Text

The Merc's Final Kill

Where V chose the easy way out. Saying goodbyes on a rooftop. He was hoping to make amends with Johnny and himself. Thanking each other for their time together.

wordcount 6k canon compliant spoiler warning V's third POV TW for suicide

Relic Malfunction Detected

V stepped into the elevator and raised an unsteady hand to press the down button on the touch screen. He coughed hard as the doors slid shut. And then he fell to the ground, barely able to save himself from a broken nose by catching the ground with his elbows.

"I warned you," Johnny groaned from behind him, pissed beyond belief. He approached V. Then suddenly a chrome hand pushed the stop button.

The lift came to a sudden stop, unsettling the bile in V's stomach. He kept it down nonetheless, surprisingly. "What're you doing?" V was baffled. How the hell did Johnny press the button anyway? He was in the cockpit- not piloting. He frowned and lifted his head to see Johnny standing by the doors now.

The engram scoffed, "What am I doing? I'm showing you what it's like to feel fucking trapped." He paced as V flipped over and backed into the corner of the elevator. Right now, he was wishing he was in any life but the one he currently lived. "Asked you. Warned you. But you've insisted on not giving a shit." He was using a tone that one would use when explaining something complicated to a toddler, like he believed the mercenary wouldn't understand him no matter how simply he worded it. "Now this porcelain cunt is gonna use you in her fancy scheme." He looked down at the dying man like a cat would a wounded mouse - with disgust and primal disrespect.

V didn't stand for disrespect.

He fought off the lightness in his limbs and the spinning in his head. He tried to pull himself to his feet and sputtered the words : "Fuck off." V didn't see that he had much choice in the matter. And who was Johnny to say what he could and couldn't do? It was his body not the rockerboy's. "I haven't agreed to anything yet." He was only half standing now, the rest of his body weight he was forcing the wall behind him to hold. He was gripping the railing, holding on for dear life so he wouldn't fall.

Johnny glared daggers and his words were soaked with venom, "But I know you still don't understand how these leeches operate." He threw his hands in the air in frustration before continuing. "She met you face to face. She revealed her plan. She sunk her teeth deep into you-" The ghost lowered himself to be on V's level, "Not gonna be able to pry yourself out."

V weighed his options, considering the latter. "Well, we could ask the Aldecaldos to lend a hand." His mind wandered to Panam. And he briefly wondered if he would be able to say goodbye. If he'd even have the guts. God, she was like the little sister he never wanted. But he loved her to death. Well, death doesn't hold much value nowadays. Especially considering he'd be lucky if he had a month to live. Definitely not enough time to tie up any loose ends.

Johnny rolled his eyes as if V had suggested he ask the Tyger Claws for help instead. "Listen up, V. Those guys are trailer tuggers!" He stood back up straight and continued to pace, this time even faster than before. He seemed very distressed. "An assault on Arasaka's just not another convoy to jack. You already tried this with amateurs." He tilted his head as he looked over to him. "We both know how that ended."

"And you tried it with pros. It didn't end any fucking better." V's voice sounded weaker this time. Like he was grasping at straws to stay conscious. His bones felt so sore and weak. His head felt like it was going to explode. And it seemed like Johnny didn't even care one bit. He managed to stand all the way upright before a wave of pain struck his body once more. And he had never felt pain like this before. Like he was being crushed between two semis both going 200mph.

Relic Malfunction Detected

"Johnny…" That was all he could get out in a broken breath. Then V came crashing down to the floor again, landing on his side. If he made it through this, he would definitely be bruised from shoulder to knee. And he had sworn that he heard something crack. Was that his wrist?

"Great! You checking out again?!" Johnny moved to get down by V. Hoping that maybe if he got closer maybe V wouldn't lose consciousness- or his life. Well, both their lives. He was hoping that he could save him. Just like he had so many times before.

Just before he could reach a knee to the paneled flooring everything went black.

It was so dark. So damned dark.

V had never seen such darkness. His eyes were open- at least he thought they were- and he still couldn't see a thing. Couldn't feel anything either. Fuck. Had the biochip really taken V clean out of the land of the living?

If he had flatlined, then that would mean Silverhand's name was the last thing to leave his lips. God, that would be a damned pathetic last line. Definitely not one to go down in a documentary.

The darkness seemed to swallow him whole.

"Wha… Am I…?" V muttered this thoughts, begging to get an answer on if he were actually dead or not.

"Not yet," Johnny said confidently from the confines of his mind.

The black faded to a white. V opened his eyes and was met with a blinding light. He winced at the throbbing stabbing in his body.

"Easy there. Don't move just yet." He had heard Viktor's voice before he had seen his face.

"Vik?" He let out breathlessly.

"You're in a lot of pain, I know. Delirious when you arrived so I had to dose you with betalaperadol." The ripperdoc looked at V's narrowed pupils and squinted eyes, "But light oversensitivity's a good sign. Means your optic nerves aren't damaged." He looked back over to his computer. "Almost done stabilizing the biochip."

V was overwhelmed by the pain. His words were barely more than a whisper. "My head…" He groaned as another spike of soreness washed through him. "Feels like…"

"Like someone's using your head as a knife block?" Viktor finished for him. Well, it wasn't an inaccurate way to describe it. A good way to put it even, it did feel like that.

V didn't even remember walking into the doc's clinic. All he remembered was that damned elevator. And what it felt like to be inches within death. "How… How'd I get here?"

"Dragged yourself here beat to hell and back. Gave Misty a hell of a fright. Then, you shoved my patient at the time off the table. And demanded you be treated immediately." Viktor stared him down, as if hoping retelling the ordeal would help rejog V's memory or at least strike him with an ounce of shame.

"Tell him it was your guardian angel," Johnny whispered aloud. It was then V realized he had the engram to thank for him to be still kicking. He had seemed so mad before, V never would've guessed he'd want to save him after that conversation.

"Huh?" The doc replied as if he had heard him. But that was impossible. V's eyes wandered to find the ghost leaning with his arms crossed, just a few meters away from the table he found himself crumpled on.

"I, uh… wasn't completely myself." V struggled to explain his actions. If he admitted that Johnny had taken over so easily the doc might've underestimated V's sense of control in his own body.

Viktor looked to him, a look in his eyes glinting an unreadable emotion. "I know. It's a bit worrying."

The mercenary struggled to show a small smile as he offered a light comment. "I'll order a weaker poison next time." He would almost laugh if he didn't know it would hurt.

Viktor had hardness in his stare and his voice somehow got even more stern. "This ain't no joke, kid." He briefly glanced away to follow V's eyes then turned back to face him once he found nothing. "As I see it, there won't be a next time."

His words really hit where it hurt. Metaphorically, because literally everywhere was hurting. Even parts of him he didn't know could hurt. Was this really the end of the line for him? For Johnny's second go around as well? Maybe Johnny didn't care about V's life. Why would he care about anyone but himself? He had hated the kid since the day they met so why would he feel any different now?

He probably just saved V to deal with some more of his unsettled business, to use his second chance at life to pick up the pieces of his previous one. After all, almost nobody dies without a speck of unfinished business weighing in their heads and on their souls. Johnny was certainly a prime example of that matter. That man had more loose ends to tie up while dead than he ever had even attempted while he was still alive.

It really struck him. He didn't have much longer did he? A couple days? Maybe less?

In not much time he'd feel just as lost as the ghost that haunted his mind. He would have just as many things he'd wished he coulda done. Just as many regrets and grudges, too. Just as many guilty deaths weighing on his conscious moments before his own end came to meet him.

V had once doubted that the biochip would be the death of him. A month ago, he begged Viktor to say it was just some crude joke. Now, it seemed that Viktor was right. But at least Johnny had attempted to save him and prolong his inevitable demise. But what would that matter now?

The doc typed something into the keyboard with a glum expression. "Alright. That should be a little better." He nodded his head, shutting the display. His eyes fell back on the dying man. "Try sitting up. Carefully."

"Okay." V huffed, "Don't expect a miracle." He braced himself on the table with his hands against the arm rests. As he straightened out his legs, he whimpered in pain. His joints were flooded with uncomfortable static. The mercenary slammed his eyes shut, face contorted in discomfort. His sharp inhales struggled in assisting him to not scream.

"I said slowly-" Viktor repeated, eyeing him with worry.

V groaned as he straightened his back out, speaking through grit teeth. "Another victory for the history books."

"Hmm." The ripperdoc hummed, crossing his arms. He clearly wanted to say something but he was holding back.

"Well, looks like I can sit up alright." V trailed off, prying at him, "But I can tell you don't have good news." He feared the next words that would come out of the other's mouth. What could be more important than what he was going through right now? Nothing better than this shit, that's for sure.

"How much longer is this going to go on?"

He averted his eyes from Viktor's troubling gaze. "You tell me."

This was the most serious V had ever seen him. "Looking at you, not long at all." Viktor shook his head, seemingly overwhelmed by guilt. He felt to blame for the man's state, even though he had nothing to do with it. "Next attack, you won't be able to crawl back here. You'll flatline in some back alley. This is your last chance to take matters into your own hands. Understand?"

"Take matters into my own hands? The fuck you think I've been doing?" He narrowed his eyes in anger, pushing himself to sit up so he was finally upright.

Viktor raised a brow at the other. "Well, whatever it is, it keeps landing you on my table." He stepped to the side and V's eyes landed on a medical cart that was behind him. Johnny appeared beside it. "You see that setup over there?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"You'll find the last dose of pseudoendotrizine there. A gift from Misty. Want to give in to the voices in your head? Go ahead. Take a puff. Go silent. Get out." Viktor let out a long sigh that sounded as though he was holding it in for hours. His gaze was heavy on the dying man. "Or, find another way. End things on your own terms. Got a little present from me over there too. Blockers. Managed to walk those few yards to the table. The rest will be up to you and you alone." He stepped away from V and walked to the other side of the room.

"On your own terms, huh?" Johnny pressed, now standing right in front of V. He glared in Viktor's direction then looked back to the mercenary. "Really subtle there, doc."

"Enough, Johnny. I just…" V looked down at his legs. "I gotta think about it." He got off the table and onto his own two feet.

"Need to stretch your noodle?" Johnny's voice echoed. "Fine, just not in this basement."

"V, christ. You're talking out loud." Viktor called out.

"Out loud? What?" V paused. That echo wasn't an echo after all. It was V speaking as Johnny. Fuck, he was really losing it after all, huh?

The ripperdoc huffed, "Just go fix this thing."

V stumbled a bit as he tried to take a step. He groaned. "I think I can do it."

Johnny walked beside him just as slowly. "Whatever you decide, let's make sure to get outta here first."

The mercenary nodded his head and went to the medical cart. He grabbed the pills and stuck them in his pants pocket. He ignored the growing lump in his throat as he grabbed the pistol and holstered it on his hip. He turned to walk towards the exit. Misty stood by the door. Fuck, he hadn't noticed she was there. Did she hear all of that?

"Hey, V, I heard…" She began to speak, "Well… your thoughts?"

V swallowed hard in reaction. "Shouldn't have had to. Sorry… bout that."

Misty shook her head, "No need to be. I know what's going on." She empathized, "And I know it won't be easy. For either of you." She glanced around the medical room. "If you don't want to decide here, I know a much better place."

He considered it. "Sure. Got a feeling Vik's had enough of me, as is." He frowned, looking at him in his peripherals.

"Don't be mad at him," the psychic eased, "His chakras are all blocked up today. Plus he's had too much coffee."

V fought the urge to laugh. "Lemme guess. My aura's sputtering?"

She seemed to look at him as though he were the saddest thing imaginable. "Mhm, afraid so."

"Lead the way." He nodded his head towards the door. "Why's this spot so special?" He wanted to calm his mind. Hell, could barely think, let alone with both Viktor and Johnny's eyes staring him down.

And lead she did. So V followed. "I took Jackie there once. It's not far." Misty made her way up a flight of stairs and he struggled to keep up with her pace.

"Jackie? What's he gotta do with any of this?" He narrowed his eyes. He hadn't heard anyone say his name in a long time. It hit with whiplash only comparable to being in a high speed motorcycle wreck.

One could hear the smile in her voice. "You'll see. C'mon." Misty slowed her walking to match V's speed.

The walk was so ominous. What could possibly help him decide what he wants to do with his last days alive? Was it really that grand of a spot that Jackie would've fallen deeper into love with her? Misty walked through elevator doors and V followed. Not without being reminded of his last time in an elevator but at least someone would be here to help him if his brain and body were to shut down again. That and he was only a short walk away from Viktor's clinic.

"Top floor." The psychic nodded her head to the display. V pressed the roof button then looked back at her. Really, what could help at a time like this? "He had the same glum face."

"Who, Jack?" He narrowed his eyes in doubt.

" 'This is it, chica. I'm done for.' " She quoted, not seeming to be hit as hard when talking about him as V did.

V never thought of Jackie to ever be in a pessimistic state. Even in his last moments he still seemed to be planning what he would do next. "Doesn't sound like the Jackie I knew." He admitted.

Misty offered a soft smile. "That was a long time ago. His mom had just found out he signed up for the Valentinos." The elevator came to a stop and she lead the way to another set of stairs. He followed blindly. "Trust me, Señora Welles on one shoulder, your gang choombas on the other, no choice can ever seem right."

He hummed in agreement though he had never been in that situation before. Not any like it really. He never had anyone looking out for him or trying to stop him from making any rough choices. Save for Johnny but he didn't really count. He just made a decision and if it came to bite him in the ass then oh, well, he'd deal with it then.

"Life wasn't easy for my Jackie. But he found the courage to bet on himself." After walking through a long hallway, Misty opened the door to the rooftop. V followed and greedily took in a breath of the fresh city breeze. "After, I brought him here."

The getup was pretty mellow. There were a couple of plastic beach chairs placed near the edge of the roof with a small table placed between the two. It gave a perfect view, you could see every skyscraper in the entirety of Watson. There werebits of trash littered around but that was true for anywhere in Night City.

"Ah, that's more like it. Air." Johnny commented from V's right, not hesitating to take a joying lungful, as well.

The air felt like ice hitting the back of his throat. It helped ease the pain in his head, clear it a bit too. He didn't feel as sore anymore.

Misty continued, moving to sit in one of the chairs. "I come out here when I need a break. Be alone with my thoughts."

"She's onto something," the engram agreed, surprisingly. "Ought to sit. Mull through some shit yourself."

V made his way over to the edge, taking a seat in the other chair. "Thanks, Misty. You were right, choice spot." His mind lingered before he was able to voice his thoughts. "So what… What did Jackie decide up here?"

"Oh, you know, 'Gonna be a legend in this city!' " She quoted him, even putting in that enthusiasm he had always seemed to have.

At that moment V was heavily reminded of his departed friend. His voice. All that he had left behind. All who he left behind. Misty, V, Momma Welles. Countless others for sure. He was grateful to have met Jackie but had wished he had known him a bit longer. Wished he could've spent more with him. And he was sure Misty felt the same way.

"I'm gonna leave you alone. Take your time." Misty sent a smile his way before getting up and leaving.

As she shut the door behind her, Johnny appeared again. He was sitting on the edge of the roof, right in front of the amazing view. "Fuckin' scared me, you know that? Thought you were on your way out."

"No." V didn't let his eyes leave the rockerboy. "Still here."

The ghost grimaced. "For now. Y'know, you should call anyone you wanna say goodbye to."

"Worst case scenario. That what you expect?" Did he really have so little hope in him?

Johnny shook his head. "No, but whatever you decide, risk's gonna be high. If things don't go our way…" He couldn't seem to place his thoughts together to continue the way he would've liked. "Just fucking do it. Anyone you gotta talk to, now's the time. Pills can wait." The only reason Johnny would bring it up is because he wishes he had been given the chance.

The chance to call Kerry and let him know he might not make it past the next night. To call anyone that had ever once mattered to him and say his final goodbyes.

He wished he had taken that opportunity and given those around him the tiniest bit of closure. But he hadn't. Maybe because he only thought about himself in that moment and didn't care to think about the after.

And he can't undo that now. All he can do is attempt to stray the kid in a different direction than he had gone.

V considered it. Considered all the people he could call. Just to talk to one last time on the holo in case this was his last night alive. He couldn't call Panam. He didn't have the courage to. How would he explain this one away? 'Yeah, sorry, Panam, I don't have long to live. Don't cry about it for too long.'? Yeah, right.

And it would suck the life outta him to have to call Judy. Let alone Rogue. To have to tell her that she was about to lose Johnny for the second time and lose him as well. That would crush her. He couldn't do that. He wondered, if he did drop dead, who would be the one to find his body? Who would be the one to spread the story? Who would be the one to tell the people he knew that he was no longer? Would he end up being a legend after he died just like Johnny had been? Unlikely. Yet, he held onto that thought.

But why was he thinking about all of this? Maybe there was a way to save himself. To keep from ending up six feet under. Even if there wasn't, it wouldn't do well to dwell on the after. Because he wouldn't be there to see it. So it shouldn't matter. Right? He wouldn't be the one to mourn for it. He wouldn't be the one to grieve his death. Still, it was a lot of pressure to put on those around him.

If he had much choice in the matter he'd choose to live longer instead of going out like a sick dog that others would just want to put down. To be put out of his misery and suffering. Hell, if it were that easy he'd choose life instead of death. And maybe, just maybe, he'd choose to let Johnny stick around. Because why should the guy have to go through death twice? Wasn't dying once enough for him? Once is enough for anyone, really.

"No. Not really my style, goodbyes." He came to the conclusion. One he would likely regret if he was alive long enough to. A hard choice. That's what this place was for, right? Choices.

Johnny frowned but didn't protest. "You do you. Come a long way to get here, haven't we?" 'We' that word stuck with V. To think of him and the ghost as a duo, as an 'us,' well, that made him feel less alone in the matter. Made him feel like maybe all this hard work and fighting his way through was actually worth it. "Just think. It all started in a fucking landfill."

V scoffed at the memory. Reminded of Takemura and being told he didn't have long to live. The beginning of this whole mess. "Then you tried to kill me." He wondered where he was going with this.

"Exactly what I mean. Here we are now, together. Soaking in this sweet vista of Night City. I only regret I won't get to see how it all ends." Johnny continued, moving to sit in the chair the psychic had been in prior. He had a point, though the use of the word 'together' sat with him. Such a small word for such a big thing. Together meant that neither of them were alone. That brought comfort to the both of them.

Hey, who knows, maybe in another fifty years some poor, unknowing guy will put the engram in his head and Johnny will get to see what happened after this life ends. V, well, V wouldn't be so lucky since he couldn't afford to become an engram.

"Gee thanks. Got that little faith in me?"

Silverhand shook his head, disagreeing. "Not in you, in the rest of 'em." He looked off into the distance at the landscape. With the tiniest beat of silence that lingered, his eyes were back on V again. "Listen, wanna trust Panam and her tarmac rats? Fine, but it'll be their lives weighing heavy on your soul. And if you take Arasaka's deal, well, that'll be your own soul on your conscience."

Without hesitation V spoke, "Gonna try to ask Panam for help."

"You absolutely sure?" He eyed V, not wanting to go through with either choice, really. "No going back on this, you know."

He paused to gather his thoughts before speaking them. "There is another option, though." V wondered if he would regret this one or not in another life. He took the pseudoendotrizine and omega blockers out of his pocket and stared down at them in his palm.

"What?"

"We put all this- the pills, everything to bed."

"If we don't try something, anything, we're both doomed." The rockerboy frowned, hoping the other truly knows the consequences of what he does next.

"I know." He gripped the pills tight and chucked them off the ledge. "Exactly why we'll do one last thing." V's heart was beating out of his chest.

"Okay… You lost me." Johnny swallowed, "Realize the shit we've been through to get this far, right?" It only took him one look at V to tell that he wasn't bluffing. That he was serious.

"Sure do."

"To let it all go now, why?" He asked such a simple question but V was grasping at air to find the words to say next. Why does anyone else commit suicide? They see it as their best or last option.

"Cleanest, least bloody option. We try anything else," V thought of the casualties of the other options, "people die."

Johnny didn't seem to understand, "People die. It's the way of things."

V was convinced he was thinking clearer than ever, convinced that this was a rash decision. "Am I worth their sacrifice? Are you?" That was a good point.

Would a thieving mercenary and the ghost of a suicide bomber be worth the lives of countless others?

Would it be worth it for kids to bury their dads or moms?

Would it be worth parents burying their daughters or sons?

Worth someone their losing brothers and sisters?

Worth someone losing a good friend like Jackie?

Worth partners left to bury their boyfriends and girlfriends?

No. Of course not.

Neither of them were worth ruining a family. Let alone several. They weren't worth it all. Certainly not in this lifetime. "Besides, it's the only way we'll both be aware." V finished.

"Of what? Death?" Johnny seemed heartbroken to be letting go again so soon.

"Mhm." V's voice was softer now. "The moment life escapes."

The silence seemed to linger in the air for so long. Is this what death would bring? Silence? Or would be loud and repulsing.

What if death would be better than the entirety of this life he had lived? From what he's heard, most people never realize there's better things out there until they find it.

V didn't realize he could find a friend until he met Jackie, until he met Johnny. He thought he would live and die alone without anyone batting an eye or caring to notice.

Who knows, maybe if he had chosen to live the extra twenty-four hours longer he would've died without anyone. All alone. Nobody to say goodbye to. Nobody to say they'll miss him. Without even Johnny to ground him and reassure that death isn't that bad. This could be his last chance at a good, honest death.

Was it worth the risk?

V would argue yes.

"Hmm. Never really gave it a thought." Silverhand examined the other's features, maybe trying to read out more than what he was being told. "Funny how you still manage to surprise me, sometimes."

V laughed softly into the chilly air. "Might be something I learned from you."

"V," Johnny looked at him with a face of concern. "You sure about this?" He wanted to be sure that he truly wanted this. That he was actually willing to give it all up. Johnny never had anyone to ask him if he was making the right decision before he died, so he had to be sure he was that person for V. To give him what he had never received.

The mercenary glanced at the gun at his hip. "As long as you have nothing against it." He would hate for Johnny to not feel like he got a choice in the matter. Especially since this was now his life just as much as V's.

"Not how I'da done it, but that's alright." He seemed to finally feel the weight of what was going to be done. And he accepted it rather easily.

V raised a brow, "Just like that, no pushback?"

"Huh, mighta learned a little something from you, too." Johnny reached his chrome arm out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

It was the first time V had felt his touch since the time he tried beating him to death in his apartment. Hell, he had forgotten what his touch even felt like. Or the touch of anyone not trying to punch him, really. He was sure he was one of very few, or quite possibly the only one, to ever experience a gentle touch from the rockerboy. It was exactly as Johnny had intended it, to be comforting.

"Is it time?" He held great sorrow in his eyes. Not for himself but for V. To see one lose the will to fight hurt to watch. Still, it was V's choice to make, not his. And he respected that. Even if he thought V was stupid for it.

V nodded. He looked back out to the cityscape, admiring the neon lights and metal buildings from afar. "It really is beautiful."

"Been nice working with ya, V." Johnny said his goodbye, tenderness in his voice that not many had the luxury to hear. The sincerity of his words made the mercenary pause and think again.

So, this was it, huh?

The end?

Everything would be gone forever.

For good.

"Yeah, with you, too, Johnny…" The words were barely able to make it past V's lips. He wanted to cry but he couldn't. Instead, the lump in his throat almost cut off all breathing.

Was this really how it ended?

At least he wasn't alone.

At least he had Johnny.

And at least Silverhand didn't have to die alone this time either, left crying out to empty air. Someone would be there for him this time. Someone who cared.

V would give him something he never had. Something he never knew he needed.

V looked at his chrome hand and took it in his. He squeezed Johnny's hand. Neither of them could recall the last time they had held someone else's hand. But they were both sure that it didn't mean nearly as much as this time felt now. Wasn't as significant. Nothing would ever be as important as this.

This was a final goodbye.

He met Johnny's eyes with regret.

Not regret of sticking his biochip in his head, nor regret of having met Johnny.

Instead, it was a regret of not having had more time. Of not having met each other sooner.

Neither V nor Johnny were the same men they were before they were forced to each other.

V had been a suckup for corpos, always trusting in officials to make the best choices for the city. He saw no life purpose other than to make a name for himself on the streets.

In so little time, he learned so much about legends and that being one wasn't worth the price to pay. He learned that within the blink of an eye you could lose everything. That and sometimes the hardest to make decisions were the most important ones.

Johnny had refused to see any purpose in life other than to change the present for future generations. He thought to take down the higher-ups by whatever means necessary would be the solution. That it would save the world.

In so little time, he had learned so much about the connections of those around him and how they mattered more than anything. That and one man can't take down an entire family philosophy with only one bomb.

Even if he had never had the honour to meet someone like V in his life, to change him for the better, at least he had him in his death.

Who knows? Maybe after all this is over, they'll meet again.

In heaven or another life.

Maybe they'll be reunited under better circumstances and won't have to worry about putting aside their differences to see the decency in each other.

And maybe V would be the one saving Johnny next time around.

As V reached for the pistol and pulled it out from his holster, he felt the rockerboy's grip tense. He pulled back the hammer and saw there was already a bullet in the chamber. He placed the barrel against the underside of his jaw, aimed straight up towards his frontal cortex. He spared a look to Johnny as he rested his finger on the trigger and was met with the saddest eyes imaginable.

Johnny reached his other hand over and wiped a tear from V's cheek with his knuckle. V hadn't noticed he was crying. So that's why the ghost looked so sad- because he had never seen V cry before. His organic hand fell back down to meet with his chrome hand, gripping V's. Both their hearts were beating out of their chests in fear.

So much was left unsaid.

They weren't doing it alone. That's what mattered most.

Yet they couldn't find any way to shape them into coherent statements. So while V steadied his trigger finger and kept eye contact with his ghost as he squeezed the trigger.

V heard the blast just as everything went black.

This time, he didn't have to beg the question if he had flatlined. He knew it to be true. And this time, there was no panic in the darkness. He just let it envelope him.

And this time, Johnny didn't feel so alone. He finally felt like he had pursued a purpose.

If in their lives they hadn't been granted the luxury of peace, at least in death they would.

And even if they weren't perfect men, at least they would be remembered by friends.

That's what counts, right?

Johnny would argue yes.

#johnny silverhand #male v #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cp77 #canon compliant #this is the first time ive ever published a fic on tumblr i have no idea what im doing #i recorded ten minutes of dialogue of the sui ending and managed to write a solid 6k because i didnt have wifi and i was bored #no beta we die like men

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