#too much for the meager amount i give you...

[winter-jay-official]

You guys don't even know how much I think about my ocs...

[mayaree-darling]

just a bit of luck your way // Self Aware Wuthering Waves (Jiyan)

Pairing(?): SelfAware!Jiyan and Player!Reader

Synopsis: You're one of the many players who started playing Wuthering Waves on release and of course the main thing you waited for is pulling for Jiyan.

From Mayaree: celebrating rn coz i got Jiyan and his weapon on my first 10 pull on each banner (dont know if that's supposed to happen but still a celebration).

CW: self aware au; no concrete spoilers because i just reached a little past level 20; swearing; second person pov (you, your, etc.)

Word Count: 2.8k (unedited)

Surely, surely there was something wrong with this game. You know for a fact you ain't that lucky - especially in these anime gacha games - so either there was something wrong with this game or the devs were just that giving to their players.

You had decided to play Wuthering Waves on a whim, caught up on the excited chatter you've been hearing all over the internet at its coming release. Patiently waiting for the servers to open worldwide, you sat down on your cozy chair with some snacks and a drink, ready to play. A grin ticks your lips upwards as you're taken to choosing your character.

You gotta say, the game is pretty amazing on your first run. Attack, parry, dodge. Seems simple enough. With a few fights, you were getting used to the routine and the enemies' patterns. If you had to nitpick something, though-

"This feels a little too easy." You were by no means an overly skilled player, as far as you were aware. Maybe it's because you're just barely past the start of the game, but it feels like the enemies were dying a bit too quickly. And you were only dealing like 10 damage per swing.

But just as you say it, you sit up in your chair in attention. Did… did they just get harder to kill? No, wait, you did just raise your Union Level, so maybe that's why. The enemies' attack patterns are slightly more advanced and although you're dealing more damage, their health bars are keeping up with you. Well, you were complaining earlier, so maybe this was a good thing? You keep playing, now being kept on your toes during combat.

After grinding a bit more - how much time have you spent already? Not enough, you think - you finally unlock what you've been waiting for this whole time.

The gacha system.

You're no stranger to gacha games. If anything, it's the reason you played this game in the first place. Sure the combat was nice, but what was better than collecting these prettily designed anime men and women and running around with them on the open world map? Nothing was more fulfilling than staring at your growing roster of playable characters the longer you played the game.

And for Wuthering Waves, the first addition to your would-be collection appears on the screen.

You'd be lying if you said you were going into the game blind. With the amount of Jiyan videos you've seen from the betas and leaks, you may as well have played him for a month now. From idle animations to his forte attack, you watched as many videos available as you could. And each one solidified for you that you needed to pull for him. That man was coming home one way or another.

Grinding a little more astrite by doing a couple of missions here and there - you had 1,300 astrite, just a little more for the home goal and then- you were ready. Sure it's just a meager 10 pulls but it was definitely a start. And you never know… right? You click the 10 pull button and-

OH??? SHIT, WAS THAT GOLD JUST NOW???? YOU KNOW FOR A FACT GOLD IS A GOOD THING, RIGHT??? You click through the 3-star results as quick as you can and- YEAH YEAH THAT'S HIS ANIMATION IT'S HIM HE'S HOME IT'S JIYAN!

You all but kick the chair away and bump your whole lower half on the table as you jump up in joy. You may as well be doing backflips while you're at it. You got him??? On the first 10 pull, no less???? This game was spoiling you holy shit. And it's only been a day.

Immediately heading over to the characters screen, you go to Jiyan's profile and just. Stare at him. Basking in the fact that you played this game on day 1, got the first available limited 5 star, and on your first fucking 10 pull.

Holy shit.

You scream into a pillow and hope your housemates don't hear. Or maybe they should hear because this has got to be the luckiest day of your life and you'd flex it on their faces if they understood the gacha game hype. Going back to the screen, Jiyan is doing one of his idles, twirling around his spear. My god, he looked glorious. His whole appearance was both beautiful and imposing. He looked so cool, hot damn.

"I'll be relying on you from now on, general." You grin once more and spin your chair with a whoop.

You level him up as high as you can, using all the leveling materials available at the moment. He's capped out at 20 right now because you did just start playing and still haven't unlocked character ascension, but you're willing to grind more just to raise him. You even move him to the first spot in your team (sorry, Rover, you can take the next spot).

You head on over to training, to gather some weapon and leveling materials but also because you want to test him out in battle. Damn it all, those beta videos of him didn't disappoint. He was just as good, if not even better since you're the one playing him right now.

He was definitely fun to play with. Of course, all the characters are fun to play with, but Jiyan was twice as fun. Would it be bold to say it was like you were meant to play as him? Suddenly the game is easier again. But not because the enemies are easy to kill, more so you feel like you're able to move better. You seem to be able to time dodging and parrying a lot better, even knowing when to attack at the best moment. Clearly, it was a really good decision to pull for him.

When you've grinded enough - he's level 40 now and you've fully accepted you're in this game for the long run - you go to level up his 4-star broadblade and then stop. You've saved up enough astrite for another 10 pull, right? Maybe you still have some luck left from the Jiyan pull, so… maybe?

"What do you think, Jiyan? Do I go for it?" You laugh at the absurdity of your one sided conversation. "I think you deserve your main weapon."

To your surprise, you watch as he laughs once, shaking his head and looking away with a barely noticeable smile (it's hard to tell with your gadget's graphics, but you definitely heard him). Was… was that part of his idle animations? You make a split-second decision to check his profile. Uh, no? No, it wasn't? Where'd that come from??? Well, maybe it was a secret animation plugged in by the devs. Game devs did like adding a little secret every now and then, right?

Anyways, although indirectly, Jiyan just gave you his answer. You were pulling for his weapon. You mean, there's still like 20 days left for you to pull if you don't get it right away, so there's no harm in building pity right now. Right? Right. To the gacha you go.

Breathing out - maybe a small prayer to the gacha gods in your head - you click the 10 pull button on the limited-time weapon banner-

WAITWAITWAITWAIT WAS THAT FUCKING GOLD??? AGAIN??? THERE'S NO SHOT. THERE'S NO FUCKING SHOT THAT THIS IS-

You stare at the golden glowing weapon on your screen in disbelief. A second passes, and then another as you stare at the green and gold broadblade. Verdant Summit. In the flesh. Excitement follows soon after like a tidal wave. You're off your chair in the next second again, fist-pumping the air like no tomorrow. You don't even care if your housemates hear you jumping around this time.

"JIYAN, LOOK, WE ACTUALLY GOT YOUR WEAPON!" You think you hear someone knock at your walls but you could care less right now.

When you're seated and back to your screen, you immediately equip the blade to Jiyan and stare again. Fuck, he really did look cool. With the sword, he's even twice as cool. Okay, he was hot, you're not gonna sugarcoat it. He was both in equal measure. You try swinging the blade around and breathe out in awe.

"It looks like it was made for you," you laugh. Well, surely it was. The blade was designed for him from the moment it was created, but still. You hear his little laugh again, but the animation seems to be cut short when you accidentally slash. Whoops.

When the excitement dies down, exhaustion sets in. You look at the time. Damn, it was that late? You really played the game for a whole day? Woof.

But you think it was well worth it as you watch Jiyan with his weapon in action. You finish up battling with a few more enemies before leaning back on your chair, content. Silly as it may be, you wish your team goodnight before logging off for the day.

Jiyan waits until he can't hear your voice or feel the warmth that overtakes him whenever you use him before he moves. He groans as he stretches. You really did enjoy using him to explore Solaris 3, no doubt about that. Not that he was complaining.

Far from it, really.

"Cheater." Jiyan blinks once before turning around. Rover stands there, arms crossed with a frown set upon their face. Jiyan could tell there was no real bite to their expression or words, but he still found it rather funny.

"Are you talking to me, Rover?" Jiyan's voice is calm and collected, but he can feel the corner of his mouth tick upwards ever so slightly.

"You know what you did." Rover scoffs, still lacking actual bite. It was more like teasing, if anything. "You wanted to make them happy that much?"

"Is it not possible I just wanted to visit Jinzhou for a bit? Their goals and mine simply aligned at the moment and I used the opportunity." A lie, but not quite.

Yes, he did want to visit Jinzhou. Word had reached him of the new Rover who even the Magistrate had taken a keen interest to. He wanted to make sure they weren't anything dangerous, despite the prophecy. Jué knows the last thing they need is the Midnight Rangers at the Norfall Barriers and an ambush in the main city.

But the moment he arrived, things were very different. For one, the very Rover he was so wary of ended up working with him in a small team of three. The Rover was no normal person, either. Yes, Jiyan could tell that they were strong and would be able to get stronger at a rapid pace. But they also seemed too observant. How should he put it? It felt like they were seeing something else he couldn't. Or they were seeing everything differently.

And then he felt it for himself.

Your voice is warm but thunderous, and yet it was not painful for the ears. Loud with excitement he can't quite understand. You're excited… that you have him? You even said you would rely on him from now on. He could laugh at how easy you were to please. Something so simple and you were already so happy. Maybe it's simply your emotions leaking into his own soul, but he could feel the genuine joy that you were feeling. He prides himself for choosing to come home as soon as he could if only to share in your happiness. He wanted to understand whatever it is that makes you so excited. After so much bloodshed, your joy felt like a breath of fresh air he hadn't taken in so long.

As you use him to walk around the world and fight Tacet Discords, it felt like he was seeing the world for the first time again. Maybe this is what the Rover was seeing with their observant eyes. Jiyan felt like he was experiencing Solaris 3 for the first time once again. Whenever you gasped at the sights of high cliffs and the boundless sky, he may as well be sighing in amazement with you.

"Right… Took the opportunity. Sure." Rover raised an eyebrow. "And the broadblade?"

Jiyan shrugs. "I find that I work better with a familiar weapon." Another lie, but not quite.

He didn't mind using another weapon. His skills lay in his own sharpened abilities, not in whatever object he had on hand. He could manage fine with any other broadblade you gave him, and he trusted you to help him fight. You fumbled a little bit here and there, made him attack a little recklessly at times, but you were doing your best. Jiyan could count on you in battle.

However, when you asked him if he wanted his weapon, he stopped. Having his sword on hand would do him good, of course. As he told the Rover, he fights even better with Verdant Summit. But, there was something about you asking his opinion. He knows you cannot read his thoughts. And yet you asked. It felt rather nice… A connection between you both. A familiarity he did not expect but was definitely not unwelcome.

He couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. To his surprise, you actually hear him. He frowns at the short panic this causes (did you not want to hear from him after all?), but thankfully you move on from it quickly enough. You take his laugh as a good sign and decide to acquire his weapon.

When he saw the shooting stars alight the waters below, Jiyan pondered for a second. Surely, there won't be any harm in helping you a bit, right? He reaches down and touches one of the stars, immediately making it light a glowing golden light as it shoots to the sky. He feels your joy before he hears it and with it, his own chest is filled with warmth.

There's a silence that overtakes you when you see the weapon that makes Jiyan worried. Did… you not want his weapon after all? But that can't be right, you even asked him for his thoughts. Or did you sense that you received it without effort? Did you realize he helped you get it? Maybe he shouldn't have meddled with your abilities.

Before he can overthink and sink into a spiral of doubt, your screams of joy and the sound of you jumping around in pure happiness fill his ears. Jiyan breathes out in relief, another small smile making its way to his lips. He was worried for nothing. Maybe you were just shocked for a little bit. Did you think he would not help you get it? He knew you would, he just helped you receive it earlier than you would have. He may or may not have simply wished to hear your joyous laughter at the moment.

As you give him Verdant Summit, he tests its weight and familiarity in his hand and perform a couple of swings (maybe he wanted to show it off a bit for you, just a touch). You think it was made for him? Well surely it was, and yet the comment makes him laugh a little more. You've been making him a laugh for a while now.

You enjoy a few more moments with him, battling together. He enjoys them as well, if he was honest, as you spend the time praising him and being in awe. It was rather embarrassing if he was honest, but he appreciated it all the same. Before he knew it, time had flown in an instant. You bid him and the others goodnight before leaving, and he knows you leave with a smile on your lips.

"Uh-huh. Right. I definitely believe you." Rover laughs. "Don't think I didn't see you smile, General Jiyan."

Almost on instinct, Jiyan covers his mouth with a hand, looking away. It barely concealed his embarrassment. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Be careful the others don't catch you helping them too much." Baizhi suddenly speaks from the side. She was so quiet Jiyan almost forgot she was there. The Rover smiles teasingly, before they turn around with a small wave. Baizhi follows soon after with a nod. "Chixia's already complaining that they're showing you too much favoritism."

"I- yes, of course. Thank you for the advice, Baizhi." Jiyan clears his throat.

Was it that obvious? Most likely. Rover and Baizhi may have seen too much considering they've been traveling together for a while now, but if even the others were noticing his closeness to you then he was doing a poor job at hiding it. However, was there really a need to hide it? The others did not try hiding their favor for the warm voice they hear and who guides them. So, there was no need to hide it himself, was there?

He spins his newly obtained sword - an old companion, but he felt like he was seeing it for the first time all over again, with better memories attached to it - and smiles softly. Yes, there was no need to hide how he favored your connection to him. It wouldn't even be a bold claim for him to say he was happy that he had made the decision to come when you called for him.

Jiyan hopes you stay with him for a while longer, if only to see what you see, feel happiness the way you do. He'd like that a lot.

From Mayaree: Said I was gonna write Self Aware Star Rail but I just got too excited. Thank you, WuWa.

✨ Masterlist ✨

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.

[anony-man]

(Gah, you always know just the drabble to request… in case anyone else is wondering, Texaid is my biggest weakness. This’ll be posted on ao3 soon!)

Chubformers drabble #193!

Characters: First Aid & Vortex (IDW)

Word count: 3k

This was going to be the last time Vortex ever put any faith in Swindle and his vacation booking skills. Hell, it had been his first time making that mistake, but it was going to be his last, too.

The cabin was an old one. It was old and rickety, too, which meant the heavy layers of snow blowing through the air and piling up against the windows sucked every last bit of heat out from within its walls. He was no whiner, but hey, he wasn’t a big bot, either. He was a copter, for Primus’ sake, and the amount of heat he struggled to generate in one sitting was nothing compared to a big brute of a mech just sitting in place.

That was another thing Vortex had to add to the list, because at the start of his little adventure planning spree, he had insisted—demanded even—that wherever he was going to be taking his lovely little plaything, it would be somewhere hot. Comfortable, too. Oh, and it had to have electricity… which it didn’t. Believe him, he had checked. He had checked twice.

Damn that smooth talking slagger and his excuses for good destination vacation homes. Vortex wasn’t asking for much. He wasn’t even asking for everything he should be asking for, considering First Aid was his company. He had laid out the uttermost minimum of all bare minimum requirements, and Swindle had gone and fragged it up for them both. First Aid didn’t know that, though. For all he knew, this was Vortex’s fault… and honestly, Vortex wasn’t about to go shifting the blame. It was his fault for trusting Swindle with something so important in the end, and hated himself for it all the same.

This sucked. Every last bit of it sucked starting from the harrowing trip out to their dreaded cabin’s location and ending with the biting cold, the abysmal lack of any working electricity, and the shameful fact that while Vortex cursed and griped and kicked up layers of dust in his back-and-forth pacing, his beloved medic sat huddled by the fireplace attempting to start a fire from the meager supplies left to them.

Slag it. Slag it all. He should’ve shelled out the extra few shanix and gotten them a booking somewhere nice, under his name and everything. No matter that he was banned from most fine dining and fine living establishments across the planet. He could’ve forged his signature, put down a few hundred or even held a bot or three at knife point until he got his way, but he hadn’t. He’d taken the easy way out on what was supposed to have been a special trip and now he was reaping the consequences.

Damn Swindle to the pit, and damn himself right there beside him. Vortex huffed loudly, his vents flaring as hot air was blown into the room. The fog of his breath lasted several seconds longer than it should have in the cold, cold cabin, and he gave himself an extra few pity points by shivering against the frigid atmosphere. They had gotten out of the snow and inside the cabin over an hour ago, and here he stood, still freezing his aft off.

“Hmph,” Vortex grunted, his second huff of displeasure coming out strong enough to create an audible sound. Behind him, he heard the crackle of wood in the fireplace.

“Hey,” First Aid called out, “come on and join me, ‘Tex. I finally got the fire going.”

Oh, what a relief. He was starting to grow bored of glaring at the snow piling higher and higher outside the windows. Vortex lingered just a moment longer in place before giving in and taking his sulking to a place where he was welcome—snuggled up next to First Aid’s side in front of the fire.

The lack of proper lighting was a pain, and without the proper supplies to make up for it, Vortex and First Aid were no better than sitting ducks. He’d brought food for them, of course, and First Aid had brought a blanket. The exaggerated details Swindle had given when he was dragging the poor copter into such a horrible deal had implied the addition of proper housing, cabin or not. Despite its remote location, Vortex had also been expecting… well, anything better than this, because really, anything would have been better than this.

First Aid was soft against his side as he hunkered down and snuggled close. He was warm, too, and so was the fire. Vortex hardly had time to scoot himself closer to the medic from behind and reach his servos around to paw at the doughy belly in First Aid’s lap before he was getting an armful of softer, warmer fabric. The blanket was readily accepted, and with a third and final huff and a satisfied purr of his engines as a follow-up, the two ended their rearrangements in the old fashioned spooning sitting upright position, and with Vortex as the big spoon, of course.

“Better?” First Aid asked, turning his helm just enough to meet the face nuzzled against his shoulder and plant a kiss against its surface. “I was starting to think you’d stand there and sulk all night.”

Had it been anyone but First Aid with him, Vortex probably would have. The pretty little medic was a problem solver, though. He wouldn’t have let it last much longer, even if Vortex had tried to make it happen.

“Nah,” he said instead, meeting First Aid’s tender kiss with a greedy one of his own. “Mmm… just had to meet my daily grudge-holding quota.”

Outwardly, that is. The grudge was still burning hot under the surface, and he made note to store the anger away until later on for when he got the chance to corner Swindle properly.

First Aid sighed, his frame going soft against Vortex’s front. It was the kind of sigh that made it obvious that there was more he wanted to say, maybe more he wanted to scold the copter for bitching about, but he held his tongue. There were much more important things to do that fixate on petty arguments, and with the ticklish sensation of clawed, handsy servos getting bolder and bolder in their groping, he, too, knew it was better to pocket it away for another time.

This was their vacation. It was their time to relax and unwind, even if things hadn’t gone the way either of them had planned. First Aid certainly didn’t mind, but he knew Vortex, and he knew the copter could be picky… which was why he decided to take the lead for a little while.

The fireplace burned bright in front of them, and as the flames licked their way up the old logs of wood inside, First Aid traced his fingers up and down Vortex’s arms. The flames were far too hot for them to cook anything just yet, and he was feeling far too needy to even begin thinking about tearing free of the copter’s grasp. He wanted to linger a little while longer, and from the hum of engines rumbling against his back, he could tell Vortex had the same thing in mind.

“You still feel cold,” First Aid said as he gave one of Vortex’s pinching servos a squeeze. “The flight didn’t do any damage, did it?”

The cool touch of sharp claws digging into the soft pudge of his belly wasn’t unwelcome by any means, but it certainly worried him. Vortex only grew bolder as First Aid stroked his arms and rubbed his thighs, and he sacrificed a servo from the mass of soft belly spilling out over the medic’s lap to grab First Aid’s face and guide him in for a kiss. It was a long time before either mech spoke again, and even longer before he responded, but once they had both pulled away from the slow, sweet embrace, Vortex was back to his old, grinning self.

“I’ve had worse,” he said, his claws tracing gentle, teasing circles around First Aid’s exposed belly button. “‘Sides, it helped that I had an extra few hundred pounds of cargo in my cockpit to keep me company. Y’know, keeping me warm and all that.”

First Aid gave a playful gasp and shoved the copter away, all while hiding his snickers behind his servo. “You aft, I am not that heavy!”

Much to his delight, Vortex was there to pull him back in.

“Is that so?” he said, his fingers digging deeper into the rolls of First Aid’s belly. “Mind tellin’ me what all this is from, then?”

He was pinching, grabbing, groping, and First Aid couldn’t help but melt into his arms. The two just about ended up in revved engines and popped panels territory by the end of it, and they sure would have had it not been for the rumbles of Vortex’s poor, hungry medic’s belly growing louder and louder by the second.

“Snack time, baby,” he said with a final pat against First Aid’s grumbling belly. “Got your favorite~.”

S’mores, of course, because First Aid had a sweet tooth, and because Vortex loved seeing his bot getting sticky from the sweets. He tore the treats out of his cockpit before First Aid could make any more protests about the fire growing too hot, and after sliding the crackers and chocolates to the side, pulled himself free from the tangle of blankets and fat, warm frames.

The trip wasn’t exactly going as he had planned, but things were looking up. Vortex stabbed a few marshmallows onto each of his claws and held his servo up over the flames, purring all the while. The fire was hot, and First Aid was hotter—he hadn’t even waited to dig into the rest of the s’mores supplies, and as Vortex struggled not to smoke the marshmallows into flaming balls of ash and char, he prepared the rest.

First Aid liked his s’mores golden brown and perfectly mushy; he had told Vortex so on countless occasions, especially after the failed attempts at a proper s’more were passed up on in favor of something more acceptable. It made cooking them just right hard, but he was up to the challenge. Patience was a virtue and all that slag, and he liked to see his medic looking fat and happy.

Outside the cabin, the winds were picking up and the snow fell heavier as night crawled in. Vortex was oblivious now, his attention finally focused on more important things. Swindle would still be getting a good aft-kicking for the extra fine print he had failed to read off, but in the meantime, there were more important things to attend to—like feeding First Aid, who was slowly inching his way closer and closer to the open fire the longer he had to wait.

“All right, sweets,” he said as he inspected the marshmallows carefully. “Hope you’re hungry… I think these bad boys are ready for ya.”

Vortex’s grin was as big as it was victorious as he pulled his servo away from the fire just as the marshmallows had reached the point of melting from his fingers. First Aid was there to meet him halfway, and three successful s’more assemblies later, the snack was prepared. The thick slabs of chocolate were already melting over the sides as Vortex picked up the first one and squeezed it altogether, and First Aid’s own beaming smile nearly overshadowed his own as the medic scooted ever so close to his side.

“Oh, ‘Tex,” First Aid cooed, “they’re perfect!”

Vortex’s smile grew. Good—perfect was what he wanted.

The bag of marshmallows was about enough to satisfy a bot with as big an appetite as Brawl’s, but when it came to First Aid, the medic’s sweet tooth knew no limits. Vortex busied himself with prepping more s’mores and stuffing his medic full of the fresh ones, and while he worked at filling up First Aid’s belly, First Aid was hard at work licking his lips clean in preparation for every next bite.

They could have gone on all night if they wanted to, and slag, Vortex really wanted to… but there was something in the air that demanded more than just a casual feeding session. First Aid was staring him down through a dimmed visor and chubby cheeks darkened by the heat of the fire, and as he munched, his servos were working to knead his belly and make room for more. It was the hottest thing Vortex had seen in a while, and to his surprise, he was almost starting to feel glad things had turned out the way he did.

Emphasis on almost, of course. The power was still nonexistent, and the cabin was still cold… but hey, he had his favorite medic sitting cross legged in front of him, and he had a front row seat to watching First Aid down more s’mores in one sitting than any bot had ever eaten in their entire existence, and that was pretty hot.

He was down to his last s’more before he knew it, which would have been disappointing in any other situation… but this was First Aid he was dealing with, and he was Vortex.

“Last one,” Vortex warned, holding up the s’more just out of reach. “Do me a favor and savor it this time, ‘kay?”

“Very funny,” First Aid scoffed, feigning offense. It would have been convincing, too, had it not been for the chocolate smeared across his lips and the crumbs of cracker stuck to his face. “Don’t keep me waiting here, ‘Tex. Can’t you see I’m starving?”

As if. The medic’s belly had doubled in size from the s’mores alone. It sat comfortably swollen in his lap, hiding his thighs from view and framing the striking stretch marks that covered it in rows of soft white light. Vortex obliged regardless, because a cranky medic was not a fun medic to be around… and really, he couldn’t bear to let First Aid wait. Not tonight, at least.

“You’re a greedy little thing,” Vortex said, all the while holding the last s’more between his claws. “Go on, then. Eat up.”

First Aid did. He bridged the gap between them, only stopping once the curve of his belly was pressed against Vortex’s own thighs. He leaned in for every bite, all down to the last crumb, and even then did he slip his tongue out and lap at the residue marshmallow fluff and chocolate coating Vortex’s fingertips. It was like licking the edge of a knife blade, and playing with fate every time, but he’d grown good at his tricks. At the end of the day, Vortex was only as scary as he pretended to be, and First Aid had learned better.

Each sticky digit was licked clean, and even Vortex’s palm was lapped at by the end. Still, he seemed unsatisfied. He studied his empty servo carefully, all while First Aid rubbed at his sore belly and smacked his lips with a satisfaction that could only come from devouring an entire bag’s worth of marshmallows and the extra additions that made them s’mores.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Vortex said.

He was smirking again, the kind of smirk that so obviously said he had something else in mind. First Aid was baffled for all of a few seconds before a clawed digit reached out and caught him by the chin.

“C’mere,” he whispered, “lemme get a taste of that.”

How could he resist? The second kiss of the night was shorter, sweeter, and it stung a little deeper. Vortex was nipping at his lips and licking him clean, polishing off the sweet aftertaste of melted chocolate and sticky, sugary marshmallows while beckoning him further with claws digging deep into the grooves of his plating and smushing First Aid’s plump frame against his own slender chest. Dessert was sweet, but the encore was sweeter, and disaster of a vacation or no, First Aid was certain that this made up for it entirely. He hoped Vortex felt the same.

First Aid dared to crack open an optic, only to find the copter staring back up at him with that hungry look and toothy smile. Somewhere along the way they had gone from snuggled in front of the fire to having him straddling Vortex’s lap, and Primus, if that wasn’t just the perfect way to finish things off.

Well, start to finish things off, he should say. Vortex was looking a lot happier than he had been when they first arrived, which was a good thing. Another good thing? His panels were growing too hot to keep shut, and the nasty copter beneath him had already started kissing his way up the curve of his belly and grinding his hips in time with First Aid’s stuttering intakes.

This was going to be a good vacation, First Aid decided. He hoped Vortex would say the same now, and really, a part of him wanted to ask… just to be sure. The rumble of an eager engine and the feeling of those claws pawing at his belly gave him the answer he was looking for, though. He didn’t need to ask to know things were looking up from here for them both… really, he had already gotten his answer, and he was getting it actively.

Cold, snowy weather or no, it was a good trip. Electricity or not, it was a good cabin. Vortex couldn’t complain about his company on the vacation, and he sure as hell couldn’t complain about the direction things had taken. Not when First Aid was panting above him, and not when that belly was smothering his frame… he couldn’t be happier. They couldn’t be happier. It was going to be a good vacation. Hell… it was going to be a great vacation.

He was still going to kick some conmech aft when he got home. For now, though, he had a belly to worship and a medic to frag.

[runin64]

Savior

I hope you guys are up for some backstory, I may expand this in the future until it reaches as to where the first one started off (: CW: There is talk of a planet being raided and death due to being tapped. Sa’kan and his brothers came late, the small green planet was too far away for a swift enough approach. By the time the emergency signal was picked up, nearly all of the inhabitants were already dead. So the most he and his brothers could do now is to make sure the Xenos would be eradicated for the crimes they committed. Yet as they run the scans, his system picks up a signal still. Weak as it is, it was human and trapped beneath his feet. The Floor beneath your feet crumbles as another explosion in the distance lit up the sky, while the earth below you starts to fall, your eyes lift to the sky which is drenched in the red evening sun. A fitting sky to die to. Is your only thought as you could feel yourself falling, too far from any stable ground to reach. Your world turns black as you slide down below. To your surprise you did not yet die, the slate on which you stood created a small area beneath the rubble that was once your Town Square. Giving you just enough space to not be crushed A death to Starvation then? A fate much worse seems to be your only future, tears run down your face, you try to move any of the ruins around you. However, none move even an inch, you are trapped, as you taste the coppery taste of blood in your mouth you contemplate how to get out of what looks more and more like your own tomb. As your adrenalin leaves you, your body becomes so heavy, so tired. After all that had happened in the last 3 days it finally gives in to sleep. “help” Your voice is nearly gone, raspy from the lack of water and times you tried to call for help, wispers.To whom you did not know. You spend so much time in the darkness, it must have been days. Hearing the gunshots and screams, until it all fell quiet. Until you hear it, sounds of shots, but louder than the ones from your little militia, different from the Xenos who choose to raid your little planet. It almost sounds like.. the slate above you is moving Even the low light blinds after so long in the darkness, but after a bit of time the green armor and visor become discernible to you. By the Emperor, did his angels come? Sa’kan grips the big stone slate that sat on an angle, if he did not stand right on top of it his recorder would likely never have picked a signal that weak up. As he slowly lifts the slate he found her, a woman barely alive, let alone conscious. She must have been trapped for a while, the blood on her face dry. The meager amount of light that now reaches her still causes her to flinch. help he hears her, resting on his knee he reaches out one hand. It takes a while for her to lift her much smaller one, “I will keep you safe, never fear”, his words nearly ring out too loud for the small cave. Once the woman is safely in his arms he moves the slate back down, and rises back to his feet. Except the woman seems to have lost the battle with wakefulness, slumbing against his chest. Cursing slightly, Sa’kan rushed back to the apothecary.

[trashytoastboi]

Day of Greed - Mammon

~NSFW Alphabet~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warning: NSFW content ahead (whole bunch of this and that)

A = Aftercare (What are they like after sex?) 

💰 Mammon is the self proclaimed best and boy does he pamper you, you wouldn't even need to lift a finger and he’s got you covered. Hot towel, cold towel? He’s on it. Sore? Massages. Thirsty? Water, juice, a variety of other equally refreshing beverages. He’s a little overbearing with his care but he really means the best and just wants to make sure that you’re as comfortable as possible. You’d remind Mammon that sometimes you just want to snuggle and that’s enough. 

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partners.) 

💰 He loves everything and he cannot make a distinction for one or the other. Mammon loves, appreciates and worships all of you. Everything about you is perfect and his favourite. Your eyes whenever they look up at him, your nails digging into his back, your hips that he loves to hold onto. It feels like Mammon just wants to touch every part of you whenever the two of you are together. 

💰 On himself? His hands and mouth because he loves being able to touch and kiss you. 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically) 

💰 With Mammon brain he prefers being able to cum inside you, or have you swallow. Makes him feel even closer to you in a strange way but who can really decipher this demon’s brain when it comes to stuff like this. Trust he was quite eager to learn about where his cum looked best on you, and would experiment by making sure to always cum somewhere different. He just thinks it’s the best when it’s leaking out of you or you swallowing it. He’s got an average amount with his loads, not that thick and pretty general taste. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs.)

💰 Mammon loves spending money, mostly on himself. Until he finds that he loves to pour it onto you. Buying toys, lingerie, outfits, jewelry. He doesn't see it as anything bad because it's the gift that keeps on giving. He's starting to coin some weird new phrase he calls a money kink. Of course, it's not just the act of spending money. It's enjoying the pay off that comes from it. Seeing you using all these lavish gifts he gave you. Sometimes without your knowledge. How, you ask? Well those toys were good for when he was away, maybe busy with modeling work and you got lonely. He could feel the burning of his pact mark whenever you thought about him, the amount of times he'd secretly watch you getting off. While laying in his bed, using the toys that he bought you and none the wiser that he was watching you right now. Mammon had to exert so much self control just to insure that he could hold himself back from appearing and fucking you senseless.

E = Experienced (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

💰 Has some experience from a few casual hook ups and he knows what he’s doing. Only appreciated his meager experience when it came to you because he knew enough of the basics to take the lead. Honestly felt like he was learning everything from scratch because he wanted to know what you like, what got you going, what would push you over the edge and so he basically forgot everything he knew to allow himself to learn your tastes.  

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

💰 Tabletop - I mean he loves fucking you on his pool table, and with how often he does you feel this position deserves to be mentioned. Drives Mammon crazy when you get needy and wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer. 

💰 Pressed up against a wall -  Mammon loves having you pressed up against a wall while he’s fucking you, makes sure you can’t run away from him. You have a tendency to move away from him whenever he overstimulates you too much but this position ensures that you can’t go anywhere. Just be good and let the great Mammon pleasure you.

💰 Lotus - Loves this position because of the intimacy it provides, holding you close and helping you move your hips while he’s kissing you and catching those pretty eyes looking at him with so much love and desire. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? Etc)

💰 He’s so silly in the best way. He’s not trying to make it goofy but he’s on cloud nine whenever he’s with you and he’s all smiles. It’s an infectious happiness. Sometimes he’d do something that makes you chuckle and he’ll stop to look at you asking what’s making you laugh.Trying to explain the way all his jewelry makes a sound every time he thrusts like a shaker only made him wear more and louder things. 

H =  Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc) 

💰 No consistent style really, sometimes he’s trimmed, other times he’s completely clean and sometimes he leaves it to get a little more natural. Certain shoots could have an impact too depending on the client, some might want him to be shirtless and no happy trail must be present, others prefer the look of them. Curtains match the drapes too. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect) 

💰 Romantic in intention and tries to show it through his actions. He always holds you close and will tell you how much he loves you, again and again. He’s kissing you, moaning into your mouth about how good you feel and holding you in some way. He needs you close, it’s rare that his hands aren’t holding onto you in some shape or form and Mammon needs a lot of kisses, his kisses are greedy and insistent they demand you, beg for you and you know you could never deny him. Not when he loves you that much. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation Headcanon)

💰 Surprisingly not the biggest fan of it, not when he’s got you. Will only do it when he can’t handle how hard he is, if it’s unbearable. He’s not ceremonious about it either. He’ll go somewhere private and take care of it. He’s so nonchalant about it to you’d think he’s bored (lowkey kinda is) Mammon always compares it to how he feels when he’s with you and it doesn’t measure up. 

K = Kink (One or more of the kinks)

💰 Praise kink - Call him a good boy and Mammon will be complete putty in your hands. He just wants you to praise him, tell him he’s doing a good job. He’ll literally beg you to praise him, giving you those sad puppy eyes that just want a compliment or two. Goes a little bit of a second way because he loves complimenting you, in everyday life and during the more intimate moments together. 

💰 Overstimulation - He’s greedy, he can’t stop after the first time you cum. It just sets something off in him, he needs more. Mammon needs to watch you losing your mind, watch you cum on his fingers, his tongue, his cock. He’ll beg for one more, just one more (it’s never just one more) Has you all dazed, thinking you’re about to faint and so painfully sensitive as he just wants to give him more. 

💰 Biting - He’s always giving you little love bites, marking you up so everyone knows that you’re his. Gets all pouty when you cover them up. Never bites you hard enough to hurt badly but enough to leave marks, loves biting your neck or shoulders while he’s cumming. Always making sure that there’s a prominent one on your inner thigh and he’ll give you a new one when it heals. 

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

💰 His bedroom - Preferably bent over his pool table, or he’ll fuck you on his couch, or in his bed. I mean the floor is an option too- that wall over there looks inviting. (Honestly he’s had you on about every possible inch of his bedroom…Even the ceiling…) 

💰 Not opposed to public ventures - He’s not super risky about it though, (I mean aside from the obvious) will only really initiate if he knows there’s a very low risk of actually getting caught. Can’t risk having anyone else see how pretty his partner is all for him. 

💰 There’s a specific closet in RAD that’s become something of Mammon’s secret hangout and it’s where he bunks classes, also where he’s pulled you in for a little quality time before.  

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going?)

💰 Basically anytime he watches you being a badass, doesn’t know why it just turns him on. Likes when you kiss him and get all heated and desperate. The way your kisses grow sloppier, deeper and more urgent for him. Mammon loves feeling like YOU want him and there’s no greater turn on than being wanted by you. (Also if you tug on his hair while kissing him) He’s open about what you do to him and now knowing that, you still do those things knowing it will turn him on. 

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

💰 Sharing/threesomes/exhibitonism - He’s literally incapable of sharing you with someone else. His greed could never allow it. Or having others see you in a way only he can. Yeah you’ve taken a few photos and videos together, you can rest assured no one else will ever see them because those are Mammon’s guilty pleasures and you’re pretty ‘nd stuff that he can’t allow others to catch on because they’re definitely gonna fall in love with you. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

💰 He isn’t called the great Mammon for nothing. He’ll never admit all the research and times he practiced against his hand to make sure he had the technique down. He just would pretend to naturally be that great at it while driving you crazy, having you cumming non stop while doing all those insane things with his tongue. His fingers would dig into your hips, hold you in place until he was satisfied. Mammon likes receiving too, especially when you surprise him out of the blue and just go straight for the prize. He likes seeing how greedy you get, trying to stuff all of his cock into your mouth when it’s clearly too much but you’re still trying and taking him like a champ. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc) 

💰 Slow, sensual and hard. He has a tendency for those hard thrusts that make your entire body jolt, and then drag out with the slowest pull feeling everything inside and then another hard thrust in. He’d be kissing you, listening to how you gasp every time he slams against you, bottoming out and just being so so deep it feels like it’s knocking the air out of you. Can be fast and rough if he’s desperate enough or pressed for time.  

Q = Quickie (They opinions on quickies, how often etc)

💰 We’ve established the existence of his secret hideout in RAD, best believe it’s a popular quickie spot for the two of you. Mammon never fails to impress and makes quick work of you and himself. Thinks quickies are the literal best thing when he doesn’t have a lot of time but needs a little recharge on his person. Love how much you seem to enjoy them too. (You’re adorable) Go to position for quickies is having you sitting on top of a surface or bent over it. It’s what he’s best at. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? Etc)

💰 He’s game to take risks and try out new things especially with you. It may end up being something the two of you really like, or hate and that’s okay. You’ll laugh about the fact it was terrible. Mammon is eager and adventurous which makes for fun experimentation. Things he learned he liked included spanking and bondage. “Hated” edging, only because it was you edging him and you kept telling him he was a good boy even while you denied and ruined his orgasms for hours.  

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

💰 Got a lot of rounds in him, you accredit his stamina to his work, running (away from Lucifer) and partying. A deadly combo that gave him so much excessive stamina. Doesn’t need to work out all the excessive energy though and will usually stop when you’re tired. As for the rounds he’s got pretty average time for individual rounds (you’re honestly thankful the multiple rounds are enough to already push you to the limit physically.) 

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or on themselves?)

💰 He doesn't have any toys himself but he’s bought you A LOT. Loves seeing you using them and enjoys using them on you. It enhances the experience and makes things fun. He’s a little evil about it, he’ll be chuckling asking what’s wrong when you’re trying to force his hand away while he’s borderline torturing you with the vibrator on your sensitive spots and has you whining. You did convince him to try cock rings though, especially the vibrating ones (little bit of revenge) 

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease?)

💰 He teases a lot, gets you all riled up and then just a little more. He loves the slow build up, it’s not to the point of denial but he knows how to pace himself for foreplay and after your first orgasm then it’s non stop, that’s when he gets serious about things. His teasing is just giving you everything except his dick- got you all fucked out before he’s even put it in. 

V = Volume (How loud they are? What sounds they make? Etc)

💰 Moans, groans and curses a lot. He curses so much, his vocabulary gets a little limited when he’s in pleasure brain mode and his friend downstairs is doing all the thinking for him. You think he’s got some of the sexiest moans you’ve heard and when he’s biting, marking you all up and he groans in bliss at seeing his marks and your expression. He can get loud if he makes no attempt to keep it down (another reason he sinks his teeth into you while cumming, mostly to prevent himself from getting too loud) 

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character?)

💰 He’s a switch. Mammon has equally dominating and submissive tendencies in the bedroom. He’s not dead set on having you always being the one to submit to him, and if you take the lead he’s happy to follow. He’s good at reading the room and will act depending on what he’s reading, some days you want to be taken care of and just want to fall a little into sub space and he’ll take care of you during then. He’s definitely a pleasure dom and service sub.  

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes?)

💰Human form: Dark bulbous tip, thick and girthy from the head to middle and narrows out at the base, a little longer than average. It’s a stretch every time he pushes in. 

💰 Demon form: Maybe a little ironic that he swells at the base, and gets longer, shape alters a bit and you were pleasantly surprised. Call it a bonus, the first time he came in you in demon form- his dick swells, not at all like knotting, it’s the entirety just swells enough for you to notice it. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

💰 Average and high - His yearning for sex is normal but his yearning for YOU... Permanent all time high. Sometimes it gets a little confused and you’d think he’s permanently turned on and ready to go but he just wants to be close to you and smother you in hugs, kisses and maybe something else. If you weren’t around, it would be a desire for you he’d be feeling not so much the physical urge of sex. His drive is 90% because of you. 

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards?)

💰 He’s still willing to go out and party afterwards, stay in and watch movies with you or something. He doesn’t feel the instant tug of sleep even if it did last hours, unless he’s intentionally trying to fall asleep he probably won’t just fall asleep with the exception being he was exhausted beforehand. 

Taglist: @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf

[just-a-creep-babe]

53 and 65 for some posessive HABIT action, if you're still doing the prompt thing?

Will I ever get sick of writing nasty smut for Habit? Mmmmh no, I don’t think so 😌🫶

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

53. “You can hate me all you want, but you can’t deny how good I make you feel.”

65. “I’m going to fuck them out of you. I’m going to make you scream my name so hard that you’ll never think of them again.”

He has you in a mating press, your thighs pressing against your chest, your body folded in half with your legs up over his broad shoulders

Both his hands are around your throat, his fingers tight around your neck, granting you just the right amount of airflow so that you don’t pass out on him

And despite everything, despite how overwhelmingly good he feels, you’re still pissed at him

“F-fuck you—“

It’s pathetic, the way you gasp the words out

You’re clawing at his hands, writhing and squirming beneath him, but you can’t escape the bruising way he keeps driving himself into your sopping-wet cunt

You shouldn’t give in to him—you can’t—for your own sake

“You still upset, rabbit?” he grunts, and as he says it, a wide, sharp grin spreads to his lips, “You can hate me all you want, but you can’t deny how good I make you feel”

It’s like he angles his hips on purpose to hit a spot that almost has you screaming

Your back arches, vision going white, mouth parting in a borderline obscene cry

“Yeah, that’s right~” he encourages, “look at that. Look at how fucking good you take my cock”

He emphasizes his words with brutal thrusts, his pace hard and shameless and entirely unrelenting

Your cunt squelches noisily around him, wanting more, wanting to feel the thick head of his cock pulse deep inside your fluttering walls until he releases the entirety of his load into you

Some indignant slew of curses get caught in your throat, escaping only as a few choked moans when he applies more pressure to your vocal cords

“Don’t worry, rabbit. You’ll forgive me soon enough—“

He interrupts himself with a grunt as you tighten around him

You’re practically gushing around his cock—oh so unbearably close to an orgasm but trying desperately to resist it

You won’t give him the satisfaction

You won’t cum around him after everything he’s done, after all the horrors he’s committed in the name of his obsession for you

“I’m going to fuck them out of you” he snarls, “I’m going to make you scream my name so hard that you’ll never think of them again”

He jams his cock so hard into you that it nudges against your cervix

You want to scream—it’s too much, he feels too good—but all you can manage is a pathetic little submissive whimper

“That’s right—take my cock, rabbit. Take every. Fucking. Inch of it”

His voice splits, demonic nature permeating through, and you think surely he’s getting close as well

Surely he can’t keep this up for much longer

One hand leaves your throat, and you gasp, trying to swallow in the air that’d been withheld from you, but he applies more pressure with his other hand, and all you can do is lay there and take it

You’re trapped beneath him, forced to let him use your drenched little cunt as hard as he pleases

You don’t want it, don’t want to cum around him, but he feels so fucking good; whatever meager willpower you have left is crumbling apart

“Once I cum inside you,” he grunts, “I’m going to mark you—head to fucking toe—and everyone’s gonna know who you fucking belong to”

Your toes curl, tears springing to your eyes

Every ruthless pump has his tip kissing your cervix

Waves of ecstasy crash into your system, tensing your muscles until you’re squeezing his cock so tightly it’s all you can feel

He’s all you can focus on

With his free hand, his fingers dig into the flesh of your cheeks to force your lips open

And just as everything’s becoming too much, just as your vision’s blurring and your thighs start shaking, he spits a thick glob of saliva into your mouth

It’s humiliating—the way you cum for him despite your best efforts not to

You’re helpless to resist him as even through your orgasm, he doesn’t once relent his brutal onslaught

He spits into your mouth one last filthy time, then takes both of your wrists in that one free hand and pins your arms above your head

“F-fuck—fuck! H-Habit—fuck!!”

You want to tell him to stop, tell him to at least give you a break, but he’s impossibly persistent

You're practically gushing with arousal—you can feel it making a mess between your thighs

You’re too drunk off his dick to know for sure, but there’s almost no way you produced that much slick without squirting

You whine his name, over and over again as he imprints the shape of his cock into your convulsing walls

“Good little bunny—good—fuck—good little rabbit. My little rabbit. My slutty fucking bunny”

His filthy nothings grow increasingly possessive as his cock keeps tensing and twitching inside you

“Habit, I’m—‘m yours!”

Your cry has a snarl rippling through his chest

He buries his face into your neck, and then your body’s thrashing as his teeth sink into skin

He keeps you nice and pinned beneath him as he rides out his orgasm in eagerly satisfied thrusts

And even once he’s released everything into your cervix, once you feel utterly stuffed with his seed, he doesn’t pull out

Instead, he keeps nipping at your neck, alternating between licks, bites and kisses

“That’s right, good bunny~” he hums the words out, and even then, his praises have your sex fluttering weakly around him

“Let’s get you all nice and marked so you don’t forget who you belong to~”

[angstigone]

WARNINGS: mention of barf in your mouth and unwanted advances (from drunk himeno), reader is fem-coded and used adjectives typically female, this was prompted by this post by @noven-warsh saying that aki is always in others' personal spaces and I am still cackling about it, she-her pronouns/afab character

«can't you tell him something?».

«if it bothers you so much, why don't you?» himeno shot back your way with the exhale of smoke falling right into your face. you waved it off annoyedly and sending her a disimpressed look.

still, you didn't say anything; it did feel childish in the worst way to ask to your superior to intervene in a problematic that was between you and a colleague. a colleague that wasn't aware of his staring problem, nor of his excessive disruption of your physical boundaries.

to say it simply: aki hayakawa was always too close to you, invading your personal space as if you had invited to such a thing.

it wasn't something that happened only with you, as you had noticed him getting in the face of a few of the colleagues that bothered him; for somebody who prided himself onto being utterly cool with any outcome, he undoubtedly could be quite hotheaded in temper and such a thing endeared him to you infinitely.

and that's where the problem laid when it came to also his closeness to you. it wasn't necessarily uncomfortable but it was decidedly... too much.

too much for you.

who wouldn't mature the slightest crush towards aki hayakawa: he was just the right side of hotheaded to seem passionate although the obvious death wish he beheld. and maybe that's why he felt so attractive to you.

«... unless...» himeno's implication felt dangerous and you shot her glare although she was far gone past this point «... you like it».

«it's just improfessional».

«I literally kissed you on our first outing together» himeno reminded you and even in that case aki had invaded your space as you had gone out to cool out after the terrible incident; he had brought your face up and suddenly he was too close - the sole person you had wanted to kiss too night - with his lips moving but you didn't hear anything but 'kiss me, kiss me' «... and you didn't report me, but you want me to have a chat with aki about reinforcing personal space».

«he's the sole one who does it among us. while on the clock» you pointed out.

«and you are the sole one complaining» himeno shot back «... if it bothers you so much, put on your big girl pants and tell him that it bothers you. he's strangely obedient when it's a woman he likes giving him orders. and we all know it's either your or miss makima».

you both reddened and paled at the mention of the ghost among you all, but held back.

what himeno had said was the truth: if aki had gathered from a different source that you had said something like that about him, it'd have pissed him off.

«so you are implying that I should discuss about it with miss makima» till you teased your superior as she ditched her cigarette after having stubbed the meager end against her shoe.

«you are smart on the field and yet a pathetic loser outside of it» she teased you as you were about to protest that she was the one who had brought the whole 'pathetic' reputation «... I am sure you'll figure out what I truly mean».

and like that she had moved off although your small talk wasn't finished.

and neither your problem solved as you found yourself out for drinks with the squad, with aki inevitably pressed against you to ask you which drink you'd like.

it wasn't uncomfortable, but it had you flustered and giddy without the need for anything stronger than water.

«I'll be fine with a can of coke» there was no way you'd get drunk after the realization of your own small crush for aki hayakawa, too worried that just the right amount of physical contact and you'd pounce onto him no better than himeno.

that's why you had to keep your distance: himeno was the sole one that matched aki hayakawa's invading of others' spaces and whenever she'd be the one doing it to him, it had him balk in obvious rejection.

he wasn't interested into being returned with such behavior, although you thought it unfair.

you breathed in relief when he went to get everybody's orders as the first turn was on him, but not without feeling himeno's eyes strongly onto you, which you ignored in favor of starting a chat with the person on your side, glad that it continued through the night even when aki settled right beside you - just on the edge of his pillow - as he settled onto talking with who was by his side.

still, the lingering warmth was enough to make you hiss in your mind as you tried not to picture how such a warmth would feel against your body, complimented by aki's own weight.

it had you stammer through your 'goodbye's as you realized that it was almost closing time.

mechanically you got up and were startled when aki held up your coat to you. as you went to get it off his hands, though, he stopped you, instead opening it as a father would do a child and helping you into it much to your embarassment and a drunken himeno's smirk.

«want to make a part of the road to your house together?» all the devil hunters lived near the offices and incidentally most of the izakayas in the area were right near their houses. so you and aki weren't that far apart «... didn't get to talk to you all night».

you flustered as if called out and you wondered whether aki had caught onto your actions of the night of trying to ignore him as you were sure that you'd have to have an uncomfortable conversation. you had to eventually broach the topic that he was close to you in a way that had you uncomfortable because you knew you mistook it for more than it was.

«shit... I didn't realize» her lie was bad but aki allowed to get away with it as they moved onto the road for their apartments while saying 'goodnight's to their colleagues «... sorry».

«it's alright, I just...» and he stalled in his words, enough to get you nervous «... wonder whether I have done anything to make you... uncomfortable».

for a moment, you wondered whether himeno had let her mouth speak up although she had told you to 'deal with it', still, aki's eyes were genuinely concerned as if he didn't know what he had done.

«it's... it isn't anything bad» you started, sure that hiding it any further would have been a bad way to avoid an obvious conversation, although the way with which «... it's just...».

and suddenly he was too close, proving exactly the feeling that you had been harboring for the whole night, as he pushed right in front of you turning around and lightly crowding.

«... I... what have I done?».

«I was about to tell you, idiot!» you felt spurred on by the sudden close quarters, reacting angrily if anything to hide your obvious embarassment «I... you are always in my face, you know?».

was it... that easy to admit it?

although the way aki's face dropped from confusion to something different got you feeling immediately ... worried.

«I mean... I... it isn't that bad, I just...» have the biggest crush on you and yet, you aren't interested in relationships but the way you are always onto me makes me think the contrary?

«... I didn't... realize... I was making you uncomfortable» aki muttered taking, indeed, a few steps back.

"more like you make me feel hot and bothered" you wished to say but held back as an uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you, eventually aki moving in the direction of your apartment out of his own memory.

«it isn't... well, it isn't like that» was that all you could say? «... it's just... it feels... confusing».

and yet, you should have stuck with the phrases of circumstance, because aki turned lightly, turning his head lightly down as if he was confused himself.

«confusing?».

«I meant...».

«if you could tell me that I was bothering you, you can also tell me why you think it's confusing» wasn't he a meanie and didn't you like him more like that?

«because colleagues don't act like this» you shot back, thinking of taking the long road.

«I thought we were friends» and somehow that hurt so much more.

«... neither do friends act like this».

and finally realization seemed to hit home in aki's mind as he looked at you intensely, scrunching up his eyebrows and you were sure that he'd have called you off.

maybe shut down your bullshit or told you that he'd have let you down slowly. instead, he was closer again.

«then I think that my message got across quite well, although I hadn't meant to» was that... was that a confession?

you felt confused even more now, although the way that aki's hand lingered onto your cheek, awaiting for your consent and you nodded softly, now that you knew that you might not be misinterpreting touches.

«... can I get even more in your space, darling?».

[becasbelt]

a little bit of hurt/comfort before we jump into act 3

also on ao3

* * *

It was after everything.

After Caitlyn and Vi stumbled their way back topside, Vi’s head pounding and Caitlyn’s leg wound reopened. After Caitlyn insisted on going to the destroyed council chambers before seeking help for herself. After they’d found the battered corpse of Cassandra Kiramman, already retrieved from the rubble and covered in white sheets. After Caitlyn’s anguished cry, her knees giving out, shaking in Vi’s arms as her wide eyes stared unblinkingly at the still face of her mother’s body. After patch-ups and funeral preparations and weak attempts at recuperating.

At the end of everything, it was this:

Caitlyn and Vi, lying on Caitlyn’s bed in the first inklings of dawn, the morning of the funeral. Vi’s arms wrapped tightly around Caitlyn’s body, Caitlyn’s head heavy on her shoulder. They’re still, have been still for a long time now, but Vi knows Caitlyn isn’t asleep by the way her hands remain tightly twisted in the fabric of her shirt.

A glance down reveals exactly what Vi expected to see: Caitlyn’s eyes, red and wide open, staring numbly out the window.

Caitlyn hadn’t slept a wink last night. Vi hadn’t faired much better, snapping herself awake every time she felt herself doze off, unwilling to leave Caitlyn alone for even a second.

They hadn’t been doing a lot of that the past few days. Sleeping. Or leaving each other alone.

 The first meager sunbeam manages to break through the haze of clouds outside, dimly flickering against the foot of the bed. Vi moves for the first time in hours; a twitch of her fingers against Caitlyn’s back, brushing gently against shoulder blades.

Caitlyn’s breathing changes, deepens ever so slightly, and Vi knows she’s registered the touch.

“When do you have to get up?” Vi asks, voice scratchy and quiet. The question is too loud for the silence of the bedroom, but Caitlyn doesn’t flinch like she’d feared she would.

“Soon,” Caitlyn answers, her own voice hoarse. Vi continues with her fingers’ movements, tracing down her spine and back up; anywhere she can reach without moving her arm. “The staff will start setting up in an hour, and then people will arrive, and then…”

She doesn’t need to go on, Vi knows what comes next, they’ve gone over it, though she hadn’t been involved in the planning at all: then the service will start, and Caitlyn will have to say goodbye to her mother whether she’s ready to or not.

What bittersweet agony it must be, to get one last proper goodbye with your family in the company of strangers. To get a last goodbye at all.

Vi keeps moving her fingers. Up to Caitlyn’s arm now, skimming the skin beneath her short sleeve. Caitlyn’s fist tenses in its hold on Vi’s shirt briefly before relaxing, releasing the fabric and splaying her fingers against Vi’s stomach, as flat as they can be.

There are words caught in Vi’s throat. Words she’s said, words she hasn’t. What can I do, how can I help, are you sure you’re up for this?

I’m sorry. About your mother. For stopping you.

She swallows them down, shifts on the bed until Caitlyn is pulled even closer to her, legs tangling and face tucked into the crook of her neck, breaths puffing softly against her skin. Vi reaches up to cover the hand on her stomach, pulls it to her chest, and feels relieved at the small squeeze Caitlyn gives her fingers.

Vi doesn’t know how to navigate this. This new, grief-stricken Caitlyn. Has never known how to deal with her own grief, frankly. She can’t tell if she’s helping or hurting, but Caitlyn hasn’t told her to go away yet, so she figures she must be doing some amount of good.

Caitlyn takes a deep breath, eyelashes fluttering against Vi’s skin as her eyes finally shut for a moment. “I’ll need to check on my father first,” she murmurs. “Make sure he’s awake. Presentable.” She pauses. “Sober enough.”

The ghost of Tobias Kiramman has haunted the Kiramman manor since the explosion, drifting in and out of rooms aimlessly, bottle held loosely in pale hands. Letting his daughter handle every funeral detail, every fallout felt from the loss of the head of House Kiramman.

Vi privately thinks he’s selfish. Drowning in his own despair when he still has so much to care for.

Vi licks her lips. “Do you need me for anything?”

She can’t help but ask it. Feels like she should be helpful – needs to be helpful in some way.

But Caitlyn just exhales slowly. “Just this,” she says. Her fingers curl into Vi’s shirt again, the collar this time, fingertips brushing skin. “This is enough. For right now.”

They stay that way for another few minutes, Vi moving her hand along Caitlyn’s lower back, daring to slip beneath the hem of her shirt to trace her skin. Rain starts falling outside, the lone sunbeam consumed by dark clouds.

Eventually the sounds of workers arriving and moving around outside stir them again. Caitlyn sighs and stretches, toes curling against Vi’s legs. Then she pulls back enough to finally look at Vi’s face. She releases Vi’s shirt to brush her bangs out of her eyes, cups Vi’s cheek softly.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

She looks so sad, so broken. Vi’s chest hurts looking at her.

“Anytime,” Vi whispers back, means it.

She has no fucking clue how to put this girl back together. But she wants to, needs to. Selfishly, she needs to keep her intact to keep herself from falling apart.

She leans forward and presses her lips to Caitlyn’s forehead, right at her hairline, exhaling slowly through her nose. Caitlyn releases her own shaky breath and curls her hand around the back of Vi’s neck, holding her there before moving back again.

Caitlyn’s eyes look less distant now as they focus on Vi’s lips, and Vi feels a tiny flicker of hope light in her chest. She presses her thumb gently to the corner of Vi’s mouth, brushes lightly against her bottom lip.

Then Caitlyn blinks and the moment is gone, her hand moving back to safe territory on Vi’s chest.

“I need to get up,” she murmurs. “And if I don’t do it now I fear I never will.”

Then don’t, Vi wants to say, but that wouldn’t be fair in the slightest, so she just nods and loosens her arms, allowing Caitlyn to sit up, to push her hair back from her face, to start putting up a strong front. But Vi can’t stop herself from following her up and pressing one last kiss against Caitlyn’s temple.

“Good luck,” she says, because it’s going to be fine feels like a lie and you’ll get through this feels callous.

Caitlyn leans into the kiss for just a second, the smallest smile ghosting on her lips in gratitude, then gets up with a lingering touch to Vi’s leg.

Vi stays in bed and watches her duck into the bathroom to wash her face, pull her hair into a ponytail, put on a robe. Then she’s slipping out of the bedroom, already preparing herself with what she needs to get through this day.

She doesn’t look back, and Vi watches her go.

[yandere-fics]

♡ Their Little Sister Is In Love With Them ♡

(We have seen them trying to woo their sisters, now prepare for their sisters actually wanting to jump them!)

♡ Miriel is slow to catch onto you being in love with her, sure the both of you are mates and so obviously you're going to be together for the rest of your life's but she always assumed she was way more into you than you were to her which was completely fine in her mind, one soulmate always feels the bond just more intensely so her initiating anything further than cuddling or a small kiss was very rare, one because it flustered her too much, but also because she just wasn't sure her baby sis would even be interested in her that way, until one night you got fed up with the meager amount of affection you were receiving and jumped her, riding and pegging her until she couldn't form words anymore and then nibbling on her ears as you whispered how much you adored her just to get it into her head and ever since then you jumped her every chance you got just so your stupid sister wouldn't forget that you loved her quite a lot. She's not the most braggy about it, she wouldn't want to embarrass you. ♡

♡ Werewolves are not very smart, as her sister and thus also a werewolf this also applied to the both of you growing up, you were always chasing after her, thinking she was leaving you behind on purpose when actually the reason she was running so far ahead was to chase a deer or something to give to you as a mating present but whenever she dropped the deer in front of you, you would always cry because you just assumed she loved hunting more than she loved you which would result in a day of you sulking and hiding somewhere until Eliza found you and would have to reassure you that she loved you so much and she didn't understand why her silly puppy would ever doubt her love. Needless to say when Eliza finally understood that you were insecure she became a lot more vocal in voicing her love, a bit too vocal actually but you didn't really mind, sure it was embarrassing when she proclaimed in front of the pack how much she wanted to mount you right there, eventually it came time for her to go to the city and well you didn't take it well, running away thinking she was going to leave you behind with the pack which lead to some very rough mating when she finally caught you. She doesn't brag intentionally but she'll say things like "Sorry I was late, my sis wouldn't let me leave the bed and I had to mate her until she fell back asleep." Which makes the other supernaturals grit their teeth because their mates aren't that clingy, it's no fair. ♡

♡ You were spoiled honestly, you always got everything you wanted handed to you by your sister's loving hands because you were the only thing she still had left after the war, the thing you wanted most though was your sister and you seethed in rage at the thought of her having a mate one day, glaring at the other gods when you saw them for giving her one while they just laughed, knowing something you didn't know yet. You didn't mind her flings, well that was a lie, you did mind them but she would always obey you so what did it matter if she slept around a bit, if you just pretended to be sad she would always stay home and cuddle you on her lap, giving you a perfect excuse to innocently rubbing against her bulge, internally smirking as she reacted to you immediately, sure she slept around but you could get her rock hard just by sitting on her lap, she was yours. Plus she never ever would bring her flings into your home, your home was a sacred place for the both of you and when her mate came you would drive them out too, make them seem like they were a horrible person who was jealous of Selene's little princess of a sister, who she adored more than she would ever adore her mate, you were sure of it. When the curse ran out you hadn't realized it, you thought Selene had just given into your mutual love because she pounced on you to mate you immediately, you were very happy when you found out you were her actual mate. Selene would brag but she doesn't really have many people around to brag to. ♡

♡ Similarly to Selene you were a bit spoiled, not nearly to the same extent though since unlike Selene, Kassien was never afraid to put you in your place if you were being too bratty and whiny, good little sisters ask for what they want instead of just whining incoherently, if you wanted a kiss you had to be a good mate and tell her, she wouldn't just give into your tantrums as quickly, but you liked that about her, when she was scolding you for throwing a tantrum her attention was all on you though you did have to learn to use tantrums for her attention sparingly, you liked being scolded but you didn't love the actual punishments, after all you wanted her to love you, angering her wouldn't exactly get you the results you needed. She likes to take you around her office so she can show everyone that she has the best most obedient mate ever and you like to whine and act like a brat whenever she brings you into work with her so then she'll fold you over the desk in her office to get all your brattiness out of your system and behave for the rest of the day, then she'll take you down for lunch in the cafeteria, not letting you cover up the marks she just left all over you, not that you would want to, bragging even more that her mate actually loves and wants her while everyone else is a mateless loser or has a mate who doesn't obey them. ♡

♡ Like Nikki you naturally love napping as an angel but unlike Nikki you don't have many responsibilities so you mostly just sit at home all day waiting for your sister to return and fall asleep with you, of course you love her, as an angel is was only natural for you to love her and want to be with your mate, you could never understand why humans didn't want their mates. Growing up you were always called her little mini me because you just had such a similar attitude to hers and didn't understand when lower demons would try to run away from their angel mates, was that some sort of mating ritual. You had tried it a few times, hiding from her to try to get her attention but honestly it just exhausted you and you would always wind up sleeping in your hiding place until Nikki would come pick you up and bring you back to where the rest of the angels were, leaving you to quiz the other mates you had tried to run away on why they thought this game was so fun and if there was anything you could do to make it more fun, you didn't understand why they glared at you when you said that. Nikki is also not the type to try to brag, she just does it on accident, talking about how her mate is waiting for her at home so all these slackers need to get their work done quickly so she can sleep with her mate. ♡

♡ Runa much like Miriel is a bit dense about how you feel about her, obviously you do love her but she thinks of you as her sweet innocent sister who she's always protected and became a killer just to feed, she still thinks of you as someone she needs to protect and can't be too rough with and that she needs to take things slow, though her idea of taking hings slow is sneaking into your bed when she thinks you're asleep and touching your chest and stuff, satisfying her desires when she thinks you're asleep just so she doesn't pounce on you in the day time. You think your sister is somewhat of an idiot for not making a move yet, you're soulmates so OBVIOUSLY you would very much like to fuck her but since she won't make a real move on you first outside of when you're sleeping, you realize you need to jump her first. She's very surprised when one night when she'd rubbing against you, trying not to wake you up, your eyes snap open and she realizes you knew the entire time and never said anything which sort of upsets her and so she decides to pin you down and get rough with you since you always knew and never reciprocated her touches but that was exactly what you wanted. After that she still comes into your room at night but now it's a bit rougher, not exactly what you wanted but a step in the right direction towards her being bolder. She'd probably brag on an online forum for supernaturals mated to their sisters or something weird and gross. ♡

♡ You knew Nora had made the deal to make the both of you immortal, and while you had been actually thrilled about it, you decided you would never let her know how happy you were that she was in love with you, constantly guilt tripping her about what she'd done to you so that way Nora would feel like she'd have to always be at your side to make up for the grievous sin she had committed towards you, spending every day acting sad for the first few centuries to convince her to hold you, acting devastated you'd never be able to have a soulmate to convince her to sleep with you and act as your mate, telling her that the only way you could forget your sadness was when she was touching you so she'd initiate sex way more frequently to help you forget your sorrow. Eventually you get a little bit too obvious though and Nora catches on and asks you why you hurt her like that cause she really thought you hated her and you explain you just loved her too much and wanted to guarantee she would never leave you and so to make up for making you feel like she might leave you one day, she obviously ties you up and fucks the shit out of you, chaining you up in the house for the rest of eternity. Nora has no one she could even brag to. ♡

♡ The epitome of a smug bastard. She will take you and rail you literally anywhere in the office and in the penthouse because she has a mate who takes her knot every single time, the employees want to complain but they can't so they just seethe quietly, wishing they either had a mate or that their mate would let them do that, later trying to talk their own mates into it. When she's not mounting you she is calling employees into her office to ask for gift suggestions, she obviously needs to get you something amazing just to show you how lucky she is to have always had her mate right by her side, the worst part is she usually calls the mateless employees up for that because she just loves rubbing it in peoples faces that you have always loved her and wanted her. It's an actual problem but she is the leader of the city so no one can say anything about it even though it's super obnoxious. It's both a good and bad thing when you join her in the office, good because they won't have to hear her bragging for a bit and can focus on work but bad because now everyone who comes to the top floor can hear and probably smell her pheromones and her pheromones smell actually repugnant to anyone who isn't her mate sooooo. Everyone in the company would hate her even more than they normally do. ♡

[asktheritochampion]

Chief Warrior and Champion of the Rito, Revali,

I hope this message finds you well and in good health. These are trying times for us all, even without the threat of the Calamity looming, and you, and you your fellow Champions, have given much to achieve the peace we do have.

Recently, even with the down-tick of monster activity, my dear home Lurelin, has been facing some trouble with bokoblins and the like. We believe there may be a den of sorts further along the coastline, but we dare not send any of ours closer for fear of great harm becoming them. While we could never dream of calling upon the aid of Hyrule‘s great champions for something as meager as the least of beasts, I’ve come to ask for advice. 

I’m nowhere near sturdy enough to partake in close range fighting, and so in lieu of that I’ve taken up a bow. In all honesty, if you’ll forgive my frankness, I’m quite shit at it. 

As a master of archery, do you have any tips for a beginner, as well as advice on how to handle the current issue at hand?

Best regards,

A friend of Hyrule (S.T.)

Usually if I were to receive requests for advice from amatures, I'd simply shirk them off onto the Rito who teaches archery to the fledglings. However, your earnesty endears me. These are turbulent times, after all, and even the very average must be prepared for anything.

My advice is as follows.

Ensure you are using a Hylian bow. While Rito bowmanship is far superior, Rito bows are built for the Rito frame. Longer arms to accomodate long wings, they are clunky when held by a Hylian with your short little arms.

Never grip your bow handle - it should sit loose in the curve between your thumb and forefinger, and fall when you shoot, this stops the rebound wave in your muscles from skewing your shot. For a beginner I would recomend wearing a wrist strap to catch the bow for you. Stand with your feet a shoulder width apart, keep your extended arm straight but do not lock-in your elbow, and with your drawing arm, keep your elbow straight in line with your wrist. Rest the body of your arrow on your pointer finger. I have been practising my craft since I hatched from the egg, and clearly you do not have the gift of that sort of time, however it is never too late to start learning such a vaulable skill. Practise as frequently as you are able. Start at a range of 20ft with a still target. 20ft is the typical range for an average beginner bow for a straight shot - meaning you can just aim at the target and shoot without much thought.

Once you have a feel for the bow and are growing more confidence, move back to 30ft. Here is where you will need to begin to focus on the arc of your shot. If you try to aim at the bullseye from too far for your bows capasity, the arrow will fall short and hit too low, so you need to start thinking mathematically and working out how much higher you need to aim to accomodate the curve. Keep shooting at various ranges until that equation begins to become subconcious.

As a Hylian, you are unfortunatly drastically held back by your innability to fly. If you can get to a high spot to snipe your targets, it shall give you a much greater advantage as it minimises the arc.

Remember to consider the wind around you - especially in Lurelin so close to the sea where the airflow is strong. Arrows are light and the wind can skew them, so you will need to accomodate that. Try to position yourself with the wind current beind you where possible.

Finally and most importantly - aim for the eyes. Most monsters are stunned when blinded. Even if you miss, a headshot is more damaging than a body shot.

Archery takes an enormous amount of skill, both physical and mental, to master. Do not be discouraged if you do not take to it swiftly. Even someone as acolmplished as I broke a few windows and shot a few allies when I was a fledgling still learning.

I wish you the best of luck and safety in your endevour.

[hcsfff]

For the spotify wrapped fics, 12 and gempearl!

Yay! Gempearl! Another one that I've been meaning to write!

So the song is...

Heaven, Iowa by Fall Out Boy

Lol, it's the song that's the title of my blog! That's so crazy. Anyway...

Warning for alcohol and character death

The sky was starting to turn light. Looking out of the slightly broken windshield of Joel's car, Gem could see the brightness peeking over the horizon, throwing the sky into beautiful shades of pink and orange. 

She hadn't meant to stay up all night, especially not before the final session of Wild Life, but here she was. Not that she was alone, she was surrounded by empty bottles of wine, and maybe more importantly, a very inebriated Pearl. 

They were both sitting on the floor, leaning back on the inner wall of the car. Pearl was currently rambling on about something again, “And then I told him, uh, what was I talking about again?”

“No idea.” Gem genuinely admitted. She didn't even know why Pearl was here at all. Shouldn't she be with her own alliance? Not that Gem minded that much. Joel had gone off somewhere and Pearl had brought over all that wine. Having Pearl here was better than being alone! Obviously!

“Oh, well,” Pearl picked up a nearby wine bottle, the meager amount of liquid sloshing away at the bottom. She took a sip, drinking it down to the dregs, “Hey, can I ask you for a favor?”

“Why don't you ask your own alliance for a favor?” Gem groaned. 

“No, no, this is important.” Pearl leaned against Gem's side, which made Gem flinch a little, but she was pretty used to Pearl touching her by now. She was always throwing her arms around Gem or putting a hand on her back. Leaning a head on her shoulder wasn't that different. 

“Fine, tell me what you want, I can't promise anything though.” 

Pearl's voice sounded stunningly clear considering how drunk she was, “Can you bury me when I die?”

“What? That's absurd, Pearl-”

“Please? Like Grian buried Mumbo and Skizz? I want someone… to care enough about me to give me a funeral.”

Something in Gem's blood ran cold. Did no one ever bury Pearl before? Well she always died near the end, so there probably wasn't anyone around to give her a funeral. The chaos of the end meant that the only people who got funerals were those who went out early. No one had ever buried Gem either…

Gem was about to say that, but she found that Pearl had already fallen asleep. Gem sighed, her arm was definitely going to fall asleep and that was going to be so annoying, but she couldn't be too upset. There was a certain comfort in having Pearl so close, not that she would admit that. Gem carefully stroked Pearl's hair with her opposite hand, whispering very quietly, “Don't worry Pearl, I'll make sure you have a funeral.”

…

Later, in the chaos of the end of the death game, Gem found herself quickly digging a hole and putting up a sign in lieu of a proper headstone. She knelt down next to the hastily made grave and spoke only a few words, “Next time I hope it's you who gets to bury me, Pearl.”

[hockeybot]

THAT PLAYER INTERVIEW, THO, THE ONE FROM TODAY WHERE THEY ASK HIM IF HE'S GOING TO BUY A HOUSE AND HE LAUGHS LIKE, YEAH, I GUESS I GOTTA

LIKE, he's 21 and lived alone for maybe six months now except is it really alone when he has all the rookies over all the time and my brain is going BRRR.

that prompt, wyatt buys a house, this is how he makes it a home one, tho, like, okay that is the most obviously me sentence ever written (x verb y, emotional hook full stop) but man, i have been watching those arwin critiques mansion youtube videos and i have so many thoughts about his potential house and what a disaster he would be trying to live in it on his own.

like, like,

everyone on the team would have such, opinions, about the best place to live, the neighbourhood and someone says the words "school zone" and someone else (tsegs) shrieks "JOHNNY ARE YOU PREGNANT" (the entire seguinette line go on a Skit, like, tsegs moaning WHAT DID I MISS and THEY GROW UP SO FAST and mush patting his back while wyjo just covers his face with his hands and prays that they don't start asking about the father. dutchy grins at him like he can read his mind).

(mikko has been on the team for about three days. wyatt tries really hard to not go up to him and say, i'm like, not actually pregnant. but mikko comes up to him and says, gravely, congratulations, on his way out. roope smirks at him.)

(roope had gone around with mikko to make introductions and called wyatt, 'our rookie, the kid' and when wyatt had protested, 'lian is right over there' and 'this is my third season,' harls had slid over, slung a heavy arm around wyatt's shoulders and crooned, 'yeah, johnny's a bigtime hotshot now, signed a big contract and everything.' into wyatt's red tipped ear.

lian, affable, had just waved.)

one of the finns (roope. it's always roope, but he's honestly just doing double duty for miro in Inscrutable Finn.) stops him outside and gives him a business card like, "this man will make you a sauna" and that's not a suggestion, that's a prophecy, that sauna will exist and this is before he even buys the damn house.

the thing is, he doesn't actually want like, a mansion, but when he counts up the bedrooms he'll need, the numbers keep going up and up.

takes tom to go looking and there's just, "why is there so much marble" wyatt moans, and "you could fit the entire team in this shower," tom says and they just, look at each other and try not to laugh too obviously while the real estate agent is still there. (facetimes delly to show him, wants to call logan but they're still exchanging awkward text messages only)

i will not write this, i really won't, because it'll take like 10k words to do justice but

wyatt hasn't spent most of his elc, didn't pay rent to the pavelskis despite offering again and again (Sarah had laughed at him and made Pav buy him like, furniture for his room, furniture he still has) so he has a little nest egg for his deposit, signs the agreement with more zeros than he's seen outside his contract, and has to sit down he's so lightheaded with the weight of five years pressing down on him.

it's summer when he moves in, between training and preseason and not having to try to convince too hard for tom to come back early with him, help him move boxes and unpack. every time he moves, his meager amount of belongings fill less and less of the space.

he doesn't expect to be lonely

tsegs suggests a dog, robo says cat and roope looks him up and down and says, maybe he should start with a hamster which. okay, wow. (wyatt can live without joe pavelski, okay, it's been two years and he's not dead yet - though maybe joe had come to stay in one of his woefully underfurnished guest rooms for a few nights already, that is besides the point)

WAVES HAND, the slow and not exactly sneaky campaign to get tom to move in, buys tom's brand of protein shakes that wyjo personally thinks is disgusting, etc, etc. I DON'T KNOW i don't have a plot and i don't wish to write this, i hope someone picks up the prompt tho, it would be so fun????

the thing is, wyatt's really bad at cooking for one. he can cook for a family of four or two young hockey players (roughly, this is the same amount of food) but by himself, he ends up staring confused at the still full pots after he's fixed himself a plate.

(calls tom, etc) and, maybe, it's not that late when wyatt suggests that tom sleep over, but they're health conscious elite athletes that should be on, like, routines or something so he pushes tom into the spare room closest to his own, already stocked with new toiletries in familiar brands.

(the finns are right, having his own sauna is awesome.)

[starwrighter]

I am not a baby!! (Yes you are)

(Ao3) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(Chapter thirteen)

Gone with one issue on to the next, post haste! It was like this year was pelting him with problem after problem. Of course, a quantum destination would be the next space on his bingo card of disasters! Why wouldn’t it be?! If there’s one thing the universe would never give him it was a break. That nap was a curse! He made up for too much of the sleep he’d lost back home. Now, there was karma to pay for those extra few hours of sleep. 

Granted, he felt better than yesterday, but was it worth the quantum detonation? Temptation says yes but logical thinking says no. Logical thinking also said nothing he could’ve done would’ve prevented the damage to the drive core. It would have already started to degrade from seawater pouring in before he even got there. It was nice to know this one thing wasn’t his fault, but it wouldn’t soothe the anxiety of knowing the Aurora was going to explode.

The damage a drive core from a ship the Aurora’s size could cause would be catastrophic. The radiation alone was a planet-ending event. Could he prevent this with his limited access to his powers? There were no blueprints for a radiation suit in his PDA and he doubts he could make one himself. Building what was essentially a hazmat divesuit strong enough to protect him from the lethal doses of radiation the aurora was dishing out wasn’t the same as building a table. Did he still have any kind of immunity to radiation? 

Regardless, he’s a Fenton! He got irradiated for breakfast! 

Swimming back to his base, Danny began pilfering through his storage. If he’s even going to try attempting to stop a quantum detonation, a seamoth would be helpful. Not only did it sound cool as hell, it’d make traversing through the waters a piece of cake! Only… The blueprints wasn’t there and data corruption was to blame. Cursing, Danny collapsed to the floor, scrolling desperately through all the blueprints over and over again. He’d regained the blueprint for the mobile vehicle bay, but there was no amount of tampering that’d give him the Seamoth. The mobile vehicle bay was useless without a vehicle! 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Danny decided this was the perfect time to check the radio. Any information concerning the rendevuos would be a life saver!

Swimming back to his pod, a cloud of rot spilled into the ocean. The foul odor of the remaining goo assaulted his nostrils. Nausea bubbled in his stomach, bile crawling up his throat. He crawled back into the pod. They say the smell of human decomposition was one the human body was hardwired to recognize and Danny could now say with confidence that rotting halfa was the same. Even if he’d been completely unaware of the lifepod’s contents the smell alone sent a shiver down his spine. It was easier to dissociate the pile of goo on the floor before it’d decomposed to this extent. Dried blood stained the floor any green that’d been there was gone without a trace.

This…This would be a gruesome site for whoever was going to collect the life pods after this was over. It’s a difficult scene for him to see for ancient's sake! It was funny to think that despite the horrid smell and blood, he’d rather have found something like this in Lifepod 3. Bodies, or at least more than a PDA entry to prove someone was here! He’d perfer finding blood and rot than have the dead be forgotten so easily. They’d died within the meager three hours Danny had been unconscious, and been torn into by local wildlife until nothing remained before anyone could respond to their distress signal.

Tearing his eyes away from the puddle, Danny sucked in a deep breath, regretting it instantly as putrid air filled his lungs. His PDA screamed, biohazard warnings taking over the screen, begging him to leave. With a shake of his head, Danny covered his nose with his hand toddling towards the radio. The device was flashing and Danny couldn’t hit a play button harder than he had today. 

“Playing pre-recorded distress call…” Waiting on his tippy toes Danny stared at the device with hope-filled eyes as a human voice sounded through the pod.

“This is Ozzy from the cafeteria. What the hell guys?! They didn’t warn us this might happen!” Danny’s heart sank as the message continued.

“Our pod was almost crushed by the seamoth bay on the way down, now we’re hanging on the edge of a cave system and this grim-looking snake thing’s trying to eat through the hull! Come get us already!” 

Saying that didn’t sound good would’ve been an understatement. How many hours had it been since this message was sent? A grim-looking snake thing? He has someone like that outside. Chances were they weren’t talking about the same snake thing.

 Dami has a snake-like body, but he resembles more of a dragon or a sea serpent…Dami hadn’t even made an attempt to hurt Danny or his little base. Sure, he scratched the glass but Danny had a feeling those claws were capable of much worse. Trust was a strong word to use when talking about a giant sea monster but Danny was confident Dami wouldn’t freak out and try to kill him for no reason.

All he’d done since seeing him was give reason after reason to kill him! Honestly, Dami just seems confused by his existence, but to be fair Danny is too. Logically he should be permanently dead, erased from every plane of existence but something gave him a third chance at life. Now he’s everyone’s problem!

Updating the signal to his PDA Danny crawled back out the lifepod, a signal to follow and materials to gather.

@ashoutinthedarkness @avelnfear @meira-3919 @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @hugsandchaos @blep-23 @zeldomnyo @bytheoldwillowtree @justwannabecat @shepherdsheart @starlightcat04 @stargazing-bookwyrm @pupstim @dragongoblet @noxcheshire

[mojo-bro-tho]

Blood Sugar… Ch. 7

~ I had been happy, if the general camp,/ Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body,/ So I had nothing known. O, now, for ever/ Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!/ Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,/That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!/ Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,/ The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,/ The royal banner, and all quality,/ Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!/ And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats/ The immortal Jove's dead clamours counterfeit,/ Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!~

Tags: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed)

Word count: 10k

Content warning for this chapter: Exhibitionism, lore accurate but inappropriate location, suggestive language, hand stuff (you get the idea), mildly disturbing descriptions probably, uses of the c-word, and absolutely stupid circumstances

AO3 link!

Previous!

Psychopomp and Circumstances of Glorious War

Just a few meager minutes was all Rook needed. Ten was what was agreed upon. Ten came with conditions regarding purpose, the professor was more reluctant than she’d prefer but he did agree so she’d take it. Something had flared in his pupils the moment he found no more excuses to give. It wasn’t quite as dubious as his gaze darkening but it was a shift that gave her just enough to latch onto.

So, the timer started and Rook got to work. With a pen behind her ear, an open notebook and plastic sparkwheel lighter in her hands. This was a risky play on her part. But there were rarely things in this world that didn’t take risks to reap a sweet reward. The well trimmed grass beneath her heels crinkled and every step on her right leg sent needlings of numbness traveling beside her. It wasn’t unbearable, and was soothed by the electricity under her skin. Perhaps she was getting too ahead of herself.

A turn deeper towards the direction she had in mind. Two candles stood side by side on a grave that she took in with quick details written on a clean page, only stopping to bring the already struck flame to the wicks. Rook could think on her feet, always good at improvising when something didn’t quite go to plan. She needed time to set a stage worthy of Emmrich’s engagement.

There was something Rook figured out very quickly from her time with the professor. He was far more valuable than he even knew, not in the monetary sense. From the moment he told her why he was doing what he was doing, why he needed her, she knew he was a special project.

She never tired of learning from a client. Finding their rhythm, letting it sweep through her soul and making her feel like herself again for however long they’d have want for her skills. Rook could be remarkably selfish at times. Because contrary to popular belief or whatever malformed opinion people held for people like her and the job she did, it wasn’t clients that took from her.

There were more candles, a hedge walled path that hugged the one she’d just been on. Still a few minutes left before Emmrich’s tracking would begin, why not leave a few gifts behind? As a thank you for the obscene amounts of joy this was making her feel. What he was making, had been making her feel. Could keep doing it if he let himself, if she could just show him.

After all, they still have five more months together. There was so much he could teach her, she was certain of that. No matter the outcome, his contract would be completed. And he could always make it more. So long as it was on paper, so long as it was on the clock, it would be fulfilling. And whenever he was finished, she could walk away knowing that she’d learned everything he could give. Every step, every turn, every spin. Rook was dancing alone in the garden with a ghost who’s eyes just opened.

While he was in the dark, he saw nothing but the expressions on her face. All he could hear was his own criticisms, cacophonous and being transcribed on his bones. In normal circumstances, he’d have never agreed to something as ridiculous as this. But if he was given permission to be honest with himself, Rook had stolen away any sensible thoughts by asking a simple question. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ It was spoken without harshness. A jarring inquiry in phrasing but not a single syllable punctured him in the way it ought to. A cool breeze to feverish skin, so earnest and vital.

That woman was not a normal circumstance. She had haunted him in a way that told him he needed to shroud himself in preparation just to not be caught up in her consuming presence. And the moment sight turned to the void, there was some level of absolution he had bequeathed to himself.

A buzzing came from his pocket to tell him his time had come, whether he was ready or not. Emmrich was afraid to open his eyes but he did so all the same. The alarm was silenced, coat removed and draped over his arm to ground his senses with the chill, satchel resting against his shoulder. The man turned first towards the path they had come from, just to be sure.

Professor Volkarin was no fool, or at least not a complete one. This wasn’t just a ‘pick-me-up’, there was something that Rook was wanting. The candles he found first were unlit, but he remembered that the groundskeepers would blow them out whenever they made their rounds so he dipped low to feel the wicks and wax. Cold, not the right way. He turned around.

His prize for finding her would be that she got to ask him a question, so it was really a prize for herself. The reward for finding her with time to spare would be ‘worth his while’. Vague though it may be, he was not ignorant to what she was attempting to accomplish. Clever little Rook, she was just as curious about him as he was about her. She loses nothing by making him go on this chase because it wasn’t a chase at all, she said so herself.

It was a hunt. One where he was being led to believe he was the hunter. But no, that wasn’t so. Emmrich was very much the one being hunted, or rather he was being lured into a trap. Rook was trying to find something out about him. And that was frightening for an unfathomable amount of reasons. Yet it was also emboldening.

The man wanted to know what exactly she was after, and why. Now that would certainly be worth the risk. That would be worth its weight in gold. His own gold clanked against itself, the ease at which he normally walked had been abandoned on the bench where she had closed in on him. A noise that would herald his approach to her if he did the same.

The man didn’t run, but his strides were long and full of purpose. A triumphant chuckle formed in his throat at the sight of two white candle sticks flickering. It would seem he was on the right track. With every direction, Emmrich’s heart beated a little faster. It was easier to ignore the inherently perverse nature of this game when it became more of a battle of wits. Helped keep a strand of his thoughts steady. For the most part.

Emmrich wasn’t usually the type to let a competition get the better of him… But that was because he rarely had competitors at all nowadays. This though? This stoked at something old in him, something foundational that he built with his own two hands out of rubble and pride. Another group of lit candles.

There was a humming coming from nearby. Not Rook. Over the hedge wall he saw someone pass by wearing a white cap, so the groundskeepers were out and about after all. He’d have to be extra vigilant.

It was hard not to feel at least a little smug about this. He was sure she felt much the same. Give a sweet smile with just the right amount of teeth to come off as demure but her eyes didn’t lie. They cut him open and organize his entrails by alphabetical order.

Below Emmrich’s shoes there were subtle impressions in the grass from where her left heel had dug a little deeper into the soil, though he didn’t notice them. With every move forward he felt the intensity start to build. Rook could be around any corner, he could be right on her tail. But his face was as still as a held breath. Nothing more than a kind smile on his face. She would not fool him this time. The flames of glory burned too heavily in his veins to give in so easily this time. Rook had made a flaw in her plan, she had given him time to make peace With himself.

A wrong turn, he had to double back and find the right course again. And this time he was greeted with an offering left by the maiden, the token, and the opponent herself. Propped up against a nearly depleted but lighted candle was a taunting blue candy. Along its plastic covered face was the brand name, a tear of cooled wax dripping down to hide the second Y in Lyri-Yum. Emmrich plucked the sweet free and twirled it in his hands as he continued.

A sudden blow of wind rustled at Rook’s skirt, her hand rushed to the front to keep it down. She knew she made a good outfit choice today. Unfortunately that didn’t extend to stretches. She severely underestimated how much walking this would actually be. Out of the corner of her eye as she nearly passed an archway, Rook saw something rather interesting. Private and could provide her a brief moment to try and work out the ache emanating from her hip and knee before Emmrich inevitably found her.

He came upon one of the more personal stone monuments in the gardens. Skeletal like the others but on its head laid a depiction of a coarse, grey veil. On its pedestal were more lit candles, though something odd caught his eye as he drew closer. A bit of movement where there should not have been. Some bit of fabric dangling off the figure’s bony palm. Once he got close enough to realize what it was, a twinge of panic bit at his synapses.

Had she seriously had enough time to strip out of her boots and stockings just to leave her underwear behind? How brazen could she possibly be? All in an attempt to mock him no less! There was no way it wasn’t hers. Black, lacy, and in Emmrich’s opinion far too thin to be of any real use as an undergarment. The pluck on that girl knew no bounds, he had half a mind to leave them there. But-

What would happen if he did leave them there? Would someone else find them? See them? Well, he couldn’t let that happen. How many people were even in the gardens this late nowadays? If someone saw them together, they may assume the worst. And if someone were to have recognized him then… Maker, this was bad for his health. There was no way he could just leave them behind, he’d just have to take them down and hide them away.

Which is what ended up happening. Emmrich had to reach up to snatch them away and spared one last glance at his surroundings before forcing the fabric in his right pocket. Brazen though she may be, it was clear that she was committed to driving him insane with lust. Rook would have had to climb up the pedestal to leave them roughly at head height for him, hopefully no one else was looking her way in that moment because not even the hedges climbed that high to block the view going up her skirt. The sight of delicate threads rumbled and crushed like a butterfly’s wing beneath his gold pressed into his mind. Steps growing ever firmer, blood heating, and fingers twisting unseen around her ‘gifts’ to him.

Calm down. It’s nothing. He wasn’t the one to display them up there like that. It was the right thing to do. Just because he took them down didn’t somehow make him the lecher in this situation. Rook was the one to force this, and it was difficult for him to tell if his fist trembled with rage or something else. A fist he should try and wrench away from his pocket because it was making it hard… for him to focus. He shook his head in an attempt to quell whatever was possessing him but he only half succeeded.

Out of the edge of his vision, Emmrich noticed a dot of light that he nearly missed in his hurry. Ducking into another section of the gardens, a mausoleum came into focus. Beside it was a Memorial Bell. Both structures were made from cool toned, grey bricks, and decorated with harsh iron gating made with geometric patterns. The candles sat at the edge of the short set of stairs that led up to an imposing metal door left slightly ajar. It would seem that the first part of this hunt had drawn to a close. A few more centering breaths passed through Emmrich’s lungs as he approached the bell.

The first ring came. Heavy and low, pounding a dull tone within the small space. Looks like Emmrich giving her a warning, how cute. Then it rang a second time and Rook grew curious. Hadn’t one of the books referenced the Memorial Bells? Mortuary Matters, customary to ring it twice. Once to announce your presence to the dead and again to soothe them. She supposed in this case, she was the spirit he was trying to appease. The echoing of footsteps grew louder once the bell began to slow. His silhouette visible in the slightly lowered sunlight through the grating of the door. By the time it closed behind him, their eyes met. Hazel and lavender like flowers growing out of sparsely covered soil.

The interior of the mausoleum was small and fairly simple. Entirely smooth stone with intricate patterns etched into some parts of the floor and ceiling. Rook’s form was partially obscured. Firstly by the rectangular sarcophagus that laid vertically between them. Roughly four feet tall on its altar, four feet wide, and nine feet long. Secondly, by the blurring effect that the blackened candelabra lit at the foot of the sarcophagus closest to Emmrich. Thankfully, she hopped to her left with a playful sway and it wasn’t unnoticed by her that his gaze immediately snapped to either her skirt or her legs.

Good, she had put her stockings back on. Emmrich was incredibly grateful for that fact. It would be much more difficult to focus if there wasn’t something separating her known nakedness with the reminder of it’s potential in his pocket. Though, her jacket and bag were suspiciously absent.

“Well, well. It looks like you’ve found me, Professor.” Rook said sweetly. Her fingertips dragged across the carvings on the sarcophagus as she made her way closer to him. “It would seem I have, yes. Though if your intention was to evade me, I dare say hiding yourself away somewhere that lacked a secondary exit may not have been the best form of strategy.” It was always fun whenever Emmrich got to be a bit more tongue-in-cheek. They both enjoyed it, much to his chagrin. It also provided a brief distraction from his own thoughts, seeing her act ‘normal’. Emmrich began his slow approach towards Rook and was about to fold his hands behind his back when she grabbed his attention once more.

“May I take your bag and coat, sir?” There was a lighthearted sort of innocence to the way she asked that momentarily made him forget the clash that had been brewing. So he smiled, and extended his coat-draped arm to her without much thought.

The pressure of her nails could be felt even through two layers of clothing going up his forearm. He briefly worried that she may grab him by the elbow and pull him into her form. But no, she was choosing to be patient for now and retreated, taking both his coat and his bag that had been strung over his shoulder with her. Emmrich followed slightly behind.

At the end of the sarcophagus, hidden behind where Rook had previously stood, laid her messenger bag and her leather coat crumpled into a pile on the ground. She sat his satchel up against her bag and delicately folded his own coat to rest on top to keep it off the ground. Emmrich couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the obvious difference in the way she treated her own items versus his. But she didn’t seem particularly perturbed by that fact. “Aw, look at our bags, sitting next to each other like they’re little friends. So cute.” Rook nudged his arm with her elbow.

“You are aware that these chambers are meant to be private, yes?” Emmrich asked, deciding it might be best to not let either of them get carried away if he could help it. “They are intended to be accessible for the families, groundskeepers, and city staff.”

“Well, there wasn’t a lock on it.”

“Rarely any of the mausoleums do.” He pointed out, taking an additional step back.

“In that case, if they didn’t want people in here then they should have made it harder to get in.” Rook clicked the tongue. “Or else people like me can just waltz inside!”

“Oh? People like you?” To his prodding, Rook narrowed her eyes. He’d have to be more cautious. Didn’t want to be too obvious.

“Well, yeah. I believe most people take issue with whores loitering about. But I guess the dead don’t really care who you are, do they?”

“You are correct in the sense that the dearly departed have very little to say in judgement, as they have very little to say altogether.”

“Speaking of whores who loiter though, did you find my presents?” She questioned with a cheeky grin and a ginger twirl of her skirt.

Of course, he anticipated that she would ask. Though he had assumed she may have wished to see him fester in his nerves over it. Impatience? Let her take the lead for a moment, see where it leads. “I believe I did, yes.” He answered, retrieving the candy from his pocket. “You know, for someone who loves these as much as you do, you seem to give them away rather easily.” Emmrich allowed himself to slowly approach, and Rook was enthralled.

“Just to the people I like. I told you, we have a rapport so you get perks... What about the other one?” Rook’s eyes flicked about his person, trying to find a crack in his demeanor. He told himself to stay calm.

“If you are referring to the article of clothing I came across then yes, I did find that as well. I was forced to take it down from the monument you so graciously strung it up from. Can’t have anyone else walk past and catch sight of that, now can we?” His strides drew him closer, both of their bodies naturally moving back towards the end of the sarcophagus where Rook had stashed their belongings.

“Oh, Professor… I didn’t guess you’d be the territorial type!” She truly was dangerous for him. Far too quick-witted for his sensibilities. It was a more underhanded form of warfare, but it was war all the same to him. “You know, if you really feel that way, you can always keep them as a trophy. I think you’ve earned it.” Rook grinned without mercy. Another twinkling of gold meeting gold, the man’s hands slipped into his front pockets. The sensation of her fabric running between his fingers. If this whole charade weren’t already so blatantly perverted, that act would have done it.

“And pray tell, what use would I have for your undergarments, Miss de Riva?” His voice involuntarily dropping to a low whisper and in his mind, Emmrich warned himself once more.

Rook appeared far too pleased to answer. Her gaze cast down to his abdomen and traveled further still. “You know, I’ve met a lot of women who would kill to have as slender of a frame as yours.” She hummed to herself. “Little waist like that, you could probably fit in them if that sort of thing caught your fancy.” Eyes like daggers snapped, honing in on his features once more. “Then again, the rest of you might not fit. I haven’t been lucky enough to see. Yet. Or… you could just go the more obvious route and jack off into them. I know lace isn’t the most comfortable but a little bit of pain can be good sometimes.”

Indeed she was enjoying this more than her paycheck demanded. It surprised her that Emmrich wasn’t blushing as deeply as he normally did. Perhaps it was only the lack of decent lighting but there was hardly anything more than a pinch of pink lifting up the apples of his cheeks. It was strange but exciting all the same. His melody was a little different. Heavier in brass in a way that felt like coiling roots sinking into her to try and find something nourishing.

Poor Rook had to fight every urge in her body not to grab him by the belt and yank him in her direction. With the meager amounts of sunlight from the door and the candles far behind them, the shadows played heavily on Emmrich’s face. Deepening the lines on his face. Her eyes ran across them, as if using them as a map to find herself out of the labyrinth of a predicament she’d put herself in but didn’t actually want out of. He took a sliver of amusement from it and shamefully grew a bit bolder.

“Is that meant to be my reward for finding you?” No, yes, get greedy, please.

“That depends. Do you think you deserve more, Emmrich? I did say I’d make it worth your while, so if that isn’t enough then we could always negotiate.”

“Perhaps you’d be amenable to allowing me some time to consider that. After all, you do have a question for me, do you not?”

Rook’s smile did not fade. No, this was too interesting to even try and disguise the delight she was experiencing. And Emmrich was feeling entirely smug over it. He had been either holding himself back from acting too foolish or too caught off guard to truly feel on equal footing with Rook until this battle began. Aside from the moment with the statue, he had done well to keep his composure. This time it was her turn to feel the pressure, and he would get a hint to his own unuttered query in the process. Whatever her next words were, they should give him insight into what she was trying to accomplish-

“Why didn’t you answer my question before?” She wondered. Of course, she had to say something that would throw him off.

“Come again?”

“Well, I haven’t come once yet-”

“Miss de Riva.” He snipped, forcing a chuckle from her. Rook’s heels brushed against Emmrich’s satchel behind her.

“Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t help myself!” She rarely could in most cases. One of the many fun things about Emmrich was that he required more care than what she usually had to give. Quite precious. “Earlier, you didn’t want to answer my question. I want to know why.” Rook reiterated.

“Is that not just asking the same question again and hoping to get an answer?”

“No, because before I was asking you what issues you have going on that makes you single. Now I’m asking why that question makes you uncomfortable. Subtle difference of intention there, Sweets.”

One would think he’d grown accustomed to the way Rook chose to perplex him but it would seem that still hasn’t happened yet. Just as it had before, her voice lacked any hint of insincerity and was jarringly kind given the flirtatious remarks she had just been throwing about. There was a moment where Emmrich debated the purpose of this, if he had somehow misread it. He wasn’t sure how exactly this could be interpreted any other way... But the way she said ‘sweets’ bordered on addictive. Like the difference in passion between teeth to the throat versus a fleeting kiss. Still robust but could not be fully compared.

The man stepped further back to feel the stale air cool with the separation from her heat. He looked her over without feeling a real need to hide it. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re astonishing?” He asked, it was almost rhetorical with how he said it. If not, she should be told a thousand times over. Perhaps he really had been played for a fool this whole time. And in another miraculous turn, he caught it this time. The slightest falter where her pupils seemed to widen and her perfectly crafted face softened into something more unassuming.

“I can’t say they have, at least not in this context. No more stalling, though.” She chastised humorously with the most subtle of tilts to her left. He thought to himself quietly for a moment, looking about the stone chamber they were in.

“It wasn’t the question itself, but rather what was draped around it.” He said, bring his hands to the front so that he may fiddle with his rings. “Have you ever been frightened by the thought of dying, Miss Rook?” The question should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. And that took her slightly aback. Had a client ever asked her that before? Not in so many words, not without an agreed upon fictitious threat behind it. But it certainly hadn’t been the first time someone directed that thought at her.

More piano played this time beneath the brass. Something treading on the roots that had just taken hold. How many times had she asked herself that question? How many times had it been told to her it was okay to be afraid in that roundabout way people always did? Not being able to accept just the simple answer.

“Probably at some point.” Dying wasn’t the scary part inherently, not for Rook. “But it’s part of life.” Her response drew out a dry chuckle from Emmrich. The man wished he could have been that rational, especially at her age.

“Yes, it very much is. That’s where the problem lies.” He looked past Rook, to where the candelabra bathed a crown of warmth around her hair. To where a lowering sun drew in orange light from behind the door but did not stretch far enough to reach either of them. Everything was fire, too rash in its righteousness. “When one is afraid of dying, they often find themselves afraid of living as well. And it just so happens that I hold a great terror for it.”

Rook was… confused. The music hadn’t stopped. A low hum pulsed, rounded and sweat inducing. The piano turned out not to be a piano at all. It was an organ. Not as sharp or crisp. It bled and they were moving all the same. A funeral march worth dancing to. Normally, it would have stopped by now. Why hadn’t it?

“I would think most people are afraid of dying. At least a little, probably a lot.” She added. Emmrich smiled in a way that pitched the sound in her head.

“For myself, I would say it goes beyond dread. It can’t always be reasoned with or soothed over.” He thought back to how the bell outside drowned out his thoughts. “It comes without warning… In the dead of night, in sunlit streets.” The man’s chest tightened, always known but never fathomed. “A raw, strangling fear, struck somewhere deep past the heart.”

Rook could hear the start of each breath he took in with a wistful sort of expression on his face. It wasn’t pained, it was compassionate. To her? For what? “That seems like it’d be an issue… for an archeologist, I mean. You are sort of surrounded by death aren’t you?” She gestured towards their surroundings. “And all of this doesn’t make you uncomfortable?” Another somber chuckle came from him.

“Oddly enough, the fear helped me discover many things. And I believe it aided me in being more attuned to my course of study. There is something to be said about how seeking understanding can carve a path to expertise, no?”

“It can also carve out a path to self destruction.” She pointed out.

“Astute as always, Miss de Riva. It can, and often does. To be afraid of death is to be afraid of life as well in a way. The ending of things, as all things will. So, you don’t begin. Or at least you try not to when you can help it. If nothing starts then there’s nothing to end.” His legs moved without him thinking, hungering for the previous warmth she shared with him. “So, I say to you it wasn’t the question itself you asked that made me weary, but what was in fact draped around it.” Something clicked into place for Rook.

“Vulnerability means starting something. Fear.” She whispered under her breath, neck straining to look up as he suddenly seemed much closer. “Do I frighten you, Emmrich?”

Rook’s breath smelled of blue-raspberry, and he could taste the ghost of it on the back of his tongue.“You terrify me.” He told himself to stop, to slow down. But the professor had never been good with that. His right arm extended, taking the lip of the sarcophagus in his grip and leaning closer. “And would you care to hear the worst part? It’s entirely hypocritical.” Rook swallowed, legs feeling numbed by his presence. “I often find myself clinging to life with all my strength. Yet I deny myself it at the same time, all out of fear.”

It would be easier to blame it all on Rook. In some ways he had tried to, selfishly. But was he not equal in his own burden? He could have selected someone else from The Crows. He could have allowed her to remain sullen so as to spare himself the headache. He could have said no to this foolish chase she set him on. But he hadn't. There was nothing more cowardly than that. He was ill with weakness, and the fever had long taken hold. There was a pressure on his neck, Rook’s hand had wrapped around his tie. She pulled him to her ear with a forceful tug he didn’t even try to stop.

“Have you ever thought about trying exposure therapy? I hear it’s all the rage these days.”

Syrupy lipgloss stuck to the corner of his jaw. She longed for him for the fear he had passed on to her, and he longed for her in knowing she took pity on them. There was no helping it now. In a fury, his idle hand seized the back of her vest between her shoulder blades in a clenched fist. Rearing her shoulders back to give him enough room to press his lips into the underside of her jawline. No one should be allowed to smell this good, especially not after walking around in the sun and coats for almost four hours. Still sweet, sugared berries and lavender.

More. His hold on the sarcophagus fell away to go flat against the bend in her spine. He felt a laugh shake against his mouth. A laugh. He had to pay 400 Kings to get her here. Her underwear was burning a hole in his pocket. And she had the nerve to laugh at his self inflicted demise. What a horrifying woman. Pity or cruel torment, he couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

Emmrich’s mind raced and felt it fracture like glass. Where to go? There was no leaving so the floor would have to do. Or he could just pick her up, he already had her pulled up to her tiptoes, why have her touch the ground at all? His teeth searched fervently for her pulse. He didn’t think he had ever been so irritated by a turtleneck’s existence in his entire life. Fingers clawed at fabric, and he felt Rook’s hand slipping down to his belt.

This wasn’t like Emmrich, not anymore. These sorts of quick trysts where they found themselves was a young man’s game, not his. He preferred taking his time with his lovers. There weren’t many greater feelings than making someone teeter on the edge of the void, infinity, and being the cause for their embrace into it. But this- this was Rook. Never mind the fact that his time with her was borrowed, there was no more waiting with her. And then he felt it.

“Woah, Professor… is that a spare femur in your pocket or are you just excited to see me?” An impressive femur. Good bone density.

As she palmed him through his trousers, Emmrich thought his eyes may briefly sink back into his eye sockets. “That mouth of yours is a problem.” He groaned into her skin, hips pushing forward to try an account for this atrocious angle.

“You could always put it to better use.” Maker’s breath. “Hard to make jokes with a mouth full of cock.” She really was trying to kill him after all. Rook’s legs started to bend but he pressed his hand into her back more firmly. Even if he had to rush this, he wasn’t about to give her a false impression of where his interests lie.

“True as that may be, Darling, I believe you offered to make this worth my while. And I have other plans in mind.”

Emmrich pried himself away and quickly fell to his knees. Both of his hands slid up her sweater and vest. What the fuck? Facial hair tickled at her skin as an unyielding kiss pressed into the bottom of her sternum. Another, lower. Oh.

“You don’t have to-” Arms slid down her hips with his mouth inching towards the top hem of her skirt. Gilded hands buried into the plush sides of her thighs.

The tips of Rook’s ears felt like they were on fire. Crows were normally prepared for basically anything. There was even a condom tucked away in her bra. But did she have anything else? When was the last time she replenned? Wait! The Joining appointment, she packed extra just in case she’d forget by Wednesday. Thank the Creators for small miracles.

“In my bag.” She huffed. “Dams, I have dams in my bag.” Emmrich pulled his head back. Right. Right, he remembered the terms from before. With his face absent, the cool air going across her bare stomach made Rook shiver. “I’ve got latex, latex-free, and uh-” She cursed in her mind, his fingers slowly dragging across the backs of her knees was way more distracting than it should be. It made him grin. “Strawberry flavored! I have one of those too if that’s more your fancy.”

It wasn’t unheard of for a client to like going down on her, but it wasn’t exactly common either. Especially not unprompted. Her job was to focus on making sure they got what they wanted, and if that involved getting her off then that was in writing so she rarely expected it to come up naturally. Especially given the requirements.

Emmrich reached a long arm between her legs, dragging the bag forward. And just as he remembered, it was in a state of utter disrepair. The notebook she had been carrying to take notes on was still open and just shoved away. Creased pages and all to prove it. He momentarily got distracted in his search by a little note in the margins that read; ‘EV likes good tea and a good tease’. Rook heard him chuckle under his breath.

“What?” She asked. Laughing also wasn’t usual.

“It’s nothing. You’re just impossibly charming, Miss de Riva…” Emmrich trailed off as a thought occurred to him. “Rook.” Fuck, she wanted to grab him by his face and fog up his silly little glasses. Stop looking up at her like that. One of his hands ran up her leg and her back arched. The professor let on an affirmative hum. Did he find it? Oh, thank the Gods-

A bell began to toll.

Loud and drowning out Rook’s favorite song.

Too close to not be the one outside.

Panic splattered across Emmrich’s face. His hold on Rook’s thigh tightened, the one in her bag racing towards her and taking her by the hip and pulling with an amount of strength that Rook hadn’t realized he was capable of. Her back slid down the sarcophagus’s stone surface until the top of her head was well hidden by the lid. It brought Rook into a deep wall-sit with Emmrich’s torso between her knees.

The damn groundskeepers, Emmrich cursed himself in his mind. The candles, Rook lit the candles and they have to blow them out. The candelabra too. And they weren’t supposed to be in here. The sound of the first bell began to fade, his eyes darted to Rook, her right knee had knocked into his bicep. Her face was scrunched and twisted. Eyes and lips drawn into tight lines that couldn’t be anything but pain.

Leg, not now. Any time but now. She could hold it. If she didn’t then she’d fall on their stuff and with the amount of plastic in her bag alone, it wasn’t exactly a quiet option. She can do this, she can do this.

Fingers sprawled, a decorated forearm pushing into her thigh. The hand on her hip did the same against the topside of her leg. The moment the second bell chimed, Emmrich ripped her away from the stone and forced her into his lap. Hold readjusting but quieted thanks to the force he applied. The sting burst for a moment and Rook muffled a groan into Emmrich’s shoulder, but it quickly dissipated as Emmrich cradled her weight in his hold.

He wanted to ask if she was alright but now wasn’t the time. Bangles dug into black nylons. The bottom of her ass filled his palm, long fingers attempting to cup around the curve of her inner thigh. Footsteps from the stairs echoed and bounced off the walls of the mausoleum. Metal hinges creaked to the intrusion and he wished he could do the same.

Both of them took in a heavy breath, accidentally reveling in each other’s scent. His nose was buried in her hair and his neck was far too close to hers for either of them to help it. Had Emmrich always smelled that nice? Like frankincense and a well nurtured patch of earth, fresh yet matured enough to not even attempt playing coy. Her body was intoxicatingly warm against him. Especially where the fingers hidden under her skirt sank deeper into smooth skin and- Wait, why did he feel skin? She was wearing tights…

Emmrich was stricken with terror, did these have cut outs? Rook felt the moment he made the discovery as well. A shudder ran up his spine, the tips of his fingers darted while footsteps grew louder. Wetness smeared against his ring finger, then the middle, taking an exploratory curl in the direction of his pinky. Entirely unmistakable. Rook’s fist balled up around the sides of his cardigan. In her head she was begging for him to go a little further. He must have heard her thoughts, or rather he felt her quickly nod into his shoulder.

A slow slip down and he smoothed against the swell of her clit. Gently pinched between the sides of his fingers as he parted her lips. The footsteps halted and a forceful exhale pierced Emmrich’s thoughts just in time to remind him that they still weren’t alone. The room darkened. Slow strokes would have to do for now. A rhythm arrived like shambling feet. An agonizing ebb and flow pressing into her, leisurely sort of coaxing that didn’t match the clawing need he felt. She would have ground her hips down into him if it weren’t for the precarious way he clung onto her.

The door creaked again. Impatience needled into her bones, hips jutting in an attempt to meet the strokes. Emmrich rewarded himself with a languished press against the bud, mimicking the pressure she wanted but only easing back and forth. This part of the chase was one of his favorites. Rook’s left heel anchored beside his knee and tried to get more friction. This type of desperation was not something she was used to. She grumbled something unintelligible between the fibers of his clothes.

“Keep still and quiet, Dear.” He cooed quietly. “Just for a little longer.”

There was a chance the groundskeeper was still milling about. Of course, that mattered little in the case that she followed directions. Tight circles, a bit gentler. Rook’s body tensed, it was only made worse from feeling his breath and mustache tickle against the side of her ear. With their bodies tangled together, it became far too poignant that they had hunted each other. Like two starving carnivores trapped in a snare together. Her arm slid up his back until he felt the edges of her nails cresting the sides of his neck.

There was a need there. Coming up for air or to grapple with the fact that she felt smothered by pleasure quicker than she considered acceptable of her. A deep, shaking breath filled her lungs, mouth freed from his clothes to clutch for some grasp of influence. Rook had been right, Emmrich wasn’t Lichdom, it wasn’t accurate to him at all. With the way he described it, it was ruinous unselfishness. But this was proof that he could want, he could need so deeply that it overshadowed his own worries and responsibilities. Fear and despair were always two steps away from desire, she knew that better than most.

There was an added layer of pleasure afixed between his fingers. Vindication, victory, or the promise of it. Exhilarating adrenaline that brought to mind the craving of draining everything from him that he had left to give. She just needed more, more of him. In the same way Emmrich had taken her game as a challenge, and it was one, this was a war of her own.

Something eclipsing a whine escaped her and that just made Emmrich’s fingers press with more zealous intent. “Emmrich, please.” Oh, his name sounded far too sweet. Too needy, too soon. Just a little faster, long enough to make the intensity of it normal. Then his fingers left. “Fuck-” She hissed.

Rook’s nails scratched up his hair. Blood lust was the only way she could describe the pulse that thrummed to her core. She could take this, he knew she could. Someone who costed as much as she did, she should be able to handle indulging him just a little.

“Tell me, young lady, what part about this little plot made such a mess of you?” He asked, lifting the edge of her skirt ever so slightly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She denied with puffs of air stringing her teeth.

The sound of his bangles clattering again made her stir and soon enough she felt them settle low on his wrist and make contact with the exposed skin between her legs. His fingers returned with the new angle, only this time they slid along the seam of her until stopping at her entrance. And his thumb picked up the same slow circles he had briefly abandoned.

“Is that so? I believe your dripping cunt would be inclined to disagree.” The fact that he sounded so calm while saying that only pissed her off more. The memory of her hand against his cock was still incredibly fresh, and with that in mind his fingers pushed into her. Keep it slow, he told himself. “Was it the trying not to be caught? The teasing? Or was it how you got me to lose my composure? Hm?” The end of his sentence was punctuated by his fingers slipping deeper into her, keeping the motions focused on the circles. Rook’s back arched in search of more pressure. Her chest pressed against his and gave him the opportunity to pump into her with alternating motions.

“You’re a bastard.” She moaned. In truth, he didn’t need her to answer, he already knew. The tempo increased and the hand on her hip rushed down to take the swell of her ass. Nylon running under his palm.

“It’s no wonder you’re so successful in your line of work. You love it, don’t you? Making others helpless, all because of you. All because they want to bury themselves in your mouth, your ass, your hand, your cunt.” He felt her walls clenching around him.

Rook nodded thoughtlessly. Emmrich’s presence on her clit left again but the speed of his fingers increased again, the heel of his palm slapping against the sensitivity he left behind. The sound filled the room.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t want to.” She could still feel his length against the underside of her thigh and he chuckled in response.

“Oh, I do.” His mouth pressed into her hair for a soft kiss. Rook felt herself dangling off the edge. “But this is far more satisfying. You sound beautiful, Darling. Such a lovely prize you make.” Even caged birds had pretty songs, after all. Emmrich could feel it inside her and hear it in the breath that scattered across his neck.

“Fuck me!” She cried, feeling that coil inside her twist unbearably.

Fear gutted into him at the thought of doing just that. It would be far too easy to undo his belt and trousers, it wouldn’t take much. He could have her full of more than just fingers and lose himself but that was one step too far. But the thought lingered like a scar.

She was growing more restless, and that only excited him further. There was a pounding in her head that dropped down to her core. A dizzying, spinning sensation scraped at the edges of her eyes. Every muscle in Emmrich’s body screamed and another cry fell. This one rolling down his spine.

Rook clung to him fiercely, tugging at his hair, hips stuttering. It felt like a blow to the back of her head or a snap like a bone. Sudden and sure and consuming. He didn’t stop but he did slow, easing into a more lackadaisical pace. “Shh, I have you.” He soothed. The sound of her wrapped around his form. “That’s it… There you are…” Found at last, guided to the abyss.

Pride was a dangerous trait because all it required was success. With her ecstasy drenching his fingers and her little whimpers melting into his bone marrow as evidence to it. That was the real vice. Because so long as he kept accomplishing, pride could be fed well. So long as she didn’t want it to end, it was a self-sustaining beast.

And he could feel it supping from her even now. In the dark. In the cold air that stuck to feverish skin. His pride drank deep but all it wanted was more so long as it was deserved. Rook’s nerves were buzzing in ripples. The warm comfort of his voice lured slacking limbs into their own exploration, her hand inching up into his cardigan while trying to tug his tucked dress shirt free.

“Allow me, Professor.” She whispered. It wasn’t a request, it was an instruction.

A smile lulled at the corners of her mouth. He wanted her to, she knew that for certain. Said so himself. Their dance wasn’t done yet, it couldn’t be. Because Emmrich had been torturously correct before. It didn’t matter why, what mattered was the result. She could feel that taut ribbon of control that kept him tethered. A little more.

Even still, he didn’t fully relinquish. He languished in the way her voice came out uneven. Practically drunk in its hum. This wasn’t a side to him she had fully anticipated, treating her body more like an instrument in need of conducting. But it was far from unwanted. It prodded at her ego, it was intoxicating. Irksome in a way that felt like a battle designed just to outwit her.

Most people weren’t this exciting to learn from. Should she play into it? Should she fight him on it? How much time did they have left? They’d need an extension most likely. But surely a little over time would be fine if not, right? Rook was already starting to feel the melody coming alive under her skin again. Each push or throbbing clench of her walls made oxytocin flood her being.

And just as her Orlesian tipped nails scratched over the buckle of his belt, Rook felt something vibrate against her leg accompanied by the sound of a light bell chime. Just a quick burst. Then it happened again and Emmrich pulled away slightly. No, no, no, don’t fucking do this again. If Rook could eliminate the concept of bells or ringing or chiming, she would. His fingers stayed inside her to the middle joint but went still. Her skirt wrinkled back down as the other hand retreated and dipped into his pocket for his phone.

The phone strained his eyes with the sudden brightness, though his glasses did ease some of the glare. Emmrich blinked several times before being able to read the notifications.

‘THE BOY FEELS UNWELL.’

‘MYRNA HAS HIM RESTING INSIDE.’ Then another message came in.

‘HE MAY REQUIRE ASSISTANCE.’

If the texts being labeled under his friend’s name didn’t give away who they were from, the way he typed always did. If Vorgoth was the one saying Manfred was feeling under the weather, it probably meant urgency. He allowed his screen to darken once more and turned to look back down at Rook.

It was hard to make out at first, pupils widening to account for the dark, but there was a simmering of disappointment hanging off her mouth. Either knowing without him having to say it or her knowing something he simply did not, he couldn’t be sure. Emmrich took in one more deep breath through the nose. A confusing array of scents layered rather than mixing. Dust laden relicism, candied youth, and the heady aftermath of something he probably should not have done felt like an ice pick through his brain.

“Forgive me, Dear. It would seem I’m required elsewhere.” He sighed. A pang of discomfort tightened around the woman’s throat. The list of things to be done was already forming in his mind. He’d have to call Myrna, tell her he needed an additional 20 minutes despite his proximity so that he may stop at home first. Not only to wash up but also on the chance he needed anything for the car ride back from the Belfry.

Emmrich’s own unease reflected in the slow drag of his fingers leaving her. An attempt was made on his part to help her but Rook leaned back while still in lap and just hopped off with support from her hands going flat against the ground behind her. The plastic in her bag did crunch in protest of her weight but that hardly mattered. “You don’t need to apologize.” She supposed she wasn’t the only one whose work schedule took over their life. Even teachers work weekends. Knees came together, thighs pressed into her chest, and arms hugging around the underside of her legs.

The man thought this pose was eerily reminiscent of the way he had found her on the steps last week. Only this time with a placid expression, polite but ill fitting for what had just happened. He loomed over her while still on his knees, taking his coat and satchel from behind her back, and his lips pressed into the top of her head. Instinct. Rook made no comment on it.

This felt terrible. It isn’t supposed to. Both shared a thought once again. Emmrich slipped a handkerchief out from his coat pocket and dried his fingers. Again, he sought to assist her as well but she rebuffed it with a calm gesture that made his approaching hands stop. Palm flat and pointed towards the sky, he laid it across her hand and watched her wrap her fingers around it before turning her wrist over. Needlessly checking her watch.

“7:23, just before our 5 minute warning! Well done, sir.” She praised, taking in more heavy breaths before hiding the handkerchief under her legs. “But you should hurry along now rather than linger, need you to get your head start before I go to my car.” That caused him to blink several times.

“But… Am I not meant to show you back towards the exit? As I said, it’s easy to get lost here.” His concern was genuine but Rook chuckled hollowly to herself.

“Unlike you having the map of this place memorized, I looked it up.” She pointed in the direction behind him. “If I keep heading that way, it’ll eventually lead me towards the part of this place that I recognize.”

Normally, her cleverness would delight him. Of course, she had only led him to believe there was a danger in her getting turned around so he had no choice but to follow against his better judgement. But something in the way she explained it so dismissively, or rather boredly, was harrowing.

Tormented quiet befell them while he fixed his appearance. Why? He should say something-

“Since we’re at a new secondary location, I actually have to call my handler before I leave and you aren’t allowed to talk to them so…”

“Ah.” Ah, indeed. She had said she’d been through parts of the garden before but... Emmrich retreated, standing up to full height. There was cowardice in indulgence and there was cowardice in running. Should he apologize? Should he offer to help her stand? It didn’t seem like she was pleased. There were far too many things he could say and all of them felt wrong. Implicative of something he didn’t mean or over explanatory to the point of fumbling with also implied something that wasn’t true. “Then I hope you have a lovely evening, Miss de Rive.” Fuck.

He threw his coat over his shoulder, not bothering with the sleeves. Rook tilted her head with a saccharine smile and a nod. Emmrich’s body was moving in fear of whatever was pulling at his legs to wait just another moment longer. Going more taut by each passing second of either walking away from her or not looking at her or not feeling her. “See you next week, Lichdom.” She called in a song-like tone just before he pulled the door and the screaming hinges drowned out all sound. For a moment, the sunlight stretched his shadow across the wall like an extension of the fully encompassed self before dampening once more with his exit.

Rook held her breath until his steps dissipated. She just needed a minute to settle. The handkerchief was still in her hand, and she did begrudgingly use it to swipe at her inner thighs. The false sleep her right leg fell into made her wince as she tumbled into a less graceful stance than she appreciated. It hurt. But she scooped up the puddle of her things all the same, using the sarcophagus for a small amount of support. Her coat tied around her waist. And Rook tried not to think about the fact that she nearly let time elapse for free… and she had no plans of telling anyone about that either.

Normally, she’d actually just send a text but this would require a call for once. Just not for the reasons she told him. Leaning fully on her left heel, she fished her phone from her bag, dropping the used handkerchief in its place, and had to yank out the headphones before unlocking the screen. Contact list, recent calls, select. As usual, the ringing only hummed twice before he answered.

“Rook.” Viago groaned into the microphone. “Is your appointment ending early?” Straight to business, very much like him.

“Yeah, something came up so he had to leave.” Rook crossed one arm over to hug her ribs.

“Alright, nothing worth terminating yet then. I still don’t understand why you wanted to take this one so badly.” Viago may be her handler, but he hardly handled anything in regards to her. There usually wasn’t a need.

“What can I say? I like stepping out of my comfort zone.” She joked.

“You don’t have a comfort zone.”

“Good point.”

“But you know what I mean, this is a cheap job. It sounds like a lot of work for not a lot of reward, we could have gotten one of the recents to take this instead.” He sighed. A glimmer of guilt poked at her hip, he had no idea just how cheap she was making this job considering what just happened was way outside of her projected budget. Viago only got annoyed by things he cared about. So him being irritated over Rook ‘wasting’ her skill was more complimentary than he’d ever admit. Which just made her feel worse.

“Well, you know me, Vi. Bleeding heart. He needed someone with skill and I’m sure the newbies are good but I’m great. I know what I’m doing.” She argued playfully, eliciting a grumble from the other end.

“So, why are you calling? This could have been a text.”

“You remember the contract you had set aside for me for tonight?” She asked. Viago muttered again followed by pen scratching and paper rustling. “Is there any chance Dove still wants it? My leg is acting up and I remember her saying she was having a slow week.” Rook tried to voice it nonchalantly, but a long pause stretched on the other end.

”Did something happen?” He asked plainly.

“Nah, it’s just sore. Guess I didn’t stretch well enough either last night or this morning. You know, this place really is stupid big, we basically did nothing but walk for almost four hours.”

“That’s even worse than Antiva’s cemeteries.” His huff made her chuckle.

“It’s pretty though, so that’s a plus.”

“Dove should be able to take it, but we can pick someone else just in case she isn’t available. I’ll set up a visit for you with Heir. You don’t have any plans for Tuesday, do you?”

“Just because my leg stings a little doesn’t mean I need to get poked by the good doctor.” Rook argued. “I’m fine. If it really gets your panties in a twist, I can ask her to look at it during our next rounds, just like everyone else does.”

“If you’re going to be stubborn, fine. Just don’t go complaining to Lucanis about it-”

“Ay, ay! Merda! I know!”

“Don’t interrupt people, it’s rude. Especially not me.” He chastised. Rook rolled her eyes. “And don’t roll your eyes at me, I can feel you doing it through the phone.”

“I was not!” She lied. Another grumble came from her speaker.

“Sure you weren’t. I’ll mark your time, message the line when you get to your car. Make sure your leg is fine by Wednesday, you have too many bookings that day for me to reschedule all of them.” Viago reminded, and her mind quickly flashed to the dams in her bag.

“You got it, Boss.” Rook teased. The call ended abruptly after that. ‘Have a good night, Rook.’ ‘You too, Vi!’ It was never anything like that with him because Viago, not so secretly, was a total stick in the mud. The man didn’t have a playful bone in his body. But he was caring in his own way that not everyone understood or even liked. Rook did though. And that was part of the reason she was his favorite next to Teia but Teia didn’t count.

Still, something bordering on anxiety swirled in her blood. With the leg and the very obvious fuck up she just let happen. She gave the sarcophagus a melodic tap, her way of letting whoever was inside know that she was leaving. The phone got shoved back into her bag as she searched the inside for her last sucker and…

It was crackled and trapped inside the packaging. Probably broke when she sat on her bag. Whatever. The candy pieces piled into her palm and funneled into her mouth. The larger, sharp edges scraped at her taste buds while the dust quickly melted. She could make do.

[splendsay]

COD Fic // Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 8: Dancin' is a Dangerous Game

^ that's me rn cuz I have so much planned for this fic muahahaaa my asks are OPEN rn and I'm workshopping a few more fic outlines so be prepared for a metric fuckton more of me

.............................................................. Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 8: Dancin' is a Dangerous Game

Huzzahhh we made it to a time jump. hope you enjoy a lil bit of sunshine (or shall we say, ace???) and ghosty's growth.

.............................................................................. CWs: Explicit language, vague mentions of past trauma and recovery

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader (You)

Chapter Excerpt:

You spend the next several weeks in a rhythmic pattern of training, eating and sleeping, the gray mornings gradually giving way to sunnier and sunnier afternoons. The weather itself remains crisp. You're not sure that Scotland experiences true heat, though it's still not quite summer. Maybe you'll be proven wrong.

It takes time to come back to life. But the old you is in there somewhere, and little bit, by little bit, she resurfaces. After the first week, you'd regained a semi-normal amount of energy, able to push through a full day without too much difficulty. That had only improved with time, but you still fall into bed each night utterly exhausted. Your sleep remains dreamless and heavy and all-consuming. 

You wake every morning with a roaring start, momentarily forgetting where you are. Hell, who you are, some days. But you're rested. You're groomed -- well enough, at least. You're fed. Though...

You're an awful cook. Ghost is somehow worse. The best the two of you together can scrounge up is a meager spaghetti dinner -- jarred sauce, of course. The cookies you'd made after that first day of sparring had turned out okay -- mostly edible, at least. Only a few bits too burnt to enjoy. But you found yourself eagerly awaiting Gaz's return, if only to eat something not made of years' old tomatoes. 

Plus, you feel it might be nice to see a face besides your own. Ghost doesn't count. At a minimum, he's always got the balaclava pulled up past his nose, but most of the time, he's wearing the full get-up. 

"Do you ever take it off?" you'd barked at him one day during a particularly grueling sparring session. He'd run you ragged that morning -- pushed you to finish a 5K without walking. You'd hissed and spat and growled at him the whole way, but you'd done it. Slowly. He'd celebrated your accomplishment by lording over you as you trembled through a couple dozen pushups, sit-ups, squats -- a whole menu of calisthenic torture techniques. 

By the time you'd made it to spar, you were entirely fueled by contempt. 

He hadn't answered you, of course. Merely looked down at you with his blackened eyes, arms crossed behind his back. Waiting for you to swing. You had -- too wild and wide -- and he'd put you on the ground with a solid whack to the armpit. You'd released a stream of more and more colorful swear words in retribution, but, as usual, they had bounced off him with no consequence.

And this was your pattern. Day after day after day.

............................................................................. Links to: Spotify Playlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

[sstormyskyess]

Pitch Black - Prologue

author's note: hello hello everyone!! welcome to my first long form series on this blog! i'm excited to share this story i've been cooking up since summer last year and i hope everyone likes it as much as i've had fun brainstorming it 😊 this is gonna be a little short prologue to set the mood and give a little context for reader so things make sense later on! please enjoy 💜

cw: descriptions of injury, mentions of vomiting

word count: 1400+

Everyone and their mother knows that Russian winters were ruthless. It was a widely accepted fact, even for those who hadn’t personally experienced one of said agonizing winters. Snowfall was common for six months out of the year, and the temperatures could reach —44 degrees fahrenheit.

Cold air seeped in from under the door of the tiny room you were confined in. You shivered while you sat on the old, flimsy cot against the back wall of the solitary prison cell. Your vision was unfocused and blurry, though it was hard to tell because it was too dark to see anything. The walls were made of dark concrete and half-rotted wood slats. It smelled musty and stale, the air circulation in the room severely lacking.

You wince when the door suddenly opens, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to block out the blinding LED lights beaming into the room out of nowhere. Your breath catches in your throat from the surprise, your chest stinging from the feeling. You peek an eye open when a metal food tray clatters to the floor. The sound was deafening as it cut through the murky silence you had been wallowing in, making you bring your hands up to cover your ears. The man that dropped the tray barks something at you in Russian before slamming the door shut once again.

Konni Group.

An up and coming Russian private military company, the target of your squad’s operation, and the people that had taken you prisoner.

The stated goal of your team was to clear out a known Konni base and to capture or kill the colonel they knew was posted up there. The POI had led a recent attack on a U.S. arms convoy and taken a number of highly lethal weaponry from the wreckage. The weapons were likely hidden somewhere in the base, and it was imperative to locate them before they were used anywhere.

The operation had gone less than optimally. It was doomed to fail from the start; the intel your squad was given was faulty, you had your cover blown by an ambush, and to cap it all off, the chaos allowed for Konni to get their hands on you and whisk you away.

 The only thing you could think of was time. How long had it been since you’d been thrown in here? Days, weeks, months? You couldn’t tell. Just thinking about it made your head hurt.

The only measurement you had was how long it was between the miniscule amount of food you were granted by your captors on a seemingly random schedule. You were practically able to feel your body consuming itself, your stomach growling at you angrily. You would cry, but the waterworks had run dry ages ago. You couldn’t afford to lose any more water; you didn’t have that privilege anymore. 

Years of active service in the U.S. Marines had gotten you used to grueling conditions, but nothing like this. Even out in the field, dispatched from whatever base you were stationed in, you knew you’d be able to secure some kind of sustenance. Food and water felt like a luxury now.

Despite the cold, the hunger, and the wear and tear on your body, both internal and external, the worst part was the lack of contact. You couldn’t even hear anyone moving outside, no matter how hard you strained your ears. There was no light peeking from under the door, so you couldn’t track shadows moving. The only indication that someone was behind the door was the meager rations being put into the cell. Between those meals, for all you knew, no one was present in the facility anymore.

Too much time had passed for anyone to still be looking for you or trying to rescue you. It hurt, at first. The feeling of being forgotten or being considered disposable had been crippling for a while, so painfully debilitating that it had you weeping endlessly for days, maybe even a week or more. The muscles of your stomach ached afterwards. Mixed with all the kicks and punches you suffered from interrogations, your heaving sobs had you nauseous and throwing up bile frequently.

You ruminated over what could possibly be the reason you were still being kept here instead of being executed. You weren't being interrogated anymore by now. You were just left with the wounds that you sustained from hours upon days upon weeks of interrogation. The bruises had healed, but the cuts were infected from the shoddy cauterizing job they had attempted. It felt like the bones that were broken were healing incorrectly.

You sigh shakily, your perpetually shivering body getting uncomfortable, so you try to shift a bit. The only thing you accomplished by trying to roll over on your tiny stone cold cot was falling face down onto the floor. You wince and give a weak groan, curling up and holding your stomach. You try your hardest to just close your eyes and get some sleep, no matter how restless it was.

When you woke up, you were finally back in the present. You were finally back in the little old house that you found after escaping that Konni facility, the sun just barely rising over the horizon.

It had been two years since you were abducted. The realization hit you hard. Two years you spent in that dark, cold, suffocating cell. Two years you spent withering away, slowly but surely. Two years you spent in your own special hell, alone, battered and beaten, left scarred for years and years to come.

You roll over and get out of the bed, a headache already springing forth in your head, making you rub your temples. You sigh and amble over to your rucksack full of all the essentials—well, most of them at least. You frown at the sight that greets you. Only a few MREs left and all of them were your least favorites. But, you’ve been through worse.

You pace around the room as you eat, reading some of the files you pulled off the rickety table in the corner of the tiny one room cabin. You scan the files and run a thumb over the insignia on the front of the manila folder containing everything you needed for your next job.

Al Qatala.

A terrorist organization based out of Urzikstan, the current boogeyman of the western world, and your current contractor.

The life of a freelance intel agent was an interesting one, to say the least. You had been around the world making problems for a countless number of political and military bodies, but the money was worth it. Not to mention the anonymity that came with not being tied down to any one organization.

You went off the grid after you escaped from Konni. You wanted to go back to normal life, but something in you told you to stay away from it all. Maybe it was the fear of being found and captured again. The logical side of your brain told you that there was no reason they would want you back, but it was hard to reason with a brain torn apart by the sort of trauma you went through.

You hadn’t cared to check up on any of your old teammates. There was an underlying resentment present in the back of your mind. You were betrayed by them, after all. They left you for dead and didn’t look back. Thinking back on it made you frown. You watched them leave you behind with no hesitation, run away without looking back. So much for no man left behind, right?

By the time you snap out of your frustrated thoughts, you’re already finished with your food. Your headache has gotten worse. You groan and pinch the bridge of your nose. You would really have to invest in some painkillers.

Based on how high the sun has gotten, you figure it’s about time to get moving. At least focusing on this job would keep your mind off the events that led you here. You flip through a folder and look at the location that was printed on one of the papers. Then, you take a peek at the pictures of the people you were meant to track.

Task Force 141.

A multinational task force recently founded, a team dedicated to making the world a better place, and ones that had been causing problems for your current contractor.

You take a deep breath and pack all your things away, ready yourself for the trek to the task force’s current location, and leave the cabin with the determination that kicks in whenever you set out on a mission.

𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭