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i-am-literally-deranged · 6 months

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Alright, I'm finally ready to talk about how THIS GUY

Kaeya Alberich, is not only an Anghel lookalike, but ALSO is EXTREMELY Yuuya coded.

So first of all, this is written very specifically for an audience of established Hatoful Boyfriend fans who know next to nothing about Genshin Impact and its characters. If this finds its way onto the dash of a Genshin fan who is unfamiliar with Hatoful Boyfriend and you decide to read it anyway, just know going into this that you will be lost, and there will be serious spoilers for Hatoful Boyfriend. I do heavily suggest playing the game for yourself, as it is short, phenomenal, and best enjoyed without spoilers.

As for my usual Hatoful audience, there will be spoilers for Kaeya's backstory. However, this isn't especially significant to the overall plot of Genshin, so I don't think these spoilers would seriously affect anyone's enjoyment of the game. These are only spoilers for the backstory of one out of the (as of right now) 72 characters, which is entirely optional to encounter anyway. But still, if you would rather not be spoiled on anything in Genshin Impact, then here is your warning.

So to start this out, here is a quick rundown on who Kaeya is, and what his story is all about for context. Essentially, here are the spoilers.

The country of Mondstadt is currently in a cold war with an organization called the Fatui. There is another nation, Khaenri'ah, that was previously wiped out. They don't like Mondstadt either. Kaeya is one of the few remaining Khaenri'ahns left, and his father leaves him in Mondstadt as a young child to be a sleeper agent, with the intention that he will rise to a high position, and one day Khaenri'ah will come calling on him to betray Mondstadt. He is left on the doorstep of the Ragnvindr family, who are something of small time nobility in Mondstadt. He is adopted into the family, and so acquires a father, Crepus, and a brother, Diluc. Kaeya and Diluc are close until their father's death. When their father died, Kaeya, wracked with grief, confesses to having been a spy. Diluc blames him for their father's death, and identifies him as a threat to Mondstadt, and so turns on him and attempts to kill him. Kaeya escapes, but their relationship is destroyed, and with it his reputation as well. He carries on as the city's local shady fop, distrusted by all, despised by some. All the while working in the shadows to continue to support Diluc, and tearing himself up over his torn loyalties. And that is Kaeya Alberich, abridged for your convenience.

The core thing that a person needs to understand about both Kaeya and Yuuya, is that they are people who define themselves by their devotion. Their identities are tied inextricably to the idea of "belonging to" a certain person or purpose. Both of them struggle with really having an identity of their own, and finding direction for themselves. So instead, they outsource that to someone else. They wholly devote themselves to something to give themselves direction. Instead of introspecting and figuring out what they really want in life, they live in service to something else. A person, an organization, an ideal, whatever. Something that they can give their lives to. You don't need to think about what you're doing if the answer is always "Whatever is best for _____" and this is how Kaeya and Yuuya both manage themselves. They give themselves a sense of purpose this way. For Yuuya it's a way of justifying himself and coping with his guilt. If it was all for something, then it's okay. He can cope with it if it was all in service of Sakuya. He can justify carrying on if it's for Sakuya. For Kaeya, it's because he was quite literally born to serve a purpose. He was told explicitly "You exist to serve this purpose" and even once he moves on from the purpose he was made for, he doesn't know any other way to live. Kaeya only knows how to exist in service of others, and not for himself. Also like Yuuya, Kaeya suffers under an immense sense of guilt, and copes similarly by giving his life in service of something. It's somewhere between "justification" and "repentance." Yuuya tells himself that it's okay for him to carry on living and to do bad things if it's to protect his brother. Kaeya tells himself that he has to keep on living to do enough good things for his brother to make up for what he's done wrong. Both of them have abysmally low self worth, and are coping with that through this devotion complex.

Kaeya specifically struggles with a lack of personal direction for himself. In the beginning, he was told that his purpose was to infiltrate Mondstadt as a sleeper agent, in service of Khaenri'ah. His purpose was to restore Khaenri'ah, and he was dutiful in fulfilling this. Hw worked hard to establish himself in Mondstadt. He was good, and he was loyal to his mission, for a while. But at some point, living with a loving family overwhelmed the initial loyalty that he had to his blood father who abandoned him, and to this home country he had never lived in. It clicked in his head that no matter what he did, he would be a betrayer. It was no longer simple to just be good, and be loyal, and obediently complete his mission, because to be loyal to his blood father would be to betray the father who loved and raised him. But to betray his mission to remain loyal to Mondstadt and to his new family would mean forsaking the purpose he was born for, and more importantly forsaking Khaenri'ah. The last words his blood father ever spoke to him were "You are our (Khaenri'ah's) last hope." So the guilt of that weighed heavily on him. Eventually though, he did decide that his loyalty lay with Mondstadt and the Ragnvindrs. Please note that this is considered contentious and unproven in the Genshin fandom, but there absolutely is proof of this, that I will touch on later. Kaeya is often framed as a sort of villainous figure, and this is both intentional and misleading, but a few too many people fell for this framing and believe Kaeya to be genuinely malicious rather than self depreciating. So to get back to my current point, which is Kaeya's lack of personal direction, we'll need to talk about Diluc for a moment.

In the comparison between Kaeya and Yuuya, a comparison must also be drawn between Diluc and Sakuya. Both of them were raised from a young age with the expectation that they would one day be leadership figures. They are both extremely headstrong and possess an incredibly impressive drive. When they set their minds to something, that something will be done, one way or another. They're smart, capable, and kind of a pair of assholes. Their view of the world was very heavily shaped by their fathers, who they respect above all others. Although I would never suggest that Crepus Ragnvindr, legendarily good father, is in any way comparable to Monsieur Le Bel. Diluc also has a bit of a penchant for xenophobia, but trust me, it is nowhere NEAR the degree of Sakuya's straight up racism. And crucially, they are the brothers that Kaeya and Yuuya have their dysfunctional relationships with, where both of their lives sort of orbit around this one person that they have placed on a pedestal. These are the people that they have devoted themselves to, and the way that Kaeya and Yuuya relate to their devotion is the core of their similarities, as it is also the core of their identities.

To the directionless Kaeya, Diluc's headstrong nature provided an invaluable sense of purpose. Diluc always knows exactly where he's going, and what he's doing. He's driven and opinionated, and this allowed Kaeya to slide easily into the roll of follower. When they were growing up together, Diluc would set his mind to something, and Kaeya would make it happen. Diluc would get them into trouble, and Kaeya would get them out of it. Kaeya essentially made himself into Diluc's sidekick, and that was what he was most comfortable being. He didn't need to forge his own identity, or decide on direction for himself. More than that, by backing up and supporting Diluc, he had a way to repay the family that took him in. Kaeya could sort of pay rent in the space he took up, by protecting Diluc. Beyond that, He loves his brother, and This is the way that Kaeya loves. However, Diluc's nature is also exactly what led him to turn on Kaeya. Decisive and justice driven, he views the world in very staunch black and white terms, and he doesn't hesitate to violently enforce this worldview. Diluc is an actual vigilante nowadays, but the seeds of that were always there. And when Kaeya did something that he saw as evil, he saw as a betrayal of their family and their home, he immediately brought down his personal justice upon him. It was a personal justice that Kaeya had previously supported, and encouraged. And it is a personal sense of justice that cost Kaeya his eye, and his home. After their father died, and Kaeya confessed to being a spy (more on this later) Diluc tried to kill him. And with that, Kaeya's sense of direction was completely gone in an instant. He could no longer follow Diluc, or substitute Diluc's direction for his own. This is the way that Diluc is what Kaeya has always oriented himself around, and how being deeply protective of Diluc was something of a coping mechanism for Kaeya. As we already know, Yuuya's path in life was also rather abruptly derailed by an act of violence between brothers. Then his life after that was shaped by dedicating himself to Sakuya. Very similarly, being deeply protective of Sakuya is a kind of coping mechanism for Yuuya, and Yuuya orients his entire life around Sakuya.

After Kaeya and Diluc's relationship fell apart, Kaeya couldn't stop caring for him. Although Diluc had completely severed all ties with Kaeya, and in every interaction they had since the falling out he would verbally abuse him, Kaeya continued as he always had. Orbiting Diluc, cleaning up his messes, and getting him out of trouble. All behind the scenes. The way that Diluc talks about Kaeya perfectly echoes the ways that Sakuya talks about Yuuya. It's the same sort of brutal character assassination for both of them. Yuuya spends his life working behind the scenes to protect Sakuya. To get him out of trouble. To make sure that he can keep living the good life that Yuuya paid so dearly for him to have. It's a dynamic where one brother outwardly hates and resents the other, openly insulting them, while living a life that is propped up on that brother's willing and loving sacrifice, made out of a mix of both genuine love and care and desire for him to be happy, and out of a sense of self loathing and pinning their entire personal worth on how happy their brother is.

That self loathing doesn't only manifest in actual sacrifice that benefits someone else, but also in an intentional sabotage of their own reputations. If anyone here remembers when we talked about Yuuya's reputation for being a playboy, and I brought up that I think he spread that rumor about himself, Kaeya behaves the same way. The same way that Yuuya will intentionally cast himself as the villain, and will outright tell people that he's an untrustworthy easy-come easy-go here today and gone tomorrow kind of fella. It's him pushing people away, and it's self sabotage, and it's a self destructive behavior born from his poor opinion of himself. People like Ryouta, who believe what they're told, have dirt low opinions of Yuuya. Kaeya is in the same situation. Kaeya intentionally makes himself look bad. He has this persona as a sort of villainous schemer, that you never know what he's really up to or whose side he's really on. In this case, Amber is his Ryouta. Amber is a nice girl. Amber is a girl next door type. Amber trusts people, and generally believes what they tell her. Amber will absolutely brutally shit-talk Kaeya like it's nothing. She repeatedly suggests that Kaeya is either just not doing his job, or else is out doing something actively malicious, in situations where we know that Kaeya was quietly working behind the scenes yet again. Amber doesn't say anything bad about anyone else, except for Kaeya, because everything she is passing along is accepted fact. Everyone knows that Kaeya is a no-good villain. Everyone will tell you not to trust him. Kaeya also very similarly to Yuuya will pose this image of himself as some kind of slutty playboy, but we never once actually see him flirt with anyone. It's all a mask that they wear. It's part of the persona they put up to both protect themselves and hurt themselves.

I think that a specific place that this reputation destroying behavior comes from is their self image of themselves both being that of a dirty traitor. Kaeya somehow managed to betray both Mondstadt and Khaenri'ah. Yuuya betrayed his unborn half brother. They have these deep feelings of guilt looming over them. It is precisely because both of them place such importance on the concept of loyalty that they feel like they are somehow disloyal. That they aren't loyal ENOUGH yet. And so they are traitors. Kaeya and Yuuya both have these moral codes with loyalty at the very tippy top, and see themselves and their own difficult situations as being morally reprehensible. While their sense of identity is pinned on their dedication to their brothers, this self loathing is also central to their sense of identity. Kaeya and Yuuya both think that they are dirty betrayers, and that that's the worst thing a person can be. You see this a lot on Yuuya in his self-sacrificial tendencies. Also in his outright refusal to defend himself when people insult him to his face. Kaeya does a lot of that too. He tends to just take insults and agree with them, and then complain about it in private later.

Yuuya and Kaeya are both compulsive liars. Whether it's a matter of destroying their own reputations with false rumors, or deflecting from their secrets, every word out of their mouths is a falsehood. They lie constantly. They put up personas, wear masks, deflect with humor, anything at all before being upfront with anyone. They're running from themselves, and they're running from connection with other people too. It's a necessity to protect these massive secrets that they are guarding with their lives. Yuuya's entire life has been shaped by safeguarding the secret of what happened to the egg, and Kaeya's entire life has been shaped by hiding the fact that he was an enemy spy. It's driven them apart from others. I think both of them have forgotten by now how to stop lying. It's been a necessity for them for so long, that they can no longer turn it off. And so we have Kaeya and Yuuya's compulsive lying.

I've always said that the key to understanding Yuuya is to invert everything he says about himself. If Yuuya says ANYTHING about himself, it's lies. So you know that the truth about Yuuya is anything but that. Kaeya is the exact same. You cannot trust a single word he says about himself. Kaeya is a compulsive liar, and he actively seeks to destroy your opinion of him self-destructively. The only way to understand Kaeya is to invert whatever he says about himself. One of the few trustworthy descriptions of Kaeya comes, somewhat ironically, from Diluc. When asked about Kaeya his response is "You can only trust half of what he says... at best." And that's about the only description of him that you can really take to heart.

So getting back around to where Kaeya's loyalties truly lie, and why I don't buy it for a second when people think that Kaeya is still on the fence about his loyalty to Mondstadt. First of all, we know that almost everything he says are lies. So every time he tells us to our face that he is dangerous and untrustworthy, is a lie. But the real thing that seals the deal for me is that if Kaeya had ANY intention to remain a spy for Khaenri'ah, then telling ANYONE about that would be throwing his mission. ESPECIALLY Diluc of all people. So if he was still seriously on the fence, then why did he confess? What reason could Kaeya have possibly had to tell Diluc that he was a spy, if not that he was defecting. And it was Diluc's hair-trigger temper and extreme black and white worldview, paired with the fact that his father had died in his arms mere hours ago that led him to be so reactive and interpret Kaeya telling him that he had been a spy as meaning that he was still a spy. That's the sort of mistake that only a person like Diluc would make. If someone confesses to you that they are a spy, why would you EVER think that that means that they still have intentions to betray you? In that moment Kaeya showed his whole hand. He had all the cards on the table with Diluc. That's a show of loyalty. Then the fact that he has continued to look after him and protect him even after Diluc took his eye in retribution (and disinherited him. And made him homeless at 17. And generally destroyed his life. What Diluc did to him was really fucked up, actually.) While Yuuya might be kind of a crummy spy who makes it really obvious that he's a spy, that isn't something that he shares with Kaeya. Kaeya is a brilliant strategist, and he was able to keep the fact that he's a spy under wraps for a good eight or so years before he confessed. If Kaeya didn't want anyone to know, then no one would know. Kaeya is actually really good at keeping secrets. That's part of his undoing actually. Kaeya is so good at keeping secrets that he keeps them from the audience too, and so a lot of people fail to see what's really going on inside of his head. If Kaeya doesn't want you to know something, you won't know it. So then why did he tell Diluc that he was a spy? If Kaeya had ANY intention of completing his mission, why did he make sure that Mondstadt's greatest protector knew about it? It's simple. He wouldn't. No matter how you slice it, him coming clean to Diluc means that he never intended to complete his mission. Even if afterwards he grappled with his decision more because now loyalty to Mondstadt felt sort of pointless since he no longer had the people in his life who made him care about Mondstadt in the first place, he was never going to complete the mission. Kaeya's decision was made from the moment he confessed to Diluc. And it's a decision he has been backing up ever since then. From returning Diluc's vision to him after he gave it up, to exacting vengeance on the man responsible for Crepus's death, to painstakingly sabotaging every attempt to uncover the identity of the masked vigilante ensuring that he will be able to continue protecting Mondstadt, to how much of a home he has made for himself in Mondstadt. Kaeya has sent a very clear message of where his loyalties lie. And I know that I am contradicting myself here somewhat by citing something that Kaeya directly said, but six years after the falling out with Diluc when far away from Mondstadt, Kaeya ALSO confesses to the player about being a spy, and he says that while he used to be very torn up about this, but has long since moved on and accepted that Mondstadt is his home. Again, Kaeya is showing his hand in a way that he definitely doesn't need to, to a powerful person who would intervene if he were ever to turn on Mondstadt. If Kaeya was actually planning to betray Mondstadt, Diluc and the player character would be two of the worst possible people to know what he was up to. But those are the two people he chose to confess to. I just can't believe that Kaeya would do something that stupid.

Another thing that, to me, speaks to Kaeya's loyalty to Mondstadt, and specifically to the Ragnvindr family, is the way that he has kept Crepus's legacy alive. Diluc is deeply and personally haunted by his father's death. But I find that in an odd way, Kaeya is doing a better job of doing what Crepus would have wanted. After Crepus died, Diluc ran away from Mondstadt and went on an extended trip hunting down and killing Fatui agents to avenge his father's death. Crepus had always wanted his sons to join Mondstadt's Knights of Favonius, and they did. But when the knights covered up Crepus's murder to save face, Diluc quit on the spot to dedicate himself to vengeance full time. Kaeya stayed behind, remaining a knight, and personally rooted out the corruption that caused that to happen. He got rid of the knights who were personally responsible for the cover-up. Crepus was a big supporter of the knights. When they proved themselves unworthy of that respect, Diluc turned on them. Kaeya stayed and made the Knights of Favonius into what Crepus had believed them to be. Crepus loved both of his sons, and would have wanted them to take care of each other after his passing. Kaeya has continued to dutifully look after Diluc all this time. Diluc permanently disfigured Kaeya and kicked him out of the house. Crepus was the kind of person who had his doors open to everyone, and you can see that clearly in the fact that he adopted Kaeya with no questions asked. Kaeya has carried this legacy on by being really personally involved in taking care of the children of Mondstadt. From adopting Klee (She is technically a ward of the Knights, but Kaeya has been shown to be her primary caregiver, and has also been referred to as her guardian on two separate occasions) to potentially having taught Benny sword fighting (Benny shares Kaeya's attack patterns, and the sword he carries in his official art was formerly Kaeya's). There's also little things like Kaeya sharing Crepus's passion for wine, while Diluc dutifully carries on the family wine business but hates the taste of wine himself. Diluc looks like Crepus. Diluc killed the people responsible for his death. Diluc carried on the family business. But Kaeya is the person who really carried on Crepus's spirit. He did the things that Crepus would have done if he had been here. That doesn't sound like the actions of a traitor to me. And to be honest, the way that some people believe that Kaeya is still a spy for Khaenri'ah makes me angry at how badly they have misinterpreted him, and have fallen for the negative talk that you hear about him. Kaeya is a liar, not a traitor, and spending just one minute listening to his actions rather than his words will tell you that.

Kaeya and Yuuya's arcs both pretty heavily feature the loss of fathers, but their relationships to those fathers is very different between the two of them. Kaeya's birth father used him, and abandoned him. Yuuya's birth father seemed to be a good man, and Yuuya loved him. The nobleman who adopted Kaeya after he lost his birth father loved and cared for him, and set him on the path to become the man he is today. The nobleman in Yuuya's life…… well, the less said about him, the better. But in both cases, they have the death of a good father looming over their heads, and somewhere out there still living is a father that they resent to the death. And in both cases, it's difficult to tell just how much influence their dead fathers have over their identity today, but that influence is clearly there, to whatever degree. Another one of these parallels that exists but sort of only in name, is their spy careers. Kaeya was a sleeper agent, and his arc is about his split loyalties and defecting to the group that he was originally sent to spy on. Yuuya turned to being a spy as a way of escaping from his situation. Both of them lose themselves to the role a bit, and use it as yet another crutch to get around forming a solid identity. But their spy careers are pretty different. Kaeya was very very good at being a spy, until he decided to stop. Yuuya kind of sucks at it a little, but he's definitely no turncoat. So it's a little hard to say who is the worse spy between them.

I feel like I have a lot more to say, but also like I'm starting to run out of the energy to properly expound upon my points, so we're going to do a lightning round of comparisons to rush through all the points that I felt are important, but I'm struggling to really organize my thoughts about. Yuuya's arc feels like it should be described as a redemption arc, not because Yuuya actually did anything he needs to be redeemed for, but because Yuuya himself is seeking forgiveness and redemption for his guilt complex. But it's really ambiguous who exactly it is that he is seeking forgiveness from, if it's Sakuya, the universe itself, or his own forgiveness. I talked about this in my big Sakuya essay. Kaeya's story is also a redemption arc, but not for crimes he has actually committed. It's hard to say WHAT exactly it is that Kaeya is so overwhelmed with guilt for, other than like, once upon a time having had bad intentions towards people who he learned didn't deserve it. And it's even harder to say who he is trying to seek forgiveness from, because it's distinctly not Diluc. Kaeya very much feels that Diluc owes HIM an apology, and not the other way around. Which, to be fair, he's definitely correct about. Again, reminder that Diluc disinherited him, kicked him out of the house leaving him homeless at 17, disfigured his face, attempted to kill him, and made him into a social pariah. It might be that he feels like he feels like he took advantage of Crepus's kindness, and feels a need to repay him for that. To be totally honest, I don't think even Kaeya knows who it is that he wants this forgiveness from. He just knows that he feels crushed by guilt. He hides all of his good deeds as best he can, and seems to feel that being widely hated by his peers is a kind of repentance. Very Catholic of him tbh.

That also leads me to my next point about their reputations, both Kaeya and Yuuya deeply long for social connections but push everyone away as hard as they can. Then through the persona they play in public, they take on this big gregarious hyper-extroverted character, and they are ridiculous, and make a clown of themselves for attention, and use flirtation as a sort of social crutch. They flirt, but it's empty. They are big and loud and colourful, yet somehow sort of detached. There is so much distance between who they are and the character they play that no amount of social interaction they might get through that mask ever actually reaches them. There's this deep and aching loneliness to them. They're so far away through these layers of walls and deception and personas that no matter how bright and warm they might act, it's cold inside. None of that warmth ever reaches into their genuine core, which is freezing and so so desperate for genuine connection to another person. Also they both play characters that are way more outgoing and extroverted than they actually are. Yuuya might actually be an extrovert, just less OVERWHELMING extroverted than the character he plays, but Kaeya is definitely not. The real Kaeya is 100% an introvert, and the loud, silly, playboy persona is a complete fabrication. The moment the spotlight is off of him, he's quiet. He likes to sit back and let other people do the talking. Kaeya never knew how to talk to people. When he was younger he was content to let Diluc do 100% of the talking to other people, and would just follow his lead. It kind of feels like the persona he plays now is meant to cover for that. Kaeya doesn't know how to talk to people, so he pretends to be someone who does. He fakes being someone who is confident and extroverted and vibrant, to cover up for the fact that he's kind of out of his depth having to deal with people on his own, and not having a home base person to go back to anymore. Kaeya knows how to manipulate people. He knows how to fill a stage, how to keep an audience. He knows how to make you think what he wants, or do what he wants. To call him "socially incompetent" wouldn't exactly be accurate. But Kaeya has no idea how to connect with others, or even how to interact on like a basic level, when he isn't playing some game, or trying to get something from them. Kaeya's social skills are invested 100% into deception and manipulation. And now he can't hold a basic conversation without being in character as this or that. Kaeya has forgotten how to just be Kaeya. It's just this weird mix of introversion and loneliness that leads him to pretend to be the most extroverted person in any room that he enters, and it reminds me so much of Yuuya. They use the exact same crutches to fill this gulf of loneliness caused by their compulsive lying and secret keeping. Yuuya plays the role of a suave James Bond type spy, and Kaeya that of a swaggering swashbuckling pirate.

Another common theme between the two of them is the question of whether or not self sacrifice is, in a way, a selfish act. You're forcing this burden of debt onto someone without asking them. Sakuya has no say in owing Yuuya a life debt. I talked about this before, the resentment that Sakuya feels in regards to owing Yuuya as much as he does, and how Sakuya was sort of robbed of his agency and his ability to forgive Yuuya on his own terms (or to NOT forgive him) because now he owes him to much and if he doesn't let him back into his life, he would be a huge asshole. Diluc is constantly trying to escape from Kaeya's support to stand on his own, but every single time he falters, he finds himself being caught by him again and again, and he seems to kind of resent that. In both cases, they are being so self sacrificial partially for selfish reasons. It's to satisfy their own need for martyrdom, to quell their self-loathing. But the objects of their devotion didn't really consent to this, and they are both the proud kind of person who hates owing anyone. And now this debt has been forced on them. Yuuya and Kaeya are simultaneously selfless and selfish. They don't care about whether or not their brothers actually want their help or their sacrifices. They will do it regardless. They also have completely outsourced their identities and sense of validation to their brothers, who never agreed to being the crux of their entire self image.

Another comparison point is the topic of race, and how the people around them tend to brand them as some form of "dirty" because of their parentage, and they sort of implicitly accept this because they view themselves as dirty as well. There's this theme of filth, both moral and physical. Yuuya is constantly harassed by Sakuya for being a "mongrel" for being a commoner, for being some form of bird mixed race. Because Sakuya is racist. Khaenri'ah is literally a cursed bloodline, and the fact that Kaeya is only half Khaenri'ahn is actually somewhat plot relevant. Kaeya is mixed race and as a result is literally cursed by his filthy blood. And Diluc has some xenophobic tendencies, and ALSO makes some bigoted comments about Kaeya. Both of them let this behavior go completely unchecked, because 1. They never defend themselves from slander, and 2. They seem to have internalized this stuff to some degree, specifically because it jives really well with their self loathing tendencies. They WANT reasons to hate themselves. So there's a confirmation bias at play here that's making them be just the tiniest bit racist, but only towards themselves.

The last comparison point I wanted to touch on is actually a notable contrast between the two of them. Yuuya seems to have ended up as a bit of a pacifist since the egg incident. He always runs rather than fights back. Kaeya is very much not like that. Yuuya has this terrible gentleness to him, but Kaeya has this almost sadistic streak. But it is also through Kaeya's much more aggressive stance that some more of his true loyalties shine through. Like the fact of just how truly fucking vindictive he is towards people who have been a threat to Mondstadt or to his family. He fucking destroyed the knight that covered up Mr. Ragnvindr's murder. When he found another child sent into the walls of Mondstadt to destroy it, just the same as he was, he almost MURDERED A LITTLE GIRL WITHOUT HESITATION. The only reason he did not kill a child to protect Mondstadt was because someone intervened. And while that's definitely something dark about him, it's also really telling. It's telling of his true loyalties, and telling of how deeply protective he is. And it also makes his nonviolence against Diluc speak that much louder. In contrast, Yuuya's gentleness is sweet and endearing, but is also so fucking stupid. Yuuya is bringing Vash The Stampede ethics without bringing Vash skills. And of course, every single Hatoful Boyfriend character is morally wrong for not having murdered Shuu with their own hands by now. Every single one of them (except for Nageki) bears that sin, but Yuuya especially. So like, on this one specific trait I feel like Yuuya is good (derogatory) and Kaeya is bad (affectionate) and it's another way that I can't help but see them as mirror images of each other.

In conclusion, Kaeya Alberich is for the Hatoful girlies.

#hatoful boyfriend spoilers #genshin impact #kaeya alberich #yuuya sakazaki #wheeew been a while since I last did one of these #I've been thinking about this for literally years now #Finally organized it enough in my head to put into words that at least kind of make sense - ish #Significantly more fleshed out version of that word bomb I dropped on Ash the other day #LOOK EVERYONE NEEDS TO KNOW ABOUT MY SPECIAL LITTLE GUY OKAY?#HE'S MISUNDERSTOOD AND IT DRIVES ME UP A WALL #but I know that you guys will understand #You will understand his Yuuya-coded goodness #I NEED him to be everybody's Blorbo-In-Law

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rinniessance · 5 months

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BETWEEN A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE ༊*·˚ - leon kennedy x fem!reader x satoru gojo

leon kennedy has been announced mia after 24 hours of no contact. high brass doesn't care that you only came back from a mission a day prior, injured no less. when you're dispatched to spain, the last thing you expect is to get a special kind of rescue mission.

this is my entry for @rinhaler's gaming collab - MASTERLIST 🎮

꒰ warnings: nsfw - mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ resident evil au. kind of following the plot of resident evil 4. aphrodysiac sex, unprotected sex, pet names (it's my staple <3), oral sex (f receiving), slight dacraphyllia, squirting, two dicks in one hole, cream pie. forgive me if i forgot any tags ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ // word count: 5.8k ꒱ ꒰ notes: we love pure self-indulgence in this house .ᐟ.ᐟ tagging @mymegumi and @lilacliliess because they support my delusions about fucking two blue eyed men:3 ꒱

it’s been uneasy 24 hours in the D.O.S headquarters – ever since leon kennedy stopped responding to any attempts at communication, he’s been announced MIA this morning. given the sensitive mission of retrieving president’s daughter, the urgency to dispatch someone for another rescue is being pushed by the high brass, sending everyone on a search to find an agent capable enough of handling the job. as it turns out, out of dozens of people working in this forsaken organization, you’re the only one qualified.

“are you shitting me, hunnigan? i just came back from the mission last night. did you not see the stabbing wound?” for dramatic effect, you raise your t-shirt, showing freshly bandaged area where the deep cut resides. coming into the work this morning, the most stressful part of your day was expected to be the tons of paperwork you would’ve had to go through – yet as soon as you stepped into your office, you were greeted by leon’s handler, bearing the news from your superiors.

“sorry, you know it’s not up to me. whatever the president says goes.”

“are there literally no one else in this entire building who can be ordered to go instead?”

slumping over your desk, you put your head on top of your folded arms – it takes everything in you not to scream. your own mission was already problematic enough: bioweapon developers have become exceptional in making new B.O.Ws deadlier and deadlier, and knowing leon’s resume, there is a very high chance he was sent to deal with the worst of it.

“you’re one of the few partners kennedy has had while working for D.O.S. you know how he operates; it makes sense they are sending you.”

you know there is no point in arguing – if it’s been decided by the president, you have no choice but to go. it doesn’t mean, however, you can’t be irritated by the whole situation.

“do i at least get paid overtime?” you sign with exasperation, sulking deeper into your chair, hearing hunnigan let out a breathy chuckle.

“maybe if you bring golden boy’s ass back in one piece.”

“great. can i at least go home and make sure i didn’t leave the kettle on or something.”

“you’re not getting out of it, agent,” she says with a smile, and you can only groan. leon will be paying for all your meals for the next 6 months. “the helicopter is already waiting, actually, so you better gear your ass up and head to the helipad.”

“more amazing news.”

hunnigan only pats you on the shoulder – nothing she can say will make this situation suck any less – and leaves the room, letting you wallow in your misery.

“can you just fucking die already?” you yell in pure annoyance, trying to shoot the same person for the third time (you aren’t sure you can call these things human anymore). when the creature finally goes down, hopefully once and for all this time, the view in front of you is grotesque: hideous tentacle sprang out of the poor man’s head when you shot him between the eyes; it keeps moving, taunting you to waste more of your ammo. still holding onto your gun, you cautiously approach the body, slightly poking it with your boot – it doesn’t stir anymore. a sigh of relief escapes your lungs.

“just what the fuck is going on here,” you quietly mumble to yourself, looting any useful items nearby.

you arrived in spain this morning. surprisingly, leon made it easy enough to retrace his steps – he stopped by the local law enforcement which in turned let you know two of their men also went missing after they escorted kennedy to the area of interest. no one volunteered to come with you once you acquired the location of the small village somewhere north of here – apparently people have been going missing in the mountains for a while now – which was fine by you. everything you needed was the car you could use, and you were on your merry way.

in your 5 year long career as a government agent, the kind working in anti-bioweapon divisions, you’ve seen a multitude of… monsters, for lack of a better word. nothing could’ve prepared you for what you’ve witnessed when you arrived at your destination though: villagers turned into something sinister, creatures with no will of their own. you noticed it right away: their bulging veins pulsing with black viscous liquid, eyes shadowed with madness. what a surprise it was that when you finally started shooting them (hey, they started it), mandible-like limbs, shape closer to tentacles, with eyes growing out of them, erupted from their dead bodies, as if a swarm of crazy cultists wasn’t already enough.

you quickly glance at the still convulsing body on the ground, parasitic tendrils clinging onto their last living seconds; just looking at it makes you want to vomit. the smell of puss, heavy in the air, doesn’t help your desire to empty the insides of your stomach. you do not know what causes them to mutate, and you make a note to avoid any unknown substances – you also log a mental check not to get bitten by one of them (just in case).

after escaping a village, getting access to this stupid castle trying to find stupid stupid leon kennedy (you’re sure that what s. in leon s. kennedy stands for), you overheard some of the cultists talking about two prisoners on the basement level. leon and ashley? the goal now is to figure out how to get to the basement (and why does it always have to be the basement).

with careful precision, you finish analyzing the room you found yourself in – it’s a storage space of some kind, and nothing about it is particularly helpful to you. letting out a deep sigh, you sit down to re-collect your thoughts. wandering around this castle with no purpose will only stall you further – and time is something you do not have luxury of wasting.

just as you were about to get up from the chair, you knee bumps into something underneath the table. bingo. you quickly try to search for a keyhole or a puzzle piece to fit in to open the hidden compartment. but the gods are smiling down on you today – it only takes a simple click of a lock for the secret drawer to unlatch. before opening it, you stand to the side (the gunshot wound would mean deaths of all parties you’re trying to get out of here), and slowly push it forward with the knife.

“no way.”

the gods are smiling down on you– inside the drawer you don’t find a loaded shotgun, a poisonous smoke or anything else aimed at taking you out. instead, you find yourself looking at the map. something akin to relief makes your hands tremble as you unfold the treasured piece of paper, looking at the building blueprints, as fresh as if this was drawn yesterday.

tracing the way down to the basement level, you try to decide the easiest and shortest way. some of the rooms might require a key, deducting it’d be smarter to stick to the main rooms which are less likely to be locked. shoving the map back into your side bag, you reload the gun and slowly leave the room, looking for any signs of being followed. making sure the coast is clear, you start your way down.

leon, you better be still fucking alive.

leon wakes up from another torturous nap. he doesn’t know how long it’s been: could be 2 days, could be a week. to keep his sanity, he keeps trying to count the meals they bring them, figuring out the passage of time. why is salazar even feeding them? they’d worth more to him dead.

“good morning, sunshine.”

leon groans as soon as he hears the voice coming from his side. he doesn’t need to turn his head to know that satoru gojo is, despite the circumstances they found themselves in, still smiling.

“god, do you ever stop talking? they should starve you,” leon sighs heavily, and leans against the wall. his arms hurt – they have been cuffed to the ceiling this whole time, and the constant chatting from his unwanted companion makes this situation ten times worse.

“oh, common, don’t you have faith in your government? or you’re not important enough to rescue?”

“i might not be but the girl definitely is.”

it seems to shut satoru up, even if for a moment. his comments did make leon wonder if the headquarters organized the search party yet – more time they spent here means more time for the cult leaders to complete whatever it is they want with ashley. him and satoru have been infected with las plagas parasite too, their time is running short.

sighing deeply, gojo also slumps against the wall. both men can feel… whatever they were infected with moving inside their bodies, crawling their way into their brains. satoru is not sure what makes him and leon so special, but no signs of any infection have been visible yet. he wonders if it is a waiting game now: waiting for the moment they start losing their minds. what a sight that would be.

just as he was going to make another comment about their current predicament, both agents hear gunshots coming from the hallway, just outside the prison cells. blood curling screaming follows, rippling through the air, the unknown person emptying their clip into the guards until the room is engulfed in the oppressive silence.

to leon’s great surprise, and a great relief he must admit, it’s not a crazed guard running through the doors this time around – instead, two locked-up agents are met by your face. you hold your gun out, hand outstretched in front of you, ready to shoot the last remnants of the infected. it’s only when your gaze meets leon’s and you don’t identify any immediate danger, the gun is lowered, and you are rushing towards the cell.

“holy shit, it’s nice to see a familiar face,” leon cannot help but smile at the sight of you standing outside the cell bars, trying to break the lock.

“you won’t believe but the feeling is mutual. one too many mutated cultists, and even i started missing your ugly mug,” you throw back, returning his smile. your eyes move to gojo. “who’s that?”

“his partner.”

“no one.”

two men say that in unison, exchanging a heated glance afterwards.

“okaaaay,” you drawl out, “i don’t really care, you can bicker later. what we need to do it we need to get the fuck outta here like right now.”

you rush to uncuff the men with the keys you stole form the guards you shot earlier, and wait until they are able to push themselves on their feet.

“i am satoru gojo,” mysterious blond introduces himself properly, and extends his arm. you shake his hand and mumble your name back. you don’t know why but he makes you nervous.

“okay, all formalities for later. both of us are infected with that new plaga parasite, we need to extract it immediately,” leon interrupts the intense staring contest you entered with satoru, making you snap your attention back to him.

“well, then you’re in luck. i passed something that looked like a laboratory on the way here. it’s not too far either, only one floor up.”

“okay, great, no time to waste.”

kennedy steps out the room first, you and gojo following close behind. you’re on full alert – it doesn’t matter that you just took half of the castle down, somehow, new infected keep popping out like bunnies out of woodwork. it doesn’t take long the three of you to reach the desired destination, lab laying just behind the door straight off the stairs.

you cautiously look inside – no one seems to be here. after entering the room, you stand on guard while satoru and leon are looking for anything that might look like the cure. it seems that gods are smiling once again on you today because leon is able to find the last two vials of the vaccine sample. you have never seen him grinning so widely – it would’ve been almost heartwarming if not for the grim circumstances all of you ended up in.

before they can inject themselves with the medicine, the door swings opened and you’re thrown into the shelf, located on the opposite side of the entrance. multiple bottles with unknown substances fall on top of you, one of them breaking and infusing the air with a white powder. before you realize what happened, you inhale the mysterious concoction, immediately bursting into a coughing fit.

“fuck, are you okay?” leon yells your name somewhere from the side, and you try to wave him off. gojo is distracting whoever rammed through the doors, shooting the gun you presented him back in the prison cell. it takes exactly three more headshots for the mutated cultist to drop dead, and you’re pushing yourself off the ground and back on your feet. satoru is eyeing you suspiciously – you’re too busy brushing off your clothes and getting your breathing in order to notice.

“common, jab yourselves with the vaccine and let’s go, we have no time to lose,” you say with coarse voice. leon is also looking at you with worry but decides not to mention anything. both men inject themselves with the medicine, hoping and praying it’ll work, before rushing out of the doors and back on track to find ashley.

running through the corridors of the castle, you can feel yourself getting weaker – there is a sheer layer of sweat covering your spine, goosebumps are dancing on your skin, and a very familiar heat is pooling between your legs. your head feels heavy, you’re barely able to string two coherent thoughts together so you resort to slowly trailing after two men who haven’t stopped arguing about the next course of action.

“i don’t care what you came here for, satoru. i have my rescue mission that still needs to be completed,” leon sighs heavily as he pushes through the heavy doors into the next room.

“sure,” the other blond man quickly agrees, “but don’t you think you government would say ‘thank you’ if you helped securing the source of this outbreak?” gojo questions as he follows leon through the doors. you want to weigh your opinion in but before you can open your mouth, as you cross the threshold of the room, you trip on your own feets and send yourself flying towards the floor. the loud bang makes both men turn their attention back to you.

“god, are you okay?” leon’s by your side in mere seconds, supporting you by the elbow so you can get up. the waves of his body heat wash over you, and you want nothing more but to curl into his body and kiss the spot underneath his jaw. has he always been so handsome? you’re so concentrated looking at leon, you don’t notice satoru standing near you now. he touches your forehead, and it takes all of your willpower not to moan. fuck, his cold hands feel so nice on your feverish skin.

“shit, she’s burning up.”

“you think it’s because of whatever substance she inhaled back in the lab?”

“i don’t know, everything’s possible.”

two agents move you to sit on the table in the corner of the room – they can clearly see how foggy your eyes are, a layer of milky mist dancing across your vision – and leon’s fingers find your pulse point. this time, you are not fast enough to stifle the low whine that escapes your lips. at any other time, you’d be dying of embarrassment but now your body is begging for release, and you’re ready to do anything to get it. anything to soothe the ache building up in your throbbing clit.

“’m so hot…” you mumble as you start taking off tactical t-shirt, baring your sports bra to the two men in the room. “and it really hurts.”

satoru and leon look at each other before they look at you – kennedy will have to work with you in the future so he’s really trying not to look at your perky nipple, shape visible through the fabric, unlike gojo, who’s taking in your current condition with almost sick satisfaction.

“where does it hurt?” satoru asks before leon is able to butt in. as if wanting to confirm his suspicion, you take his hand and guide it to your sex, cupping it.

“here.”

leon is not even able to react before gojo is lunging forward and capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, making your head bang slightly against the wall. you let yourself moan into his mouth, satoru greedily claiming all the sounds to himself. it’s not nearly enough to pacify your accelerated heartbeat, but it’s still making you shudder. you’re spreading your legs to accommodate gojo’s tall frame – but before he is able to move any closer, he is thrown back by leon; loss of his warmth makes you whine.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” kennedy hisses through his teeth, moving away from you and towards gojo.

“what does it look like? don’t pretend like you don’t know this is exactly what she needs right now,” satoru spits back. you think they continue arguing but their voices are being drowned out by the ringing in your ears. heat spreading through you sets everything on fire, and your pants join your t-shirt somewhere on the floor in your desperate attempt to relieve yourself of this scorching feeling. your partner notices it and sharply turns to face you.

“what the hell are you doi-” before leon can finish his sentence, you wrap you legs around him and press your body into his.

“leon, please…” you sob, hot tears pooling in the corners of your eyes, beads of salty water wetting your eyelashes and blurring your vision. hearing your pathetic plea, voice thick with lust and desire, looking at your tears-stained face, mouth slightly agape, and watching your lips, red and messy from satoru’s kiss, glistening in the moonlight – everything about you now screams ruin me and leon is not a strong enough man to resist it.

“what are you asking me to do, sweetheart?” he whispers against your lips in a teasing tone. his switch is almost jarring but you don’t have the brain capacity to mull over his sudden mood change. he moves his hand between your legs now, touching your pussy through your panties. leon’s fleeting touch is sending shivers down your spine, and you culr yourself into him more, whining and panting against his mouth. “jesus, she’s so fucking wet already.”

“i told you, didn’t i? she needs someone to stuff her full of cum,” satoru’s dirty talk comes somewhere from the side. too distracted by leon’s deep blue eyes, gojo’s touch makes you tremble in surprise and turn your head towards him. looking at his face, you’re met by baby blues – it felt like being thrown from the ocean into the endless skies. you think men with blue eyes will be the death of you.

gojo leans down to capture your lips again, re-exploring the sacred geometry of your kiss, while leon is planting wet kisses along your jawline. you mewl in euphoric pleasure, their touches soothing to your burning skin, and you’re completely giving yourself away to the bliss rolling over you in waves. leon’s digits are teasing your clit through the fabric of your panties, and your hips instinctively buck into his hand, making him chuckle into your neck.

“she’s dripping, gojo. i bet she can take both of us unprepped,” leon says to the other agent, still busy with sucking on your lips, invading your mouth with his tongue. at his words, you shiver under men’s bodies, tingling sensation rushing through you.

“i want you in my lap, pretty girl,” satoru whispers against your lips, and you jump off into leon’s arms so the other man can sit on the table first. you move to climb on top of gojo, legs on either side of his thighs, ready to ride him, but your partner’s strong arm stops you from turning around.

“nah-ah, let him hold you spread open for me, i want to taste you first,” leon breathes against your ear, teasing the sensitive spot, making you quiver in his hold. you turn yourself towards gojo and see him grinning as he beckons you with two fingers to come closer. when you end up in his arms, he spins you around, his chest to your back, and makes you sit between his legs on the table, opening you up.

satoru’s masterful fingers unclasp your bra with ease while leon makes a quick work of your panties, shoving them into his pocket, unbeknownst to you. who knows how your relationship will work out after this – he needs something to remember this moment by. you are now sprawled completely naked for the two men’s hungry gazes: your cheeks are flushed, mouth shaped into a perfect “o”, short breaths escaping your lungs – you are truly a sight to behold. gojo wastes no time in cupping your breasts with his hands, trailing his lips on the side of your neck, sucking in hickeys as part of his claim.

kennedy gets on his knees in front of you, looking up into your eyes. gojo’s fingers are playing with your hardened nipple, making your hips buck upwards – right into leon’s mouth. his first languid swipe of the tongue comes just as satoru pinches your sensitive nubs, and you cannot help the pornographic moan escaping your lips.

“jesus, doll, who knew you’d sound so pretty,” it’s gojo’s voice against the shell of your ear, making you shudder. one of his hands keeps massaging your boob, twisting the nipple between his digits, while his other hand goes all the way down and spreads your folds for leon’s easy access. he hums in appreciation, and starts flicking his tongue up and down, drawing tight circles on your clit, sucking on it when he feels your legs tighten around his head.

agent’s movements make you squirm in satoru’s hold, dropping your head against his shoulder as leon continues eating you out. you’re absolutely incoherent now – your fever never dropped so your muscles are aching, toes curling in anticipation of the long awaited release, as you continue moaning through quick breaths.

“finger her.”

leon follows gojo’s command immediately, shoving his middle digit inside, while still lapping at your pussy. your walls clench against him almost instinctively, intrusion sudden but not unwelcome – he groans feeling the embracing heat of your cunt.

“fuck, she’s so fucking tight.”

gojo keeps your legs spread, you trying to close them around leon’s head as he keeps up his assault with his tongue. he’s nibbling on your clit, putting extra pressure with the tip of his tongue, licking it back and forth in quick succession, before flatting it to lick between your sticky folds, all the way down to the drooling hole. leon adds a second finger now, setting up a merciless pace – he is curling his digits in a heavenly way, able to hit the soft, spongy spot inside that makes you see stars and your pussy throb; you gasp loudly.

“i wish we had a phone to record this. you look so divine.”

you clench at gojo’s words, making leon groan. he’s now playing with your tits, rolling your nipple, tugging at them to add the painful sensation to the lit-up nerves. your desperate moans are bouncing among the walls, and gojo decides he wants to hear the squelching sounds of your pussy around leon’s fingers and his tongue’s wet sounds as he sloppily eats you out so he shuts you up with a kiss.

you feel your tummy begins tensing up as two men continue their ministrations: it’s satoru’s hot mouth on yours and his hands squeezing your tits, fingers playing with erect nipples; it’s leon’s tongue lapping at your pussy, precise circles on your clit and his digits scissoring you at a perfect speed, hitting the nerve bundle that rushes to send you over the end. your legs start shaking and you grab onto satoru’s arm around you to ground yourself.

“nnggh-…” you whimper into gojo’s mouth, and he finally lets you catch a breath. “’m so close,” you sob again, “’m gonna cum.”

“yeah, you want to cream all over agent kennedy’s face?” satoru taunts you from behind. “that’s so unprofessional,” he makes a tsk sound with his mouth and squeezes your cheeks to look at him.

“we’re feeling generous today, i think,” he quickly throws a glance down at leon, who only smirks as his tongue keeps licking and sucking at your clit. satoru looks you straight in the eyes as he slowly drawls his next words, “you may cum.”

the orgasm washed over you in glorious waves, rattling your entire existence. you’re scrunching your eyebrows, mouth agape with a sinful moan, as your thighs clasp around leon’s head. you’re quivering in gojo’s hold, his hands forcing your hips down, pressing them more against kennedy’s face. the latter doesn’t stop his onslaught, lips suctioning around the throbbing pearl, fingers still curled at earth-shattering angle. you try to move away but neither man lets you.

“uh-uh, where are you trying to run away? let him drink everything.”

and everything does leon kennedy drink – agent is lapping at your juices like a kitten at a fresh bowl of milk, now substituting his digits with his tongue as he keeps fucking in and out of your needy cunt. ministrations don’t stop, not even when your moans turn into little sobs as your body starts feeling overstimulated. your puffy clit is now ruined from satoru’s finger pads playing with it.

both men can feel your form shaking almost violently, gojo’s gathering your falling tears with his tongue. leon’s finally pulling his face away from your sex, standing up to look at your ruined state.

“god, i only ate her out and she already looks fucked out,” he chuckles to the other blond man, and moves to stand between your legs.

“let me taste her,” before you can react, gojo’s grabbing leon by the back of his head and capturing his lips in a heated kiss. trapped between a rock and a hard place, you can do nothing but observe the most passionate display of carnage you’ve ever witnessed – they were slobbering over each other’s faces, and it made your pussy clench around nothing. god, you can’t wait to fuck them both.

“she’s sweet, just how i like them,” satoru smirks against leon’s lips, turning his attention back to you immediately. “common, princess, you’re going to have to ride me if you want both of us.”

you’re quickly climbing on the table, straddling him. kennedy situates himself right behind you, warmth radiating off him like in suffocating waves. you’re trying to unbuckle satoru’s jeans to free his heavy cock, still trapped in confines of his boxer briefs, but leon smacks your ass, sending you forward into gojo’s embrace. it stings, the outline of his hand already forming a bruise, and you’d be mad if you pussy lips didn’t flutter at the slap.

“you’re taking too long, sweetheart,” you hear satoru, both men undoing their belts and zippers before you can, pulling out their leaking cocks. from your position you could only see satoru’s hard dick as he stroked himself near your aching hole, but what you’ve seen was enough to make you almost scared – gojo’s dick was long and blessed with a perfect curve, just upwards, one thick vein running prominently from the bottom of his shaft ending just before his mushroom head. you’re sure leon’s looked just as pretty.

“you haven’t said a word. you wanna ask nicely for what you want?” you hear leon behind you as he’s pushing you forward again, right into satoru’s chest, and teasing your waiting cunt with his thick tip – the mixture of his spit, your slick and his precum is dripping down satoru’s cock from where he’s positioned just underneath you, and the messiness of it all makes leon groan.

“please, i want your cocks inside me… please,” you sob out again, vocal cords heavy with tears.

“i think this will be our reward for saving us, how about that, huh?” there is a teasing tilt in satoru’s voice, and you grab at his shoulders, mewling like a needy animal in heat.

“yes, yes, anything,” you’re blabbering with teary voice, making men hard at the mere image of you: a capable agent reduced to a cock-drunk slut, an image that makes their cocks twitch.

leon grabs gojo’s member, giving it a couple strokes, surprising the white-haired man but hearing no complaints. his thumb is playing with the drooling slit of his tip, beads of pre-cum decorating the entrance to his flushed dick, and kennedy can’t help but smirk at how blissed out satoru looks. he’s guiding his heavy and red cock inside you, while his other hand rests on your waist. gojo’s forcing your hips down while bucking his up, and he fills you up in one long thrust.

“ah!” you cry out, biting your lip to the blood, metallic taste in your mouth almost overwhelming on top of the mix of pain and pleasure burning through your body. you’re whimpering into satoru’s mouth, while his hand is running soothing circles on your back.

“here you go, such a good fucking girl. taking me in so well, huh? all it took is one thrust, so perfect,” he’s blabbering against your skin as he starts sinking in and out of your sloppy hole. looking down, you can see the bulge in your tummy, and it makes you purr – you not only feel him splitting you in two, you are able to witness it. his reddened tip is meeting your cervix in a bruising kiss, and god, he’s making you fell so good.

you’re so lost in the rapturous sensation of gojo’s huge cock pushing against your gummy walls, you don’t notice leon’s presence behind you – he is grabbing your hips with one hand while his other is jerking his dick, prepping himself to enter you. his tip is near your whole when you finally realize what’s he’s trying to do.

“no! no, it’s too mu- ah!” he doesn’t let you finish before he start pushing himself inside, sliding alongside satoru’s heavy member, making the man grunt.

“fuck, feels so tight and warm,” you hear behind you as kennedy sets a punishing pace, sheathing himself into your abused hole. they are stretching you out to heavens, leon looking at your gaping cunt with pride. it’s fluttering and clenching around their huge cocks, your walls spasming in pleasure as their lengths are grinding against your soft spots. you can hear your pussy queefing, and the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin add to the dirty symphony.

“ngg, ngg- feels so, so goo-” you’re unable to finish your sentence as they keep bouncing you on their cocks, manhandling your body however they seem fit. you’ve never felt so full – both men keep drilling into you, like you’re no more than their little personal toy to play with. satoru grabs you by the back of your neck, biting at your lips, sloppily making out with you, while leon grabs your hair, forcing you back on his dick.

you can feel both cocks twitching inside you, approaching climax evident by their shallow breathing, moans hitching at every thrust of the hips. your walls are tightening around their cocks, and men’s whimpering and groaning is sinful to listen to, yet they are determined to make you climax first.

“common, gorgeous, cum around our cocks,” gojo hoaxes from underneath you. leon pushes your hips even closer into satoru’s body, your clit now grinding against his pubic bone, and it’s making you teeter on the edge of your bliss.

your bladder feels pressure you’ve never experienced before as gojo’s cock pressing against it from a perfect angle. leon is digging his fingers into the plush skin of your ass, rutting in and out of you, pushing against your back walls. all of your nerves are on fire, exploding fireworks in your brain, sending all your pleasure receptors into the overdrive. as your second orgasm washes over you, you’re left trembling in the men’s arms, leon’s chest against your back, your sweaty tits against satoru’s broad front.

“that’s a good girl, look at how cock-drunk you are,” you can hear them chuckle between themselves, not slowing down for a second. leon can see the white creamy ring enveloping the base of his cock in a soft embrace – it’s making him lose last of his slipping composure as he starts thrusting extra hard, thus speeding gojo up.

you bounce like a rag doll on top of gojo, having no semblance of control, being completely used by two agents. the pressure in your bladder comes back, and you throw your head back – your body continues quivering uncontrollably as you start sobbing again, tears drawing salty rivers on your cheeks, result of your body riding into stimulation. before you know it, something warm and so fucking wet starts gushing out of you. you want to look down, but men react first by groaning, voice impossibly thick with lust and awe.

“fuck, baby, didn’t expect you to squirt this much. so fucking filthy, i bet you waited to do this the whole time,” gojo grunts from underneath you, and you can only purr in response. it only takes couple more thrusts before leon and satoru synchronize their orgasms, shooting the ribbons of cum inside your womb, painting it pearly white, fucking it in warm and cozy. the squelching sounds ricocheting among the walls are nothing but sinful, and your cheeks flush red from the realization of what just transpired.

as both men pull out of your abused, stretched out hole, the combined mixture of all the fluids trickle down your thighs, making you groan in disgust. now that aphrodisiac has been fucked out from your system, you can’t even bring yourself to look them in the eyes. you hurry to pick up your clothes, but your legs give out underneath you – you’d end up flat on your ass, if not for leon who caught you mid fall.

tension in the air is palpable, electricity dancing on your skin is able to set everything on fire again. you’re ready to break the silence when satoru speaks first.

“you know, kennedy, next time you want to touch my cock, you don’t need to bring a woman between us.”

he leaves the room before either of you are able to force a reaction, and you wish you’d left both of them for dead instead.

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wildrangers · 3 months

Text

The Planets and the Fates and All the Stars Aligned // William Nylander

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: The three times Willy almost asked you out and the one time he finally did

{This is my submission for the lovely @jackhues for The Winter Fic Exchange 2k24, organized by the amazing @wyattjohnston!}

Warnings/tropes: mutual pining, poor communication, resolved (minor) angst, fluff, cursing, drinking

You were grateful that Auston was taking you under his wing following your big move to Toronto—seriously. It was better to be at a New Year’s Eve party where you knew all of one person rather than alone in your apartment. Though…there were a lot of loud drunk men at this party which wasn’t your favorite vibe. You’d much prefer enjoying a nice cocktail with a view of Toronto over being stuffed in one of Tony’s teammate’s suburban homes. But really—you were grateful for Auston and this somewhat odd built in social network that came with him.

You were drawn from your thoughts by a cheer from the pong table and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the intense excitement of the younger guys currently facing off there. You flipped your wrist around to see the time again just as a large, familiar hand landed on your shoulder.

“That’s at least the fifth time you’ve checked the time since we got here…what, an hour ago?” Auston teased, grinning as he took the seat next to you.

“It’s only the fourth” you grumbled making Auston raise his hands in surrender.

“My apologies for the slander, miss.”

You rolled your eyes and jostled your shoulder into his before settling your head there instead. “I’m just tired from the move and everyone here seems very…extroverted?” you tried, not wanting to speak poorly of the group you barely knew.

“Look, I get it” he replied, ruffling your hair gently. “Can I please get you a drink now? At least your hands will be busy then.”

You nodded against his shoulder before raising your head so he could go grab your favorite drink. You were surprised when his place was quickly filled by a blonde-haired boy with mischievous blue eyes.

“You must be Julia, I’m Willy” he smiled, offering his hand for you to shake. You smirked, gripping his hand in your own. You were not, in fact, Julia, but this should be entertaining.

“Nice to meet you, Willy. I hope Auston hasn’t said anything too horrific about me.”

“Oh no, nothing like that. I just wanted to make sure I talked to you before things got too serious with him.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean a gorgeous girl like yourself should know that I am available and a much, much better catch” he stated confidently and you threw your head back with laughter.

“Well, I may as well hear the sales pitch now” you smirked, pleasantly surprised by the tipsy man before you.

“I mean first of all” he said, simply pointing to his hairline, which drew a gasp from your mouth as you whacked his arm, “I’m just saying!”

“What are you ‘just saying’ to my cousin, William?”

Will’s blue eyes widened as he processed Auston’s words. “Wait so you’re…not Julia?”

Auston handed you your drink, “No, this is Y/N, weirdo. I was going to bring Julia to dinner tomorrow night but maybe I won’t now. How long did she have you going?”

“Long enough to put my foot in my mouth” he admitted and you smirked, pleased at the pink tinge rising to his cheeks. “But not so long that I can’t recover?” he questioned.

“Stay tuned” you replied, maintaining eye contact as you took a sip of your drink. Luckily, Auston was called away leaving just you two again.

“I swear, I’m not usually like that” he began and you tilted your head slightly.

“Like what?”

He seemed at a loss for words so you chuckled, “You’re fine, I’ll stop fucking with you now. You were just so confidently wrong, I had to see where things went.”

He chuckled to himself, “Confidently wrong is kind of a good summary for me actually…”

“The great William Nylander? No, I’d say most the time your confidence is probably just right.”

“You even knew who I was and still let me make a fool of myself?!”

You giggled and nodded, “I obviously know who you are, I watch as many of Ton’s games as I can. You’re usually playing in them too.”

“Wait, so rewind. You’re Tony’s cousin?”

“Not by blood, but yeah. We grew up together and our families are super close. He’s been trying to get me out here forever, so when a better job opened up in my company’s Toronto location, how could I say no?”

“When did you move?”

You jokingly checked your watch, “About eight hours ago now.”

“Oh well, welcome! I love it here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah” he nodded, sipping his drink and you couldn’t help how your eyes were drawn to his mouth with the movement. “I moved around so much as a kid; this is the longest I’ve ever lived in one place. Minus summers in Sweden, obviously”

“I would love to go to Sweden” you admitted. “It looks so beautiful.”

As he began passionately talking about Sweden, conversation flowed seamlessly between you. He seemed genuinely interested in your answers to the questions he asked, eyes always remaining firmly on you in a way that made your stomach flip but also steadied you in the otherwise loud room.

You were dragged from your conversation as the countdown to the New Year began.

“Damn, it’s almost midnight already?” you questioned, checking your watch that had long since been forgotten.

“Guess so…do you want to ring in the New Year together?” Will asked and you were surprised by the tentative tone of his voice. Your eyes rose to meet his and you noted the nerves showing in the crinkle of his eyes.

“Yeah, sure” you smiled, scootching closer to him. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you didn’t seem confident I’d say yes.”

“I mean I wouldn’t want to come in too hot, making assumptions—that would be embarrassing, no?” he joked as he wrapped a tender arm around your shoulders.

“Of course, wouldn’t want to make that same mistake twice in one evening” you teased back and you earned a rich laugh from him that made your toes curl and you dipped your head to hide your grin. As the countdown entered single digits, your eyes rose to meet his again but he was focused somewhere just beyond your shoulder before turning his attention back to you.

“3…2…1…Happy New Year!” the room erupted but your world had shrunk to just you and Willy. You had a sneaking suspicion it had been Auston who briefly grabbed his attention from you, which was confirmed as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss to your cheek rather than going in for the kiss. You were disappointed until you felt his mouth brush your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, “Happy New Year, Y/N.”

***

Once Will had given the bottle of wine and his thanks to Mitch and Stephanie for hosting, his eyes were scanning the room for you. He’d been kicking himself for months since meeting you for not getting your number on New Year’s but Auston’s stern stare had scared him off, as embarrassed as he was to admit it. He just hadn’t wanted to risk his friendship with his teammate, or worse, make you uncomfortable since you’d just met. Plus, the firm “If you hurt her, you’re dead to me” lecture Auston had given him the next day at practice had driven the point home.

So, some combination of your new job and Auston’s protectiveness had kept you away from any team, family, and friends get together’s until now, just as the regular season was wrapping up. Just as he had begun to give up hope that he’d see you again, Mitch mentioned that Auston had RSVP’d for 3 people, you and a plus one that he assumed was whatever girl Tony was currently seeing. Will didn’t waste another minute before confirming his own attendance.

His heart sped up as he saw you chatting with Johnny, your body language so much more relaxed than when he met you months ago. He made his way to you and when your eyes met his, the broad grin you sent his way knocked him out.

“Willy!” you called, standing to greet him with a warm hug.

“Hey, it’s been too long, how have you been?” he asked, pulling away just far enough to take you in. “You look beautiful tonight, of course.”

He was rewarded with a dip of your head as you hid your shy smile at his compliment, “I’ve been good, busy, so I’m glad Tony mentioned this dinner, it’s nice to see everyone.”

A long pause filled the air as he simply gazed into your warm, smiling eyes. “Hey Willy, I’m here too” his captain called from behind you and Willy laughed, greeting him with a handshake.

“Sorry man, it’s just been a minute since I’ve seen Y/N here” he shrugged sheepishly. John nodded, clapping him on the back, “Since New Year’s, yeah?”

Will shot him a questioning look but Johnny only smirked before walking off to chat with another group.

“Will, you’ve been having such an amazing season, I’m so happy for you” you smiled, settling back down in your seat and patting the spot next to you. He quickly sat where directed, pleased that the small couch made his outer thigh gently press into yours—he was even more content when you didn’t shift your leg away but closer to his.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Just trying to gear up for the Playoff’s now. How have you been, settling in well?”

As you two caught up with small talk, he wracked his brain on how to ask you out without making it weird in case you said no. This conversation flowed just as well as your first and your sly humor shone through even more now that you seemed more at ease.

“I’ve missed seeing you at other parties like this” he admitted when the conversation naturally lulled.

“I think Auston may have refrained from inviting me to a few” you admitted, rolling your eyes. “And then the last few just didn’t work with my schedule. I was happy when Ton mentioned you’d be here tonight though.”

“Yeah?” he asked, hopeful as his heart began pattering more intensely.

“Yeah” you grinned, knocking your shoulder into his. “I really enjoyed hanging with you last time.”

“Me too” he smiled, taking in the genuine joy on your face. “I was actually wondering…”

He trailed off as he saw your eyes shift behind him and widen. “Jake!” you called, standing up and waving over an unfamiliar guy who wrapped you in an embrace and quickly pecked your cheek.

“Hey pretty lady, sorry I’m a little late. The subway got delayed” he replied, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ears. “Is this Will?”

As introductions were made, Will’s heart sank as he realized your boyfriend was the plus one, not Auston’s girl. It looked like he’d missed his chance with you after all.

***

You worked your way through the crowd, pausing as people you’d grown close to since your move to Toronto stopped you to chat. Johnny and his wife were hosting the start of the season party, welcoming everyone back to Toronto after being wherever they called home in the off season. You were hoping Will would be here but had refrained from asking Auston to avoid his eye rolls and protective bullshit.

When you’d seen Will at that spring party, you couldn’t admit to him that you’d partially been avoiding him. Not because you didn’t like him, but the opposite—you’d felt so drawn to him on New Year’s only to have Auston insert himself in the middle of things. After enough time had passed, you’d finally let your coworker set you up on that blind date with Jake. Who was nice but had basically been wiped from your mind when you’d met Will’s eyes across the room that second night.

You’d let yourself get wrapped up in the press of his leg on yours, the intense focus of his eyes as you caught up. Had allowed yourself to slip into the flirtation that had flowed so naturally between you during your first meeting. Until Jake had arrived, and you’d noted Will deflate before excusing himself.

You’d seen him a few times since then but he kept a wide berth, which you understood. But it had sucked and drove home that as nice as Jake is, he wasn’t the one for you. Which is why, several months out from that split, you were determined to make your move on Will—enough with waiting.

You grabbed a drink and surveyed the room, heart fluttering as you heard Willy’s signature laugh from across the room. He was talking with a younger guy you didn’t recognize but you strode over anyway. “Will!” you called and he spun, wide-eyed, at your voice.

“Y/N?” he smiled uncertainly but you just pulled him into a tight embrace.

“How was your summer? Tell me all about Sweden” you grinned, quickly introducing yourself to the rookie beside him who made himself scarce.

“Sure, but you seem…different” he noted, scanning your form as if he could find the answer there.

“Do I? I mean, not much has changed except Jake and I broke up” you offered and his eyes widened slightly.

“I’m sorry?” he offered.

“Don’t be. He was nice but it just wasn’t it, you know?”

He nodded, eyes skimming around the room before pulling out his phone. “Here, let me show you some photos from back home.”

You leaned into the comfort of his warmth, your eyes either taking in each photo he selected to show you or tracing the familiar lines of his face as he swiped through his camera roll. He was just so beautiful.

“It looks like a great summer, are you bummed to be back?” you joked and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, I always love coming back to Toronto—this is home too” he replied, eyes boring into yours. You couldn’t help yourself as you reached up to sweep a strand of hair that had fallen into his face, your hand lingering there, cupping his cheek.

“Y/N…” he breathed and you were surprised when his eyes left yours to once again scan the room. His phone lit up, drawing your attention, just as he began. “I actually am…”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” you cut him off, drawing your hand back, eyes fixed on his lock screen—a gorgeous shot of him with a beautiful woman tucked into his side.

His gaze followed yours and he quickly locked his phone screen, mouth forming a hard line. “No, I’m sorry. I should have been up front but whenever I see you, I just…”

“You just what?” you asked quietly, unable to stop yourself.

“I can only think of keeping you close. Even when I know I can’t, so I’m sorry.”

You sadly shook your head forcing a smile, “No, I did the same thing to you, didn’t I? I get it. I hope she makes you happy Will, have a great season” you assured him, squeezing his shoulder before excusing yourself from the party altogether.

***

Will wasn’t one to believe in fate but it seemed like the stars may be finally aligning as he entered Auston’s apartment to celebrate New Year’s Eve. He’d done his homework this time, enlisting Steph to make sure you weren’t seeing anyone. After your last encounter, his fledgling relationship hadn’t lasted long—not when all he could think about was you. That wasn’t fair to her, so he’d broken things off and thrown himself into the season. It was a contract year for him, he had to focus. But that focus didn’t stop him from noting that some of his best games were ones where he knew you’d be in the crowd.

Will wandered over to the large windows filling Ton’s living room, taking in the city skyline. He’d done a few laps but had yet to see you. Truth be told, he wasn’t in much of a party mood—he just wanted to see you. So, he wondered off from the main party down the hallway to what he knew to be Ton’s guest room for some quiet. He didn’t hear any noise from behind the door so he gently opened it, startling when he saw you curled up on the bed.

You hadn’t noticed the door opening, your head buried in a book with Taylor Swift playing softly from your phone. He took a moment to enjoy the sight before him—you, dressed to the nine’s, feet wrapped in fuzzy socks, eyes fervently scanning the pages before you, heels forgotten beside him by the door.

“Y/N?” he spoke softly, as to not startle you but you jumped anyway.

“Will?” you questioned, your head tilting to the side. “What are you doing here?”

“The New Year’s Eve party, silly, what are you doing locked away in here looking so beautiful?”

He was thrilled when you ducked your head, trying to hide the flattered smile that bloomed on your face. “Promise not to laugh.”

“Scout’s honor” he promised, settling on the foot of the bed.

“I’m on the last book of this fantasy series and I just wanted to make sure everyone got through the battle okay” you chuckled, holding up your nearly finished book. “I said hi to everyone but when I didn’t see you, I just wondered in here to try and finish it before midnight.”

“Well, is everyone safe and sound? I wouldn’t want to disturb you” he teased lightly and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I have like ten pages left” you chuckled. “I’ll come out and join the party in a few, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry” he shrugged, standing up but then stopped himself. “Would you actually care if I hung in here with you? I’m not in much of a party mood.”

“Sure” you beamed, scooting over on the bed to make room for him beside you. He slipped his shoes off, crawling up the bed to settle into your side, arm wrapped around your middle as you lifted your book.

“Is this okay?” he questioned quietly and you hummed in answer.

“Here, just lay down—that way I can rest my book on your shoulders” you motioned towards your lap and he didn’t have to be told twice, settling his head on your satin covered thighs.

A comfortable silence filled the room, broken only by you flipping the pages of your book. Will could stay this way forever, your scent wrapped around him, his breathing slowing to match your own.

As he began drifting off, you closed the book and set it aside. He felt your focus shift fully to him but he kept his eyes closed, not wanting to break this peaceful spell. He could have purred when your fingers gently ran through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp whenever your hand returned to the top of his head.

“I’m single” he murmured, nuzzling deeper into your lap.

“I know” you answered and he turned to look up into your eyes, confusion evident there judging by your chuckle. “I asked Stephanie.”

He let out a loud laugh, gently taking your hand in his own, “I may have done the same thing” he admitted, causing you to snort and shake your head.

“So, what does that mean?” you asked quietly.

“Hopefully, it means that when I ask you out, you’ll say yes” he questioned, nerves oddly not coming to his stomach. He knew how long you both had wanted this, the timing just never being quite right.

“Well, I can’t wait to say yes then” you smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his brow bone as your alarm rang from the nightstand. “Oh, time to get up, it’s 11:55.”

He shifted in response, sitting up and stretching, attempting to smooth out his shirt.

“Here” you offered walking towards him, heels firmly on your feet. He paused his fussing, allowing you to straighten his collar and smooth out the wrinkles that had developed on his chest. Your hand gently ran through his hair, settling down any stray hairs that had fallen out of place. “All better. Do I look alright?”

“You look perfect” he said honestly, rising off the bed and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. As you both exited the room, he marveled at how perfectly you fit there, tucked into his side.

The countdown had begun and Will’s eyes scanned the room, noting Auston immediately finding the two of you in the crowd.

“He’s intolerable” you mumbled, eyes also falling on Tony across the room. As the crowd counted down from ten, a giggle rose in his throat as you jokingly raised your middle finger to your cousin before turning back to him.

His hands settled on your hips, pulling you flush against him as your hands cupped his jaw, thumb caressing his cheek. With the New Year beginning, your lips finally met his and he wound his fingers through your hair to pull you closer. As your mouths moved in perfect harmony together, the rightness of this moment settled around him.

As the crowd picked back up again, he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”

“You have a game tomorrow, silly” you answered, chuckling. “But you can take me out the next night.”

A/N: I hope y'all enjoyed! Please forgive any typos, I am in fact working through a concussion currently. It turns out writing for Willy has become one of my new favorite things to do. Always happy to hear feedback :)

#william nylander #william nylander blurb #william nylander imagine #william nylander fic #nhl fic #nhl blurb #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs blurb #william nylander x reader #The Winter Fic Exchange 2k24

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kumquats-are-gay · 6 months

Text

Johnny Cage x Reader (NSFW)

18+ (MINORS DNI)

Hey, fuckers, I finally made some of the Johnny Cage x Reader content I promised. Just spent the past five hours writing this instead of doing my homework, lol. I imagined MK1 Johnny Cage for this, so it reflects his specific personality the most, but you could probably imagine a different Johnny Cage. I plan on writing for daddy/DILF MK11 Johnny Cage at some point, too.

Anyways, if you know me irl, then dear god please do not read this, and do not mention this.

...unless like, you enjoyed it and want to talk about it in a good way, ya know? Otherwise just ignore it. You can judge me silently, just please not to my face. K, thanks. Lmao.

A/N: If people enjoy this enough, then I'll take some time to make a gn!reader version of this later! Beta read by me (extremely unreliable) and pasted directly from Google Docs, so pardon any weird formatting.

Words: 2,688

Tags: female!reader, afab anatomy, smut, kind of rough smut, safe sane and consensual, fluff, full Nelson position, creampie, implied breeding kink (it's there for 0.2 seconds), sexual photography (only at the beginning portion), light overstimulation, Johnny is absolutely smitten with you, feelings, Johnny is also a total goofball, Johnny is a horndog

Please lmk if there are any tags you think I'm missing and/or should add! <3

Edit: Here's the AO3 link!

✨You're Something Else✨

He flipped over to the inner camera and curtailed his pace as he angled his phone this way and that, getting the perfect framing. Of course, he had also taken care to angle his dick just right and surprised you with one harsh thrust against your bundle of nerves. The noise you made was borderline pornographic. And, as you’d find out, so was your expression. You heard the sound of a synthetic camera shutter, and the knowledge of what that meant sent a different shudder throughout your body.

“Take a look, babe,” he breathed into your ear before bringing the screen close enough for you to get a good look. “God, we’re so hot.” You struggled to keep your head up so you could look; it repeatedly threatened to loll over as Johnny slowly swiveled his hips this way and that. He seemed to pick up on your troubles, but mercy wasn’t part of his arsenal today. “C’mon, focus, hon’,” he huffed, a tad petulant, and grabbed your chin with his free hand to at least keep you facing forward. His movements didn’t relent, however. Johnny’s chin was hooked over your shoulder so he could look at the picture some more, too. “Here, why don’t you hold it?”

You grabbed the phone and were able to gather a modicum of your wits and senses, just enough to cut through the blurry glaze over your eyes. There you were, held tightly within Johnny’s thick arms. One of his hands was squeezing your breast. A sliver of your skin could be seen gripped between a glimpse of his teeth. The flash caught the glistening sweat that covered your bodies. Oh, and your face bared one of the most fucked-out expressions you think you’ve ever seen on someone. All in all, it was an incredible picture. He had a knack for the camera, you’d give him that. Johnny couldn’t seem to agree more, too. You heard his appreciative groan as he studied the picture yet again, his cock twitching within you.

“Fuck, gonna get that one framed,” Johnny said through nearly-gritted teeth. You wondered in bewilderment just where he would put it.

He dropped the phone onto the mattress, ignoring it in favor of using both of his now-free hands to grab your waist and roll the both of you over. He pushed himself up and back against the headboard with your back still pressed against his firm chest and gripped the underneath of your plush thighs in the process. His sweaty palms slid up to the undersides of your knees, which were soon replaced as he hooked his elbows underneath them instead. In a display of strength, he effortlessly pulled your legs apart and backwards, keeping them held there. You hissed just a little at the pain; your hamstrings weren’t ready for a sudden stretch like that. But you bore through it, for you knew the outcome would most certainly be worth it.

He strained your legs just a bit more, pulling them further back in order to get your arms in his grasp, too. His wrists were pressed against the front of your shoulders, and he topped it off by threading his fingers together behind your head, clasping his hands against the base of your skull. You could feel his warm palms bearing down on the back of your neck. You obeyed and yielded to the applied pressure by allowing your head to be pushed and angled downward.

And, just like that, you were practically immobile. He had you in a body-lock impaled on his dick. In other words, you were utterly at his mercy. God, his cock was already pressing against places you didn’t think were possible to reach—you could only imagine what it would feel like once he got go- “AH!”

“Sorry about that,” Johnny laughed, sounding completely unapologetic about the sudden, sharp thrust, “looked like you were thinkin’ real hard about something.” If you had more control over your mental faculties at the moment, perhaps you would have rolled your eyes in something other than pleasure. “Probably thinking ‘bout my cock, huh?” he tacked on, as if he needed to elaborate upon the obvious implication of his previous statement. You felt a hot wave of embarrassment wash over you nonetheless. You tried to cover your face, but gave a plaintive cry when you remembered that your range of motion was extremely inhibited right now. Johnny chuckled behind you; your attempt at hiding yourself hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Johnny,” you whined, knowing fully well what saying his name like that did to him. Right on cue, you felt his dick twitch violently against your walls, but the man held fast. The realization that you wouldn’t be let off the hook so easily caused a delicious little knot of anxiousness to form in your belly.

“Nice try, sweetheart, but I wanna hear you say it,” he huffed against your hair. In a retaliation that doubled as a last-ditch effort to break his resolve, you clenched around him. This prompted a soft grunt to fall from his lips, but nothing more happened. He remained almost statue-still.

Feeling resigned and a little humiliated, you managed to whimper, “I-I was… thinking about your- your… cock…”

Johnny hummed in approval and rewarded you with a few thrusts, albeit rather shallow ones. You nearly wailed when he stopped again just to whisper into your ear, “Good, that’s good, babe, but I want the specifics; give me the dirty details.” The hands laced behind your neck kept you from throwing your head back in frustration.

“Johnny!” you cried out with more intensity than the last time. Johnny shuddered lightly, then blew out a focusing breath. He unlocked his fingers so that he could soothingly stroke your hair.

“C’mon, babe, you know I’m not gonna judge you for what you say, and it’s not like you’re sharing your thoughts with me unsolicited; I’m literally asking to hear them,” he cooed as he continued to mollify your flustered, frayed person. “And let’s be honest: you could say pretty much anything and it would turn me on.” You laughed in the form of a sharp exhale while a tear threatened to spill down your cheek. You couldn’t believe this man- he could be totally serious one moment, then have the humor of a teenage boy the next. It nearly gave you whiplash. Through it all, though, you heard the pleading sincerity underneath. No matter what, he was always so earnest with you—heartfelt to a fault. You loved him for that, and for many other reasons that would take too long to list. He wanted you to trust him, and you did. Wholly.

You sighed, though not in exasperation, and relaxed in his grip; you would have fallen forward if it hadn’t been for strong arms holding you up. The only thing that fell back was your head which now rested on his shoulder. Always an opportunist, Johnny took this moment to suckle at your exposed neck as you gathered your words (though his consistent mouthing made that a bit difficult). “I was, um… thinking about your- your dick, and how it would… feel in this position, f-fucking me.”

Johnny outright groaned this time, no longer feeling the need to hold himself back as you finally began to confess. “Yeah?” he prompted.

“Y-yeah…” you swallowed the lump in your throat before continuing, “‘cause it feels deep- deeper than usual.” At long last, you felt him start to move, causing immediate relief to flood your system. But you weren’t done; he had been so sweet when asking you, after all. Plus, the noises he began to make served as fuel for that fire within you, scorching and tantalizing all at once. “A-and just- ngh- how far you… hah, could- could come inside me.”

“Holy shit, yes,” Johnny gasped with excitement. His pace grew even more rapid after hearing your admission. “Gonna fill you to the goddamn brim-” he was almost panting now, “-and fuck my come so deep inside of you that- ah, fuck- that, soon enough, everyone will know who you belong to.” Another deluge of molten lava surged through you, responding to the implication held in his filthy words. Yet, you were helpless in this position to do anything about it. All you really could do was allow yourself to be used as Johnny’s personal fleshlight, but you didn’t mind. He bullied himself into you relentlessly, sparing you not a single moment of his love and lust for you, and the squelching sounds that echoed throughout the room were downright obscene. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking wet,” Johnny breathed. Your thighs were sore and you knew your voice would be scratchy tomorrow with how he was making you scream to the high fuckin’ Heavens and back. Your muscles begin to repeatedly tense and relax, a sign alongside your high-pitched keening that you were quickly approaching your orgasm.

“Oh, fuck,” he hissed at the intense stimulation you were providing. His grip turned vice as any inhibitions of his that were left (read: very few) were thrown out the door along with the metaphorical key. “Fuck…fuck!” He kept your thighs and arms squeezed between his biceps and forearms, leaving you unable to do anything but take it. It seemed like Johnny wasn’t very far behind you, but you needed just a little bit more to reach your release. So, naturally, you began to beg.

“Plea- GUH- nn…ple- h-ease…! Touch- hah…need-!” you sputtered, barely able to form a single coherent word with just how ruthlessly he was jackhammering into you. Knowing you and your body well by now, Johnny was able to interpret your nearly incomprehensible request.

“Be good for me, baby,” he groaned. Johnny then released one of your arms and legs as he slid the respective hand down your torso—lightly pinching your tit on its way down—and over your sex. “Be a good girl and come for me,” he demanded before he pressed his finger against your clit and began to apply pressure in movements of tight little circles. It barely took five more seconds for you to come. You practically convulsed on his lap, your body jerking this way and that as pure ecstasy overtook every fiber of your being. Being the gentleman that he is, Johnny fucked you through it all, riding the wave of your frenzy alongside you.

Oversensitivity began to inevitably settle in, though, and Johnny was still tearing through you like a bull in a china shop. Though the mingled pain and pleasure felt amazing, you weren’t sure how much of it you could take. Just as you were about to voice this, Johnny fiercely shouted your name before you felt the unmistakable warmth of his semen saturating your insides. He held you tightly against him as he continued shooting ropes of cum into your throbbing, awaiting pussy, all of which you readily accepted as you milked his cock with unrivaled greed. The peak of his pleasure seemed to go on for a while before he eventually began to simmer down. His whole body relaxed and he repositioned his arms around your waist while he eased his grip.

It took some time for the both of you to regain your breath. Johnny’s fanned over your neck as your own grazed his collarbone. After some time you felt both of your hearts begin to settle, beating in and out of synchronicity. Johnny pressed a kiss against your temple, eliciting a contented sigh from you.

“God, you’re so hot,” Johnny proclaimed.

“I thought we were both hot?” you asked, parroting his statement from earlier.

“Well yeah, we are; I wasn’t People’s Sexiest Man Alive last year for nothing.” You actually did roll your eyes in amusement this time—would he ever stop bringing that up? “But, you? God, you’re…” he trailed off, momentarily at a loss for words (an extraordinarily scarce occurrence). Your heart skipped a beat as he struggled for what to say. “You’re just something else, you know? I don’t know how else to describe it—you’re just…amazing. Smart, funny, supportive, sexy-” he lowered his voice as he spoke the last word and drummed his fingers against your sides. You didn’t have to turn around to know he was wiggling his eyebrows like a fool. You lightly backhanded his shoulder for his antics, but he only laughed and grabbed your hand before you could pull it back and laced his fingers with yours. “Okay, no, seriously though, you always have my back no matter what I do or say, even when you know I’m wrong, as rare as that is-” This time, you used your other hand to softly smack at his chest. He laughed again, and you couldn’t help but giggle with him, especially when he did as you had expected and grabbed your other hand and also intertwined it with his own. After your snorts and snickering died down, he decided to kiss the tip of your nose.

“‘Something else’, huh?” you mirthfully repeated with a gleam in your eye. Johnny looked at you like a lovesick fool with those big, brown puppy-dog eyes.

“Something else,” he firmly restated as he held your gaze. You couldn’t help the shy, soft smile that adorned your features.

“At the risk of overinflating your ego, I have to say that I also find you to be ‘something else’,” you expressed, and then decided to elaborate,” “underneath all of that muscle, bravado, and good looks, you’re a big softy who has a heart of gold and lots of love to give, and I wouldn’t rather spend my time with anyone else.”

Johnny’s expression had morphed into a mixture of disbelief and awe by this point. He didn’t say a word—just continued looking at you like you might have hung the moon and the stars. It was a little overwhelming, though certainly not unwelcome. And then the goofiest grin you’ve ever seen on him suddenly stretched across his face, reaching from ear to ear. The look was completed with a single quirked eyebrow.

“You think I’m good looking, huh?”

“Oh, my God,” you groaned exasperatedly, but you couldn’t help the hint of amusement that seeped into your voice. “That’s it, I’m sleeping in the other room.” Though joking, you let go of his hands and made to get up, but Johnny’s reaction was instantaneous; he pulled you back against him, and only then did you realize that his penis was still inside of you as you felt it shift during the sudden movement.

“Nooo, stay here,” he whined petulantly. He reaffirmed his grasp around your waist and kept you in his lap, snugly wrapped around his cock. Your stomach fluttered a little bit at the feeling of still being full while his seed dripped down along your perineum.

You made an exaggerated sound of irritation, clearly putting on an act, and dramatically exclaimed, “Ugh, fine, I guess I can stay for a bit longer.”

“Knew you couldn’t resist my charm,” Johnny hummed into your hair, muffling his voice a bit. You just shook your head and smiled.

“You never miss an opportunity, do you?”

“Nope!”

You chuckled again before settling in against him, squirming around a bit to try and get comfortable. “You gonna pull out anytime soon, oorrr…?” you inquired.

For a brief moment, he acted like he was actually going to think about it, then quickly replied, “Nah, don’t think I will.” Though you weren’t opposed to the idea, this was certainly a new behavior from Johnny. You furrowed your brow.

“And why’s that?”

“Hmm, I said I was going to fuck my cum into you,” he recalled like he was telling you about yesterday’s weather. And just like that, the dying ember that resided in your abdomen flared back to life. You could hear him lick his lips, which was followed by a nibble at your earlobe. He purred against it, “or have you already forgotten?” You could feel him beginning to harden again inside of your abused cunt.

Oh, this was going to be a long night.

#mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #johnny cage #mk1 johnny cage #mortal kombat johnny cage #mortal kombat 1 johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #mk1 johnny cage x reader #mk1 fanfiction #johnny cage x you #johnny cage x y/n #uhhh come get y'all's JUICE

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skellymom · 2 months

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"Bring Me To My Knees" PART 2

Crosshair/Hunter x Reader Non Gendered SMUT++

Dividers by the talented: @saradika and @4ngelic-wh1spers

Background: Reader and Crosshair are separated from the group during the rescue of Omega and Tech from Mt Tantiss. Two broken people trying to get by in the galaxy. Then two broken people finally dealing with what happened to their group.

Word Count: 2.3K

Warning: Star Wars Canon violence, angst, death of major character, sadness, crying, guilt, permanent injury, stuff blowing up, swearing, kissing, intercourse, heavy petting, bite kind, blood kink, pain kink, spank kink, smutty/lemony content, lovers triangle with Hunter and Crosshair.

FOR CLARITY, HUNTER FLASHBACK SMUT SCENE IN CHAPTER 1. THE CROSSHAIR SMUT SCENE IS IN THIS CHAPTER 2. Broke this up in 2 chapters because I just couldn't stop writing...and 4K might be too much for one sitting.

I purposely wrote the reader in this fic to be of no specific gender. Tried to carefully craft the sexual scenes to accommodate either gender/non gendered/trans/genderfluid/non-binary. Everyone has hills, valleys, sexual organs, nipples, and erogenous zones. I wrote them into the story, but it's up to you dear reader to put your imagination to work. Hope I have done a good enough job that you can enjoy yourself with Hunter and Crosshair without breaking immersion!

To read Chapter 1:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/744267915687264256/bring-me-to-my-knees-part-1?source=share

The intel proved to be correct. You and Crosshair traveled to an uncharted planet well past the Outer Rim. A quiet unassuming place to start planning a burgeoning Rebellion.

He piloted. As your ship entered planetary airspace several Rebel ships swooped in as escorts. The Rebel base radioed in to confirm your status.

“Crosshair, Clone Force 99 and Y/N, civilian. We are Rebel sympathizers wanting to join the Rebel cause and find our lost family and squad members.” You replied.

“Authenticating data. Hold your position.”

Silence as you and Crosshair waited on bated breath.

“You are clear to land. We will perform a customary inspection of your transport. Then check your gunnery and weapons at the docking station armory.”

“They’ll be taking my rifle OVER my DEAD body.” Crosshair snarked.

“Toothpick?”

“Hhm?”

“It’s your gun, NOT your dick. Let them do their job.”

He sighed and shook his head.

Word must have spread fast. No sooner did you land than Omega was out the bay door jumping up and down in excitement.

Crosshair barely got the gangplank down on the ship. You jumped over the stairs and landed on your hands and knees. Sprung up and ran to her.

Omega knocked you over with her embrace. You were both laying there crying. She had grown two heads taller and much stronger too.

Rebel soldiers had come out to check the validity of your claims. They stood aside seeing at least one of their residents recognize you. They had witnessed MANY reunions just like this as people were finding their way to the planet.

There was more: Wrecker wasn’t far behind. He scooped you both up and hugged you fiercely.

“AWWW...SO GLAD YOU’RE HERE! MISSED YA HORRIBLY!!!” Wiping away tears.

Echo approached with Phee.

Wrecker let you go, and you embraced them both with each arm.

“Phee...what happened???” Her beautiful hair was gone. Head covered and tied fashionably with a scarf. Burn scar down one side of her face. You noticed one hand had scars as well.

She shot Echo a strange look, then shrugged and perked up. “It’s growing back. Getting bacta therapy for the scars.”

“Tech? Hunter? Are they here?”

Echo answered “Come inside. We’ll get you settled.”

“Wait, I didn’t come alone.”

You turned towards your ship. Crosshair was standing at the bottom of the stairs.

Omega gave him a bear hug. He had allowed her that. Wrecker stood a few feet away watching them.

Echo took your hand. “Let’s give them some time to catch up.”

He and Phee led you inside the base past bustling personnel.

“Wait...I didn’t check my blaster...”

“That’s ok” Phee patted your shoulder. “We vouched for you. Crosshair though...”

You approached an open medical station with bacta tanks lined up...recognizing...

“TECH!”

He bobbed merrily in the solution, waving at your arrival.

You stopped to see he was missing both legs...just like Echo. There were scars all over his body, some weren’t present during his rescue. Tech saw your face and immediately started signing in Basic.

It is no major loss. I will be fine. Only 20 more rotations within this tank, then I shall be fitted for my prosthetics...please...don’t cry.

Things were starting to come together...Phee’s hair loss and burns...the Marauder being hit...

“WHERE’S HUNTER???” You yelled it in a panic.

Echo stepped in and took your hand. “Y/N... he...” The look on his face told you this wouldn’t be good news. Echo’s eyes registered the scarf draped around your neck.

There was a commotion behind you at the entrance of the base. Crosshair’s voice. Arguing with two Rebel troopers over his lack of compliance regarding check-in.

“Sir! We need you to...”

“NOT NOW! Can’t you see MY PARTNER is in distress!!!”

The trooper grabbed his arm. Crosshair immediately disarmed the man and put his ass on the floor. Then handed the troopers gun to HIS partner sneering, “I said FUCK OFF!”

The second trooper took the gun and commed for backup.

Crosshair stalked over gently putting his hands on your shoulders. Fixing Echo with his baleful stare. “Where’s Hunter?”

Echo fixed you both with his amber eyes. He sighed; his expression was so sad. “I’ll take you to him.”

Tech tapped on the tank to get Crosshair’s attention. Cross glanced over shocked. He hadn’t recognized who was in there. Then he noticed Tech’s condition.

I’ll be ok brother. He signed.

Tech put his hand up against the glass. Crosshair placed his on the other side against Tech’s.

The trooper’s backup arrived and trained their blasters on Crosshair. He turned and eyed them menacingly. Then dropped his hands from your shoulders, one of which you grabbed.

“Don’t start any shit, Toothpick. Please, this isn’t the time.” Squeezing his hand firmly.

He squeezed your hand back and stood down.

“Break it up Trooper. These are friendlies.” Captain Rex emerged from the back of the squad.

“But sir, he assaulted one of our Rebel staff. And he refused to check his rifle.” Pointing to Stormpuncher mounted on Crosshair’s back.

“I’ll handle it, Trooper. You are all dismissed.”

The Rebel squad eyed Crosshair uneasily as they filed away from the scene.

“Good to see you both alive and well.” Rex smiled genuinely. “But I’ll let Echo catch you up on everything.” He nodded to Echo and stepped away.

At this point Wrecker and Omega joined the group.

“Follow me.” Echo instructed.

You glanced at Tech as the group started to walk away. He smiled wistfully.

“I got them Brown Eyes.” She winked at Tech, and he winked back. But he still looked concerned.

Phee put her arm around your shoulder and walked with you. Crosshair followed at your other side silently.

The group filed through the whole facility: past logistics, maintenance, troop training, mess, quarters, a small prison area (mostly empty), daycare, pet kennel, a few non-descript departments, and finally to the back end of the facility. The group approached heavy double doors.

There was a sense of dread in your chest. Everyone was quiet. Echo looked heartbroken as he swiped his key card over the lock mechanism.

The doors opened to the outside. A HUGE garden stretching for over a mile...planted with the bodies of those fallen from the Empire. Headstones, holoshrines, helmets, and all manner of tributes marked each plot. Adults, children, military, civilians, even service animals. Droids who could not be repaired were erected as tribute statuary with holoplaques proclaiming their sacrifice.

Hunter was there. Laid to rest several rows down from the entrance.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

“This isn’t real...” Shaking your head but staring straight ahead at Hunter’s helmet propped up on his plot. “NO... can’t.” Tears running down your face.

Phee rubbed your back. “I’m SO sorry.” She was crying too. “Broody saved my life. I almost burned to death.” She pulled off the scarf to reveal the severity of her injuries. “I’m the reason he’s here.”

Wrecker piped up “Noo, that’s not true. He would’ve done it for anyone on that ship.” He hugged Phee.

Survivor’s guilt. Your heart went out to her.

Crosshair took your hand and silently encouraged you to step down into the memorial and go to Hunter’s plot. You inhaled and stepped down...then your legs gave out. Crosshair grabbed your right shoulder. Echo ran over and supported your left.

They led you to the plot. Wrecker, Phee, and Omega stayed behind.

Soft grass was planted for whomever wished to sit and visit. Hunter’s helmet was surrounded by vivid red Poppies in full bloom. Echo seated you upon the grass. Crosshair kneeling beside you.

“Can I do anything at all for you both.” He inquired.

Silence.

“Uh...I’ll give you some privacy.”

“Echo?”

“Yeah?”

You swept him up in a hug again. “Thank you...for everything.” Tears returning.

“Oh, of course.” He embraced you back. Holding on for some time.

Echo patted your back and cleared his throat. He let go and wiped a tear from his face.

Then he was gone.

Crosshair sat stone faced staring at Hunter’s helmet bereft of emotion. It was the best he could do at this moment.

You took off the red scarf, slipped it over Hunter’s helmet, and arranged it as if draped off Hunter’s own shoulders.

Like he was sitting right in front of you with his bucket on...

A sudden loud sob escaped. Each exhalation became louder until it ended in a scream. Your face red and pressed into the warm grass. Watering Hunter’s grave with your tears. Freeing the emotion out of the pit of your being. Screaming, sobbing until empty, finally collapsing from exhaustion.

The afternoon progressed and the sun started to dip down towards the horizon.

“Hey” Crosshair nudged you from disassociation. “Let’s go.”

Numb, you let him haul you up under the shoulders. Standing, your vision went snowy and black.

Crosshair must have carried you to the ship. The next few days were a blur, you slept through most of it. He hovered, fixing ration soup and just about threatening to force feed you. Trading whatever he could for black market sweets just to get ANYTHING into your belly. You barely remember Echo, Wrecker, Omega, or Phee visiting. Or AZI monitoring your vitals, reporting them well within range, that it was “only” grief and would eventually pass.

Finally, after days in your bunk Crosshair had enough.

“Soup!” He poked you awake.

“Whaa?” Weakly turning over, burrowing under the blanket.

“Get up. You STINK!”

“Fuck off Crossy...”

“Get up, or I’m throwing you INTO the refresher. Clothes and all.”

You ignored him.

Crosshair reached under the blanket and yanked you up. You caterwauled hurling swears, too weak to fight. But you were strong enough to hold on.

He opened the refresher door and attempted to set you down. You stuck to him like shit on a Bantha’s behind. It turned into a wrestling match, both of you swearing at one another. One hand pried off him, then another would latch on, finally tearing his shirt to shreds.

Cross gave up and flipped on the water soaking you both. The cold spray only made you hold on tighter, pressing against his chest for warmth. He gave up, sighed, adjusted the temp to warm.

“Will you wash my hair?”

Sighing again. “Yes.”

You let go and turned your back to him. Crosshair lathered up his hands.

“Wait.” You pulled the soaked T-shirt over your head and threw it in the corner of the shower. Now you're only clad in underwear. “Ok.”

He applied the shampoo and did one helluva job massaging it into your hair. You smiled and groaned at the sensation. He finished by twisting the hair into a soapy point atop your head.

“Will you wash my back and neck?”

Heavy sigh. But he did. His hands were amazing.

“Toothpick, will...”

“I’m NOT washing your dirty ass...or anything else. You can reach.” Cross rinsed his hands and exited the refresher, leaving you to finish the job.

You finally exited the shower feeling and smelling much better.

Clean towels and comfy clothing were waiting for you. A non-descript box sat atop them.

Dried, dressed, brushed your hair and nasty teeth. Then opened the box. The beautiful black and silver scarf from Mel and Marv’s stand. Toothpick paid attention...and had held on to it the whole time.

You put it on and made your way back through the darkened ship.

Crosshair was waiting, sitting on a blanket spread out on the floor. There was a multitude of fresh food and rations upon it. Also, a lit candle in the middle. The kind he would razz you about that “smelled like flowers and shit.”

You smiled. “Is this a date?” Attempting some levity.

“Sit your ass down and eat.”

“Thank you.” Caressing the scarf around your neck.

“For what?” He played dumb. You could see he noticed.

“Everything. Being there for...” You couldn’t bear to speak it. “Taking care of me, this food...”

“Can’t have you dying on me. Would have smelled worse than you already did.”

“Oh...and that shower brawl...” looking up from your food. “THAT was certainly SOMETHING.”

Crosshair grinned. “You owe me a new shirt.”

“Do I, now? Well, don’t wear clothes in the refresher when you decide to throw me in.”

He cocked an eyebrow while biting into a ration bar.

“Then when I grab something, it’ll be foreplay.”

Crosshair choked on his food.

You stuffed yourself full. Satisfied, thanking Crosshair again (who rolled his eyes), and wandered back to your bunk.

He had changed the bedding out while you were in the refresher. It was clean and the blanket turned over, inviting you to slide in.

It felt wonderful burrowing into the clean sheets.

But sleep was elusive tonight.

The grief was still too much for you both.

Two people alone on a dark, silent ship. The distance between you palpable.

“Are...you awake?” he furtively asked with hushed tones in the dark.

“Umhmm.” Intrigued as to why he asked. Sitting up and sliding your legs off to the side of the bunk.

Silence.

You sat there in the dark waiting for an answer.

More silence...

youtube

(You like a song to go with the following scene? Please check it out. Smutty, but emotional)

...then Crosshairs hand gently smoothing away the hair from your temple.

You immediately embraced him tightly.

He falters for just a beat. Body frozen for what seems like an eternity. Would this scare him away?

Then you feel his arms encircle you, lips upon your cheek...kissing down to your lips.

Unable to hold back any further, you turn your head to meet his lips to yours.

Mouths opening to breathe into the well of one another. Sliding upon each other passionately. Breaths furiously taken in between long heated kisses.

Then parting quickly to pull the clothing from each other's body. Almost ripping the cloth away from bare skin. Occasional moans of longing for skin-to-skin contact.

Finally free of constraints, he stops to visually take you in...

...he’s waited SO LONG for this moment. Couldn’t help admiring your strength while rescuing him on Tantiss...but finding out you bonded romantically to Hunter...

“I... I’m afraid...” Terror and shame on his face.

This shocks you to hear such words fall from his lips. He’s so VULNERABLE...kneeling next to you proclaiming his feelings.

You reach out and stroke the side of his face, then firmly grip this chin. “So am I. But it’s just the two of us now.”

You both stare into the lonely abyss of each other's eyes.

“And I CAN’T STAND being alone.”

“Then you WON’T be...EVER” He reaches out across the space between, pulling you to his body. His heat, his need.

You have your own need, your heat blazes HOT with his deep kisses. Tongues intertwining.

Then he pulls away to bury his face next to your ear whispering EVERY DIRTY THING he’s going to do to you while nuzzling and nipping your ear. Rubbing his hard cock along your shin, sliding along the wetness it leaves behind.

You moan loudly...” Oh...fuck me...”

“Mhmm...” trailing his tongue down your neck. His hands caressing the inside of your thighs. Stopping just short of your sex. Teasing his fingers around it...teasing you into fever pitch.

Your hand on his shoulder digs your nails into his flesh. He moans in ecstasy from the pain. Trailing down your chest to nip and lick at your nipples. Crosshair stares up adoringly with half hooded eyes.

His hand casually brushes your sex and trails away.

Smiling while he teases.

You grip the edge of the bunk, bracing your feet on the floor, and buck out your hips in the air, gasping, baring your teeth.

Then he playfully but firmly slaps your sex.

It pisses you off while turning you on at the same time. The tension building.

His cock is SO slippery against your leg. The breath coming from him labored and shaky. Tracing your thighs just so closely to where you want to be stimulated, then away again.

“FUCK ME!” You growl deeply through your teeth. Something FERAL awakening in you. Shaking, sweating, digging harder into his shoulder. It starts to bleed, and his eyes roll back in his head.

His facial expression turns intense. He slaps your sex again. You moan louder, then growl again.

The teasing. It’s driving you INSANE.

He knows you’re about to lose it...

Crosshair stops kissing your chest, put’s his snarky, sexy, come-fuck-me-face up to your ear...

“...Mmm...bite me...”

Back somewhere in your sexually addled lizard brain registers this could be literal instead of figurative.

And he slaps you...ONE MORE TIME...

Without thinking you sink your teeth into his other shoulder. Blood seeping into your mouth.

Crosshair screams out in fevered sexual ecstasy...frotting his weeping cock furiously against your leg.

His slapping hand comes back fully on your sex, furiously stimulating...

...kneading...

...filling up your intimate spaces...

...sliding....

...you buck your hips tightly against the hand that services you...

...as the pressure of your molars squeeze the flesh of his shoulder...it’s heavenly pressure...the taste of copper as you suck it down...

Crosshair’s fevered thrusts of his hips.

The fevered ministrations of his hand.

Ragged breaths mixed with groans...whimpers...

You release your mouth from his shoulder, as you gasp for air... blood trailing down his back from the punctures. Small crimson rivulets running down your chin, neck, across your erect nipples...you fall back...Pressing your head into the bunk...eyes widening...mouth open. His left hand on the small of your back like a spotter, his right sending you over the edge...

Clenching your abdomen...you feel that tickle...the beginning of...

Crosshair stops and pulls his hand away. You grab his arm devastated, angry even to be thwarted from your orgasm.

Breathlessly “I want to FEEL you...from the INSIDE.” It’s not presented as a question. But he’s waiting for your consent.

You reach down, stroke his sopping wet member. He moans and shudders. Then brush a ghost of a kiss across Crosshair’s forehead as you scoot fully onto the bunk and open yourself up to him. Your seductive gaze is inviting.

Up off his knees, he slinks over you on the bunk. Staring like a hungry animal.

For a fleeting moment, you don’t see Crosshair there...just Hunter. Your desire threatens to topple over into grief...all these emotions bubbling up from the surface. That scar will NEVER be totally healed. The sadness that will NEVER totally leave.

Crosshair watches the subtle changes of your expression and senses this. He understands. While there are differences, it’s his loss too.

He covers his body with yours, basking in the warmth skin to skin. Then takes your face in his hands. Touching foreheads, he whispers promises for you both in the future. All the things you will do together and the burdens you will both share and support each other through. Every one of them ends with a kiss as a promise.

“I’m not Hunter...but...I’ll work on being a better man than I was in my past.”

“I don’t want you to live in Hunter’s shadow. You’re different. Our relationship will be different.”

Silence.

“I’m SO SORRY you lost your brother.”

Crosshair covers his face with his hand. Silent tears spill out between his fingers.

You say no more and hold him tightly. Knowing it was A LOT for him to even let go like this. Knowing the relationship, he had with especially Hunter was fraught with so much emotional angst. And the heavy burden Crosshair holds about the horrible things he did at the end.

You both lay there for some time wrapped up together in each other's arms...just being. Crosshair’s head resting on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. You rubbing gentle circles though his hair.

Finally, he speaks, “Would you like me to finish?” Looking up at you seriously with those intense dark eyes.

You read him like a book. He knows you too well now. There’s a deep care for one another. But you both know the sex tonight will be for dealing with the grief. That's ok though. It’s an unspoken agreement of how this will help the two of you bond and heal.

You’ll both drink, fight, fuck, laugh, and all manner of things together while dealing with this shared grief. Whatever gets you by. It’ll bind you both thick as thieves.

“Yes.”

He kisses down your body to your sex. Licking, sucking, lavishing you with an intensity that prevents you from lying still. All the while grinding his returned erection into the sheets, soaking them.

You both begin to get vocal. He adds more stimulation with his fingers, driving you wild. Grasping the bedding, you arch your back again. With the pressure in your core, his tongue wetly sliding over your sex...your breathing reaches a fever pitch...the tingling returns...

“Crosshair...”

He stops, sits up, gently pulls your hips to position, and slides his length into you.

“Fuuuck...” he groans loudly, slowly pulling out, then slowly sliding in...he wants to feel it ALL. No rush. Just the amazing sensation...every inch...of him...against you...

...sliding out...

...sliding in...

His legs are shaking.

Your breath not just respirations but moans to the timing of his thrusts.

...sliding out...

...sliding in...

Crosshair’s eyes are hooded in desire. He can see you’re about to cum. A crooked, horny smile crosses his face.

The tingle becomes a wave...

IT RUSHES THROUGH YOU like beautiful warm surf racing towards your sex...

...and reaches its destination...

You arch your back deeper...He’s watching you at the apex of your orgasm. Time seems to slow down for a few seconds. Eyes open with no angst, anger, judgement, spite, sass...his eyes...the window to a man WIDE OPEN at this moment in time. He’s telling you with his eyes what his voice could not.

You’re staring above right into those eyes as your head presses just a centimeter deeper into the bedding...you inhale DEEPLY as those warm tendrils explode deep at the base of your core.

Orgiastic moan-scream comes from your mouth so intensely you feel it in the roof of your mouth. Vision fuzzing out slightly. Tiny warm explosions of nerves firing everywhere in your body.

Crosshair squeezes you tightly, screaming gutturally, eyes shut tight, and shuddering inside you with his own climax. Both of your sensory stimuli shut out to the outside world: Only aware of you both connected at the junction of your bodies.

And then the orgasm dissipates like a wave being pulled back out to sea. Seafoam settling in and tickling the shoals of your sex.

You feel warm and tingly...the rush of all those endorphins. He collapses gently on top of you. Gathering each other up in embrace.

laying in each other’s arms realizing the future is wide open. It's a bit daunting...scary even. But you have each other. And, for now, that will do.

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

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thezombieprostitute · 5 months

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Music in the Air

A/N: Written for Vee's Holly Jolly Challenge (@sstan-hoe). Reader is implied fem, "girls like me". No physical descriptors used.

Prompts: Bucky Barnes - My house, my rules. The Christmas music stays on.

Summary: You and Bucky discuss poinsettias.

Bucky's arm was having problems. Again. In all the years he had the arm he never really got to understand how it worked. He could figure out how to fix a lot of things, but his arm wasn't one of them. That's why he was glad he had you to turn to. You had quickly become his go-to engineer in the Avengers Tower. You were a rare and delightful combination of "not afraid of him" and "not overly friendly". You would smile, but let him initiate the conversation when he wanted.

At least, normally you were his favorite. Ever since December started you only every played Christmas music in your lab. He was still trying to get used to how much the holiday had changed and the music was, well, a lot. Especially when you were always listening to some kind of heavy metal Christmas music and he had only ever heard Christmas music sung a capella or maybe a church organ.

"Do you really need to listen to that music all the time?"

You smiled while working, "I did the respectful thing and waited until December before I started listening."

"Yeah, but it's just so..." he struggled to find the words.

"Non-traditional?"

"Jarring."

"Well, Sergeant Barnes," you reply, setting your tools down, "My house, my rules. The Christmas music stays on. However, I am willing to switch it for something that's maybe a little more your speed."

You walk over to your laptop and open up your playlist. It takes you a minute, but you finally find the song you're looking for and press the play button. As the speakers sing a lighter, slower tune, you turn back to Bucky, "you should be grateful. I don't turn off Trans Siberian Orchestra for just anyone."

Bucky blushed as he smiled, listening to the song. It was very different from what you had been listening to. For a start, there were lyrics. They told the story of a poinsettia named Percy and how had been overlooked and abandoned but grew and shone when given love. He almost smacked himself for having empathy for an imaginary plant.

To distract himself he said, "I'm surprised you like this song. It's so different from what you were listening to before."

You smile and respond, "it's a childhood favorite. This song just really hit my heart in a way no other Christmas song did. It stuck with me so much that, even in college if I saw my flowers for sale that were wilting or on their last legs, I'd buy them. Just to make sure they had love before they fully wilted."

Bucky looked at you with a softness in his eyes before you shook your head, "I know, it's stupid. I was an adult, I should've known better but some things just stick with you, you know?"

"Yeah," he whispered. "I know. Did you stop buying flowers because you kept getting them from dates or something?"

You chuckle, "I stopped because I had to prioritize my budget. I can't remember the last time I had flowers in my apartment. But thank you for the compliment."

"What do you mean? The guys you date don't give you flowers?"

"Girls like me don't get dates, Sergeant. I'm not whatever enough for guys to ask me out. Whether it's my size, my intelligence, my hobbies, there's just always something that keeps guys from asking me out, let alone bringing me flowers. But, again, thank you for the compliment."

You set down your tools and start putting them away, "your arm is all patched up. Hope this fix lasts you at least through the end of the year. I've got a lot of projects to finish up before the end of the year so I might not have the time to take care of you."

"You're not staying here for Christmas, are you?"

"I am," you nod. "My family celebrates holidays on days that aren't the day of so that we can avoid traffic and last-minute shoppers. So I set up an office lunch for the people who either don't celebrate, have nowhere to go, or whatever other reasons. Mr. Stark has been very generous with the budget for that."

"I'm glad you won't be alone on Christmas," he gives you a gentle smile.

"How about you," you ask. "You're welcome to join us if you'd like."

"Sam is insisting on taking me to Louisiana," he replies.

"Good," you assert. "I'm very glad you also won't be alone on Christmas."

You really shouldn't have been surprised to see the poinsettia on your desk the next day. There was no note, but you suspected. It wasn't very big and it had started wilting, but you loved it nonetheless. You gently hugged the plant and promised to give it the best of care for as long as it needed. After a week it was like a brand new plant, bright and strong. Doesn't hurt that you asked the biolab techs for help and resources.

It made Bucky's year to see how big your smile was, watching your poinsettia grow and how much you clearly loved it. It took him a while after to gather his courage and ask you on a date but your quick "yes" reassured him. Neither of you would ever be alone on Christmas.

#vee's holly jolly challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes christmas #percy the puny poinsettia

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icannot3 · 9 months

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Menstrual Dilemma

(Frat) Kyle Spencer x reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: talks of periods? Kyle buys you pads lmao. That's the plot.

Taglist: @taintandviolent (comment if you'd like to be added!)

....................

Excruciating pain was all you could feel. It left you doubled over, rolled in a tight ball and rocking around in agony. Your arms squeezed your abdomen tightly, short-lived waves of relief feeling like the holy grail before your ovaries once again continued their monthly, almost murderous routine. It was as if a knife had been stabbing you aggressively from the inside. The pain- along with other symptoms of inconvenience, such as headaches and nausea, had made you an uncrossable force not to be reckoned with. Being in far too much anguish to move, you'd sent Kyle to assist you.

Kyle deeply considered himself a gentleman. He'd do just about anything for his little lady. But when given the task of fetching you menstrual products, the job was perplexing - to say the least. Not only did he not have any deep knowledge about the use of these products, but he also had no idea where to find them. You'd told him to grab pads. After a painful amount of time scanning through the aisles of the nearest grocery store, refusing to ask for any help, he'd finally found the brightly lit women's care section. Before he entered, he did a quick loop around, making sure no one was close enough to see him enter. He felt a bit flustered being near the products in plain sight.

Finally, he'd made it in. His eyes scanned over the very large selection organized across the shelves. From what he'd gathered by looking at them, there were seemingly infinite options. The variety amazed him, really. The pads alone had so many sizes, but then there were just as many tampons up for selection. His hand trailed across the shelves, noticing a small box with bright purple packaging. The label read "menstrual cup", he'd flipped around the small cardboard box with curiosity. His eyebrow cocked up quizzically after seeing the product. Kyle's mind raced with endless questions. How did that even stay in there? Why would someone leave that inside of them? Did it hurt? Fairly astonished, he set the box back in its rightful place and made a mental note to ask you about that later. Regaining his original focus, he went back to the task at hand. He needed pads, right. He looked back at the intimidating selection, attempting to choose the best option.

He tried his hardest. He really did. But he truly had no clue what he was getting into when he accepted your request. He picked up one smaller package that seemed to lay in the middle flow-wise, gathering that it was the safest option. Kyle looked at the price tag from where it sat. Almost ten fucking dollars? For a medical necessity? His eyes widened like saucers, disturbed by the ridiculous cost of just a fancy cotton ball. He'd finally felt a small ounce of feminine rage and frustration over these matters. It was outrageous. Even the ones that weren't name brands were ridiculous. And the large packages for people with heavy flows? Screw that. Kyle gathered that if he had a period, at this rate, he'd shove a washcloth down there and call it a day.

His head snapped over, alarmed at the sound of a shopping cart. A mother had walked into the aisle with him. She had a small child in her cart as she browsed the selection. She looked at the prices, comparing them with her pointer finger whilst letting out a defeated sigh. Kyle understood, watching her try and look through the cheaper generic brands at the bottom. He still felt unsure about his choice. Putting all embarrassment aside, he got her attention.

"Is this stuff good? I'm here for my girlfriend." He showed her the pads he selected, desperate for help of some kind. She smiled kindly at him, nodding her head. "Yes, they don't have wings, though. You may want to ask her if that's what she prefers?" His brows furrow, he continues to grow confused over yet another technicality.

"What are wings?" He politely asks her. She giggles, pointing at another products photo. She gives a brief explanation, telling him about the benefits. Gratefully, he nods, grabbing that one as well. Just in case.

When he greeted you at his return to your shared apartment, just seeing you bundled up filled him with an immense amount of guilt. Not only did you have to deal with these ridiculous prices, but you were suffering. He set the bag next to you, pulling your exhausted form into his arms. You greeted him happily, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"How do you feel?" He inquires, rubbing small circles into the small of your back. You took a deep breath, soaking in his warmth. "Better, the cramps are starting to fade since I took my medicine. Were you able to find the pads?" He gives you a small smile, nodding his head in response. "A really nice woman helped me pick some out." You laughed, shaking your head at the thought of him getting advice on periods from a complete stranger. He found you precious, looking absolutely beautiful, snuggled into his chest. His fingers twirled through your hair and brushed your soft locs. Kyle, in that moment, vowed to always be as understanding and sympathetic towards you and any woman who complained about their monthly. He felt disgusted from his lack of knowledge alone.

He tapped your shoulder, silently asking you to face him. You hummed, eyes catching his own. "I have a question." He placed a kiss to your brow. You tilted your head, ready to answer whatever it was.

"Do you use menstrual cups?"

#ahs #fluff #american horror story #kyle spencer #kyle fluff #kyle spencer x reader #frat kyle #evan peters

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thefrenchydude · 4 months

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Murderous lust - Chapter 3 (part 2)

(TW : gore)

The kings asked Reader to wait in their palace for Lex's return. Macaque had stated that he would be back in two weeks, by which time he would have sorted out his - as yet unknown - problem and returned to the palace.

This news didn't please Reader, who felt stressed at the mere idea of being all by himself for all that time. Fortunately - or not - he wouldn't be alone. Obviously, the kings didn't want their guest to feel too lonely or bored. They multiplied their excursions: meetings with the people, more in-depth visits of the palace, meetings with the guards and soldiers -whose training he attended (strangely enough, the kings began to take part in the training too)- and visits to the mountain.

During these visits, Wukong and Macaque tried to stay as close as possible, without being too intrusive. Macaque had harped on him enough with his plan, the watchword of which was: take your time. So Macaque had organized all kinds of events and activities to keep Reader from thinking too much about Lex. Macaque wasn't foolish, Reader would never forget Lex - at least not that quickly - but it was possible to redirect his thoughts to other things. Moreover, it would allow him to adapt to this place and facilitate the revelations and changes that would follow. The creation of a bond with Reader was therefore essential before doing anything else; it was necessary to create an attachment, or even make him fall in love.

This was complicated for both of them, but even more so for Wukong, who wasn't used to holding back on anything. Just meeting Reader's gaze gave him urges that would make many blush. He felt the urge more and more, and couldn't resist it for long.

After three days, which seemed like an eternity to Reader, he was able to see the sun children again. He saw them only for a moment, as they passed through a corridor. They all looked at him strangely, except Xia, who seemed to wish his death. The eldest, who seemed very tough, softened his gaze when he saw Reader, and seemed sorry. Reader didn't like that.

Reader hadn't been feeling well since his man had left.His stress had exploded, and even though the two kings were extremely kind to him, the closeness they had created with him was making him feel uncomfortable.

Reader headed for the audience hall, where the two kings used to be every morning. From a distance, he could see a demon with broken horns and a face covered in blood running out of the audience hall, crying. Reader could feel his heart racing.

He requested an audience with the guards, who passed the word on to the kings.

As he entered, Wukong couldn't help but smile dreamily. While Macaque seemed to loosen up. However, he also noticed the servants, demons enslaved in battle, cleaning up the previous demon's blood and removing the fragments of his horns.

— How can I help you, Peaches, asked Wukong tenderly.

— I do not wish your help, Your Majesty...

Wukong cleared his throat, interrupting Reader. He gave him a look of reprimand.

—... I mean, Wukong. I simply wish to inform you of my return to the city to join my husband

Wukong was no longer smiling.

Macaque stepped forward and put his hand on Wukong's shoulder, who was now more tense than ever.

— What's the point?" inquired Macaque. Lex will probably be back shortly. And we can assure you that he got there intact without being ambushed.

I can't help worrying, I can't even contact him by message, there's no network here. Besides, this sudden, unannounced departure isn't like him. I'm going to leave the palace and return to his side.

Wukong looked extremely annoyed. But he immediately ends up grinning like a lunatic, revealing sharp teeth.

— It's perfectly understandable. We'll get your things ready for your departure", informed Wukong. You'll stay here for lunch and we'll take you back to your town immediately afterwards.

Reader was finally able to breathe, and he didn't hide his joy. He would soon see the one he loved.

o0o

The weather decided otherwise. From the gardens, in the torrential rain, Reader watched clouds as black as ink darken the sky. Soon the whole mountain was drowned in a torrent of water. The lightning didn't take long to strike either. Just after lunch, a veritable storm raged over the Flower fruit mountain.

Reader knew that the kings would never allow him to travel to his city. Lost and feeling trapped, he stood still in the rain, soaked to the bone.

One of the monkeys working at the palace came to bring Reader back to the palace, out from under the rain, worried about Reader's health.

He knew that human beings were extremely fragile and didn't want one of their guests - especially such an important one - to catch a cold. He guided him to his room, gave him something to dry off and advised him to take a hot bath - he would bring hot water.

But too late, soon afterwards, the fever rose and Reader was stuck in bed.

Three days passed. The monkeys took care of him, while the two kings came regularly. To check on him, to talk to him - even though Reader was barely able to respond-.

As Reader was at his worst, he heard an argument break out between the two warlords. He couldn't clearly understand what they were saying, but it seemed that Macaque was blaming Wukong for something.

Eventually, he was offered a cup of peach tea to make him feel better. He was afraid it'd been made with the immortality peaches from their garden.

The kings assured him that that wasn't immortality peach but some normal one. Doubtful, Reader declined the offer, despite their insistence. Plus, he wasn't sure he could drink anything.

o0o

Wukong had really thought about forcing him to drink it, he couldn't lose Reader again. But Macaque had said otherwise, if Reader didn't want it, he didn't want it. They could bring him healing herbs, instead of immortality peach tea. Besides, Macaque was very angry at Wukong's latest choices -Wukong was the one who had put Reader in this state by creating a storm- and he wouldn't let him ruin the rest of his plans. As for immortality, Macaque wanted it to be one of the last steps in his plan, and he wanted it to be voluntary, for Reader to want it. He didn't want it forced on him when Reader was in this state. That would be prejudicial to them.

Plus, it was just a cold and some fever, nothing too bad.

Reader grabbed his tail as he drifted off to sleep, Macaque's heart sank and he kissed Reader on the forehead.

— So you get to kiss him ?

— Stop being childish.

o0o

A week later, Reader was back on his feet, still weak but no longer ill. That was the end of the exhausting trips and activities. Reader had to rest for now.

Lex should have been here by now, but the storm, which still hadn't subsided, must have prevented him from returning. Wrapped in warm clothes brought by the kings, Reader strolled through the palace.

o0o

The kings went back to training in front of Reader.

Macaque and Wukong did everything they could to look their best and charm Reader. Dressed only in loosely-fitting pants, they executed a series of tricks, attacks and parries. The fight between the two was breathtaking to watch. Even in action movies, Reader hadn't seen anything like it. And the blows they exchanged increased in power.

And the more the fight progressed, the more they seemed to concentrate on each other, and the more serious it became.

As Reader watched them battle, he had a feeling of... déjà vu.

o0o

Macaque couldn't lose, he didn't want to let Wukong ruin everything.

They'd made a bet. Whoever won would decide what happened next. If Macaque won, things would continue to go slowly. But if Wukong won... well, no more secrets, no more waiting and things would go much faster. He was tired of waiting. Reader was already well accomodated in this place, and they'd gotten close enough -for him, they couldn't get any closer as long as they stayed in their lies-.

Wukong was clearly stronger than Macaque, he would win, he knows it. He was was stronger, faster and better trained than his brother-in-arms.

Macaque made a mistake and opened a breach in his defense. The Monkey King seized the opportunity.

The staff crashed into his head, hitting his ears hard. Disoriented, he didn't see Wukong's fist come like a bolt of lightning, crashing into his stomach. The shock had been so violent, Reader had felt the blast. Macaque was still standing despite himself. He was staggering, barely able to stand.

Wukong was about to deliver the final blow, to send him to sleep for a week so that he and Reader could become closer than ever.

The staff went down, but Reader stepped in, stopping Wukong in his tracks.

Reader immediately went to check on Macaque, who was bleeding.

Wukong sighed. He took his brother-in-arms under his arm and took him for medical attention.

o0o

The weather had calmed down, and soon Reader would be able to see his husband again. This thought made him so happy. He missed Lex so much.

Later that morning, he went with the kings to the gardens. Macaque had recovered very quickly. He and Wukong had a chat and since then, everything seemed to be getting better.

The three of them chatted about all sorts of things. Wukong made a joke to make his love smile.

Reader laughed.

Wukong could resist no longer, Reader was like a magnet for him. He leaned against him and put his hand on his thigh, smiling tenderly. Completely taken in by the mesmerizing being in front of him. Oh how he missed being able to caress the one he loved. As their faces drew closer, Wukong couldn't stop himself.

— With all due respect, Your Majesty, I'm a married man," Reader joked awkwardly, pushing Wukong away.

Wukong moved away, and from the corner of his eye saw Macaque's fur bristle as he glared at him.

— Why did you marry him ?

Wukong asked it really fast, just like he wanted to ask it since the beginning. Reader sensed anger in his question, he didn't liked that.

— He put me out of misery, loved me even when I had nothing, offered me a new chance and a new world, my heart belongs to him.

"I can offer you that too, and even better than this worm," Wukong thought to himself.

— It's strange, it's as if you loved me. The way you talk to me, act...

Wukong's tail froze.

— Plus all the events that forced me to stay here. The way you're trying to get closer to me.

— Yes, you're right, Peaches. We want you for ourselves.

Wukong had answered so impatiently, he'd been waiting for this. To finally stop pretending that Reader was anything else than his.

Peaches' heart missed a beat as his eyes widened. He could hear the wind and the birds fall silent. He knew he wasn't in danger. But Lex...

The trap closed around Reader as Macaque rose to his feet with a growl of anger towards his brother. The ground disappeared beneath Reader and he fell into what appeared to be a dark void. Macaque flicked his wrist and a spell sent Reader into a deep sleep.

o0o

Wukong and Macaque argued with a furious Reader. Insults and blows rained down, but nothing affected them. Then they assured him that Lex was alive and well, and had been sent back to town. Reader calmed down, but remained on his guard. He struggled to keep the tears from flowing; he didn't want to show himself so weak in front of them.

They told everything about him. His reincarnation, the way they met, the complicated beginnings, their love and then Reader's accidental death. Everything the Warlords said was hard to take in, too much information at once, not in the right conditions. But Reader kept a semblance of composure and didn't interrupt.

While telling the story, Wukong approached, causing Reader to back away. Until Reader could no longer back away, Macaque snuck up behind him to sit down and take Reader in his arms.

Wukong's golden, bloodshot eyes couldn't leave the man he loved with all his being.

Reader vehemently tried to punch him in the face, but Wukong stopped him with it's paw and kissed his hand.

A monkey suddenly entered the room.

— Your Majesty, the Rjhallan family are waiting for you for their audience.

— Keep them waiting.

— It's about the demon slayer.

Wukong sighed as he stood up. Why did this have to happen now? He swore silently that once he came face to face with this demon slayer, he'd break every bone in his body and beat him until he was nothing but a pool of blood and entrails.

o0o

Reader thought about how to get out of this situation. Pacing between the peach trees.

The two warlords were far too strong to be taken down, too old to be fooled, too fast and clever to be taken by surprise or to escape. So there was no way out... Or maybe there was. Before coming, Reader had researched the story of the two demons, the legends surrounding them, the handwritten stories left by travelers who had encountered them.

Objects capable of sealing or injuring the warlords existed: a scroll capable of locking anything away in memories, a jar capable of containing the Monkey King, a golden crown capable of neutralizing him...

The only problem is, Reader doesn't have these objects, he doesn't even know where they are... unless...

"Several thousand years of treasures and relics have been amassed here, Macaque explained"

— The vault..., whispered Reader, filled with growing hopes.

Chances were, these artifacts were there. He had to go and see.

Wukong arrived out of nowhere and grabbed him without warning, hugging him to his chest and lifting him into the sky as they both stood on a cloud. Instinctively, Reader closed his eyes and pressed himself against the (admittedly rather pleasant) fur of his enemy. Once they were a good distance from the ground, Wukong laughed out loud at his love's panicked expression. His sadistic side loved it.

Reader himself didn't know what to do, petrified by the terror. They were far too high.

Wukong placed a kiss on Reader's forehead. Reader thought about pushing out of his grip - but assuming he could - he'd end up falling to his death.

So Reader just grunted and insulted the red-haired monkey, who seemed unaffected, obviously only too happy to hold him in his arms. And Reader couldn't deny it, it was true that he felt a kind of pleasant warmth when he was in his arms. His hands roaming over his body were soft and his scent intoxicating. He wasn't holding him too tightly, nor too loosely; his fur was really soft and smelled like peaches. But he couldn't enjoy that, he had to get back to Lex, he was his man.

After a long hug and many kisses. Wukong lowered them to the ground and placed his love on the floor. As soon as wukong's embrace was released, he pushed him (wukong didn't move an inch, and Reader almost fell backwards if a tail hadn't caught him by the waist. Wukong raised an eyebrow, looking charming. Reader had had enough, so he grabbed the arrogant's tail, squeezed it and twisted it. Wukong tensed in pain and brought his tail to him in an attempt to soothe the pain. Like children do when they hurt themselves). Reader insulted him with every insult he had in stock.

Wukong face darkened, he climbed back onto his cloud and left, leaving Reader in the gardens - where he knew he'd be safe.

Macaque had warned him that Reader needed time to breathe on his own.

He knew that Reader wasn't the same as he'd once been. He'd expected some changes, but not this many. Peaches was much more... violent? "Maybe it was his sex change?" he thought as he landed in the throne room, "Men are often more violent."

Wukong had nothing to do but attend the hearings that had been scheduled.

The first demon arrived. Fox-like, his whole body trembling, his muzzle lowered and his voice quivering. He smelled like garbage.

Wukong sighed. He was already annoyed by hearings with foreign demons, but what had just happened with Reader made it worse. Rage was boiling inside him.

He needed to let off steam.

He canceled the audiences for the rest of the day, except for those of his people who would arrive towards the end of the day.

Wukong simply snapped his fingers.

The demon barely had time to see the guards leave the room and seal the door behind them before a powerful blow ripped out several of his fangs.

o0o

Night was fast approaching, the moon rising into an ember sky. Reader sat down on the grass, in a corner of the garden where the view of the sunset was unbeatable. But it wasn't for pleasure. As much as he enjoyed the view, his mind was elsewhere. Near Lex. Reader couldn't stop thinking about his husband.

Perhaps he was already dead, murdered by the two cruel warlords. Maybe he was running away or trapped somewhere.

Macaque rested against the tree Reader was standing under. His tail gently wiped his treasure's wet cheeks as he called Reader's name in a soft, soothing tone.

Reader moved the monkey's tail -who was obviously unaware of what had happened to Wukong's- away from him.

He hadn't heard him coming, as he had when they first met. He hated that, even though he had keen hearing and could easily sense indiscreet glances, with this one it was impossible.

Reader decided to stop dreading and worrying, for the moment it wouldn't do any good, except make him more vulnerable, which would be good for both kings. He had to think of something else, talk about something else.

— I noticed that my quarters were locked. Where will I sleep tonight?

— With us," Macaque replied immediately.

Reader didn't reply, as he already knew the answer.

— Wukong will be intransigent on this point," added his majesty. He hasn't slept beside you since you left. He's been waiting for this. If you want him to leave Lex alone, you'd better not irritate him too much, Reader.

— Are you going to kill him?

— Wukong wanted it that way. I've reasoned with him. Lex isn't a problem for us and killing him wouldn't do us any good, it would only fuel your hatred against us. He'll spare him if you don't make him think of Lex and if you're gentle towards him.

Reader's heart soothed, he was reassured by this news.

o0o

Shortly before dinner, the kings had to go to an emergency meeting. They were joined by other demons, an elephant, a bird and a lion.

The reason for their presence: the new demon slayer causing panic and gaining renown for his exploits.

Wukong had initially requested Reader's presence at the meeting, but had changed his mind. Reader didn't need to hear about this sort of thing, and needed to be kept as far away from it as possible for the time being. (Plus, with what happened sooner that day...)

They had ordered Reader to stay in his room - even though he knew he wouldn't, Reader was currently in his escape-era, as in all his other lives.

Wukong couldn't help smiling, looking forward to the moment when he would have to leave to search for his peaches. He missed this little game.

o0o

Reader didn't believe what they'd said earlier, Lex had to be locked up here, in the palace cells. He wasn't going to try to escape; on the contrary, he was heading deeper into the palace.

He remembered seeing a demon being taken into the dungeons after showing insolence to the kings. The entrance was different from the others: there was a wooden door without a lock. Reader had no trouble finding it - all those visits to the palace turned out to be useful after all. Reader descended the dimly-lit, narrow stairs. He almost fell several times as the rock became slippery.

At the bottom, Reader found himself in a long corridor lined with cells. Only a few torches lit the way, making it very difficult to see. The cells were all empty - well, almost all. There was the one holding the insolent - obviously unconscious - demon. But that's not what Reader was interested in. Where's Lex?

As he neared the end of the corridor that ended in a dead end. A smell invaded Reader's nostrils and he immediately felt like throwing up.

In the last cell was a chained tiger demon, suspended above the floor. Covered in blood, his head lowered, he looked as if he were dead. It was covered in gaping wounds and cuts.

All the tiger's limbs seemed to be broken as they were going in abnormal directions.

The tiger breathed in sharply and coughed. Reader, startled, fell backwards. He was alive.

The demon raised his head. One of his eyes was still ripped out, and most of his teeth were shattered. The tiger moved faintly, but too exhausted by its wounds, stopped immediately.

Reader was trembling with fear; he'd never been in this kind of situation before. He didn't know what to do, what to say. Should he try to free the demon? If so, how? What if the demon was dangerous? Maybe that was why he was there.

Reader could feel his breathing slowing, the world around him becoming blurred.

Was he going to faint?

He struggled against it. Trying to keep his composure, stabilize his breathing and gather his thoughts. He wasn't here for that, he had to keep looking for Lex.

But when a hand landed on his shoulder and he turned to meet Macaque's piercing gaze, his purple eyes locked on him, Reader lost all control. His face was only a few centimetres from his, and his gaze was like fire. Fear took over and Reader collapsed.

---

Totally inspired by "Twice as bad au" and "Bad end Wukong au" from @semisolidmind and @hcdragonwrites stories.

#lmk mk #monkie kid #fiction #yandere wukong #twice as bad au #murderous lust #sorry for the mistakes #i'm still french #bad end wukong

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hereforthefanficsandromance · 6 months

Text

The Way He Looks at You Series I:XXIV

Act I: The Way He Looks at You Chapter 24 : The Way He Restarts for You (Act I Finale)

Read on AO3 Read on Blogger Read on Tumblr Story Master List: The Way He Looks at You Series

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Chapter Summary

Cal makes preparations for the new additions to your life. Rating: 18+ Words: 2.1K

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I’m entering Kaahlii’s bookshop, the sound of the door chime giving away my return. The little sound also notifies my brain that I may breathe easier while I am here. I could not have known how stressful the journey here would be.

My recent mission to locate Fifth brought me back to this sector. Much to my dismay, they did not find his body in the rubble. I sincerely doubt the Rebellion maintained enough power to kidnap an Inquisitor when they fled. More disturbing, the Jedi’s body and lightsaber were not located; the Rebels are likely the cause.

Knowing the biggest threat to my happiness still walks free fills me with unease. At least I know she is safe in the medical wing, protected at the heart of the Empire. My heart, hidden at the heart, how poetic.

I’ve grown soft since she entered my life; allowed myself to give others grace when I would have previously struck them down. I should have struck down the Jedi, but my little light always blinds my vision. Time apart from her pains me, but I can act without remorse. Once I take care of my light and our future sparks, I intend to eliminate the man who threatens to steal them from me.

Passing through the doorway, the black satchel catches on the door handle, and I am tugged backwards. I wrestle the bag free and enter the cozy store as Kaahlii comes around a rather dusty bookshelf. The placard reads, “Ancient Civilizations” and I am almost drawn to the “Z” section.

“Inquisitor.” Kaahlii greets. “I haven’t heard from you since you left the hospital. Is there an update?”

I frown and shake my head. “Arrangements are being made for when she wakes.”

“Is there an estimate for when she will wake?” Kaahlii quirks an eyebrow.

I don’t miss the look of doubt, but I cannot, will not, lose hope in getting my light back.

“There is not, but she will wake Kaahlii.” I shoot the small woman a sharp look.

She waves her hand and purses her lips before speaking. “What can I assist you with Inqui-”

“Cal.” I correct, softening my expression.

Kaahlii blinks at me a few times. “What can I assist you with, Cal?”

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, but I try to maintain a level of professionalism. Instead of answering, I hand her the satchel and wait as she pokes through its contents. She hums her slow exhale before looking back up into my eyes.

“This will take all day. Today is story time.” Kaahlii explains.

“I’ll cover it.” I state. “It was actually…enjoyable last time.”

It’s Kaahlii’s turn to resist a smile, which she disguises with a curt nod. As she walks away towards her workroom, I strip off my Inquisitor armor and stash it under the front desk. I even unclip my utility belt. Attached to my lightsaber, and put it with the rest of my belongings.

The brown smock warms up my otherwise cold monotone clothes and I lift the top book off the leftmost stack. The search for its home takes a while, but soon I have figured out more of the organization system and move with ease.

I’ve almost completed the largest stack when the first story time customer arrives. I’m pleased to see it is the little girl with an affinity for droids and her kind mother. Without hesitation, I approach the pair and beep a greeting at the daughter before reaching to shake the mother’s hand.

The daughter squeals in delight as her mother dodges my hand to pull me into a friendly embrace. I stiffen at the gesture and the woman is gracious enough to hang on until I can relax and squeezing her back. She pulls away from the hug and beams up at me while reaching to grasp her daughter’s hand once more.

“Catalia and I are so happy to see you here again! She has been asking nonstop when the ‘Droid Man’ was coming back.”

I chuckle at both the words and the little girls excitedly jumping at the end of her mother’s arm.

“I’m afraid we didn’t catch your name last time. I’m Rosara.” She introduces herself and sticks out her hand.

I stare at the outstretches hand and wonder if I am to shake it or pull her into a hug.

“I’m Cal. Kaahlii allows me to help here when I am able.” I explain as I shake her hand.

“Cal, it is always a pleasure to see you!” She releases her daughter’s hand to grasp mine in both before releasing.

Her words disarm me; I haven’t been a pleasure to be seen in many years. I give an awkward nod to acknowledge the compliment.

“You’re new to working with kids, aren’t you?” She tilts her head.

I laugh once. “That obvious, huh?”

She laughs with me and Catalia screams, then giggles. “You’ll get better, I’m sure.”

“I hope so.” I reach up and rub the back of my neck. “We’ve got two on the way.”

“Two!” Rosara exclaims. “You are going to have your hands full!”

“I don’t know what to expect. This is quite new.” I admit, feeling more unsure than ever.

Rosara notices my discomfort and reaches out to squeeze my hand once. “Let’s talk after story time. I can tell you everything I’ve learned from this one.”

“I would really appreciate it. Preparation is key.” I watch as Catalia pulls her mother towards the reading area.

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You hear a steady and irritating beeping nearby that aggravates the ache in your head. Opening your eyes makes it worse, but you lift your hands to rub the sleep from your eyes. You feel wires follow your movements and fain more insight on your surroundings.

With clear vision, you glance around the sterile room until your eyes slide across a green-skinned man sitting opposite you. Your pulse quickens and you can feel the blood pound in your ears; increasing the pain.

“Finally awake? You’ve kept us all waiting.” Fifth Brother sneers.

You sit there silent and wide-eyed, waiting for the Inquisitor to speak again.

“Pregnant with the Jedi’s child? Belonging to Thirteenth? Quite the predicament.” He mocks. “And all those secrets about the Rebellion in your head.”

You wince, but try to maintain eye contact with the cruel man. He smirks in response and looks over your body, that is thankfully covered by a blanket and gown.

“I was interested in you before, but now you are actually interesting.” He studies you.

Your lips part, unable to find words. Pieces are missing, and you can’t quite remember the event that brought you here. Being alone with this man is terrifying and you long for the safety of before.

If only the man you love were here to protect you. Though maybe it’s for the best that he’s not here. There is no telling what the Fifth Brother has planned for you. How he might use your loves one against you to get the information he seeks.

You’d prefer to go down alone that to watch others suffer on your behalf. There can’t be more sacrifice to protect you; not again. Fifth doesn’t seem to mind your silence; instead amused by the fear so clearly etched on your features.

“Worry not, Pet. I won’t take your secrets just yet. I’m sure you will give them freely when the time is right.” He threatens. “I’m a patient man, and I’d rather not be on Thirteenth’s bad side.”

Your eyebrows painfully furrow at his confusing statement. He rises to his feet and strides out of the room, closing the door with the faintest click. You sit there paralyzed, listening for his fading footsteps.

Once you feel sure he has left, you tear the wires from your body and leap to your feet. There is a folded stack of black clothing on the bedside table. The dress is a logistical nightmare to hurry into, but you manage. Clasping the woolen cloak around your neck provides a familiar sense of security.

You swing open the door and make your escape, grateful your books are near silent. You break into a run, desperate to get back to safety, to your home with him.

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I’m glad to be back at the hospital. The time away was too long. Story time went well, better than last time. Being much less guarded, I found it easy to narrate the stories for the children. I made silly faces, pointed to the pictures, and gave each character a unique voice. I’ve gotten the hand of entertaining children; a now necessary skill.

Rosara and Catalia stayed late while I worked at the bookshop. Rosara gave me a surplus of knowledge on how to care for little ones while Catalia undid all my work. I learned vital information from one and patience from the other.

It scares me to know how little I knew about children; I would have accidentally given the infants water. Besides the life saving advice, she also provided a handwritten list of necessary supplies. All items now crossed off and purchased.

I also bought my light new clothes during the spree. She deserves more than one article of clothing. While in the boutique, something drew me to a dainty necklace with a large stone in the middle. That necklace now sits in a small box in my pocket.

The gold chain has once broken and repaired with an identical link containing a tracker. Kaahlii and I agreed taking a risk with three lives isn’t an option. Even if my light isn’t yet awake, I will still adorn her neck. She deserves to wake to something beautiful.

There’s a pang in my heart knowing she may never wake, may never wear the new clothes, never know our children. I push the distressing thoughts away and trust in the Force to bring her back to me. The Force gave me my light for a reason. It will return her to me, I am sure.

I am pulled from my thoughts when I hear the faint padding of footsteps moving hastily in my directions as I round a corner.

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I look down at my light, confused by her thoughts. There is a sense of déj�� vu and I can feel panic creep in at the worst-case scenario.

“Easy on the eyes?” I say, tilting my head.

Her eyes widen in horror, and I feel a pang of guilt for causing more distress after all she has been through.

“You said that the first time we…” I trail off and probe her mind.

I find nothing but my worst fears inside. I’m not in there. There’s no memory of our time together. She has forgotten. I feel my heart split and I tighten my grip. I’m not about to lose her again.

There is no option but to start over, so I darken my eyes to her favorite expression and lower my voice. “You aren’t going anywhere. I’ll be keeping you.”

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Next Chapter: Act II: The Way You Look at Him

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crying-fantasies · 7 months

Text

Everything is going to be alright

Masterlist

It was a nice day, everyone was working together, all systems working, no sight of problems or any dangerous galaxy around, Rodimus was doing his job for once and was pretty much focused on it that he almost didn't notice Sunset entering the bridge if Ultra Magnus didn't say a word about it, because work is important, but it looked like the young bot had something to say (in reality Magnus knew about it, and he was giving Sunset his whole support).

"Dad"

"Yeah, Sunny?"

"We are going to Cybertron"

"That's right"

"I know that it's only to recharge on energon"

"Uhum"

"Maybe we could stay there a little longer?"

"What for? We have to be ready to reach this-"

"Or maybe I can stay there longer?"

"No way, Sunset, you alone in there is not an option"

"I just want to do something there and then maybe-"

"What can be so good to stay in ol' New Cybertron when we can go to this new unexplored sector-?"

"I want to take the exam to be part of the Elite guard"

It was a nice day, until it wasn't.

A few hours later (wow, almost every bot in the ship talked in the same way humans once did) and Rodimus was still angry internally sobbing by the words and shouts that were exchanged.

Did Rodimus had to be so hard with his words?

"Sunset Eve!" Dang it, Rodimus didn't use his son's full name since his protoform days to encourage him to make something, "You are only a sparkling! Do you want to be at the back and call of diplomats that could literally kill you in every mess that they get into?!"

Did Sunset had to be say such hurtful words?

"Oh yeah?!" Sunset is young, maybe not as reckless as Rodimus once was, but way too hard headed when he wants something, "Well, I would get killed any way or any day if I stay here with a cursed ship like this or with a Capitan like YOU!"

As it happened in the bridge, and they weren't exactly silent with their conversation or anything that they did, almost every mech knew about it, being that their voices were loud enough to attract even more attention around, one bot telling the other what was happening was all that was needed to get almost everyone in tune to what was happening.

And almost every mech ex-vented, horrified, when Rodimus, finally processing what Sunset just said, said something even more hurtful.

"Oh yeah?! Then you can take your things and never come back to my ship again!"

Look, Rodimus is the one that is supposed to keep his cool, he has done quite a good job so far considering everything and anything that Primus has thrown at him, is that very same cool that keeps him sane and appear to be collected when everything else goes straight to scrap itself, thinking of the well being of his crew and also a way to get out of every misadventures in some kind of happy ending, but he is looking at his son, his only, dear and loved son, his son that has the idea of putting his spark in the field, the very same spark that he can feel while it radiates energy waves with every touch of his digit in the chest plate of his son, marking every one of his words and making them even more hard to take back.

You once told Rodimus that, sometimes, more times than not, he said things before giving a real second thought about what he was talking about or how others would respond to his words, at that time he said that it was good, because that was what got you to be his side and he would never take what he said then when you look at him with something he can only recognize as love even when you tell him that you are serious and call him a dork.

When Sunset was forged he kept his words, saying "Flag it, their optics have the same color of your eyes!" the moment that he formed his optics and getting a shush from your part while making him promise to think twice because you wanted Sunset to be at least 7 years old before saying a swear word.

Remembering that while looking at his son's optics, which Sunset returned to it's original and organic like color, makes his spark ache, for once, Rodimus hates the very same fact that Sunset did get your eyes color in his optics, because Sunset has a few tears of coolant in the borders of his optics that look so, so sad but his kid still keeps his whole strong demeanor and standing proud in front of him, cooling fans almost not registering in his audial receptors if it wasn't for it being the only sound in the entire ship till Sunset opens his intake again, always thinking what he is going to say first.

"That sounds fine for me"

And then, Sunset is gone, to his habsuit at least since New Cybertron is still not so near, but the ship keeps moving, and every click near the planet is a pain in Rodimus' spark.

He knows that Sunset is taking everything that he can from his habsuit, that strange abandoned office that he declared as his while saying that he was a grown bot and that he couldn't keep recharging with his parents, it broke his spark seeing Sunset, still a sparkling and barely reaching what you called his first rebellious phase, taking his blankets and toys in his little servos as he could and dragged everything in there, that very same night cycle he found his way back your shared berth with tearing optics and calling out for you with a trembling voice.

Now, you are long gone, Sunset will not come back and he will be here, alone.

"You should talk to him" is what others said, Drift and Megatron going as far as telling him "you will regret not doing something if this is really the last time" or even hearing in the communication lines how some bots try to stop Sunset from really leaving.

But this is something that only Rodimus can stop.

That doesn't mean he knows what the scrap he is going to do when, finally in New Cybertron, he is the last bot in the middle of Sunset's way to finally put a pede off the starship and go on with his life.

Sunset, for best or worst, looks like a bot with a whole aft detailed plan for the next decade or maybe two, using his big alt mode of a freaking dragon to move all his things down the ship, intake full of sharp teeth and ready to spit fire at him, and, being totally honest, Rodimus will take it, not because he is sure he can survive the flame tower that can be produced from there but because he knows that he needs to say something.

"Sun-" if there weren't bots around to see the disaster going on, now there are, some even shouting murder when the reptile-like-bird thing starts to put fire on Rodimus' face, but that doesn't stopped him before, it won't stop him now! "I know you're mad", again, "Sunset Eve, you are going to hear me now-!", and again, "Enough!"

Curious thing life is, even when Sunset has always been a dinobot die hard fan like many other bots, he could really go to Earth, and even when his T-cog didn't recognize any dinosaur or ancient reptile fossil and ended up with his spark broken, he could still be quite resistent to high degrees of temperature, something that he got from Rodimus and when he finally scanned an organic alien that could breath fire and looked similar to a dinosaur, after that, and since a very long time, Sunset was running to his father's side and hugged him while you smiled when Rodimus looked at you to realize that it was really happening.

And that was working for him now.

"I'm sorry, Sunset" his servos are heating up really fast, maybe the heated metal would bent over at some point, "I didn't mean anything of that, nothing of it!" Sunset is now trashing around, trying to get free from his grip but not been harsh enough to send him flying, "I'm just worried about you, you are way too young for this kind of decisions or to put your life in danger!"

At that, Sunset does sent him flying from a single movement of his head, finally transforming back.

"When you took the Lost Light you didn't hear anyone when they told you not to do it or how dangerous it was going to be", Sunset has been crying, it could be seen now and he can also see your disk hanging from his neck, "not Bumblebee or Prowl, not even Optimus Prime, you choose your shot and sailed to the space, by your own choice, so, why can't I do it?"

Good question, that's what he said when you asked him one day, and he said the very same answer, "Because I wanted to"

What he is going to do now, Rodimus is praying that this is the right choice, is something that he is going to see and accept, and he is ready to make it.

"And you can do it, you can" maybe is the way that Sunset looks at him, or the smile that is growing on his face plate even if he tries to stop it, but it gives him courage, it gives him faith that this is the right thing to do when Sunset hugs him again after decades and he tries to bask in the moment for as long as it can last, trying to keep the voice that tells him how he is loosing him.

It's the very first time Sunset is off the ship by his own, but Rodimus believes that he is going to be alright, he wants to believe so.

The next time that Rodimus returns to New Cybertron is to visit Sunset, show him these incredible long lost ancient artifacts they found and tell him every incredible detail that he missed, just to have some enforcer show his son's body covered in cosmic rust, contained in a separate and pressurized chamber, optics almost off, medics and scientists taking samples even when his son is flinching away in pain that he tries to cover by showing him a smile.

Rodimus was happy when Sunset was so, so excited about having his own group to command in missions, at first he was a little worried, of how other bots could react or if they could have any problems with his origin, just to know that every other mech in his squad were techno-organics, every single one of them was a Terraformer, all for the glory of Eminence Prime's own origin and the now open minded Senate that was searching to keep peace with many other races.

Not everyone is ready to forget the cybertronian civil war, and many are still resentful.

"You must be proud, it may have been weird in their creation, but you produced such good soldiers and citizens of Cybertron!" It's what the enforcer said to all the grieving and horrified bots and humans, showing them their kids, all infected by the cosmic rust disease, but still online, still hanging for dear life, while Rodimus looks at his son.

His dear, loved son.

"Everything is going to be alright" those were your last words in the communication lines when the Lost Light was boarded before the nightmare started.

Rodimus is trying so, so hard to keep your last words in his spark that is just so close to give up at the image in front of him.

"Just before you say anything!" Sunset is fast to notice his father a click away from punching the enforcer in the faceplate or from saying some shit, "Look at this in a positive light! Like, dad, we are healing! It'll take time but we are better than when we came back, a medic said we could produce antibodies for treatment!"

"...You were worse?"

"Dad, listen, we're going to be alright-"

"Sunset Eve, you have the cosmic rust, fragging.cosmic.rust"

"I mean, I understand you but-"

"Cosmic killed billions during the great war and highly deadly Rust Disease"

Does Rodimus have second thoughts about this? Definitely, the idea of dragging Sunset back to the Lost Light crossed his processor more than once, but Sunset looks happy, even when he is falling to pieces in some parts, he looks happy and alive.

And that's enough, but the whole ship is staying in New Cybertron till the moment Sunset is discharged.

"Why is your son doing this to me?!" He almost cries out loud to a photo of you the moment that Sunset is getting ready to be put in another mission in the middle of nowhere again, "My spark just can't with this and he took it from you!"

"Cut the scrap already, Primus damnit!"

#reader insert #x reader #angst #tf mtmte #transformers x reader #rodimus x human reader #rodimus x reader #tf rodimus #rodimus

23 notes · View notes

belethlegwen · 10 months

Note

18. GT Prom for the prompts!

In brutal honesty, I had had another idea entirely for this when you sent it but never got around to writing it, and then with some bad news yesterday I was in desperate need of some comfort, so please enjoy:

Henry teaching Melanie to dance.

Words: 3605 [Bare with me, I may need to fuck with the formatting so if this gets edited 1000 times I am very sorry]

It had been a night of drinking and chess; two activities that Melanie, at the very least, had believed to be a bad mix. After an even more disastrous game than she was typically used to, she was absolutely certain she had been right, but was tipsy enough to not be tremendously bothered either way.

Henry was draining his third cup of wine, his cheeks rosy as he plopped his seven-inch self haphazardly onto the edge of the kitchen island, his legs and boots dangling as he watched her sloppily spin herself around the kitchen in the efforts of putting everything away that they had had out for dinner. “Your footwork gets forgotten when you’ve been drinking,” he called to her in hopes she would hear it over her sporadic humming.

The small man let out a quiet noise of surprise, followed by drunken laughter as she stopped what she was doing near the cupboard she kept her glasses in and quickly hopped her feet back and forth, her hands up in front of her as though she were boxing. “Didn’t realize I was fighting anyone in here,” she said, her volume louder than the usual restrained-whispering she typically did around him. “I’ll try to keep in my stance in case someone takes a headshot.”

“Yes yes,” the man groaned between chuckles, waving dismissively at her. “Very impressive. I meant dancing.”

“Oh,” the woman replied, moving back to her rather disjointed organizing of the kitchen with a loud lip-flapping and abrupt chuckle. “I’m much better at fighting, sorry t’tell you. Never learned to dance other than a few of the goofy ones, and the basic try-not-to-stomp-on-eachother slow dancing.”

Henry watched her, presumably, go into some kind of mockery of a stifled ballroom dance. “Is that one of these… ‘goofy’ ones?” he asked as he tipped another gulp of wine into him to try and hide his smirk.

“Don’t make me show you the chicken dance,” she threatened after a snorting laugh caught them both by surprise, just leading to a chorus of giggles.

“For someone who seems like she enjoys dancing, you don’t seem to do it much.” His legs kicked as he leaned back to observe her more, his brow furrowed in thought. “I think this is the first time you’ve danced around me-- on purpose, at least-- since I arrived.”

The giant woman went an even deeper shade of red beneath her wine-blush. “I f’goddibout the gym,” she slurred quickly in an embarrassed mutter.

“You always do,” he replied, smirking as she waved a hand at him in such a show of annoyance it blew the loose strands of hair away from his face, which just made his smile larger.

“I mean,” Melanie drawled, finally putting the last of the clean dishes away with a bit too loud of a clatter, both of them flinching at the noise. “It’s probably because I’m too scared to do it around you. I’m big, I’m loud, I’m not ‘xactly graceful, you probably don’t-- what are you doing?”

Her hazel eyes took a second to focus as she turned back to him, noticing him holding his free hand up with a few fingers raised.

“Keeping track of the items I’d like to argue with you on,” he said bluntly, crossing his swinging legs at the ankles. The massive woman sighed and frowned as a response. “You could dance more,” he said with a tone of insistence, swirling the wine around his cup a bit. “I can get up here, or the table, or the couch, or wherever you like, and you could dance. I honestly wouldn’t mind.”

Melanie scoffed quietly, seeming to ponder the half-empty Cabernet bottle with the cork partially stuck in it before shaking her head. “I haven’t danced in any… real way since whenever I last went to a wedding. I think since high school I’ve only danced at weddings and prom.”

“High-School sounds prestigious in a way that I feel you’re about to laugh at the idea of,” Henry said, also eyeing up the bottle that stood next to the stovetop. The vague snort from nearly above him proved his point before he could continue. “I’d love to know what you feel counts as real dancing, and what a prom is. Weddings, conveniently, I know. Or at least, I feel like I know.”

Sidling along the counter across from him, she came to rest against the edge near the sinks and tipped her head from side to side in that thinking-way she was known for, the longer part of her hair waving just a little on the side of her head where it draped. “I imagine weddings probably aren’t that different overall, you’re right,” she mused. “But yeah that’s where I do most of my dancing now, and it’s still rare I have a partner for it. I went to a friend’s wedding a few years back and took another friend of mine as a plus-one, they were lovely.”

He pushed himself up and climbed off of the edge of the kitchen island, pointedly ignoring the giant arm and hand flying out to give him something to land on if he fell. “You dance without a partner? As in, a group dance?” he asked while moving to the stack of cooking books and sitting there instead, to avoid having to look up so far at her.

“Uhm,” she stalled audibly, grimacing. “Probably not the same way you think, but… that does describe it. I’ll show you videos sometime. There was slightly more partner dancing at prom, because my boyfriend at the time wasn’t one of those ‘I refuse to dance’ jackasses. Still lots of group dancing though.”

She took a deep breath through her nose and glanced to the wine again. “Prom is a big event when you graduated highschool. You’re moving from grade-school to trade school or university or just going out to work jobs. The one I went to was held at a big fancy hotel or event-space downtown in the capital city, I can’t remember, and there was a dinner and dancing. Lots of speeches-- way too many speeches-- but it was fun from what I remember.”

“So dancing isn’t necessarily the point of it, then,” Henry replied.

“Oh, no,” she said with a shake of her head. “Dressing fancy and spending the night with the rest of the graduating class and their partners was probably the real point. Dancing was just part of it for fun.”

The small man seemed to brighten significantly at this, throwing her for a loop as he grinned widely. “Ahhh, so it’s a fancy-dress occasion. I was beginning to wonder if you had any of those at all here.”

“Well, weddings,” Melanie stressed, trying to tamper down his excitement a bit. “Like… there are more. People find all kinds of events t’go to that they dress up for. I just don’t… go to any.”

It hung in the air a moment as they both looked around the room, lost in their own alcohol-enhanced thoughts. Eventually, his voice cut back in. “Well, seeing as you don’t know how to dance with a partner,” he said with a shrug, pushing himself back up to standing, “I can understand why you probably wouldn’t.”

“I know how,” she said defensively, leaning forward to try and match heights with him with a playful scowl. Instantly he flashed that cock-sure grin that told her she had fallen, once again, straight into a trap.

“Go on then,” he demanded with a wave of his hand, and she laughed at what she assumed was a poor attempt at mocking her ‘boating accent’. “Show me.”

To his utter delight she took a deep bow with a ridiculous, twisting flourish of one arm before clearing her throat. “Count the time for me,” she said in her own awful attempt at mocking his accent, launching into a twirling step with her arms held aloft like she was holding someone before he even had the chance to start.

The almost pained cries of distress that left him between his laughs as he watched her navigate the narrow paths of the kitchen only seemed to encourage her, the woman staggering her steps just a little as she grabbed and uncorked the wine bottle and took another deep swig. She wiped a trickle of the red liquid from her chin with a sleeve, continuing the dance as she ignored him.

“Awful, terrible! Shameful!” Henry shouted in jeers as he walked around the countertop to try and keep her feet in view. She finally came to a stop back at her original position, giggling ridiculously with red cheeks and messy hair. “No, no, that can not be how people dance here.”

“It’s how I dance,” she said, looking offended. “If you want to see how people dance, you can go drag it up on the TV.”

He tipped the last of his wine into himself before slapping the empty thing down on top of the cookbooks. “No, no,” he kept saying, shaking his head as he walked toward the ledge, his hands out in front of him gesturing her closer with spinning motions of wrists. “Come here, I’m remedying this.”

She took the half-step closer, practically looming over him as she furrowed her brow in amused confusion. He simply kept making the same gestures, more impatiently.

“Give me your hands,” he said, shooting her a harsh look when she laughed. “Come on, up here.”

“You’re serious?” She asked, stepping back again as her hands came up slowly in front of her. The small man nodded, his impatience growing as he stretched his arms out more to try and grab at her.

“A basic waltz deserves more respect than you’re giving it,” he said clearly, hands gripping around her fingertips as he worked to pull her into a position he could move with. “A box-waltz is easy, you should’ve learned it when-- what? What’s wrong?”

His blue-green eyes turned up to her hazel ones as he came to an abrupt halt, her expression difficult to tell from this angle beyond the bright blush and the staring. “Nothing,” she replied too quickly for either of them to believe. “Box step?”

“...The box-step waltz, yes,” he relented to the prompting, clearing his throat and turning his eyes back down to the sight ahead of him; one he was very suddenly aware of as being… patently ridiculous. He shook his head, the wine sloshing between his ears enough to drown those worries. Above him, out of his view, a giant woman was too inebriated to think of anything to say, simply trapped in a shockingly firm grip of a small man who was aggressively determined to teach her to dance.

Hands and fingers followed his movements on an awkward delay as she tried to listen to his instructions and also let him guide her along. “I step forward-- always start on left-- and then the right goes out, and then--”

She blinked as his face turned up toward her again, both of them coming to another awkward stop.

“You’re supposed to be following my steps.”

“...How?” She asked, turning to glance around her in the small kitchen space, and then back to the limited space he had on the kitchen island. It was his turn to go red in the face as the question hung there.

“Just… rock in the right direction,” he said, resetting to the initial position. “Now, again-- from the top. Left foot forward, right foot-- what are you doing?”

“Left foot forw--” she tried to repeat impatiently, the man irritably shaking her fingers with his hands before cutting her off.

“No, you do the opposite, you’re following my lead,” he said, trying to reset again. “Left foot--”

“Then why are you telling me what you’re doing when I’m the one who needs to learn?” Her voice shot back incredulously, holding her hands still and resisting his pulling.

“Because I’ve been drinking. Now, back to the top,” the tiny man demanded, yanking at her as she let out a surprised laugh. “Left fo--”

“Right foot back, left foo--”

“Don’t do that, I’ll get confused,” he admonished her, this time not bothering to fully reset and just moving back into the dance as they both started to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “Were you this drunk at the prom?”

“No, god no,” she said with a smile as she took small steps around her own arms as she tried to keep them in range of him, following his steps in reverse with some brief staggering on the footing changes. “I wasn’t legally allowed to drink then, I was only 18. I think I had a breezer or two when we got back to Luke’s house after, but I don’t remember. I just remember falling asleep to Akira and waking up for 3am steaks.”

“I’ll need… significantly more context for what you just said, but you would’ve danced much better than this, I would hope,” Henry said as he stumbled slightly trying to turn before realizing he couldn’t.

“I mean, we used more of the dance floor,” the giant woman replied with a smirk as she flicked a middle finger in to tap against his side. “He even dipped me at one point, that hasn’t happened much in my life.”

His hand left her index finger to swat at the middle one scoldingly, and she took the opportunity to put the one he had been holding against his shoulder. “Well I’m afraid it won’t be happening tonight,” he said while moving back into the dance smoothly. “Much as I would love to show you how someone who actually knows how to dance would do it.”

“I’d like that.”

He went red in the face again at the strange breathiness of her voice, and noticed the whole giant form of her stammer in its stepping as she seemed to catch herself having said it out loud. “I wish there was a smaller table or something akin to one-- at this height, at least-- we could maneuver around,” he jumped into the awkward silence. “Then we could get you turning, for as long as that lasted until you fell down.”

“I am not that drunk,” she chuckled, nudging his shoulder lightly. “You’re much deeper than I am--”

“I can hold my liquor significantly better than you.”

“--you can’t hold wine nearly that well, though, I bet your balance is garbage right now.”

“Oh?” He said, trying to stop his box-step but getting gently pushed back into the motions by her hands. “We could easily put that to the test, but you seem to be enjoying the dance now.”

She slipped the finger he was still holding the tip of out of his grip, putting her hand palm-up on the counter next to him as she pressed lightly against his shoulder. A smirk pulled at the woman’s lips as he looked up at her. “We could try both, if you weren’t too drunk for it.”

“I won’t have enough room to step,” he quipped back, his feet holding firmly on the counter against her insistent nudging. He laughed under that knowing smile she gave him; he had fallen directly into one of her traps.

“Just rock in the right direction,” she said, cocking her head slightly toward the open palm, and the man hesitated before smiling and conceding, walking onto her palm as she moved her other hand to have the index and thumb both act as her arms for him.

Had it been any other circumstance, especially under more sobriety, he would’ve been insulted by the positioning as he faced her and worked his hold around her hand. It felt too much like she was trying to give him safety-rails, too much like she didn’t trust him not to fall.

As she lifted him from the countertop to a position close to her eye-level, however, he appreciated the added stability for both of their sakes. He doubted it would’ve been bad enough to cause a fall, but the adjustment of her pinning her elbows against her sides to hold him steady was a bit more exaggerated than usual in their inebriation.

“I like this more,” she said as he looked at the gigantic face in front of him, her eyes sparkling and slightly watery, and her cheeks still flushed blotchily from the drink.

“I’m reserving my judgment until we start,” he said, matching the playful smile on her lips. “I can’t see your feet from here, so--”

A noise of surprise, like a yelp, escaped him as she started to walk to a more open space toward the dining room. “Good,” she said, her eyes not leaving him as she took up a starting position and raised her eyebrows. It was all the signal she gave him before stepping into dance.

Being where he could see her face was a blessing and a curse. Whereas before he had been mostly watching her hands and the bulk of her torso as he moved, now he had to watch her eyes flickering over him, darting around her own fingers to watch him as he tried not to stumble with small, rocking-motion steps in the soft dip of her palm. He was suddenly self-conscious. Suddenly, standing there as he did the tiny steps he had made her do, it felt ridiculous.

But her smile was one Henry had come to appreciate. It was warm, it was happy. It wasn’t judging or amused or scrutinizing in any way. This was the smile she shared with him when she was genuinely enjoying herself; when there was simply fun being had.

The back-and-forth and side-to-side rocking of her comparatively massive steps was unlike anything he had experienced before, and he was sure if he had had more wine it would be making him sick as he flexed and gripped his fingers over the faint corduroy texture of the tip of her thumb to ground himself, trying to keep time with the imagined music in her head.

Melanie was leading, now. She had been leading since she first moved her finger to his shoulder.

He couldn’t bring himself to complain as she continued to box-step in the space between the kitchen and the dining room table, instead just chuckling quietly as she started to hum something that had all the marks of being improvised. The feeling of the gravity around him shifting, moving, as she started to rotate-- technically in the wrong direction, but he was in no mood to say anything-- was enough to keep his heart in his throat as he held onto her, stepping back and forth and side to side in her hand in tiny steps.

“Is this what it was like at your prom?” He asked eventually, when her eyes had been focused on his feet instead of his face too long for him to be totally comfortable with.

Those giant eyes jumped back up to him with a bright laugh that washed over him quickly with the scent of cabernet and sharp cheese, causing him to laugh as well as she stumbled just a bit. “No, I’m not in a big ol’ dramatic dress, and I imagine the music would be something we’d both just groan at right now,” she said, shaking her head.

“We can pick different music,” he said, trying to lean to one side enough to see if he could spy her feet, only to have her hand move with him for an extra rotation, making him feel as she finished her own turn like he had spun a full 180 degrees. Watching her feet was evidently not allowed. “I’m sure you own a dress, and you haven’t even seen my fanciest clothes yet. I even took them out last week to make sure nothing had gotten to them.”

“Are you trying to throw me a prom?” She asked, her brow knitting together as she flashed a grin at him.

“I don’t see why not, we could consider it part of my ever-continuing education of your strange customs,” he drawled, staggering as she laughed so much her entire body shook. She turned him back to face her with another move of her hand and tilted her head skeptically.

“What would it be celebrating?”

He shrugged, rocking with her motions again as he continued to measure the time between each of their steps. “Your graduation.”

“That was almost fifteen years ago now,” she replied, nudging him with a finger and he flashed that cocksure grin at her again.

“Ah, that was your Highest-School graduation,” he corrected her with a dramatic flare of his own accent, both of them chuckling. “We’d be celebrating your graduation from the Henry Lemuels’ Academy of Waltz.”

Melanie’s eyes fell bashfully away, the grin spreading even more across her face as her ears went red. “Oh, I’ve done that well already?”

“Lord no,” he snapped, causing her to splutter on another laugh as he gripped her fingers with a teasing grin of his own. “But I have hope that you can manage before the event.”

She took in a breath and eased it out on a giggling sigh, shaking her head as those incredibly large eyes met his own again. “Well, I’m glad for at least that small concession.”

“Mind what you call me or I’ll fail you,” he said, both of them falling back into step again to the music of just their shared laughter.

There was no other music needed, as they spun themselves around on the hardwood floor.

They were good at making their own.

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taki79 · 10 months

Text

OPM SPOILERS!!!

(THEORY/PREDICTION) !!!

THEORY I WANT TO SHARE THAT I HAVE HAD IN MIND FOR AWHILE!

(Genos, Drive Knight, Metal Knight, Mad Cyborg related)

I had a theory awhile ago about Metal Knight and Drive Knight working together secretly, but now something tells me that is not the case whatsoever.

I think it’s strange on how Drive Knight tells Genos to not trust Bofoi off the bat in the beginning from the end of season 1.

Like he’s trying to turn on the possibility of a traitor in the HA in the mind of Genos (so he becomes worked up about it, which works and favors DK later on). Like he needs someone else to do his dirty work for him, due to DK already being seen as suspicious by MK.

(ik ik im stretching here and there but, let me cook)

But I feel like it’s strange on how Drive Knight tries to pin point it all at Metal Knight particularly because of his absence throughout the Hero Association. Like he’s trying to make it out as HE is the one Genos needs to target particularly. Especially because he’s the only other robot besides the 2 of them being part cyborg.

Does Drive Knight tell this information to anyone else, BESIDES GENOS?

No, not at all (at least that’s just from what I know and see, as he’s a very secretive person).

And I think it’s really strange when Drive Knight starts to mention about ‘knowing’ something evil about MK. It’s like he’s inserting himself, or with the people he might work with in secret. Like a new hidden organization yet to be announced in the storyline.

Especially on the first panel below this, when he tells Genos why he’s telling him this. It all seems so manipulative, stalker kind of vibe, trying to share common ground/change his persona to be likable/trust worthy. He’s suspiciously trying a little to hard to gain his trust, he’s trying to be a victim like him, I guess gain sympathy in a way?

It’s like Metal Knight KNOWS he’s in a mentally unstable condition, that Genos seems desperate enough to find out about his ‘mad cyborg’ killer sooner or later.

If someone very important to him happened to die, Genos would whole heartily (maybe with a grain of salt) follow Drive Knights information. (Wanna know what happened? KUSENO DIED, HIS FATHER FIGURE, SOMEONE WHO WAS THERE FOR HIM IN THE BEGINNING. And wanna know what he did after? He used that information from Drive Knight to go after Metal Knight.)

Also-

HOW DOES DRIVE KNIGHT KNOW THAT GENOS’ES VILLAGE AS BEEN DESTROYED BY A ‘mad cyborg’ AS WELL???

NO ONE TOLD HIM??

SO HOW DOES HE EXACTLY KNOW!???

(It’s like out of the blue.)

This only furthers my suspicions on Drive Knight.

Especially on the after math of Kuseno’s death and when robots invade nearby cities. In which Genos automatically assumes it’s the work of Metal Knight.

And now with new evidence from the newest webcomic chapter shows Metal Knights base, with no robots forming out of the base itself.

As all of his robots are by the HA HQ fighting the new other robots.

(Although the chapter isn’t fully translated yet, you can see DK, which proves my previous point up above in the third section.)

I actually think Drive Knight might be working with the association that destroyed Genos’es village. It would explain on why he’s trying to pin the blame on Metal Knight and to not become suspicious from Genos POV, giving him a good alibi for the most part.

And if anything that ‘mad cyborg’ killer could be Drive Knight himself, but that’s a bit of stretch if anything.

(IM PREDICTING IT THO! MARK MY WORDS!!)

————-

A little bit more evidence mentions: (from the top of my head)

-Metal Knight tells Child Emperor to not trust anyone as his final message to him. We are shown a text of both of them used to being friends.

It’s like Metal Knight had to cut his connection towards CE for his safety as he MK already felt he was being watched himself. (But that might change due to the recent chapter that has yet to be translated, can’t fully confirm until then but just putting it out there.)

-Saitama tells Genos to just talk to Metal Knight and ask. But Genos pays no head to that, which might become his biggest mistake.

I feel like this is foreshadowing that once Genos gets close to Bofoi, and Bofoi tells him that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about/tells him straight up he had no relation to the event he speaks of. I feel like Genos might lose it completely even if Saitama is next to him and tries to calm him down.

Like I feel like Genos might almost kill Bofoi but Saitama stops Genos in time. And both start to argue and it’s starts to become sad from there.

-It’s strange how after Genos talked to DK for a bit, then Kuseno dies.

Coincidence? I think not.

It’s like Kuseno was on DK’s hit list for him and the people that he works with/the association that killed Genos’es village. And they had to get rid of him one way or another, it would explain why there was random strong robots there. They were being tracked and targeted, mainly Dr.Kuseno (as if he was getting close to the truth).

Like they to manipulate Genos just so DK could earn his trust and lose a lot of suspicion in his eyes. Even after Kusenos death.

-THE 2 MF ROBOTS FROM SEASON 1 THE SOUND O SONIC EP! (I think)

They appeared after taking back the suit of the big strong bald head guy.

It’s like very early foreshadowing of members for another association, yet to still appear out of thin air. (IMO)

————-

That’s all I wanted to share for now, I’ll edit this if I happen to remember more and study the chapters closely.

If you guys wanna add on or put in you own input, on this theory, please do! I would be happy to hear your opinion!

(And correct me if I’m wrong!!)

Until then, thank you for reading my theory! (If it makes sense 😭)

Have a nice day/night!! :D

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 2 years

Text

Long Way Back

Porthos enters the infirmary, pulling his hat off as if it were a church. It feels like one, these days - too quiet, something big pressing down on them from above, a looming power that doesn’t seem to hear their prayers.

“How is ‘e doin’ today?” Porthos asks Athos, seated beside the sole occupied bed, the figure in it still and seemingly asleep.

Athos casts a somber glance across the patient and rises from his chair, looking older than his thirty years.

“He’s taken some soup. And I think his headaches are less severe. Or maybe he’s not telling us.”

Porthos nods. He should take this as good news. Any change, as little as it is, is good news at this point. But it’s not good enough.

Athos puts a comforting hand on Porthos’ shoulder.

“This kind of injury takes a lot of time to heal,”he says. “We know this. Aramis knows this. Give him time.”

Not trusting his voice to be steady, Porthos only nods again.

“D’Artagnan will be here in two hours.” Athos reaches for his weapons belt and slings it around his hips. “And he says he can stay the night. Go home then. You need sleep.”

Porthos chuffs. “No more than you, my friend.”

One corner of Athos’ mouth curls into the fragment of a smirk. Weapons belt fastened, he shrugs into his leather jacket and grabs his hat.

“I’ve received word from Sister Marie,” he says.

A small warm spark springs up in Porthos’ heart. The Sister, a friend of the Musketeers and an accomplished healer, has saved one of their own before, and perhaps she can do it again.

“Does she think she can help Aramis?”

Athos pushes his hat onto his thick curls and pulls it low into his forehead.

“She says she wants to try. She wants us to bring Aramis to the convent. Let him recover there, in her care. I think it makes sense.”

Immediately, Porthos bristles at the thought of taking Aramis away from the garrison. Away from his and his brothers’ care and protection. You don’t separate the Inseparables. You don’t break that bond. It’s never led to anything good.

But if there’s anyone he is willing to trust with Aramis, it’s Sister Marie. She’s worked miracles before. And Aramis is in need of a miracle. And what better place to recover for a man of faith like Aramis, than the sacred halls of a convent where his body and soul can heal in peace? Athos is right: it makes sense.

“‘S a good idea, Athos. We should organize transport as soon as possible. Maybe Treville will grant us leave to accompany ‘im. Stay for a few days till he's settled.”

“I’ll talk to Treville. I’m certain he will.”

With a last pat on Porthos’ shoulder, Athos walks out the door.

Porthos rubs his hands across his face and finally approaches the bed to sink into the chair Athos just vacated. As he does, he sees Aramis stir. His bandaged head rolls to Porthos’ side, and he makes a noise of distress. It sounds like pain. A string of spittle drools from the corner of his mouth. Porthos uses a towel from the bedside table to gently wipe it away.

“Hey, Aramis,” he says softly, in a voice he would use for a sick child. “How are ye doin’ today? Care to open yer eyes for me? There ya go.”

The injured Musketeer pulls sluggish eyelids apart and looks at Porthos, the purple bruises under his eyes turning his gaze into a dark pit. At least he’s lucid now. There’s clear recognition there in his eyes, one pupil still larger than the other, unlike on that first day when he’d regained consciousness and looked at them emptily, like a blind man. The shock still runs deep through Porthos at the memory.

They’d known it was more than just the regular concussion. When Aramis had taken a bad fall during a fight and smacked his head against a balustrade, hard, they’d all heard the crack of bone. In the days to come, their primary worry had been if he’d pull through; if he’d wake up at all. And somehow, they’d all hoped that if he woke, it would be with a dramatic complaint and a feeble joke, as he usually did after getting conked on the head.

But they had not expected an Aramis who did not recognize them, who could not talk and whose left arm and leg lay still at his side, unmoving.

He’s improved, since then. He still has trouble speaking, slurring his words and hating that he does, so he mostly remains silent. The left side of his face isn’t drooping anymore, and feeding him has become easier, although he still cannot do it himself - or simply doesn’t want to eat, as Porthos suspects. He also suspects that Aramis understands every word that is spoken in the infirmary, even when he pretends to be asleep. Aramis’ eyes, so dim on those first few days, have regained their clarity, even if the vibrant spark in them remains missing.

They look at him now, those eyes, pools of bottomless black. No joy. Only darkness.

“Not talkin’ today, are we?” Porthos comments, anger mixing into his despair. “Well, we’ll see if Sister Marie can change that. An’ she usually doesn’t take no for an answer.”

Aramis throws him a dark look.

“Ah, so you overheard us, did you?”

The bandaged head turns away again, to the wall. With his right hand, Aramis makes a weak pushing gesture in Portho’s direction. Go away.

“M not goin’ anywhere,” Porthos says stubbornly. “Not until you get up an’ make me.”

Still looking at the wall, Aramis huffs, and it sounds dangerously like a sob.

Immediately, Porthos feels terrible. Even if Aramis wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to stand. Although Doctor Lemay claims that Aramis’ reflexes are returning, his left leg and arm are still paralyzed, and no amount of massaging seems to make a difference so far.

At first, Aramis had fought. He’d willed himself out of the semi-conscious stupor of the first days and fought for every little improvement: to hold his own cup, to push himself up in bed, to make himself understood as his speech had begun to return. And Athos, d’Artagnan and Porthos had cheered him on every step of the way.

But as time passed, and as progress slowed to a near-halt, Aramis’ mood turned black, and they’re all at a loss what to do.

“C’mon, you’ll like it at the convent,” Porthos tries. “You love Sister Marie! And the nuns will be excited to have… you know. They all love you.”

“M’nah go’hn.” Garbled and forlorn.

Porthos puts his hands on his knees and leans forward.

“Oh yes, you are, an’ I’m personally gonna make sure you do!”

“Cahn-n may me.”

“Watch me try.”

A heavy moment of silence drops. Porthos stares holes into the too-thin, defiant bundle of misery who’s turned away from him, awkwardly lying on his paralyzed side.

Aramis. Majestic, athletic, dazzling Aramis who makes every woman’s (and man’s) head turn when he walks into a room, has turned into a ghost of himself, and it breaks every fiber in Porthos’ heart to see him this way.

“Aramis?”, he says, gently now. “Please?”

And then he sees the thin shoulders begin to tremble. On instinct, he scoots from his chair onto the bed and rolls Aramis into his arms. He hugs his friend tight, and Aramis stiffens at first, but then he relents and, crying silently, he clings to Porthos with his good arm while his left–

“Aramis! See that?”

Porthos carefully sits back a bit, still holding his brother upright, and points at Aramis’ left hand. It’s clutching the rosary they’ve wrapped around his wrist. Holding the rosary.

“When did that happen?” Porthos asks, elated.

Aramis opens and closes his hand, clumsily and weakly. The muscles hold little power, and he still cannot lift his arm when he tries. But he’s moving his hand.

“Dun- … dunno,” he stammers, remarkably less enthusiastic than Porthos. “N-not much… ‘f anythin’.”

“Oh, it’s something.” Porthos smiles and smacks a kiss into Aramis’ dark curls. He knows they haven’t won yet. He knows his best friend has a long way ahead of him, and whether it’ll lead him back to being a Musketeer is a question that has no answer at this point. But Sister Marie has a plan at the convent for him, and he’s moving a limb that has been a dead weight for weeks, and his brother may have some fight still left in him after all.

“It’s everything, Aramis. It’s hope.”

Also on AO3, if you prefer:

#whumptober2022 #whumptober #no.8 #head trauma #the musketeers #bbc musketeers #aramis #porthos #athos #major character injury #hurt/comfort #hurt aramis

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niennandil-me-writes · 1 year

Text

Fragments of a Cybernetic Mind: Chapter 7 - The Silence of the Electric Sheep

Summary Half a year has passed since the events of Christmas of 2064. The world is slowly adjusting to sentient ROMs. But Turing is distracted from their task as ROM-kind’s leader and ambassador by another obligation they carry. They want to deliver Leon Dekker’s last words to his daughter. But first, they’ll have to find her, which doesn’t prove easy. They ask their journalist friend for help, who seems less than thrilled.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 (final) Epilogue

Content Notes: suicide mention, panic attack, trauma, guilt issues

I wake up screaming on the couch. Something hot and wet running down my face. I bring my hands up to see it isn’t blood but tears. I am tearing at my hair, scratching my arms.

Someone is calling my name.

I look up and see Turing standing in front of me. “You seem to be having a panic attack. Should I call an ambulance?”

I shake my head. Tears running down my face. I smell ozone, hear the buzzing of the servers, taste blood, more clearly than I could in the dream. I get up, open the balcony door. Humid summer air streaming in, cold on my sweat-covered skin. The sky is steel-gray with the approaching day, clouds red on the underside like they’ve been splashed with blood.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I say. “I’m out.”

Turing stares at me, face screen screaming confusion.

“If you don’t get his memories out of my home by tomorrow, I will trash every single disk myself,” I announce.

“That’s okay.” Their voice sounds uncertain. “I... I can store them with TOMCAT or – “

“Don’t you dare bring them to TOMCAT!” I shout. “He killed their sister, Turing! He killed me! I mean – he wanted – I, I – fuck , I can’t do this anymore.” I sink to the floor, back against the wall, face buried in my hands.

For a moment, they don’t say anything. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I stare at them. Anger is brewing up in me. Anger I tried to suppress those past few weeks. Not anger at my manuscript, or at Lexi, or even at the man who kills me every night. “Just give up on it, Turing!” I scream at them, standing up from the floor. “We won’t find his family in his memories! And even if we did, we shouldn’t. His family wants nothing to do with him anymore, and for good reason. If he wanted to apologize to his daughter, he could have done that while he was still alive, or walking around at least. But he didn’t. And you know why? Because he knew she was better off without him. Better off thinking he died before she was born.”

“But don’t you think she deserves the truth?” Turing is getting loud now as well. “You were the one who told me the truth is important! That’s what all of this was ever about.” They look petulant, almost angry. Good. That means I won’t have to feel bad for shouting at them.

“Well, what’s the truth? The truth is that her father died. What they put in this android wasn’t him. He said that himself.”

“But his last words were – “

“Why do you care so much about his last wishes? Why can’t you just let this go?”

“You might be able to do that, but I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because you weren’t the one who killed him!”

Their words tear me out of my fury, all the accusations forgotten for a moment, as I stare at them. They avoid my gaze, looking away. It’s so silent we can hear the autocabs speeding by outside, the only sound in the flat for a while.

“I know...”, Turing says quietly, “that he technically wasn’t alive at that point. But that doesn’t change the way I feel about what happened. I... I killed him. I don’t have dreams, but something inside my code makes me replay his death through my transistors over and over again.”

“And you think fulfilling his last wish will make that stop,” I say. “Make the electric lambs stop screaming.”

They nod.

“And the fact that he was grateful for his death isn’t enough to do that?” I ask.

“Strangely enough, it only makes it worse,” they admit.

I think of Crow’s story. The suicidal android. I nod. Sigh. Run my hands through my hair, matted with sweat, not blood. “I’ll help you,” I say. “But, Turing, I can’t look at his memories anymore. You can keep them here and look through them, but I can’t help you with that. If we’re doing this, I have to get out there to find the information.”

“You sound like you already have an idea where to find it,” Turing observes.

I nod. “I say we pay Aunt Melody a visit.”

#my writing #fanfic #read only memories #2064 read only memories #2064rom #leon dekker #turing #fragments of a cybernetic mind #this is the best title i have ever come up with. galaxy brain moment

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rainbowsalt0412 · 1 year

Text

Osamu Dazai And The Dark Era - Chapter 1

The Port Mafia has three rules: Follow the boss’s orders no matter what, don’t betray the organization, and always hit back twice as hard. The rules are ordered from most to least important, just like that. Which was why that morning, I nearly dropped the piece of bread I had in my mouth when I got a call telling me the boss wanted to see me. I was just putting on a pot of coffee.

The agent on the phone spoke in a monotone.

“Sakunosuke Oda, the boss wants to see you.”

Three phrases instantly popped into my head: Served his purpose. To be disposed of. Personnel cut. My fingertips turned cold and numb. After hanging up, I quickly stuffed the rest of the bread down my throat, then cut my Canadian bacon and scrambled eggs into thirds before inhaling them. I poured some freshly brewed coffee into my mug, tossed in a sugar cube with some cream, and drank it up all while slipping on my shirt arms-first. I started to wonder if I should just skip town, but the searing-hot coffee kicked my mind into gear, and the absurd notion vanished from my thoughts. I shaved, then put on some pants and hoisted my leather harness over my shoulders. It had holsters below my armpits, which I slipped my trusty 9mm handguns into. Finally, I tossed on my coat and left the house.

After getting into the car, I recklessly hightailed it to the office. I don’t really remember much about what happened along the way; I might’ve driven down the three-lane highway in the wrong direction two or three times. At any rate, once I made it to the office safely, I headed straight for the lobby. I briefly greeted my colleagues on guard duty before getting into the elevator to go to the top floor. Everything about the place was spotless, without even so much as a single fingerprint or speck of dust—from the lobby, which felt like something out of a luxury European hotel, to the time machine–like elevator itself.

This office was located in prime real estate in the middle of Yokohama.

There were four other offices of the same scale in the neighborhood. As I gazed out of the elevator’s glass walls at the city, the number of buildings higher than my line of sight gradually dwindled until it reached zero. And still the elevator kept on going.

Looking down at the cluster of buildings drenched in the morning light, I mused over why the boss had summoned me.

When I actually thought it through, it wouldn’t have made sense for him to call such a low-ranking member all the way here just to dispose of them. If he’d wanted to do that, he’d just have me meet at some waste-treatment site and get a hit man to cut me up and toss me out—low cost, low effort. The Port Mafia’s boss was much more logical than his predecessor, and above all, he preferred to keep that kind of stuff eco-friendly.

So why in the world did he summon me?

The elevator door opened, breaking my train of thought. The hallway was laid with a carpet thick enough to muffle even the most hurried footsteps, and the walls were so strong that not even a rocket-propelled grenade could take them down. The concealed light fixtures illuminated the interior with a milky-white glow.

I told the black-suited guard my name, and he pointed to the office door without saying a word. Standing in front of the French door, I gave my outfit another quick once-over, then traced my chin with my finger to make sure I hadn’t missed a spot shaving. After clearing my throat, I called out like a believer addressing God in a church.

“Boss, it’s me, Oda. I’m coming in.”

“Come on, Elise. Put on the dress, just for a little bit! Just for a quick second!”

…What I heard coming from inside the room was disturbing. I waited three seconds, pretending I didn’t hear anything. Then I took a few deep breaths.

“Boss, it’s me, Oda. I’m coming in.”

“Awww, please don’t take off your clothes and just toss them on the floor like that! That skirt was expensive, you know!”

…Yet another troubling comment. After giving it some thought, I decided to play the role of an unsuspecting subordinate who just happened to open the door at the exact wrong moment.

“Pardon my intrusion.”

With those words, I opened the door and immediately saw two people running around the spacious office: a middle-aged man in a white coat and a little girl who appeared to be around ten years old. The girl was half-naked; the man was the Mafia’s boss.

“No way! Never!”

“Please, Elise, I’m begging you. Just try it on, okay? I put a lot of thought into picking this out for you. Look at these crimson frills! They’re like flower petals! I’m sure it’ll look great on you!”

“I don’t hate the pretty clothes. I just hate how desperate you are, Rintarou.”

“You’re acting like this is new. Heh, I’ve got you now!”

“Boss.”

They simultaneously glanced in my direction at the sound of my voice— smiling. They were smiling and completely motionless.

“I came just like you told me to. What was it you needed?”

The boss continued to stare at me, that same smile still plastered to his face. His eyes were pleading, begging for help. Hopefully, he wasn’t actually expecting it from me.

“Boss, you wished to see me?”

“Uh…”

After his gaze wandered around the room—from his desk to the ceiling lights, the window, an oil painting, and a silver candlestick—the boss looked at the young girl by his side and said, “Why’d I tell him to come here again?”

“Don’t ask me.”

The girl called Elise scowled at him as if he were so much vomit on the side of the road, then left through the door to the connecting room. I waited on the boss for the next word. After peering around the office, he slipped behind his desk in the center and pressed a switch that tinted the glass windows a dull gray. As the room instantly dimmed, the boss took a seat in his black leather chair, and out of nowhere, two guardsmen suddenly and noiselessly appeared behind him. The lamp on the mahogany desk illuminated the boss’s profile—eyes squinted, brows furrowed, elbows on the desk and both hands clasped in front of his face. He spoke in a low, reverberating voice.

“Now…”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oda, I called you here for one reason and one reason alone.” The boss shot me a piercing look through the darkened room.

“Yes.”

“Oda…” After pausing for a moment, he continued. “Has anyone ever told you to speak up more?”

How did he know?

“Yes, many times.”

I looked to one of the guards behind the boss for an explanation. However, the motionless, poker-faced guard averted his gaze ever so slightly.

“At any rate, you just got here. You did not see a thing. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I nodded in agreement.

Besides, it was technically true, anyway.

“I only just arrived. Thank you for taking a break from undressing a young girl and chasing her around the room to meet with me. So what was it you needed me for?”

The boss pinched his brows together for a few moments to think before nodding as if he had made up his mind.

“Dazai once said to me, ‘Odasaku has no ulterior motives; what you see is what you get. It takes some getting used to, but once you do, it’s like a balm for the soul.’ I kind of see what he means now.”

That was the first I’d ever heard of such a thing. This was Dazai, though; he was probably just talking out of his ass. A man in his twenties isn’t going to be much of a balm for anyone’s soul.

After giving a cough to clear the air a little, the boss continued, “Now, you must be wondering why I called you here.”

He picked up the silver cigar case on his desk and stared at it for a while before taking out a cigar. However, he didn’t smoke it; he merely played with it in his hand, then whispered, “I want you to find someone for me.”

“Find someone…?”

I ruminated on what he’d just said. It was fortunate that he didn’t tell me to just die, but it was still too early to relax.

“Please allow me to confirm a few points. Seeing as you’re giving me direct orders face-to-face, I’m guessing the person you wish to find is no ordinary individual. Are you sure a lowly grunt such as myself can handle it?”

“A valid question.” The boss gave a faint smirk. “Normally, a man of your rank would either be on the front line acting as a meat shield or rushing into a military police station with a bomb. But I’ve heard about the work you do, and I would like to entrust this task to you specifically.” The boss put the cigar back in the case, then swept his long bangs back. “Our intelligence officer Ango Sakaguchi has gone missing.”

If someone were to peer inside my mind at that moment, they would’ve witnessed something akin to a massive volcanic eruption. Countless question marks would have been blasting out of the crater, blanketing the sky in its entirety. And yet, the only visible reaction I had was a twitch of a finger.

“You’re able to keep calm, I see. I was going to say you wouldn’t be right for the job if you got upset, but…you passed. Allow me to continue. Ango disappeared last night. Apparently, he never made it back home. It is still unclear if he went into hiding of his own free will, or if he was kidnapped.”

So that would mean Ango went missing after we met up at the bar the night before. At the very least, there was nothing particularly different about him then. He even said he was going home before he left. Either Dazai or I would’ve noticed if he had been lying. I’m sure of it.

“As you well know, Ango is the Mafia’s informant.”

The boss heaved a dreary sigh. From his expression, he actually appeared genuinely worried about his subordinate’s safety.

“His head is chock-full of top-secret info on the Mafia: management of our secret accounts, lists of companies and government officials who pay us, contact information of clients who trade in smuggled goods. This information would make someone a fortune if sold to another syndicate, and they could cut us down and set us on fire before we knew it. Even if that isn’t the case, Ango is a talented and important subordinate to me. If something happened to him, then I want to help him. You understand how I feel, yes?”

I couldn’t say that I did. A lowly grunt would never be able to understand the thoughts of a man who manages an entire underground organization.

“Of course.”

Still, I offered a couple of words like a garnish on a dinner plate.

The boss took the quill on his desk and began spinning it around his fingers.

“I hear you specialize in troublesome matters such as this. The Mafia is full of people who are only good at shooting, punching, and making threats. Someone like you is a highly valuable asset to the organization. I’m expecting great things from you.”

The boss’s misunderstanding became clear to me: I was not a missing- persons recovery specialist, but an apprentice, an errand boy. While it was true that those were the kinds of jobs that usually came my way, for the most part it was only because I couldn’t 'Shoot, punch, or threaten' people.

Seemingly in a good mood, the boss opened his desk drawer and took out some silver leaf–inlaid Echizen paper. His quill pen glided across the paper’s surface as he wrote.

SakunosukeOda

Nihil admirari—help the man mentioned above without hesitation in the face of any and all trials.

Ougai

“This should be of some help if you need assistance from one of our own. Take it with you.”

I accepted the slip of paper from him. It’s a delegation of authority, so to speak. Within the Mafia, this document is known as a 'Silver Oracle,' and whoever possesses it is granted authority equal to that of the boss himself. Show it to anyone who ranks below the five executives and give them orders, and they cannot decline. Declining is tantamount to betraying the Mafia, which is punishable by death. Holding such a legendary document in my hands almost didn’t even feel real.

“You can even order the executives around with that.” The boss grinned. “Come to think of it, you’re close friends with the executive Dazai, yes? A friendship that surpasses the bounds of hierarchy… He’s a man of quality. Feel free to count on him if you need anything.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I answered truthfully.

“Are you sure? He isn’t the youngest executive in history for nothing. His peers may treat him like he’s a heretic, but I believe Dazai’s capabilities are astounding. I’m sure in four or five years, he’ll have killed me and taken my place.”

The boss’s lips curled devilishly.

Although I didn’t even so much as blink, I was seriously rattled. I searched the boss’s face, but that almost childlike smirk made him impossible to read. Was this his way of joking?

“I hope to hear some good news from you.”

The boss returned the quill to its stand, and I gave him one last bow before heading for the door. The whole exchange left me oddly parched.

Hidden beneath the rapid onslaught of sudden developments was a sensation, albeit faint, in the back of my head telling me something was off. But my image of whatever was causing it was strangely hazy and blurred— like an old birthmark on my back that I couldn’t see.

“Oda.” The boss called out to me from behind right as I placed a hand on the door to leave. “That pistol hanging under your shoulder—that’s a nice model.”

I looked down at my gun. Inside the holster under my jacket was an old black pistol.

“It’s just an antique I keep around because I’m used to using it. But I’m honored.”

“I only ask you this out of slight curiosity, but rumor has it you’ve never killed anyone with it.”

I nodded.

Lying wasn’t going to do me any good.

“That’s right.”

“And why is that?”

I needed a few seconds to catch my breath before replying.

“Are you ordering me as the leader of this organization?” I asked.

“No, I merely ask out of personal interest.”

“Then I prefer not to answer.”

For a brief second, the boss’s eyes opened wide in astonishment. Then he crossed his arms and smiled like a teacher fed up with a poor student.

“I see. Then you may go. I anticipate good news from you.”

***

Meanwhile, Dazai was over at the port. After walking along the seaside for some time, he found himself in the warehouse district surrounded by a planted forest. There were lines of small ships with their registration numbers scraped off, various stolen cars of international makes, and large chromatographs for manufacturing explosives. Not only did the nearby residents stay away, but even the city police avoided going there without a good reason. The area was run by underground organizations such as the Port Mafia—a death trap, to put it another way. Three bodies had washed up on the coast that morning.

“Make sure the police don’t hear about this. Also, call the cleaner. We need to get these bodies out of here.”

Men in black suits—Port Mafia grunts—silently worked at the site where the bodies were found. These city lowlifes simply gritted their teeth and did as they were ordered. There were two reasons for this: One, these were the bodies of their colleagues—fellow mafiosi. The other reason was that one of the execs was expected to arrive on-site any minute due to the gravity of the situation.

“Look into whether any of these men had families. If they do…”

The mafia member in command stopped midsentence and paused for a moment.

“…I’ll explain things.”

The man in charge was a senior Port Mafia member with white hair and a cigar. He had a gentlemanly air, sporting a well-starched black overcoat and a suit. This was Ryuurou Hirotsu—one of the oldest members of the Mafia.

Hirotsu took out a gold pocket watch and checked the time.

“One of our executives will be here any minute now. Finish learning everything you can about the victims before he arrives.”

“Morning, everyone!”

Hirotsu’s orders were almost immediately followed by a voice coming from the man-made forest. Everyone turned around, looking tense. From appearances alone, the young man who arrived before them could have easily been mistaken for a child. He tottered over to the group, his hair unkempt and his head, neck, and arms covered in bandages. The young man was one of the Port Mafia’s five executives—Osamu Dazai.

Hirotsu promptly put out his cigar before tucking it away in his pocket ashtray. All the men in black suits placed a hand on their chests and respectfully bowed.

“Gimme a second, okay? I’m about to clear this really hard level— Oh, crap! He passed me! Eat this! …Ack, he dodged it!”

Dazai walked closer, struggling with a handheld video game. He was so focused on the screen that he would have face-planted if he had stepped onto even slightly more uneven ground.

“Ugh. I can’t beat this level no matter how many times I try! This curve here is the tricky part. Every time I go around it, I—Gah! He passed me again!”

“Dazai, sir.” Hirotsu timidly spoke up on behalf of the others, since they were unable to say anything. “Thank you for coming all this way. The armory guards were shot, and as of now—”

“It’s been a while since anyone’s been crazy enough to target a Port Mafia armory! How’d they do it?” Dazai asked, still focused on the video game.

“Our men were killed instantly after being hit with around ten to twenty 9mm rounds each. Then the intruders stole various firearms from the armory: forty submachine guns, eight shotguns, fifty-five pistols, two sniper rifles, and eighty grenades. They also took a total of eighteen kilograms of detonator-type high explosives. The electronic lock was opened with the passcode. How that code was leaked is still—”

“Let me have a look, then. Here, take care of this for me.”

“Huh?”

Hirotsu’s expression turned stern as Dazai handed him the game system.

“The trick is in the timing. You use a booster item once you reach the straight path in the middle of the course. So where are the bodies?”

“Oh, uh, they’re lined up by the tetrapods— Wh-what buttons am I supposed to press?”

Dazai skipped off to the concrete blocks and ignored Hirotsu, who was holding the console upside down in a fluster. There lay three bodies, each wearing sunglasses and black suits. They were very tough men—up until yesterday. Soaking in the ocean for a few hours had caused their skin to swell, but they would have been in far worse condition if they had drowned; all three of them had bled out almost completely before being tossed into the ocean to sink to the bottom.

“Hmm.”

Dazai gazed disinterestedly at the corpses.

“Their weapons are still in their holsters. Well, that’s just sloppy. Also…most of the gunshots have exit wounds…which means they were fired at close range, from a submachine gun. You’d have to be pretty skilled to get this close without being noticed. I’m getting my hopes up. What about the warehouse’s surveillance footage?”

Dazai turned to Hirotsu, who simply gazed forlornly down at the game system in his hands and revealed a totaled car on the screen.

“I am deeply ashamed of myself…,” Hirotsu mumbled.

Dazai stared at him curiously, as if he had already completely forgotten that he’d passed the game to Hirotsu.

“Mr. Hirotsu.” Dazai’s eyes narrowed.

“I… I’m sure if you just give me one more chance, I could—,” Hirotsu pleaded as he gripped the game system once more.

“Anyone in the lower ranks who causes problems over narcotics should immediately be cut loose,” Dazai suddenly said.

“Narcotics?” Hirotsu turned pale. “No, nobody is involved in anything like that…including my subordinates. My men are top caliber—”

“The gun at your waist.”

Dazai pointed at him. Hirotsu swiftly covered the gun tucked away in his suit belt with his hand, although not on purpose; it was merely a natural reflex.

“Mr. Hirotsu, you don’t usually carry a gun with you, right? Plus, you’re the kind of person who takes very good care of their weapons. And yet, the sloppy way you’ve tucked it into your belt leads me to believe that it is neither yours nor merchandise. Judging by the condition it’s in, it belongs to one of your men. Am I right?”

Hirotsu stood in silence as Dazai continued.

“You have around twenty subordinates under your wing. Did you borrow that gun from one of them? No, you didn’t. There was no reason for you to use a gun at this time of the morning. You took it. Why? Because the grip was lightly stained with blood and some white powder. But there is neither powder nor blood on you, Mr. Hirotsu. One of your subordinates must have caused some trouble over drugs. Judging by the bags under your eyes, I’m going to say it happened last night. So you tied your subordinate up and took his gun because who knows what he’d do if you didn’t.”

“That’s—,” Hirotsu uttered in a muffled voice, but Dazai kept on speaking and cut him off.

“That subordinate is ignoring the syndicate’s policy, Mr. Hirotsu. Selling drugs makes a lot of money, but it also brings a lot of problems along with it. The Special Division for Unusual Powers, narcotics agents, the MP’s criminal-organization watchdogs… Government organizations are champing at the bit just waiting for us to make any sort of mistake that would give them a chance to strike. Simply taking your subordinate’s gun isn’t going to do anything.”

“But…”

“Mr. Hirotsu, I don’t know why, but I was given the lofty position of executive, and when you’re an executive, you get subordinates whether you want any or not. But I can’t produce results with a bunch of sloppy flunkies. That’s why I cut the bad ones loose early. You should do the same.”

“…I am deeply sorry,” Hirotsu mumbled, his voice strained.

In the Mafia, 'Cutting the bad ones loose' means killing them. Refusing executive orders is treated as betrayal and dealt with in the same fashion.

Hirotsu apologized but said no more after that. Dazai fixed him with a piercing gaze; the silence was so deafening that time nearly froze in place.

“…Ha-ha! Just kidding!” Dazai abruptly added in a cheery tone. Hirotsu stared back at him, confused. “The reason you have so many people following you is that you don’t turn your back on them. I’ll leave things in your hands. I won’t tell the boss.”

He patted Hirotsu on the shoulder and smiled. Hirotsu unconsciously rubbed his throat while he nodded. He must have been tense.

Dazai, the youngest executive in the Mafia’s history, was a living legend within the syndicate. Nothing got past him, be it from an enemy on the outside or a scandal from within the group. More importantly, nobody had even an inkling of Dazai’s desires or dislikes, or what he supported or was opposed to. Not even Hirotsu, who’d been in the Mafia for longer than most, could figure him out. No one would have been surprised if Dazai had 'Disposed' of Hirotsu just then.

“All right, let’s get back on topic. Is there any footage of the attackers?” Dazai asked with a snap of his fingers.

At Hirotsu’s signal, a man in a black suit brought over a total of five pictures from the security camera. Dazai took them from him and began to study them. The stills showed several men sneaking into the warehouse and stealing the Port Mafia’s firearms. The thieves were wearing worn-out sacks over their heads and dingy cloaks instead of overcoats. On the surface, they didn’t look any different than your average back-alley thug. However…

“Those are soldiers.” Dazai’s lips slightly curled the moment he laid eyes on the photos. “Seasoned ones, at that.”

He looked over the dim figures of the raggedy men several times, tilting the photos this way and that.

“They look like your run-of-the-mill ruffians at first glance, but they’re moving in a diamond formation to cover their blind spots. Mr. Hirotsu, you know what kind of gun this is?”

Dazai pointed at the pistol on the waist of one of the attackers.

“It is an old model, very old. It appears to be even older than me. From the gray body and narrow muzzle, I would say it’s an old-fashioned European pistol known as a grau geist.”

“I saw this gun yesterday.” Dazai’s eyes narrowed. “That means the men who robbed the armory attacked us immediately beforehand…which means that was just a diversion. Heh. Now things are getting interesting. These guys are even more fun than I imagined.”

With the pictures still in hand, Dazai spun around, turning his back to the others before starting to walk off. He placed a thumb on his lip, muttering to himself as he paced back and forth.

“So they purposely leaked intel that they were going to attack us in the middle of our next business transaction. That way, we’d focus our manpower in one location, leaving only a few guards at the armory. Then they stole the weapons—a lot of them. But why? To resell? No, it wouldn’t need to be weapons if that were the case. I see. This is…” Dazai rambled, lost deep in thought. All the others could do was wait for him in silence.

“……”

Hirotsu’s subordinates stood stock-still as they waited for the much- younger executive to gather his thoughts.

“Y’know,” Dazai commented after a good few moments of silence, “I’m thirsty.”

“I will have someone buy you a drink.” Hirotsu gave a flick of his finger, signaling the subordinate by his side to go. The black-suited mafioso then rushed off in a fluster.

“Get me a coffee with lots of milk. Make sure to cool it off!” Dazai cheerfully yelled out as the man dashed away. “Oh, but no ice, okay? If you can get me a decaf, that’d be even better. And double the sugar, please!”

Watching the Mafia grunt depart in a cold sweat, Dazai dropped his voice to a murmur.

“Mr. Hirotsu, the enemy didn’t attack just any armory. They went after one of the three major armories containing the Port Mafia’s emergency weapons supply. It’s heavily guarded, and an alarm sounds if anyone enters the area without permission. But these guys easily got past all that, and they sneaked in using the actual passcode—something only sub-executives and higher would know. So how did the enemy get their hands on such top-secret information?”

Hirotsu’s face tensed. There were only three possibilities: A Port Mafia member was tortured into talking, someone had a skill that enabled them to extract information, or there was a traitor within the organization. All three options spelled a worst-case scenario.

“This entire area is going to turn into a war zone.” Dazai gazed at the city skyscrapers and gave a small smile. “That over there is gonna end up a pillar of flames. I can already see the sky burning crimson.”

“Do you know anything about the enemy organization?” Hirotsu asked, suppressing his emotions.

“One of my men tortured the prisoner we captured yesterday, but he couldn’t get him to talk. The guy just waited for the right moment and killed himself with the poison he was hiding in between his molars. The only thing we got out of him was the enemy organization’s name.”

As if to portend the next word that would leave his mouth, Dazai shot Hirotsu a grim, piercing stare. His eyes portended an incoming storm of bloodshed and violence that would haunt the average person’s dreams for days on end.

“…Mimic.”

***

After receiving orders from the boss, I started tracing Ango’s steps. But there wasn’t even a single clue before me. Searching for a Mafia informant is on a completely different level from locating a missing pet cat (which I’ve actually done before, so I say this with confidence). If a cat runs away, then you can stake out a local feeding ground, but there was no way for me to even guess where Ango’s 'Feeding ground' might be.

With nowhere to turn, I came up with a few hypotheses. There were two possibilities for Ango’s disappearance: Either he went into hiding of his own volition, or he was abducted. If it was the former, then I was out of luck. Ango wasn’t some rebellious teenager running away from his parents. If he really wanted to, he could get himself a few million in untraceable banknotes and travel the world, bouncing from one campsite to another like a nomadic tribesman. Hence why I’d tossed out this hypothesis. The other possibility was that Ango could’ve been taken somewhere against his will. As the boss predicted, the most likely scenario was that an enemy syndicate was trying to get information out of Ango. If that was the case, then I’d want to believe he secretly left behind some sort of trail, like the bread crumbs in that one Brothers Grimm fairy tale.

I decided to start off by visiting Ango’s residence. Now that I thought about it, I knew next to nothing about his personal life. Our relationship was always like that, though. Ango and Dazai never talked about themselves. The three of us were like a band of thieves who just happened to be hiding under the eaves of the same abandoned temple to avoid the rain. We’d always just get lost in conversation, never knowing exactly who the other was.

But Ango often had to go out of town for business, and I remembered hearing him casually mention drifting from hotel to hotel during one of our chats. He must’ve stayed somewhere that had ties to the Mafia, given how many people were after his life. There were a few hotels like that within the prefecture, where privacy was of utmost importance. They each had around two dozen armed guards permanently stationed; only a select few could stay at these locations.

I began to call up some of these hotels. Once the manager realized who I worked for, his strained voice instantly softened, and he began to answer my questions courteously. If we were ever to meet face-to-face, I wouldn’t be surprised if he snuggled right into my lap.

I finally found out where Ango lived once I called the third hotel. It was an eighteen-story building with sand-colored walls, located just a little off the main drag. The surrounding neighborhood was lined with similar buildings and a park, and the entire area was steeped in a heavy stillness—or a silence, you could call it—despite the daytime hour. The silence was all too familiar for Mafia territory. It looked like just the kind of place Ango would’ve enjoyed.

After receiving the room key from the manager, I headed to Ango’s suite. According to the manager, he’d started living there around half a year ago and paid in advance. However, due to the nature of his work, he rarely returned to his room. Apparently, he would show up once every few days, then disappear once again by morning. The manager claimed that Ango never invited anyone else inside.

His room was a tidy one-bedroom suite. It’d been thoroughly cleaned— not even a speck of dust. There was hardly any furniture in the parlor, save for a small bookshelf that held a few old novels and various regional documents. In the ceiling was an air vent so cleverly hidden that it was virtually undetectable, its ventilation fan spinning almost noiselessly. A single black wooden stool sat quietly in the corner.

In the bedroom stood a short desk and a bed covered in crisp sheets. A reading light hung over the pillow upon which lay an open biography of a genius mathematician from around a century ago who had left an elegant mathematical expression.

The place practically screamed Ango—an immaculate, smart, sterile space that didn’t give a single glimpse into his life. I stood in the middle of the room and silently looked around. There was something bothering me, albeit minuscule—something I wouldn’t usually give so much as a second thought.

“Ango Sakaguchi, Mafia intelligence officer,” I said aloud. “You’re a mysterious, intellectual man. Nobody knows who you really are.”

Of course, no one was there to respond. I headed to the double-door window with its four sheets of expertly inlaid glass. Outside was a view of Yokohama. Directly below was a park that led to a line of high-rise buildings. The stars must cast a pretty reflection off the lake at night.

I turned my back to the window and made one more sweep of the room. Immediately, I realized what had been bothering me: I was a Mafia member unable to kill. That was why I mostly got stuck with the petty, troublesome jobs. But as I held my tongue while pressing on through these tasks, I started to develop a certain sense of intuition. It was like a hair-thin thread of discomfort that could snap at any moment. However, following the thread sometimes led me to unexpected truths.

The black wooden stool in the corner of the room—it looked out of place. It didn’t seem as though it belonged in this hotel, and there wasn’t even a desk around to make use of it.

I approached the stool to examine it. It was your average mass-produced article. I flipped it over in hopes that there might be an important clue underneath, but there was nothing really out of the ordinary.

I returned once more to where I had been standing, then crouched down and stared fixedly at the stool. That was when I saw it—the seat was scuffed ever so slightly, even though the stool itself didn’t appear to be particularly old or worn out. Upon further inspection, I noticed that not only was it a little scuffed, but it also had what appeared to be a white footprint left by a leather shoe. I scanned the room once more.

—The ceiling air vent.

I took the stool and pushed it under the vent. Standing atop the stool, I could just barely touch the ceiling. There was some white plastic netting covering the air vent, making it difficult to see inside. It took some maneuvering, but I managed to remove the net. Inside the air duct, the ventilation fan was still spinning quietly. I felt around the fan with my fingers for a while until they just barely caught on to something, which I then pulled toward me. It scraped noisily across the metal duct and turned out to be a small safe. After getting off the stool, I held the safe in my hands and brushed the dust off. It was white and small enough that I could easily hold it in both hands. The safe was locked, but if I could find the key or something to pick it with, I could get it open. I took the box in both hands and violently shook it in front of my chest. Something metal, but not particularly heavy, rattled inside.

That was when a vision played out in my head.

The white safe in my hands was dyed crimson in the blink of an eye, along with the wall and floor. Something gushed out, clinging to the surfaces before me.

It was blood. My blood.

Right as I looked down at my chest, another spurt of blood gushed out of it. Something entered my back and pierced through my chest. I turned around just as the window shattered and the shards fell to the floor. Something—a sniper rifle’s scope, perhaps—glittered in the sunlight from a far-off building. I reached for the gun at my side, but my arm was hit back by a high-speed bullet, spinning me around and producing a spray of blood. Feeling the warm liquid crawl up my throat, I twisted and fell to the ground. Everything before me faded to black.

The vision ended there.

I found myself standing with the safe, still wearing the exact same clothes I was a second ago.

The safe was white.

The window wasn’t broken.

I threw myself to the carpeted floor with the safe still in my hands, and almost instantly, I heard glass shatter. One, then two dark holes appeared in the wall in front of me. Crawling on the floor, I moved away from the window until I couldn’t see the high-rise building outside. Then I took the gun out of my side holster and got into position with my back against the wall. There was a mirror on the table, so I reached out with my fingers and managed to grab it. My hands were so sweaty that I almost dropped it, but I somehow got a grip around the mirror to angle it so I could see outside.

When I looked at the room in the building I’d seen in my vision, I noticed a shadowy figure moving in the reflection. I couldn’t tell what they were wearing, though; the figure promptly gathered their belongings before completely disappearing. The moment I put my gun down was the moment I noticed I hadn’t been breathing.

A sniper.

What in the world was in this room? What happened to Ango? I was sniped and killed. I couldn’t see the muzzle flash, and I didn’t even hear the bullet being fired. Plus, once the perpetrator saw that they had missed the target, they immediately escaped. This was clearly the work of a professional.

I’d died only a few moments ago—sniped in the chest and shot dead.

Or at least I would have been, if I hadn’t had my skill.

***

I practically slid down the staircase banister to get out of there. The sniper couldn’t have gotten far, and I needed to find out who they were. Shoving past innocent customers in the hotel, I made my way outside. I ran toward the building the sniper was in while pulling my cell phone out of my pocket.

A seasoned sniper can pierce their target’s heart from even a mile away, but from the looks of it, the sniping point wasn’t all that far off. I knew the building they were in. In fact, I knew everything about this city, even the uncharted back alleys, so I was naturally able to narrow down the sniper’s path of escape to a few possibilities.

As I sprinted, I punched in Dazai’s phone number.

“Dazai?”

“Wow, it’s not often I get a call from you, Odasaku. I’ve got a feeling thisis big! Hmm. Allow me to use my genius brain to guess the situation! Yousuddenly thought of a hilarious joke, and it was so funny that you had to callmeto—”

“Someone tried to snipe me.”

Dazai immediately stopped midsentence as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs.

“I was in Ango’s room. I’m going after the sniper right now. He fired from a high-rise building across from the secondhand book row. From there, he could’ve fled through Kokuyou-ji Temple or the service entrance to the wharf, or taken one of the Mifune shopping district’s back streets.”

“You want me to help block his path of escape, right?”

I hesitated for a moment. The reason I called Dazai was because he was the only one I could turn to with confidence on such short notice. However, he was one of the five executives, making him only second to the boss in terms of the Mafia hierarchy. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve had to send someone to ask permission to even meet with Dazai, then wait at least a month before getting an answer. Calling someone like him and giving orders is like asking the president to walk your dog.

“Dazai, I have a Silver Oracle with me. If you don’t mind—”

“Quit it. You don’t need that to ask me for help. You’re in a fix, right?” Dazai said brightly. “I’ll have my men blockade the roads immediately. I’m gonna head over, too.Just don’t follow the guy toof ar, Odasaku.”

I thanked him and hung up, then focused everything I had on getting my legs to move as quickly as possible.

Who was the shooter? Snipers are exceedingly cautious and patient.

Strategy is their religion. Once they decide on the optimal position for taking out the target, they wait for days without moving a muscle until the target appears within range of their scope. A sniper will satisfy their hunger with ready-made meals, and when they run out of food, they just don’t eat.

The fact that there was a sniper in the building meant he knew someone was coming.

The most obvious, logical reason would be that Ango himself was the target. The sniper was probably planning on shooting Ango once he cluelessly returned home. However, that then begged the question: Why did the sniper change his plan and try to shoot me? I’d only decided to go to Ango’s room a few hours prior, and that was just a desperate attempt to find some clues. Moreover, the sniper only pulled the trigger after I found the white safe. If he’d wanted to just kill me, he would’ve shot me the moment I walked into the room. Maybe the sniper didn’t have a firm target; maybe he would’ve shot anyone who walked in there. Or maybe he would’ve shot anyone who found the white safe.

Only one thing was clear: Ango was apparently stuck in the middle of something big. I thought about his bespectacled visage, his cool, aloof demeanor, as I ran.

No matter how deeply I inhaled, I couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen into my body. Right as my field of vision started turning spotty, I arrived at one of the routes I predicted the sniper would use to escape. It was a dark, narrow back alley littered with scraps of food left by the city crows.

I’d cut through two residential yards and leaped over three private garages to get there. It wouldn’t have been out of the question to catch sight of the enemy right then and there if they weren’t familiar with the area. The moment the thought crossed my mind, a man with a knife tried to grab me from a gap between the buildings. A blade practically the size of a meat cleaver sliced through the air, and I swerved my head to dodge the strike. The tip of the blade grazed the corner of my ear, leaving a cold, sharp pain. I found myself in a deadlock as he rammed into me, and I thrust my foot into his torso as hard as I could. I ended up getting thrown onto the trash-covered ground, but I was at least able to get him off.

I looked at the assailant.

He was a man of unknown ethnicity dressed in tattered gray clothes. At first glance, his filthy appearance made him look like a vagrant, but my finger happened to leave a mark in the dirt on his face. It was as if he’d put it there on purpose. The assailant swayed back and forth as he flipped the knife over from his right hand to his left. Next, he raised both elbows so that his right hand was guarding his face. It was a stance that allowed a person to quickly counter any close-range blows with minimal movement while protecting one’s vitals. The bloodlust radiating from this guy was like that of a seasoned fighting dog.

I could assume several things from watching him: one, that he knew I was with the Mafia, and he was not going to cower or create an opening to be attacked; two, that he was probably the sniper I saw in the mirror’s reflection; and three, that he probably planned on killing me there without even giving me the chance to wonder.

The man came at me with his left hand aloft, gripping the knife. If he were to hit me, he would split my face right open, but if I were to try to run away or fight him, that knife would tear me to shreds. I leaned my weight against the wall behind me and used the rebound to leap in the opposite direction and create some distance between us. Then, spinning around, I drew the gun from my holster and almost immediately pulled the trigger. The bullet landed just inches before his toes—right where he was about to step. The man stopped. Only a fraction of a second had gone by from the moment I drew my gun to the moment I fired. If he knew anything about how to fight, then he’d understand that I didn’t shoot randomly, but rather precisely where I wanted to.

Raising my gun, I pointed the muzzle right between his eyes, letting him know I could pull the trigger whenever I wanted. He should’ve had more than enough time to figure that much out, and yet, he took another step forward. His knife sliced through the air, and I leaped backward, dodging the slash. Then I fired another warning shot, and the sound of the blast echoed throughout the narrow alleyway. But it seemed to have affected him no differently than a cool breeze; the man had locked away all his fear into a tiny box in the corner of his mind and thrown away the key.

He reached out, but it wasn’t me he was aiming for. I swiftly pulled the white safe under my left arm away, leaving him only air to grab, but he promptly regained his footing before pulling back with his knife.

The man was after the safe.

He’d pretended to flee in order to lure me here, in which case I might have been better off taking the safe and running away as quickly as my legs could take me. I couldn’t even imagine who this guy was or the kind of value this safe had. To make matters worse, he was an expert with the knife. Gunshots didn’t even faze him. On top of that, I—

The enemy thrust forward with the knife. I shot at the wall in hope that he’d flinch, but he knew where I was aiming. He didn’t back off—he got even closer. I sensed there was someone else behind me, so I threw myself forward and dropped to the ground. Gunfire lit up the alleyway. The metallic clatter of the shots echoed as bullets—ones I didn’t fire—glided past my ear.

My body froze. Although I couldn’t look back, I immediately knew what was going on—there was another enemy behind me.

Snipers typically have people called spotters to back them up. Spotters and snipers always work in pairs, and a spotter will help the sniper readjust his aim or time the shot. Sometimes they’ll also scout the area and dispose of any nearby enemies. I should’ve seen this coming the moment the sniper went on the counterattack. There were two enemies.

The second enemy fired his gun; he didn’t use a sniper rifle, but an old- fashioned pistol. I created an off-the-cuff smoke screen by hurling the nearby garbage bags into the line of fire, then wildly shot at the wall in an attempt to use the ricochet in place of a barrage. The man with the knife closed in, giving me no time to check if my stratagem had worked. Our weapons collided, creating sparks. The base of the metal trigger guard screeched as the knife sawed into it.

I swept my opponent’s ankle, knocking him off-balance, but he managed to put his hand out to catch his fall. Almost reflexively, I tossed aside the safe and drew my other gun. I walked with my two pistols aimed in both directions and almost unconsciously placed the muzzles right before the enemies’ eyes with one quick motion. I wouldn’t miss this close up. If I pulled the trigger, they’d instantly perish before even getting the chance to think of something meaningful. They wouldn’t even have a second to feel pain. Their brains and consciousnesses would smear the alley walls, and their lives would then disappear into thin air like a magic trick.

I didn’t shoot. I simply rolled out of the way to create a bit of distance, keeping both opponents in my sight with both weapons drawn.

“Odasaku, get down!”

That was when I heard Dazai’s voice.

I already knew it was coming, which was why I threw myself to the ground face-first. Barely a moment later, an explosion followed by a flash of light illuminated the narrow alleyway. My skill was to thank for alerting me to what was going to happen; I lay on the ground, plugging my ears and shutting my eyes until the light faded. The enemies, on the other hand, were caught off guard by the flash grenade and subsequently blinded, preventing them from dodging the next attack.

A thunderous roar seemingly from the heavens itself burst through the back alley. First came a flash of light, followed by an explosive bang—then a metal-splitting screech and the sound of the ground and walls being smashed to pieces. A shower of 9mm ammo zoomed over my head. Four men in black suits rushed down the alleyway right past me, each with a submachine gun at their waist. It was the Port Mafia.

With nothing to hide behind in the narrow alley, not even the most seasoned warriors could escape the submachine guns’ hellish onslaught. I heard the two men in tattered cloaks briefly scream as the gunfire buffeted them like a violent gust of wind. When I turned around, I saw blood spewing out of their bodies, enveloping them like a deep crimson mist. Then I heard a splat as they were thrown against the walls.

“You’re a real piece of work, Odasaku. You could have easily killed them in an instant, if you wanted to.”

Dazai lightly trotted over, looking as if he were about to whistle or something. The roar of submachine guns filling an alleyway was no different from the hubbub of a shopping mall on a holiday for him.

I accepted his extended hand and stood up before surveying the alley.

“You killed them?” I asked, looking down at the two fallen assassins.

“Yep. Capturing them and trying to get them to talk would’ve just been a waste of time. I mean, these guys love the taste of their interdental poison.”

I didn’t reply. It felt as if there were a lump about the size of a boulder in my stomach.

Dazai faintly smiled, then said, “I know. That’s not what you were asking, right? But, Odasaku, these men were professional assassins. It doesn’t matter how good you are. Killing them was the only option.”

“I know.”

I nodded. Dazai was always right, and I was always doing the wrong thing.

“I can see you’re not happy… I’m sorry for compromising your principles.”

His smile weakened as he spoke. Dazai usually never apologized to anyone, which was why what he said really rang true.

“Thanks. I mean it. I would’ve died if you hadn’t come to save me.”

“Sakunosuke Oda, a peculiar mafioso who believes killing is never the answer.” Dazai shook his head in exasperation. “The Mafia treats you like an errand boy thanks to that perplexing belief of yours, Odasaku, your considerable capabilities notwithstanding—”

I shook my head in silence.

“I’ve heard that complaint so many times that I’m starting to despise myself. More importantly, about the attackers…,” I continued while indicating the fallen assailants with my gaze.

“You said they shot at you while you were in Ango’s room?”

Dazai listened attentively as I briefly explained what had happened at the hotel.

“I see. That sniper rifle was probably stolen from our armory,” he claimed once I’d finished. “Look at his waist. He’s carrying an old-fashioned pistol, right?”

When I looked down at the attackers, I noticed they both had early-model pistols hidden under their ragged clothes—gray handguns with narrow muzzles.

“These are rather old European pistols. Given their low accuracy and firing rate, they’re not ideal for narrow alleys like this.”

He took the gun off one of the bodies and stared at it with great interest.

“This pistol is probably more like an emblem to these men—something that indicates who they are.”

Dazai seemed to be much more knowledgeable about the attackers than I was.

“Just who are they?” I asked.

“Mimic.”

“‘Mimic’…?”

I’d never heard of an organization by that name before.

“I don’t know much about them yet, but they’re apparently a European criminal organization. All I can say right now is that they came to Japan for some reason and that they’re in conflict with the Port Mafia.”

Rivalries between the Port Mafia and other criminal organizations weren’t uncommon. Even in and around Yokohama, there were groups that competed with the Mafia over turf. Outside the reaches of the government’s watchful eyes, the Yokohama Settlement was inhabited by countless outlaws who fought over territory. Dirty money came to this tax haven from all over the world to be cleaned, helping corporate crime and mercenary businesses thrive. It wouldn’t be strange for a criminal organization from abroad to come over to make easy profits. But how many crime syndicates in the world had a professional sniper with a spotter?

Dazai seemed to have figured out what I was thinking from the quizzical look on my face.

“In any case, I’m in the middle of investigating the specifics,” he stated with a shrug. “But maybe we’ll find something out from the fact that they had a sniper aimed at Ango’s room.”

“They wanted to get this safe back,” I said while holding up the item in question. “I found it in Ango’s room, but I can’t open it without the key. We might be able to learn something if we could just open—”

“That’s it?” Dazai gave a disappointed smile. “Piece of cake. Here, let me see it.”

I handed him the safe, which he immediately shook, listening to the sound it made. Then he shuffled through the trash on the ground until he found a safety pin. After slightly bending the tip with his finger, he stuck it in the keyhole and wiggled it around. Not even a second went by before I heard the gear inside the safe click.

“Okay, it’s open.” This man had a gift.

“Now, let’s see what’s inside.”

Dazai opened the lid and took a peek. I could also see it from where I was standing.

...

What did this mean?

I found this safe in Ango’s room. The wooden stool, the fact that this was hidden in the air vent—I think it’s fair to say Ango knew about it. If I was being honest with myself, I’d have said the contents probably belonged to Ango.

Deep down, I’d imagined that whatever was in the safe was something valuable. I thought it was something Ango had gotten his hands on, and the attackers in gray had tried to kill me in order to steal it.

But I was wrong.

Inside the safe was an old-fashioned gray gun.

“Why…?” The word just fell off my lips. “Dazai, you said this gun was like an emblem to them, right? Something that identifies them. So what’s the meaning of this?”

Dazai didn’t immediately answer. He simply narrowed his eyes and stared quietly off into space.

“It’s still too early to come to any conclusion.” Dazai chose his words carefully. “Ango might have stolen this gun from them. Or they might have even planted it in his room to frame him. This might not even be a gun but a sign. It—”

“I get it. You’re absolutely right,” I said, cutting him off. “There’s still not enough information to go by. I’ll look into the gun. Thanks again for coming all the way out here.”

“Odasaku—”

Dazai started to say something, but I cut him off again.

“I really appreciate your help, but I should look into things a bit more. I’ll contact you if I find out anything.”

Dazai stared at me in silence, his gaze tinged with discontent. I looked away. A grim feeling came over me, as if I were submerged up to my head in a jet-black, heavy liquid that would drown me if I got too involved in this case.

“Then let me tell you something I noticed,” Dazai said, stone-faced. “Yesterday, when we were drinking at the bar, Ango said he was on his way back from a business trip, right?”

“Yeah.”

I believe he said he was coming back from business in Tokyo where he bought a smuggled antique watch.

“That was probably a lie.”

—What?

“You saw his bag, right? Starting from the top, he had cigarettes, a mini umbrella, and that antique watch he’d brought back. The umbrella was wet because he’d used it, which was why it was wrapped in cloth. And his business trip had been to Tokyo, where it had been raining.”

“So what’s the problem?” I asked. “It rained, so the umbrella was wet. Seems logical to me.”

“If Ango were telling the truth, then he wouldn’t have used that umbrella.” Dazai squinted as he spoke.

I couldn’t sense any sort of emotion from his expression.

“Ango supposedly drove to the site of the deal, so when did he use that umbrella? It wasn’t before the negotiation, since the umbrella was on top of the wrapped-up watch. And it wasn’t after the fact, either.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Given how wet his umbrella was, he didn’t use it for just two or three minutes. It must’ve been in the rain for a good half an hour, and yet, his shoes and the hems of his pants were dry. The negotiation was at eight o’clock, and we met him at eleven. If he’d used his umbrella after finishing the deal, his clothes wouldn’t have dried in just those three hours.”

“Maybe he brought something to change into.”

“He didn’t have any spare clothes or shoes in his bag, and it didn’t even have enough space to fit anything like that.”

Maybe he just went home, changed, and left his wet clothes there—but right as I was about to say as much, I held myself back. If Ango had done that, he would have left the expensive watch at home before coming to the bar.

“He didn’t use the umbrella before the transaction or afterward. And he didn’t use it during the negotiation, either. The watch was wrapped in paper, and it wasn’t even the least bit wet. Plus, moisture is basically poison to antique watches. They had to have done business indoors.”

I ruminated over what Dazai said. He was right. What Ango told us didn’t explain why the umbrella was that wet.

“So what’s the truth, then?”

“My guess is that he didn’t purchase the watch in Tokyo; it was his all along. The reason why it was stuffed deep inside his bag was because he put it in there before leaving for business. But instead of going to the negotiation site, he met with someone in the rain and talked for thirty minutes before killing some time and coming back.”

“Why do you think he met with someone?”

“Spies like Ango frequently choose rainy streets for their secret meetings. If you talk with your umbrella open, then no one can see your face, so you don’t have to worry about surveillance cameras or people noticing you. Even if someone was eavesdropping or wiretapping him, the sound of the rain would drown out any voices. It’s much better suited for confidential talks compared with inside a car or a room.”

I already knew what Dazai was trying to say and what his intentions were, and yet, I had no choice but to scrutinize his every word to find some sort of silver lining.

“Maybe Ango really was lying, but he’s an informant who deals with top- secret information on the Mafia. It’s only natural he’d have a secret meeting or two. You can’t blame him for that.”

“Then he could’ve just told us he couldn’t talk about it. If he did that, neither of us would have even brought up his work, don’t you think?”

“…”

He was right.

“But Ango lied about the deal. He even went out of his way to show us the antique watch so he could have an alibi. Why would he go that far to hide it from us that he’d met with someone in secret?”

—Maybe because he predicted that things would turn out like this?

That was what Dazai’s cold, distant gaze was saying.

—What time did the deal end?

I suddenly remembered Dazai’s seemingly random question when he saw the paper wrapping. Now that I thought about it, he was able to deduce all of this with one mere glance. He’d even asked Ango that question just to make sure.

—Ango. Mimic. Surprise attack.

Something mysterious was slowly coming to light.

“Be careful, Odasaku. Your cup is close to overflowing,” Dazai said. “If just one more thing gets thrown in there, all the water will come spilling out the top, and you won’t be able to handle the situation alone. Anyway, we’ll take care of things here. You deal with Ango.”

“Thanks.”

After exchanging glances, I began to walk down the alley toward the back streets. That’s when I noticed…

…one of the attackers was getting back up.

“Dazai!”

The attacker drew his gun practically the moment I cried out.

“Don’t move,” he threatened in a muffled voice.

The enemy was too close to Dazai for either me or one of Dazai’s subordinates to shoot. Furthermore, he had his weapon pointing at Dazai. His right hand gripped the gun while his left arm hung by his side as if he couldn’t move it. With apparently no strength left to stand on his own, the enemy leaned half of his weight against the wall.

Even then, Dazai was still within his range of fire. We couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.

“Oh my.” Dazai stared at the pistol as if it were something unique and interesting. “You can still stand after so many bullets? Your mental fortitude is extraordinary.”

One of the attackers was completely unconscious, while the other was using his last bit of strength to stand so he could take Dazai with him to the grave.

“Dazai, keep still. I’ve got this.”

I stretched my fingers out to grab my gun. If the enemy got even a second to act, he was going to shoot. Since he was already aiming his old-fashioned pistol right at Dazai, even if I shot him right through the heart, the impact might cause him to pull the trigger. Timing was everything. I’m not a betting guy, but I didn’t have any other choice.

“Your organization’s called Mimic, right?” Dazai asked the man, but he didn’t reply.

He didn’t even blink.

“I’m not expecting an answer. To tell the truth, I admire you guys. No other organization has tried to take the Mafia head-on like this before. And nobody has ever successfully managed to point their gun at me like this with the intent to kill, either.”

Dazai faced the attacker, then began to walk toward him as if he were taking a stroll through his garden.

“Dazai, stop,” I begged in a hushed tone.

“I hope you can see the excitement in my eyes, too.” Dazai continued to address the enemy who was holding him at gunpoint. “If you just squeeze your finger ever so slightly, you can give me precisely what I crave most. The only thing I’m afraid of is that you’ll miss.”

His lips curled as he approached the man. The muzzle was now fewer than ten feet away.

“You need to aim for the heart or the head. I recommend the head. You only get one chance, though. My colleagues here won’t be kind enough to give you another.” Dazai tapped the middle of his forehead right over his eyebrows a few times. “But I know you can do it. You’re a sniper, aren’t you? I can still see the imprint from the sniper rifle on your cheek. You’re not the spotter.”

There was a slanted line traced across the attacker’s left cheek, the kind you get from peering through a scope for hours on end. Spotters just used binoculars; they wouldn’t have a mark like that.

The enemy’s fingers trembled as he pointed the gun. Just like Dazai said, he had only one shot. He couldn’t fire unless he was confident he could hit him. Dazai continued to approach the man, welcoming him to pull the trigger.

“Now shoot. Right here. You can’t miss from this close up.” Dazai grinned from ear to ear. “You’ll be killed whether or not you shoot, so just bury the enemy executive before you go.”

“Dazai!” I screamed.

I felt as though we were thousands of miles apart.

“Please take me with you. Awaken me from this oxidizing world of a dream. Come, now. Shoot.”

Still pointing at his forehead, Dazai closed in on the enemy with a smile that could’ve even been described as peaceful.

The attacker bit his lip and tightened his finger around the trigger.

—He’s at his breaking point!

The sniper and I fired almost simultaneously. Two flashes of light flooded the alley.

Shot in the arm, the man spun around.

Dazai violently bent backward after being shot point-blank.

A split second like a blue flash of lightning. A never-ending instant.

Then time began to move again.

Immediately, Dazai’s men showered the enemy with bullets as he spun from the impact of my shot. Like a rag being pummeled by a waterfall, the man was thrown backward, scattering flesh and blood until he perished.

Leaning away, Dazai took two, three steps back before stopping.

“…………How unfortunate,” he lamented, still bent over. “Looks like I didn’t manage to die this time, either.”

Dazai lifted his head up. The skin on the side of his head, slightly above his right ear, was slit open and bleeding.

The bullet had just missed.

I looked at Dazai. There was something there invisible to the human eye. You could’ve called it demons of the mind—something that could never be seen—just something compelled to destroy all.

“Sorry to shock you like that.”

Noticing my gaze, Dazai scratched the side of his head and grinned.

“Pretty realistic acting, right? I knew from the start that he would miss. The imprint from the sniper rifle was on his left cheek, meaning that was the side he used to shoot. In other words, he’s left-handed, but he was holding the pistol in his right hand. So he was going to shoot with his nondominant hand, he could barely even stand on those wobbly legs, and to make matters worse, he was using that old-fashioned gun. The only way he would have hit me was if he pressed the muzzle against my body.”

I didn’t say anything. I just stared at Dazai as he explained with a smile.

“All I had to do was talk to him to buy some time until his arm got tired. If I slowly walked toward him, he wouldn’t be able to shoot straight away. The rest was in your hands, Odasaku. I knew you would do something. Pretty logical, right?”

“Yeah.”

That was all I said. I didn’t have anything else to add. Had our ranks or relations been any different, I probably would’ve punched him right then. However, I am me, and there was nothing I could do to him.

After returning my gun to its holster, I turned my back to Dazai and began walking away. With every step I took, I felt as if the ground were going to collapse, creating a bottomless hole that I would fall through for an eternity.

Dazai’s expression as he placed a finger on his forehead and approached the enemy—that of a child about to burst into tears—remained burned into my eyes.

***

#Bungo Stray Dogs #Bungou Stray Dogs #BSD #Bungo Stray Dogs Light Novels #Light Novel #Light Novel Volume 1 #Osamu Dazai And The Dark Era #Armed Detective Agency #Port Mafia #Kafka Asagiri #Sango Harukawa

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