#and I’m just barely covering my stupid car payments

[batwynn]

I’m happy to share that Sticker Club AND Honorary Sticker Club on Patreon will include special Pride-themed button pins this coming month! These are a few of the designs that will be available to vote on soon! (plus a bird watching one just for fun!🪶♥️) A reminded: Pride month means stickers and cards for every tier level! You can join now for $1 and get vote for what ships/fandoms you’d like to see an art card of for June. (Some non-pride themed options are available.)

*Sticker Club is a $15+ a month tier, that includes two stickers and a card every month, sometimes with special bonuses on celebratory months like Pride Month 👀. Honorary Sticker Club is a $10 a month tier that includes one sticker and a card every month (also with bonuses on random months!)

Link to Patreon in my pinned post!

[sserpente]

A/N: That Hyundai ad hit different. *chuckles*

Words: 3097 Warnings: kidnapping, hostage

New York smelled pretty bad, come to think of it. You had almost forgotten the hustle and bustle of this huge city that never slept and if there was one thing you had not been missing at all after spending a few months in Morocco for work, it was the constant traffic jams.

It was hot, unbearably so. You’d been a sweating mess ever since your cab driver had picked you up at the airport and the fact that the air conditioning in the cab was broken didn’t exactly help with that. Your thighs stuck to the leather of the backseat, your forehead glistening and your make-up… well, it used to be make-up.

The cab driver seemed nice, at least and since the long snake made entirely of cars had not moved for at least an hour now, he had offered to park on the side of the road and get you both a bottle of water. Ironically, you were only a few yards away from Stark Tower.

Perhaps you shouldn’t complain about the traffic jam. Half of the city was a mess after the atrocious battle you had been fortunate enough only to have witnessed on the news on the plane. You could only hope that your tiny studio flat was still intact and quite frankly, it was short of a miracle that a cab service had actually agreed on picking you up so shortly after an almost-war—not to mention that the plane had actually landed.

You sighed, brushing a strand of hair sticking to your cheek out of your face. You were unbelievably tired—even more so knowing that you had dodged a catastrophe that would go down in history all thanks to work. Your eyes fell shut and you leaned against the car window when suddenly, the driver’s door was all but yanked open and someone who certainly did not resemble your cab driver, started the car and clutched at the steering wheel as if his life depended on it.

Your lips parted. Shackles and a muzzle, along with a blue glowing cube landed on the passenger seat with a loud clatter, followed by an annoyed groan. It was him. The man who had attempted to take over the entire planet only moments ago, he was here in this car and he was currently kidnapping you with it.

A scream escaped your lips, a mixture of shock and fear spreading in your body and fuelling the rising amount of adrenaline. It was only then the God of Mischief glanced at the rear-view mirror and spotted you there panicking—but by then, he had already stirred the car back on the road, straight towards the traffic jam.

“You… you are… Let me out! Let me out at once!” You screeched, the heat around you—along with your miserable appearance—all but forgotten. Loki rolled his eyes. Great. Another mortal.

“I am not stopping this car,” was all he said. Your eyes widened in utter shock.

“Then don’t! Fuck!” Danger was radiating off of this man like heat from an active volcano; so if necessary, you would jump out of the moving car as well. Biting your lower lip and wondering if you should go through with this risky stunt at the speed he was going, the wheels squeaking over the asphalt with every abrupt turn he took, or if that would be a suicide mission. It was probably the latter, and when you reached for the handle of the back door, it took the God of Mischief only a mere second to lock it, trapping you inside.

“Let me out! Let me out!”

“You’ll kill yourself.” Loki spat. You did not miss the patronising tone in his voice—stupid. He believed you stupid.

“And if I stay in here with you I won’t?” You retorted hysterically. And it was justified, really—for when your gaze drifted back to the road ahead of you, you could see him racing straight towards a long line of cars waiting for the traffic to clear up.

“Watch out! The other cars, watch out! Oh my God…” You screamed, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your face with your arms but the imminent crash never came. When you opened your eyes again, Loki had all but moved through the other cars as if by magic. God, what was this, Harry Potter?

With your heart in your mouth, you brought your trembling hands to your thighs and pressed down on them in a desperate attempt to fight off the panic attack rising within you like the forthcoming eruption of a volcano.

But even when you reached the suburbs, ironically moved closer to your home, and the car finally slowed down to a reasonable speed, making you wonder how a god from another realm knew how to drive a car in the first place, your dread kept growing steadily. What would happen once Loki decided he had reached his destination? What would he do with you? Would you end up as another casualty? You’d know where he was, after all, and only God knew how he had managed to escape after the Avengers reported his capture—not to mention that he was in the possession of that mysterious blue cube you were certain bore even more chaos and destruction in the wrong hands.

“I take it this vehicle is supposed to be a means of transport in exchange for payment?” He suddenly said.

“What?” You gaped at him, swallowing. “Yes! I mean, yes, it’s a taxi. That’s… I was…”

“Where do you live?”

“Excuse me? What, are you going to drop me off and expect me to tip you?”

Loki smirked. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why but he did like your feistiness. “I need a place to hide.”

“What… no! No! I am not giving shelter to a criminal!” You snarled, swallowing your fear of him—and then you made the mistake of peeking at the navigation system the taxi driver had set up next to the steering wheel, with your address on bright display to show Loki exactly where he’d have to go.

The God of Mischief tilted his head. “You don’t have much choice in the matter, my dear.”

You took a deep shaky breath, digging your nails into the backseat. If your lower lip was trembling, you didn’t notice. “P-please… please just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone where you are or where you went. Please.”

“I am not going to kill you if that is what you are worried about.” He replied after a long pause. When you said nothing, too stunned and scared to come up with another snarky comment, silence spread in the car like wildfire.

Hugging your knees to your chest, you closed your eyes, hoping that this was a bad joke, a terrible nightmare and any moment now, you would wake up safely on the plane, yet to land in half-destroyed New York City—but the end of slumber never came. You were wide awake; even more so when, after what felt like hours, Loki finally stopped the car. Of course, you had not noticed him observing you repeatedly through the rear-view mirror, almost as if to check if you were still alive.

Your eyes met and then, finally, he unlocked the doors. Only now, you did not move an inch. You had no idea what to expect if you stepped out of this car.

Naturally, Loki disagreed with your cautious decision. He yanked the car door open when he saw you frozen in place, grabbing your upper arm so fast you didn’t even have a chance to react, and all of a sudden, seeing the entrance door of the apartment building you lived in did not at all look as appealing as it had at the airport anymore.

His grip around your arm was firm but when you whined in pain, the God of Mischief actually softened it—if only a little, barely noticeable.

“Unlock the door, my dear, will you?” He inquired, smiling sweetly at you. Right beneath the surface, you could hear that there would be dire consequences if you failed to comply.

Surely at this point, he could hear your rapid heartbeat. Shaking, you fumbled for the keys in your bag until they were jingling in your palms all the while Loki watched you like a hawk. You had dismissed calling the police on your phone in the car already—for now.

Fuck, you had been kidnapped. You were about to be held hostage in your own flat, or… or… was he just going to enter and kick you out? Had he been lying about not killing you? Would he fling a dagger at you any moment now like you had seen him do on TV?

Loki followed you when you approached the door and unlocked it clumsily. One floor up and to the left. For just a brief moment, you wondered what would happen if you started screaming bloody murder, alerting your neighbours but even when you opened your mouth to attempt it, not a single sound would escape your lips.

Even a little further out and farther away from the centre of New York City, rent prices were horrendous. Your salary was not bad but your apartment was no more than a small studio equipped with a humble kitchen, a separate bathroom with a tiny shower and lastly, your double bed in the centre of the room, posing as your sofa during the day.

Loki looked around unimpressed when he entered. “Well… it will do.”

“N-now what?” You choked out.

Loki raised his eyebrows, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

Right—because that was going to be so easy. He sighed and rolled his eyes when you only stared at him in horror.

“You don’t trust me, do you?”

“W-would you? You tried to subjugate our planet like ten minutes ago!”

“And for good reason too. This realm is lawless, your people slaughter each other day in and out and you feel threatened by me? I would have given you a new purpose.”

He had a point… but… “And what is that so-called purpose? Slavery?” Loki’s expression darkened, making you flinch back.

“S-sorry… I’ll… I’ll be i-in the bathroom taking a shower. Please just… I mean… whatever.” Would he stop you? Hesitating, you made your way to the bathroom, waiting for him to yank you back, press you against the wall and threaten you? Threaten you with what, exactly? Could you trust that he wouldn’t kill you? Loki felt like a ticking time bomb in your flat.

But a painful yank never came and when you locked the bathroom door behind you, you exhaled. Inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled, trying to process the fact you had a war criminal in your home.

Once you had gathered enough energy to do what you had come to the bathroom for and, an hour later, returned to the main room, Loki was sitting on your bed cross-legged, the Tesseract right before him, glowing away.

“I roamed your ‘kitchen’”, he said without glancing up to meet your eyes, “Do you have anything edible at all?”

“I was away for a whole month.” You argued. “I haven’t done any shopping yet because I was kidnapped by a space Viking.”

Loki smirked. Amused, he finally looked up. “Well, perhaps I should take you back to Asgard with me then. I could use a diligent little servant.”

Your reaction did not disappoint him. Chuckling to himself, he slid off the bed more elegantly than you could ever muster, the Tesseract disappearing into nothingness.

“What I am trying to say is that even gods need to eat and I am, quite frankly, starving.”

“That sounds like a you-problem.” You grumbled. And then, as if on cue, your stomach growled. Damn it.

“Fine. I’ll order some pizza.”

-

Loki had all but watched you like a hawk upon calling the local pizza place. Everything inside of you had screamed to let them know about your predicament, to beg them to call the police and send them to you instead of the pizza.

But as soon as the food was delivered, the mood in your apartment changed so rapidly it left you wondering if the only reason for Loki’s world domination attempt had been his hunger. The man devoured a family-sized pizza in but what felt like two minutes and, upon realising you were done with yours, leaving three pieces in the box, he devoured those as well. And never before had you seen someone eat pizza so gracefully.

It didn’t exactly make it feel like you had been kidnapped anymore. Perhaps… perhaps he hadn’t been lying about not wanting to kill you after all. Perhaps he wasn’t as evil as you… no, stop. He had literally just tried to take over the planet!

“What are you pondering on, little mortal?”

You shivered, the nickname affecting you in a way it truly shouldn’t, especially after he had lost his armour and magically exchanged it for more casual clothes—they still looked like they were from a different time period altogether but it wasn’t nearly as intimidating as before.

“W-why did you really do it?” You found yourself asking. It was a risk—but you were feeling braver now that your stomach was full even though part of you was surprised you had managed to eat at all.

“What?”

“Why did you really try to take over the planet? Did you… do you really want to enslave us all?”

“A lack of freedom does not equal slavery. It offers protection from failure and bad choices.” He said. You frowned.

“You truly believe that?”

“You fight wars over opinions, religions and race among your own species. Your choices are suffocating the whole of Midgard. I would have changed that.”

“You can’t be serious.”

You looked down, reaching for the sweet treat that had come with your pizza to stop your fingers from trembling.

“What is that?”

“Oh, uh… those are marshmallows. This pizza place always packs them with your order, don’t ask me why.”

“What’s that?” He repeated, frowning at the plastic wrapper.

“It’s candy…”

“Well, it doesn’t look very natural.”

Woah. How had this conversation just gone from “humans should not have freedom of choice” to “marshmallows look unhealthy”?

“They’re… I mean they’re not. They’re made of pure sugar and artificial flavouring.”

“Then why do you eat them?”

“Because… because they taste good?”

Loki gave you a taunting look. See? It said. This is what I meant.

But when you opened the package and handed it to him, he took one out nonetheless. It looked tiny between his long fingers—as tiny as you must have looked next to him.

You gulped when it disappeared between his lips. When you reached out to take the package back, he snatched it away from you.

“They are quite delicious, actually.” Your jaw dropped when he popped them all into his mouth at once, winking at you. Not quite sure how to react to this, you averted your gaze, taking a feigned interest in your digital alarm clock on the nightstand instead.

It was only 5 PM but you were positively ready to pass out. Where would you even sleep tonight? Where would he sleep? Would he even sleep?

“You are tired.” He suddenly stated as if on cue. He couldn’t read your mind… right? He did have that weird cube of his, after all.

“Well, yeah… I got kidnapped, experienced a live remake of ‘Fast and Furious’ and I have a criminal in my flat.”

“I only understood half of what you just said but I can ensure you that I will not harm you when you sleep.” There it was again, that frown that almost made it look like he was offended. As if the very circumstance of him hurting an innocent for no reason other than malice insulted him.

“So by all means, retire to bed.” He went on, gesturing to the bed and eventually, standing up to make space for you. The pizza boxes disappeared in but a green shimmer of light and you watched Loki, albeit still suspicious, heading over to the small kitchen table. To be quite frank, it was the last thing you remembered.

-

Loki was gone, no trace of him left. It was as if he had never even been here. It was already past noon—the exhaustion from your flight as well as the racy car drive and last but not least, your shining time as a hostage had worn you out to the point you didn’t even remember falling asleep anymore.

You only realised now that it was your doorbell that had woken you up. Jumping out of bed and moaning when your vision turned black for a moment, you headed over to your speaker and pressed the button. Perhaps it was Loki. Perhaps he had locked himself out but then again… would he not be able to magic himself back in? Why had he insisted on you unlocking the door yesterday in the first place? You shook your head.

“Hello?”

“Hi. This is Henry, I’ve got your delivery.” A boyish voice responded.

“W-what delivery? I didn’t order anything.”

“You did, ma’am, would you come open the door, please?”

You sighed. “Fine, I’ll be down in a second.”

You had fallen asleep in your clothes from last night, so one quick glance in the mirror was all you had before you headed back down and opened the main entrance door.

The delivery boy was holding both your suitcase and a jumbo-size package of marshmallows in his hands. Big marshmallows—the bonfire kind, to be precise.

“Who…” But you knew. You knew the moment you made the connection and knew the moment you looked straight into Henry’s eyes and noticed them glowing unnaturally blue when he handed the items to you.

It had not been a dream then. Loki had really been here. You had been eating pizza with the God of Mischief and now… the gesture was almost sweet. Was that his way of saying thank you? For what? You hadn’t exactly done much except for trembling in fear.

“He instructed me to tell you that you will meet again soon.” Henry announced and then, before you even had a chance to respond, he turned on his heel, hopped back into the delivery van parked in front of the building and left. You only realised now that the Hyundai taxi was gone too.

[mrs-harkness]

Ocean Eyes (Part 2)

Ocean Eyes (Part 1)

Pairing: Tammy x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

Parts: Part 1

Taglist: @peggycarter-steverogers @imgayandmymomdoesntknow​ @millysmango​

A/n: Glad you guys are liking Tammy. She’s fun to write for, because I imagine her having a bit of a wild side ;) I’m thinking there will probably only be 5 parts, because I would like to get started on Delia’s, but things are just really busy with my new job! Always, thanks for the patience and love!

"I'm gonna kinda miss having you at the apartment everyday."

Sarah's voice ripped you away from the window, lost in your own empty thoughts. You smiled at her.

"I will miss seeing you every day, but I will not miss sleeping on your couch. It's lumpy. You really need a new one dude," you said, snickering.

"No way! My couch has got character, thank you."

"Sarah, I found a pack of fun dip from 1967 in the cushions."

Sarah opened her mouth to argue, but shut it. She gave you a side glare, trying to keep her eyes on the road while letting you see her wrath, as she called it. You laughed, it filling the car.

"Don't worry Sarah-Bee, I'll come visit you on my off days," you said, patting her leg.

You guys pulled into Tammy's huge driveway to find her and the kids waiting for you on the doorstep, standing there like a Home and Garden's ad. Tammy smiled and waved as well as her two smallest children. The oldest boy was obviously forced to stand there and looked like he was ready to be released.

You stepped out of the car and the family walked towards you. The little girl ran ahead of them all, nearly leaping to you.

"Hi! My name is Keri! You wanna play?" she asked, immediately taking your hand and tugging on it.

Tammy reached forward and put her hand on Keri's shoulder, giggling.

"Hold on sweetheart. She just got here and needs to get settled. You guys will have plenty of time to play. She lives here with us now," she said, never breaking eye contact with you.

You felt the blush creep onto your face. You weren't positive, but there seemed to be  a glint in Tammy's eyes, as if she saw it. You tore your eyes away from hers and looked back down at the little girl, smiling. She smiled back, grabbing onto her mothers hand to hold it and bring it close to her face.

Tammy cleared her throat and pushed the two boys forward. The little one had a mischievous look about him and the older one was just uninterested completely.

"These are my two men, Derek and Jeremy," Tammy said.

"I'm Derek! I'm named after my dad. He doesn't live here anymore!" the younger one chirped.

Everyone shot him a look, but he remained blissfully unaware at the fact of his oversharing. The oldest though, seemed more than angry, and reached over and slapped his younger brother in the ear.

"Stupid! You don't say that shit!"

"Jeremy! Watch your mouth and leave your brother alone," Tammy said, moving him to where he  was looking her in the face. He seemed to growl and jerk away. He sulked off towards the house.

You saw the concern on Tammy's face. He must not have been handling the divorce so well. Your heart ached for the boy, even though he seemed a little bit like a dick. Tammy sighed and turned back to you.

"Kids," she said, trying to chuckle and brush it off.

"Well! How about we get Y/n and her stuff inside and get her welcomed home?" Tammy asked the two little ones.

They both cheered with the excitement only small children seemed to have and ran to Sarah's car to help grab the boxes and suitcases that were in the back. Tammy came up behind you, placing her hand on the small of your back. You jumped a bit, feeling heat spread out through your body. Tammy leaned forward to whisper in your ear, but all you could manage to think was how good she smelled.

"Don't worry about Jeremy, give him time to warm up to you. He misses his dad, but he's a good kid," she whispered, her breath hot on the shell of your ear.

You swallowed and nodded, forcing a smile. She brought her face into your view, just inches from yours. She smiled and winked and her fingers seemed to drag as she brushed her hand from your back and walked to the car to help get your things.

Get your shit together Y/N. She was talking about her kids emotional state and all you could think of was her perfume!

You scolded yourself and went to help the family unload your old life to officially start your new one.

When Tammy had said you would have the entire attic and your own bathroom, you thought you would have a maybe enough room for a twin bed and a dresser, maybe a desk and a bathroom that probably had a shower and not much else. You were very wrong.

Your new bedroom was bigger than Sarah's entire apartment, with lush carpet and crown molding. The bed was big and plush with a down comforter that felt like a cloud and smelled like cherry blossom. You not only had a 8 drawer dresser, but a walk in closet that could hold your entire wardrobe and still have 98% of it be completely empty. There were shelves filled with books and free space that Tammy said you could put whatever you like on.

The desk was a solid piece of white wood that seemed like it would cost the same as a down payment on a car. Your bathroom felt straight out of a high class suite with a huge tub, amazing walk in shower, and not just one sink, but two. There was even a wall length mirror. But your favorite part of the whole house was the balcony. You had your own balcony. A set of french doors lead out to it and you knew you would have the perfect view to watch the sun rise over the trees in the morning.

This morning you were waking up on a smelly, yellow polyester couch to the sound of street construction and Sarah singing Taylor Swift as she burnt breakfast. Now, you were overlooking an amazing view of a beautiful, quiet neighborhood from your very own penthouse with an amazing job and the most beautiful boss you could have ever imagined.

You took a deep breath of the crisp night air. You were exhausted from unpacking and getting to know the kids and were looking forward to just laying in your new bed and dosing off when you heard a knock at your door. You had to jog from outside and across the room to reach the door, expecting to see one of the kids. Instead Tammy stood in front of you, smiling.

"Getting settled in okay?" she asked.

You smile and nodded, stepping aside to welcome her in. She walked in and looked around. There wasn't much difference, but you had put out some of your personal items and pictures. It would take some time, but it did feel a little bit more like yours after a couple of hours of work.

"Looks nice. More lived in than it has ever been. You've made it homey," she said, her voice warm.

"I hope that is okay," you said, unsure why you felt so insecure about her opinion. She whipped around to look at you.

"Of course! That's what I want more than anything. For you to make this your home. I know this is your job, but I want you to like it here," she said, stepping closer.

Your breath got caught in your throat again, and you forced yourself to breathe normally. You saw the corner of Tammy's mouth twitch, a tiny smirk showing for just a second. You brushed your hair away from your face and cleared your throat. It was becoming your signature.

"I definitely like it here. Don't worry. You and the kids are great. The room is amazing, I've never lived somewhere so nice before. And dinner was great. Its been a really long time since I sat down and got to eat together with a family."

Tammy's face softened a bit at the last bit, and while you could see curiosity in her eyes, she didn't ask any further. There was a moment of silence before Tammy got the conversation back on track.

"Well I'm glad you liked dinner and are getting settled. I got the kids in bed already and was actually wondering if you would like to come down stairs and have a glass of wine with me? Just you and I, so we could get to know each other more as friends rather than boss and employee."

You stood there, smiling, just staring at her. You must have been standing there for longer than you realized in silence because Tammy cocked an eyebrow, confused by your silence. You tried to recover like you were thinking, but you really couldn't save yourself here.

"Oh! Yeah! Sure! I'd love to!" you said, your voice a little too high pitched. Tammy giggled and nodded, heading back towards the door.

"Get in your jammies and meet me down stairs. I'll be waiting," she said as she closed the door behind her.

You released the breath you had been holding, your whole body relaxing. You didn't realize how tense you were. You were going to have to learn how to function around Tammy or you probably wouldn't have this job for long. Tammy seemed to find it cute for the time being, but once it stopped just seeming like you were awkward and nervous about a new job, it would be pretty obvious it was a bit more. The nanny crushing on her boss was so cliché to begin with, never mind how problematic it would be in this situation.

You got dressed in your nice pair of pajamas, not wanting to walk down stairs in a ratty t-shirt and shorts. It was mainly dark in the house, but the kitchen was completely lit, guiding you down the stairs and towards Tammy who worked on a wine cork.

Her pajamas were silk and red, hanging off her frame in a way that showed a bit of skin depending how she moved. The shorts barely covered her butt and you felt like you were being tested. You would make sure to keep your eyes either on Tammy's face or at the wall behind her because you were not going to make things weird.

Tammy smiled when she saw you and you swore she looked you up and down, but you just kept your eyes forward.

"Don't you look cute," Tammy said, popping the cork out of the wine bottle.

You sat on the stool at the kitchen island and watched as Tammy poured two glasses and handed one to you. You took a sip and were taken back by how strong it was. You were going to have to be careful or you would be gone rather quickly.

Tammy took a big sip of hers and smiled, licking the red liquid off her lips. You felt yourself cry on the inside. You wanted nothing more to spend alone time with Tammy, but you really wished you had gone to bed.

"So, tell me about the tree branch," she said, taking a smaller sip this time.

You looked up at her, confused.

"Huh?"

Tammy laughed, pointing to your hair.

"You said this afternoon you would tell me how you got the twig stuck in your hair. You also mentioned something about promising you bathed?" she said, raising her eye brows up as she twirled her wine glass with a smile that spread across her face.

You laughed and felt some of the tension leave your body. This was just a normal conversation and your boss really was just trying to get to know you and make it a more comfortable situation for the both of you.

"See what happened was, I got an Uber into the neighborhood but asked the driver to drop me off at the gate so that way you wouldn't see me get out of this particular car because it looked like it drove straight out of 'Dude, Where's My Car' and I honestly didn't want you to associate me with weed and old pizza."

"First impressions are important," she said, extending her wine glass towards you.

"Exactly. So I started walking but because I have never been here before, I got lost. So I called Sarah and she told me the way to your house, but if I took that way I would be late. So she told me, if I cut through the backyard of the house I was in front of and walked through the trees, I would actually be at the back of your house, so I found the houses fence."

"You snuck onto their property?" Tammy asked, her eyes lighting up. She leaned onto the counter and her pajamas moved, revealing her bra. You kept your eyes on hers though.

"I don't think its considered sneaking if the old woman who lives there sends her yappy dog after you for disrupting her yoga session as she swears at you. I ran to the picnic table at the edge of the fence and threw myself over it as I tried to convince her I really was a nice girl before complimenting the home I had just trespassed into, and dropped into the woods and ran so fast I'm surprised I didn't die."

At this point, Tammy was doubled over, cackling.

"I'm gonna pee," she muttered, crossing her legs as she laughed. You laughed along with her, Tammy's giddiness being contagious. You looked at her as she met your eyes and just looked at you as you both came down from your laughter. You smiled as you took a sip of your wine. You were glad you hadn't gone to bed.

It felt like minutes, but you and Tammy stayed up for four hours talking about life, your interests, your childhood. Everything seemed fuzzy and warm because you were both on your fourth glass and you couldn't remember exactly when you both had moved to the couch, but that is where you both found yourself.

"So when I had Keri, I was utterly exhausted. My husband was home with me for the first four days after we brought her home, but he left on a two week work trip after that and I was alone with three kids, two of which were under two."

You shook your head. Her husband sucked. You didn't like him. You didn't know him, but you didn't like him.

"So when Keri was 9 days old, I had to take Derek to the doctor for an ear infection. Jeremy was five at the time so he was literally everywhere, Derek was screaming, and Keri was just sleeping in her car seat. We got Derek looked at, got the prescription and left. We were halfway to the pharmacy when I felt like I had forgot something."

You covered your mouth, stifling the drunk giggle starting to come from your mouth. Tammy hit you on your shoulder.

"I would like to remind you I was basically a single mother of three kids and sleep was not a thing. But I forgot Keri, in the doctors office. Just left without her! Right when I noticed, a nurse from the office called me and I was just crying on the phone all the way there. The nurses tried to console me but that was definitely one of my worst mom moment so far. She still doesn't know that happened. Not sure she ever will."

You both laughed that kind of deep laugh that if you weren't careful, would choke you. You laughed and bent over, accidentally falling over and right into Tammy's lap. It took you a moment to realize you had done it, but Tammy noticed immediately.

She stared at you, but not with a look of discomfort on her face, but something else. You immediately pushed yourself back into a sitting position, your flush ten times worse due to the wine it your system. Tammy smiled and looked away, sighing.

"You know Y/N, I'm so happy you get to be here, with us. Not just for the kids, but for me too."

You looked at her, unsure what to say. You watched as she scooted closer to you, frozen. She brushed the hair that had fallen in your face to behind your ear. Her hand lingered on your cheek and you felt her thumb run against the edge of your jaw. You were sure it was visible how hard you swallowed and how you chest rose and fell rapidly.

She smiled and her eyes flicked down. She looked you over and hummed before pulling back.

"We are going to feel like shit in the morning if we don't get to bed. Especially because Keri and Derrek like to wake up at the ass crack of dawn."

You smiled at that and it caused Tammy to chuckle. You helped one another up and walked up the stairs. Tammy stopped at her door, but didn't go in. You climbed the stairs to the third floor, but felt Tammy starring at you. You turned around to see her leaning against her doorframe, her face dreamy.

"Goodnight Y/N. I'm happy you're here."

With that Tammy winked, and pushed open her door, stepped into the dark room, and closed it slowly behind her. You seemed to float up the stairs and straight into your bed, the soft plush mattress welcoming you. You drifted off to sleep with that warm fuzzy feeling of wine tingling through out your body and Tammy's smiling floating around in your head.

[mymoonagedaydream]

Home (Part 2)

Summary: As you got closer to Bucky again, some kind of emotional crescendo was inevitable.

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: I got one more part after this, so let’s call it a mini-series

---

You slept in the next morning, getting out of bed only to traipse down to the living room and lounge around in your pyjamas on the couch for the rest of the day.

It was the holidays- you were allowed to be disgustingly lazy if you wanted.

Evening came around before you knew it, the smell of your mother’s cooking filling up the house as you stared dead-eyed at the Hallmark Channel, all the white couples wearing red and green sweaters slowly blurring into one.

You were only awoken from your hypnosis by your dad leaning over the back of the couch, jingling some car keys at you.

‘I need to take your mother’s death-trap to Barnes’, you wanna come along?’

‘Really?’ You frowned, eyes darting to the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘It’s almost seven, surely they’re closed?’

‘They are, but Bucky offered to work on it out of hours.’

You gave an impressed nod, adopting your best impression of your mother. ‘What a nice young man he is.’

‘You know it, skip.’ 

He grinned as you hoisted yourself up from the couch and shoved a coat over your pyjamas, figuring that getting dressed this late in the evening would just be an absolute waste of time. 

The two of you hopped in the car, both cringing at the metallic scraping sound the engine made when your dad turned the key. 

After a tense few death-defying minutes, you finally pulled up at the workshop. Your dad honked the horn and the shutter door began to rise, slowly revealing what you could only deduce to be an extra from the music video for Uptown Girl.

Oh wait, no, it was just Bucky.

His choice to sport a tank top mid-December was definitely a bold one, but Jesus fucking Christ you weren’t complaining. Glistening with sweat and covered in grease stains, he looked like a page from a raunchy calendar hung up in an office full of middle-aged spinsters.

He waved the car in, greeting your dad with some kind of bro-hug ordeal that immediately confused the hell out of you. 

Those two were buds now? What else had you missed?

‘Hey, Lilypad.’ Bucky looked you up and down, raising an eyebrow at the plaid pyjama pants peeking out from underneath your coat. ‘Nice outfit.’

‘Thought I’d make a bit of an effort.’

‘For little old me? You shouldn’t have.’

You gave him a playful shove on the shoulder as you strolled past, taking yourself for a little tour of the shop floor while he started searching under the bonnet.

The place was surprisingly neat and tidy, you were quite impressed. The only questionable thing you found was a scantily clad centrefold torn out of a magazine and pinned to the corkboard, upon which some comedian had scribbled the words ‘Bucky’s girlfriend’.

You’d be having words about that.

Completing your journey, you re-joined the boys just in time to see your dad reach his wallet from his back pocket and wave it towards Bucky.

‘How much?’

‘You're joking, right?’

‘Let me give you something. I insist.’

Bucky chuckled, pulling a dirty rag from his pocket and roughly wiping his hands. ‘Honestly, it’s fine. It’ll be ready in the morning.’

‘Ah, you’re one of the good ones Buck.’ Your dad clapped him on the shoulder before turning to you. ‘Come on then, squirt. Dinner should be almost ready.’

For some reason, you found yourself very reluctant to leave. Jesus, you’d actually prefer to spend the rest of the evening in this cold, halogen-lit grease pool with budget Billy Joel than at home in front of a warm fire. That boy had magical powers or some shit.

‘I don’t mind sticking around, if you want?’ Bucky shot you a slightly confused frown. ‘I could go out and pick us up some food.’

‘You sure? Passing up your mom’s cooking for this place seems crazy.’

‘Least I can do, we’ll count the company as payment.’

His frown slowly melted into a warm smile. ‘Sounds great.’

You looked back at your dad, who was absolutely beaming, eyes flicking between the two of you like he was at Wimbledon. His excitement was sweet, but you knew he was only invested in your relationship because it had the potential to give him a lifetime of free car repairs.

‘Well, you kids have fun.’

After loitering around for a few minutes, you eventually headed out to pick up dinner from a nearby takeout. It was freezing and your pyjamas got pretty soggy, but your good mood didn’t waver for a second. You were really excited to have an evening alone with Bucky.

When you got back, he’d ferreted out some old car seats for the two of you to sit on while you ate.

‘So I saw the photo of your girlfriend hanging up back there.’

‘Oh, that’s just a stupid joke.’ He immediately went bright red, tripping over his words a little. ‘The guys here keep trying to set me up on dates but I always say no, so they found me a “paper girlfriend” instead.’

‘Maybe they’d leave you alone if you sucked it up and just gave it a try.’

‘I think you’d take that back if you’d seen some of these women.’

You raised your eyebrows at him. ‘Never had you down as shallow, Barnes.’

‘Oh, c’mon. I’m not I just-’ He chuckled slightly when he realised you weren’t being serious, eyes flicking back down to his food. ‘I have a pretty specific type.’

‘Maybe too specific?’

‘You could say that, yeah.’

There was that weird atmosphere again, it kept creeping up on you at the most inconvenient times. 

You just changed the subject.

Once you’d both finished eating, you watched him work for a while, quickly flicking your eyes away from his bare arms every time he looked up but definitely getting caught a few times. Oh well.

It must’ve been getting close to midnight when you started dozing off, full to the brim with junk food and warmed up by the space heater Bucky had pointed in your direction. You were almost completely asleep when you felt him softly shaking your shoulder.

‘Home time, Lilypad. You need a ride?’

You peeled your eyes open, yawning as you stumbled to your feet. ‘Ugh, that’d be great. Did you drive here?’

‘Nope.’ He turned around and crouched down a little. ‘Hop on.’

‘For real?’

‘For real.’

Still pretty dazed, you did your best to clamber up onto his back, settling your head into the crook of his neck whilst trying to ignore the all feelings that his strong grip around your legs was provoking.

He somehow managed to lock up the garage while you were clinging onto him like a baby monkey, the cold night air waking you up a little more as he started on the short walk home. 

You were only expecting a lift as far as his house, but he seemed to deliberately miss the turning.

‘We just passed your street.’

‘I wouldn’t be much of a public transport service if I didn’t take you the whole way now, would I?’

‘You never were one to do things by halves.’ You pressed your cheek against the side of his head. ‘But you know I’m not paying you for this, right?’

‘I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement.’

‘In your dreams, Yucky.’

‘You’re damn right about that.’

He took you all the way to your doorstep, refusing to drop you until you were inches away from your front door. After gently setting you down, he spun round, a goofy grin plastered across his face.

You chuckled, trying to find your key. ‘I probably won’t see you now until after Christmas, so I hope you have a really nice one.’

‘Yeah, you too.’ He paused for a second, his hand feeling around in his pocket, looking as though he was building up to something important. ‘I’ll see you for games night though, right?’

Oh, apparently not.

‘Right. Night, Buck.’

Stepping forward, he placed his hand on the back of your head, gently pulling you towards him and pressing a soft kiss just below your hairline.

‘G’night, Lilypad.’

---

Christmas came and went, your family had their usual two day lock-in. You ate until you couldn’t stand, played so many board games that you had them all down to a perfect science and didn’t change out of your pyjamas for two days.

Spending so much time with your parents made you realise how much you’d missed them, and how much you’d miss them when you left again.

Aside from all the warmth and loveliness of your family, there was another big highlight to your day- a text from Bucky that you woke up to on Christmas morning.

Merry Christmas, Lilypad. It wasn’t the same last year without you.

---

The evening of the 26th was games night. 

The doorbell rang and you leaped up, yanking it open and immediately pulling Bucky into a hug. You tried to greet his parents too, but it was a little difficult while you were being squeezed like a vice and carried towards the living room.

Everyone settled in while your mom made up the drinks. It was so reassuring to see that the end of your relationship with Bucky hadn’t tarnished the firm friendship that’d formed between your parents, the relaxed atmosphere between everyone made it felt like nothing had really changed since you left.

A little while after they’d arrived, you scuttled off to the kitchen for a snack, not noticing Bucky hot on your heels. You jumped out of your skin when you spotted him in the corner of your eye, a nervous laugh escaping his lips.

‘I was just, uh- wondering if we could-’ He took a deep breath, steadying himself. ‘Could we go upstairs?’

You studied him for a second before answering. He was struggling to keep still, shifting back and forth on his feet while also seemingly unable to find a comfortable resting position for his arms. He was tense and anxious, you’d never seen him like this before.

‘Is everything alright?’

‘Yeah, all good. I just thought it’d be nice to talk in private for a bit.’

‘Sure.’ You gave him an apprehensive nod and gestured for him to follow you. ‘We can go to my room.’

Dread started to churn in your stomach as you slowly ascended the stairs, his heavy footsteps clunking up behind you. Bucky was the most laid-back, carefree guy you knew, what the hell could have him so jittery?

You led him into your bedroom, hearing a low chuckle as he closed the door behind him. ‘This place hasn’t changed a bit.’

‘I think my mom likes to keep it ready in case of surprise visits.’ You sat on your bed, patting the space next to you, giving him a warm smile as he took the invitation. ‘So what’s up?’

‘I haven't had a chance to give you your Christmas present.’

‘Oh, well it’s too late now.’ You teased him, trying your best to ease some of his nerves. ‘You’ll have to try again next year.’

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to wait that long.’

Digging a hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small, clumsily wrapped present and quickly handed it to you.

‘Thank you, that’s really sweet.’ You felt it in your hands for a second. ‘Insert good-things-small-packages cliché here.’

Eagerly tearing off the wrapping paper, you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

It was a ring box. 

Your eyes shot up to him.

‘Open it.’

‘I don’t think I can Buck, I-’

‘Just, before you say anything, let me explain.’ You nodded faintly, feeling tears pricking your eyes. ‘You remember our last year together, how I told you that my dad was making me work all those hours? He wasn't. I asked him for them, cause I was saving up.’

You felt like you'd been shot in the stomach. ‘You bought it before I left?’

Flashbacks of your break-up conversation flooded into your mind. You’d been the first one to suggest separation, but you vividly remembered Bucky agreeing without hesitation, so quick that it made you think he’d lost interest in you.

‘I thought you wanted to break-up?’ Your words got a bit tangled in your mouth, the wave of emotions you were experiencing making it difficult for you to string your thoughts together.

‘I didn’t want to hold you back. I knew what the job meant to you.’

Your gaze darted back down to the box in your hand. ‘And you kept it all this time?’

‘It's not mine to give away, it's yours. It's always been yours.’ He placed his hand on top of yours. ‘I just couldn’t let you go again without it.’

Your mind went completely blank, the only sensations you could focus on were the sting of hot tears rolling down your face and the feeling of his rough skin against yours. You let your gaze slowly rise back to his face, the sight of his wide, blue eyes fixed on you making it even harder for you to untangle yourself.

Before you could even try to speak, he leaned towards you, cupping your face in his hand and softly pressing his lips against yours. 

You let your eyes flutter closed, the only tangible thought rolling around your mind was how much you’d missed this, how much you’d missed him.

It was only a few seconds before he pulled away, letting out a heavy sigh and resting his forehead against yours.

This was too much, you felt your breathing becoming more frantic as you tried to pull yourself together. You turned your head slightly, roughly wiping the drying tears off your cheeks, doing everything you could to just think without being overcome by emotion.

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘You don’t have to say anything. Just stay.’

‘I’m so sorry, Buck.’ You felt yourself beginning to crumble again as you carefully placed the box back in his hand. ‘I can’t.’

---

Part 3

---

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---

[personasintro]

My Tiny Secret | 18; Worth It

𝑴𝒚 𝑻𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆 | 18; Worth It

⏤𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; Pretty face doesn’t make it up for an ugly personality. And Kim Seokjin is the perfect proof of that.

⏤𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: seokjin x reader

⏤𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: angst, smut, mistress au, unexpected pregnancy au

⏤𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: strong language, mature content

⏤> 𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒙

a/n: this is a continuation and the last flashback from the previous chapter!

The ride is quiet, accompanied by the soft music again that should ease your mind, but it doesn't. Giving him your address and watching him to tap it into the touch screen of his car, was tense. He doesn't speak, focusing on the dark road ahead of him, his face illuminated by the street lights every now and then.

Deciding it's better to focus your eyes elsewhere, you pull out your phone to find a single message from Taehyung. He never texts you unless it's something about your shifts, but this time he shows his worry about you. You text him back, saying you're on your way home now. It takes him a whole minute to read the text and send you a thumbs up emoji.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

Your head snaps to the quiet, but still prominent voice. He's not looking at you, even when he stops at the red light as you lick your lips nervously.

“I don't have a boyfriend.” you tell him, sinking into the leather seat that's too far comfortable. You could fall asleep right away.

“I know,” he says, causing you to look at him again.

Did he stalk you? Does he know more than he shows? Before you can let your mind and thoughts go wild, he continues making your shoulders relax.

“I don't think you'd come to see me, if you had a boyfriend.” he simply explains.

He's making it sound like he knows you, and it irritates you but you stay quiet. Is he just trying to be smart, making you think he knows everything or he's just quietly observing you and then letting his thoughts speak out loud.

“Why were trying to get to know me? Asking all those questions...” you trail off, mentally sighing when a green light shows up and he puts car into drive again.

“What were you expecting me to do? Stare at your face and stay silent?”

You're dumbfounded for a second, thinking about the right answer.

“Can't man be a curious?” he questions, but doesn't say anything further.

It felt fresh for him – to talk to someone who's not trying to impress him, or is intimidated by him. He can't explain it himself, something about you made him curious. Of course, he hoped he'd get some information about your father. When he saw the emotion flash behind your eyes, when he talked about your father, he thought you were lying to him. He asked you and invited you to a dinner, in hopes you'd tell him sooner or later. But instead, he feels almost stupid for doing that. But how can he trust a stranger?

You don't trust him either.

Some part of him still thinks you must know something. It's your father for fucks sake. Hasn't he made any contact? He just stole the money and left? Some part of him naively thought, that your father would come up to you and give you some amount of those money. Seokjin's not stupid. You work at some stupid coffee shop that probably pays you much less than you deserve.

Even the address of your apartment building tells him, that it's not that great neighborhood.

“I'm sorry,” you choke out, eyes wide as your voice fills the silence. The melody from the radio is barely recognizable, making your voice stand out even more. “I'm sorry that my father stole your money. I'm so ashamed for that, I can't believe he'd stoop so low.” you tell him, seeing your apartment building.

He parks it at an empty space, his sport car between two old vehicles is looking almost comical.

“Why are you sorry?” he asks, turning his head to look at you. “You didn't do it. You're not responsible of your father's actions.”

It's weird, but even the small sentence puts you at ease.

“I know that,” you mumble, fumbling with your fingers as you feel a warm air hitting your exposed legs from the heating. “How can I look at you and talk to you, when I know my father did something like this?”

You're ashamed, even though it's not your fault.

“Maybe I can pay you back? I'll send you some amount every month.” you suggest.

Even though it's your father's shit, you can't help but feel guilty. You don't want to be known as a thief's daughter, and you definitely don't want the police to be involved. They'd just question you about him and you'd never be able to move on from him. Something, that you've worked so hard on would be shattered in seconds.

“Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart. But I doubt you have fourteen million won.”

You choke on your spit, your hand flying towards your chest as you cough. “What?!” you almost yell.

“Besides, you have nothing to do with this.” he sighs, fumbling his eyes as he looks tired.

He's right. You don't have that amount and it would took you years, to earn that kind of money. It's better if you'd just drop this and go back to your old life.

“You wanna come upstairs?” you gulp, the silence that follows after causes a red tint appear on your cheeks.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” he says, unfortunately for you. “You've drank some wine.”

“So? I'm not drunk nor tipsy. I've drank a whole glass of water and I'm completely fine. See? I'm fine.” you point towards your face and for the first time, you see the corner of his mouth lift upwards.

But it doesn't last long before he looks at the street.

“Why are you inviting me upstairs?” he asks, jaw clenching for a few seconds before he looks at you.

“I'm not sure,” you admit. “To talk, I guess?”

He eyes you, eyes trailing all over your face before his brows furrow.

“You're not trying to pay me by...” he trails off, still with those suspicious eyes.

He thinks you're inviting him upstairs to have sex with him, paying your father's debt.

“Oh my god! No! I would never do that! I don't fuck for money, I'm not a slut!” you quickly explain, words stuttering before you grow offended that he'd think such a thing. “You know what-- forget it. Thanks for the drive.”

You're reaching for the door handle, making sure your purse is clutched in your grasp before you open the door.

“Actually, I'd like to have some tea.” he speaks all of a sudden, halting your movements as you slowly turn around.

He's looking at you with the same intense look like he tends to do. You're the one who eyes him this time, wondering if it's a good idea to invite him to your home. Your brain screams at you a huge 'no', but you find yourself sighing before you open your mouth.

“Okay, let's go.”

The walk to your apartment is awkward, the front door creaks as you open them. The awful smell of the hallway and in the elevator is awful but bearable, only because you got used to it. You almost regret inviting him in, seeing in how awful state your building is. He wears a designer suit for fucks sake, and stands in the old elevator that smells like shit.

He doesn't comment on it, slowly following you as you walk up to your front door, opening it with a security code and a key.

As you awkwardly take off your heels, tossing them next to your sneakers, you lead him into your living room. The whole apartment is pretty small, probably in the same size as his office is.

The walls are old, and the small kitchen that's connected with the living room, almost blows his mind. The kitchen counter consists of three counters and he wonders how the hell you cook in there. He asks you for the bathroom, wanting to wash his hands and when you point towards one of the two doors, he makes his way there.

The shower is in typical Korean style, with no curtain, which means you most likely splash everything with water whenever you take a shower. It's a luxury to have a proper shower with doors or curtain, or even bath. It's something that Seokjin has, both of it. Even though the place looks like shit, he sees how you tried to make it nice.

With all those fake plants and Ikea furniture, he has to acknowledge your effort.

When he sits on your two seat couch, a blanket that covers all the stains that got them from the previous owner, he looks almost awkward sitting there. Yet, he doesn't show his thoughts or opinions about your living.

You hand him a cup of tea, the strawberry flavor one as he requested, before you awkwardly sit next to him.

“I know this place isn't much, but it does the job.” you chuckle, cheeks heating from embarrassment.

He stays quiet, blowing some air to his tea to make it less hot.

He has never lived or been in such an small apartment. He was born into a wealthy family that makes sure he'd never end up like... you. It's fucked up, but he can't even imagine himself living like you do.

“Don't you have two jobs?” he questions.

“Yeah, but the coffee shop isn't paying me that much, since I usually work on weekends. And the office job isn't that great either, my boss is a huge dick. I want to quit, but I can't. Not until I'll find something better. I can't loose a job, it's too much of a risk.” you explain, although it's hard to say it out loud.

Especially in front of him, when you feel ashamed for some reason.

“Why is your boss a dick?” he asks, surprising you that he specifically asks about that.

It takes you a moment to answer, causing him to look at you with those dark eyes. “He.. he's known for using his female employees.” you almost whisper, causing him to frown.

“Has he ever...” he trails off, causing your eyes to widen.

“No! Those women want it, it's not like he pressures them into anything. But I just know that he's open to use them, if they're willing to do that, of course.”

“Why would they let him use them?” he asks, genuinely confused.

It's a new emotion that you see, almost making you smile that you got to see him in different light. “I don't know. Apparently he increases their pay, but it's mainly just gossip. But honestly, I think it's true. All of those women that went to that office, got better payment and position. It's hard to fight with that.”

He looks around, glancing at your cheap art that's printed and nowhere near close to be considered as real. He's not much of a art guy himself, but even he can recognize it and see it's fake.

“Have you ever thought...” He doesn't finish the question, glancing back at you, but you know what he's asking.

Your nose scrunches in disgust and you shake your head. For some reason, you get why would he question you about it. Your apartment looks like shit and you could definitely use more money, or even better position.

“No, god. That man is around his forties,” you mutter in disgust, before you realize how that sounded. “I mean, not that it matters. Even if he was my age, I could never do that. That's why I want to quit. It makes me sick to go back there every Monday and every day.”

He nods, taking a cautious sip of his tea and when it's not hot anymore, he goes for another sip. He drinks in silence, making it especially awkward since it's silence. But you've no fucking idea what to talk about, and he doesn't seem to be the one who wants to start a conversation.

“I, um, I gonna change myself if that's alright with you.” you stand up, catching his attention once again as he sees you pointing towards your dress.

He nods, not uttering a word, and you take that as a clue to disappear into your bedroom. Five minutes later, you walk out with black sweatpants and casual shirt, looking basic as ever. You feel much better, and you wish you could just take off your bra as well. That tiny bitch that holds your breast tightly and pushes them up.

“I've to ask,” you speak up, sitting back on your previous spot as you notice the empty cup. He drank the whole tea while you were gone. “Will you go to the police?”

As usual, he doesn't react nor answers right away. He takes his time, making your nerves even more intense and prominent, as his fingers find their way to his black hair, brushing through them.

“No.” he answers, your shoulders relaxing in an instant but your face scrunches in confusion.

“Why not?”

“I don't think it's worth it.” he answers casually, shrugging his shoulders.

“Fourteen million won isn't worth it?” you chuckle, bulging your eyes at him.

Holy fuck, this man has to have a mansion and a huge account if fourteen million won isn't worth it. If it's not worth it, why the hell was he looking for your father? You remember asking him if he'll go to the police, he told you maybe he will.

Kim Seokjin is a confusing guy that makes your heart spin, from all the overthinking.

“No.” he says simply making you gape at him.

“You're crazy.” you say before you can stop yourself, causing him to chuckle.

“You're not the first one to think that, but you're the first one to say it out loud.” he points out, although no humor or emotion can be recognized behind it.

You're about to reach for the empty cup, when you stop in midst. “Thank you.” you tell him, realizing how close you're to him when you meet his dark eyes, looking empty.

You can smell his cologne, see his skin from close and even notice a small mole underneath his left eye. He looks stunning, shame he's so cold and emotionless.

“For what?” he asks quietly, eyes dropping to your lips before he looks back into your eyes.

“For not going to the police. Whatever your reason behind that is, thank you.”

You had the need to tell him that, to show him your gratitude even though you might not effected his decision. You do realize what him, bringing that to the police and court, would do with your life. It's not like you'd have to pay him back or something, but the reason behind your stress is strictly psychical. You'd have to deal with your father's shit again, screwing up your already fucked up life.

Seokjin might not realize what it means to you, but you still appreciate it.

When your own eyes drop to his lips, glistening in the lightening, you're already moving on your own as you press your lips to his. They're so soft, making you want to press them harder but you pull away with red cheeks. You've never been so bold, making the first move. The man is so fucking intimidating, yet you find yourself craving for him.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that.” you blurt out, chuckling in embarrassment as he silently watches you.

“Here you were thinking I was trying to get you in bed, when you're the one who kissed me.” he says, cracking the littlest grin that you've ever seen but – it's there.

“I'm sorry!” you blurt out again.

“I'm joking,” he tells you, scoffing slightly. Is he for real? Kim Seokjin jokes? “If you wanted to kiss me, at least make sure it's a proper kiss.” he rolls his eyes, watching your widened eyes before they drop back to his inviting lips.

This time, you're hesitating, your fingers fumbling nervously as you shift on your spot. Seokjin makes it easier, cupping your face before he connects your lips much more quicker and harder, tasting your lips. It's not a single kiss, his mouth molding into yours as he moves them. Your breath is caught in your throat, your lips mimicking his every movement while he blows your mind. You've never been kissed so eagerly and even though you haven't kissed that many people, you're more than sure he kisses so fucking good.

Your hands find their way to his broad shoulders, before you hastily grab his neck pulling him even closer. Your body moves on its own, sitting on his lap before he grabs your waist. The lack of oxygen causes the both of you pull away, but he doesn't stop. His lips move to your neck, tasting your skin there as a faint fragrance sticks to your skin.

You don't recognize yourself. You've never had sex with someone you barely know, but something about Seokjin makes you feel safe. It's crazy and your mind is telling you that you're fucking crazy, but your movements are even more eager. Even when he lays you onto your back, going back to kissing you. His thigh parts your legs, dangerously close to your heat where you crave him the most.

“Bedroom.” you tell him between kisses, glad he doesn't hesitate when he pulls away but grabs you into his arms.

Your legs attach to his hips, silently admiring his strength as he holds you with no struggle. He doesn't ask which one is your bedroom, knowing the other door is your bathroom. He places you on your single mattress that's laying on the floor, no actual bed frame.

Most people sleep like this, but he has never seen it with his own eyes.

He's going back kissing your lips and neck, your mouth open as silent gasps leave, your hands clutching onto his forehead and back of his head. Your body feels like it's on fire, hips rocking into Seokjin's thigh.

He pulls away, brows furrowed as he stares at you. You panic when he sits onto his heels, breathing heavily. His own lips are swollen, abused by your own, but the sight only makes your eyes dance with lust.

“You need to know that I don't make love,” he says breathlessly, catching his own breath. “I don't want you to think this is something more.”

He doesn't say anything further, but you're not stupid. Basically, what he told you is that you shouldn't expect much from this. But you could never see him as a man being in a relationship. That thought haven't even crossed your mind and you're not naive.

“I know,” you whisper. “I don't expect anything more from this.”

When you tell him that you're fine, you've no idea whether it puts him in ease, but he goes back to kissing you. Your body clutches to his, desperate for every little touch he gives you as you grind onto his thigh with desperate moans.

“When was the last time you had sex?” he asks between kisses, grabbing your thigh through the fabric, but you can still feel his strong grip.

You can't even remember. Is that such a bad thing?

“Or are you...?” he trails off, about to pull away in question when you wrap your legs around him.

“No, I'm not. It's just been awhile.” you tell him, suddenly growing scared that he doesn't want you.

But he surprises you when he nods, taking off his suit jacket, throwing it on the floor without care. You gulp at the sight in front of you, his buffed chest and biceps visible through his shirt. The buttons restrain with each time that his muscles tense, while his silver watch glisten even in the darkness. The only sort of lightening coming from the living room, through opened door and the street lights from your opened blinds. Just enough for you to see him and notice such details.

Your shirt is the first one to go, by yourself as you expose your white lace bra. He shamelessly stares at your breasts, and it's hard to guess what he thinks, but you don't want to think about his every reaction. He's here, isn't he?

He helps you with your sweatpants, throwing them over his slacks before he pushes your legs apart, eyeing your clothed pussy. Licking his lips, he glances at you as you stretch your legs even more, giving him a silent plea. He smirks amusingly, slowly unbuttoning his shirt as you stare at him without blinking. His upper body is fit, defined abs decorating his stomach while his skin looks so smooth. You almost wish you'd turn all the lights on to see him fully. But something about the dim lightening makes this scene much more erotic.

He fully takes it off, not giving you any more time to gawk at him before he lays between your legs, face right in front of your pussy. He hooks a finger, very faintly touching your folds which makes your breath hitch. He's pushing your panties aside, before he pecks your clit. You moan loudly, too loud for just a single touch but you can't help it.

You hear him chuckling, your mind wanting to tell him to shut up, but your thoughts are cut off when he starts kissing your clit moving to your folds. He's the first one to go down on you, your eyes rolled back and mouth agape at the new sensation. He leaves you moaning around him, your juices dripping down before he licks them off and starts to devour you with his mouth again. He's basically making out with your pussy, repeating the same process until he's pushing his two digits into you. It takes him a couple of strokes against your walls, before you're cumming against his fingers with a silent cry.

He rides you off your high, licking off your cum before he sits back onto his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Do you have a condom?” he asks, adjusting his slacks and obvious erection, that makes you salivate.

If you don't, he'd be forced to stop this. He never thought he could get laid tonight.

You sit up, your underwear covering your glistening pussy as you reach towards your nightstand. Thankfully, Hoseok bought you a pack of condoms as a joke. You were about to give them back to him, he'd probably need them more, but that has changed. You examine the box, before you look at Seokjin.

“I'm not sure if it's going to fit.” you mutter, handing him the box as he takes it from you.

He stands up, taking off his slacks and boxer briefs at the same time, making your eyes automatically widen. You weren't prepared for that, to be exposed to his hard cock right away. You watch his hand wrap around his cock, giving himself a few lazy strokes before he opens the package, pulling a condom. He throws the box onto the floor, opening the foil package with his teeth. Silently watching him, he grabs his cock before he slides the condom on.

He gives himself a few testing strokes, eyeing the rubber. “It's a tight fit, but it'll do.” he comments, making you nod as you quickly scurry to lay on your back.

You reach behind your back, unclasping your bra before you toss it away, exposing your breasts to him. He eyes them, pupils blown before he dives in to have a taste. He licks your nipple, wrapping his mouth around it as he starts to suck. Your back arches, moaning when he does the same to the other one. You try to take off your panties, it's a bit struggle but you manage to take them off after a few attempts.

He doesn't waste any time, lining up himself at your entrance as he rubs his cock against your clit and folds. “Ready?” he asks, glancing at you, a strand of hair falling to his forehead.

“Yes.” you answer him, looking at the ceiling instead.

You saw his cock. It's bigger than you've imagined, there's no way you're going to take him easily even after he made you cum.

He slowly pushes in, his head pushing your folds apartment. He's barely in, stretching your hole so much that it makes you whimper. He's holding himself on his elbow next to your head, while the other one holds his cock. Hovering over you, he watches between your bodies as he tries to push in some more.

“Fuck,” he gasps, not even fully in as he pulls out. “I don't think you're stretched enough.” he comments, muttering under his breath as you close your eyes in mere embarrassment.

“Just put it in, I can take it.” you tell him, parting your legs even more.

“It's going to hurt.” he points out, something that you're very aware of.

“I need you to fuck me.”

He eyes you, almost making it seem as if he hesitates, before he sighs and grabs his cock again. He starts pushing in, this time going harder earning another whimper from you. You lock your legs around his waist, making the feeling much more intense as your walls burn with each millimeter that he manages to push in.

It feels like you're having sex for the first time all over again, your hole stretching to adjust to his size. Your own eyes watering at the uncomfortable feeling but you don't tell him to stop, not even when another whimper resounds from the back of your throat.

“I'm hurting you.” Seokjin says through clenched teeth, not even half way in.

He stares between your bodies, watching as your pussy tries to stretch out for him. You shake your head, not sure if he even registers it but he starts to circle your clit. It does feel slightly better, even though it's hard to focus on the burn between your legs. But he doesn't push himself deeper, staying in the same position while he starts to rub your clit. When the first moan scrambles from the back of your throat, followed by couple other ones before he tries to push himself further.

This time it's less painful, earning a silent groan from him. A sound, that you never thought could be so arousing. He pulls out and with each push, he reaches deeper. He does it slowly, and once he's almost fully nestled inside of you, he pushes faster, bottoming out. You both let out sighs of pleasure before he lets you a few seconds to adjust. He pulls out, just to push in back in, gradually moving faster with each stroke he does.

Soon enough, he's fucking into you, groaning whenever your nails dig into the flesh of his back. The sounds of your wetness echoing between the walls of your small bedroom, his balls hitting your ass as he tries to desperately reach his high. He's holding himself with one arm, while the other ones hikes your leg further making him go deeper. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, gasping into your skin as he keeps hitting your walls.

If he wasn't grabbing your body so tightly, you're sure your head would be banging against the wall. When his thrusts turn rigid, you can't hold it anymore. At first, you thought you wouldn't cum again considering he made you cum earlier, still sensitive from the orgasm and stretch by his cock. But now, you feel yourself letting go as your legs shake, whole body freezing before you cum around him. You're clenching him tightly, moaning his name into his ear before he cums as well. His movements turn sloppy, fucking himself through the orgasm and emptying his balls into the condom.

His body slumps his naked chest brushing against your perked nipples, as he stays inside of you, breathing heavily into your neck. Your hand reaches automatically into his hair, caressing him as he tries to calm down. He's still careful not to crash you underneath his weight, before he pushes himself off you.

You both grimace as he pulls out, taking off the condom that's full of his cum. Tiredly, you point towards the small bin in your bedroom as he ties a knot on it, before he throws it out. He doesn't go back to you, standing in front of you as he watches you with the same dark eyes. You shouldn't expect cuddles from him, or even just him laying next to you as you both take your time. He reaches for his slacks, dressing up his thrown and crinkled clothes.

You awkwardly reach for your shirt, dressing up yourself as well, hiding your naked and vulnerable form from him. When you're both dressed up, he walks out of your bedroom without a glance or word, and you slowly trail behind him.

You're not sure what you're supposed to say and neither is he. The hell, you're not sure if you'll ever see him again, you're not even sure if you want to.

He opens the front door, stopping before he turns around to glance at you. He sees you leaning against the door frame with unreadable expression, matching to his own. He doesn't even utter a pathetic 'bye', he just closes the front door shut behind him and leaves you standing there alone.

Later that week, fourteen million won is transferred to your bank account that makes your eyes bulge out. You're typing frantically, turning on the app of your back as you stare at the huge amount of money in your bank account.

A minute later, a message pops out on your screen, showing you a number that you thought would never contact you again. It's not saying much, only one sentence that makes you stop breathing.

'Make sure you find yourself a better job'

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buy me a coffee?♡

[bixy]

I put in my two weeks at my job last friday, and I definitely needed to, I was so overwhelmed with stress constantly, working full time and being in school is absolutely miserable and the fact that my job was ran so weirdly, like everyone would come in late, leave early, but every time I asked my boss for a different schedule he’d be like “I can’t do that this is a full time position”, and I’d also explain everyone gets different treatment but like they half ass everything so it’s really frustrating to watch and he’d just like...defend them? Like bro what the hell lmao this stupid job literally makes it feel like punishment for having a work ethic, which I mean, is on me I guess lmao but usually what i like to do is be really good at my job so I can do whatever the fuck I want and usually managers recognize that I give a shit so they’ll let me do whatever, but part of the problem is that my manager is like barely was around and the only people that get any recognition are the ones that talk like they do all this work like vs actually doing shit but man it is so frustrating constantly asking your boss for less hours and him saying no but then you see your coworkers leave early every fucking day like 😐

and like my one coworker who got promoted awhile back is like the rudest person I’ve ever had to deal with but it’s hilarious bc she’ll say the rudest thing to you and then whine and cry that no one likes her, like please pick something to fully commit to, don’t be an asshole and expect people to love you lmao

But yeah last fall semester was brutal bc I took business calc, business law and worked 40 hours (I do like 10,000-20,000 steps daily), I barely even saw any friends and was just in a terrible mood constantly, and basically lived off of subway and starbucks bc I had to study and do homework for like 5 hours straight, and then I missed my transfer deadline so I’m stuck where I’m at longer (I wanna move the fuck out of California so bad) and then I had to drop a class this semester, and like...I’ve had my period for well over a month now, which, isn’t great, might be closer to 2 months and I just feel like I’m about to combust

Genuinely pretty bummed bc there is a lot of people I do have a lot of love for at my job but man, at the same time I’m so worn out and I know if I had to stay there any longer I’d end up turning into the joker, they also did pay me pretty good and I was able to help pay for some of my friends meds and bills when I could and get dumb funky cardigans that are way too thick to wear but man, I am definitely at my limit and just want to focus on school since I got some savings, thinking about having a small break and then taking accelerated classes and maybe getting an extreme part time job to cover gas and car payments and get all my stuff ready to transfer to a university and just go to school full time and end my misery

[keanureevesisbae]

The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 1

Summary: Adelaide Park meets Henry Cavill for the first time and she is obviously very nervous. 

Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)

Wordcount: 3.5k

A/N: If you want to be on the taglist, just let me know. And please let me know what you guys think. I’d love to hear your thoughts about it 😘 

Masterlist // Introduction // Next chapter

I’ve never been to Italy before. Actually, before I was a renowned actress, I never came outside of LA. Growing up, my parents never had the money to go to a different city, let alone other countries. My vacations were spend solely in our small one room apartment back in Los Angeles by myself.

My parents were never rich. My dad worked long hours in a factory every single day, but earning just enough money to pay the rent and for me and mom to eat. One night, I saw him scraping the packages or our plats clean, so he had something to eat as well. After I saw that, I never ate all the food off my plate, because I realized that my dad was working the hardest, but was eating the least.

It always broke my heart to see both of them struggle. My mom used to be a cleaning lady, but after she got fired, she became a live-in nanny, which basically meant that from my sixth birthday, she was barely home anymore and I had to raise myself.

Hours on end I was alone. Back in school I barely had any friends—correction: I had no friends at all—and when I came home from school, I’d sit outside to do my homework, because dad didn’t have enough money to get a second set of keys.

I never complained about it, because I knew they were trying and I learned all too well from that one time when I asked for a Barbie doll back when I was five and I kept crying about it, because other kids had Barbie dolls and I was the only one who didn’t. My mom got so mad, that she grabbed my empty plate and threw it against the wall, while she was screaming something about how ungrateful I was. Mom never got mad, she was always admirably calm and collected, even when life got in the way like it did with us. Seeing her like this, meant she was serious and I never said anything about something like that anymore. I never asked for anything, at all.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents and I am so thankful for everything they taught me and did for me. It may have been a hard time, but every year for my birthday, they gave me something. It was always something I really needed, but I always appreciated how they went out of their way for me, wondering how many meals they skipped for this present.

It all became worse when I finished high school at the age of nineteen. I was older than everyone else, since I read so slowly and didn’t even understand it most of the time, causing me to get behind on many classes over the course of the years. Besides, our school wasn’t known for having the best results overall, so the fact that I didn’t score well, meant I was blending in with the rest.

I was working in a diner, because I wasn’t smart enough at all for a scholarship, when my mom got in a terrible accident, when she walked back home and she was hit by a car who ran through a red light. She was paralyzed from her waist down and besides the high hospital bills, she also needed psychical therapy, something that unfortunately isn’t free.

With what my dad and I were earning together, we couldn’t even pay two percent of those costs. I was thinking about putting myself up on a sugar daddy website, but I know I couldn’t lie to them, when I would come back with a lot of money. Besides, my dad was always very strict about what mom and I could and couldn’t do to make money and sugar daddies were off limits. He told me multiple times—even after mom’s accident—that we had nothing to worry about. That he would take care of it.

But I had something to worry about, because my father wasn’t getting any younger. He had been working too hard for too long and all he wanted, was staying with his wife, who he still loved so so much, despite everything they had gone through. I took up more shifts at the diner, only slowly coming to terms that, even with the tips I was receiving, it was never enough to cover the bills.

In about two months, my mom would be discharged from the facility, if we hadn’t paid at least something significant.

One day, I was walking back home from work, when I saw a huge billboard, with a message that a studio was looking for someone to star in one of the biggest sitcoms of that time: Remembering High School. Apparently, one of the new main characters (who was an adult) was having a flashback from when they were in high school—the main premise of the show. And that character happened to be an Asian lady.

I went in and decided I would try it out. I mean, I had no acting experience and solely did it to earn some money, but being Asian American was apparently enough and that was the beginning of my acting career.

At first the amounts of money I made were not enough to cover the medical costs, but it was enough to delay further payment and my mom could stay in the facility.

For years I had difficulty with reading, let alone reading out loud, with an audience, but somehow on the set, I could forget about that. I could finally be someone I really wanted to be. For a few moments I could forget all the sorrows and worries I had resting on my shoulders.

The first five weeks, I’d combine my new acting career with my job in the diner, but after awhile I became a recurring character and for a whole year, I was part of the cast. I remember walking into my mom’s room, showing both her and my dad the first episode I was going to star in. ‘I’m from Minnesota,’ was my first line and the beginning of a very promising career.

My parents were so proud of me. My dad didn’t even care about the money I made at first, because he was so happy that I was doing something that from the looks of it, I actually enjoyed.

Over the years, I’ve come to love acting, but no one knows I do it because of my family. Actually no one knew about my family situation and since I have zero friends, even in the industry (because I barely talk about my personal life and I never budge, even when the try to pry information about it. My co-stars are acquaintances, almost like neighbors: you know one another, but you don’t know them), no one is aware that every penny I earn, goes directly to my family.

Nowadays I make millions, but I’m mainly spending it on my mom, but also on other people who are paralyzed and need psychical therapy, but were in the same boat as my family and my parents met over time in the facility. Money doesn’t mean a lot to me and these people can use it a lot better than I can.

Besides, my parents worked so hard for me growing up, this is the only way for me to pay them back. Despite not having any money themselves, nor stuff, they always taught me to share, to make sure that other people are well taken care off.

The flight from Japan to Italy moved along pretty quick, but maybe that’s because I was traveling first class. My latest movie took place in Japan and though I loved it there, I really want to see what Italy is like, after spending eight months in a lousy hotel in Japan.

After becoming an actress, I went to a lot of great places for shooting movies. I went to Suriname, Canada, Spain, Australia and this time it was Japan. I’m so blessed that I get to travel, knowing really well that other people are still struggling with what I used to struggle with. Sometimes I donate the earnings of a movie to movements that catch my eye, that help kids in certain areas of California with their school work, and with access of clothes and food. I always donate anonymously, not wanting to seem like a philanthropist who is doing this solely for her own image.

I always think that if you really care about something, you would do it without earning praises.

Participating on ‘The Celebrity Project’ wasn’t something I would normally do, but when they reached out to me, I was actually delighted that I was going to be part of this. Maybe I could finally show the world that I’m not as stupid as I appear in interviews.

Being a loner, a slow reader and probably has multiple learning disabilities (if I actually got tested, but the tests were too expensive and no one at school seemed to care and I’m actually too embarrassed to get myself tested now I’m a twenty-five year old), I often come off as an airhead and it’s my own fault really. I do give them enough stupid material to go on about that accusation.

However, I’m really nervous. I mean, I’m going to work together with Henry Cavill. He is charming and sounds so intelligent. When I was done filming and back at my hotel room, I’d watch his interviews, because I wanted to know what I was going to work with. The way he is so articulate and he obviously knows what he is doing, makes me feel even worse about myself. I’m a total disaster and already a burden to him I presume.

I’m sitting in a taxi, waiting for traffic to calm down a bit. It’s early in the mornings and thankfully I got to make myself a bit more presentable in the plane already. I notice the tiny camera’s being strategically placed in the car. It really begun, I think to myself. I’m part of a reality show now. ‘How are you feeling, miss Park?’ the taxi driver asks. ‘I recently heard about this program.’

‘I’m a bit nervous,’ I say, wondering whether or not he is payed to to talk to me about this. I rummage through my purse, hoping I can find my lip balm.

‘Are you looking forward to work with Henry Cavill?’

That name alone makes me nearly make me shit my pants already. ‘Yeah, he seems like a nice man, so I really look forward to work with him.’ And I sure as hell hope that I won’t let him down.

The drive to the hotel is about an hour, but it feels like time is going by a whole lot faster.  The chauffeur talks about his family and how his wife is actually a fan of my movies and has watched every single one of them. I took a few pictures with him and signed the inside of the cracker box, because that was all he got with him for me to write something on.

After I said goodbye to him, I’m told that I should go to room 346. With my suitcases with me, I step into the elevator, a cameraman close by. They told me that at one point, these cameramen would just be invisible to me, but I highly doubt it. They are only with us during the assignments. In the cars and at the place where we’re staying, the camera’s are hidden.

When I’m in front of the door, I take a deep breath.

I can do this I think to myself. I have starred alongside other talented people. My first real role was playing Keanu Reeves’ daughter, I was Angela Bassett’s assistant and I also had some pretty steamy scenes with David Castañeda, after his Umbrella Academy days. I can handle being around Henry Cavill, right? I knock on the door three times and I open it a bit, peeking my head around the door.

I can conclude that I’m severely underdressed. I’m wearing a simply jean short, white crop top with some lace on the borders and socks with the same lace details as my top, paired with white sneakers.

I look like a slob, compared to Henry, who seems like he stepped out of a Disney movie.  His white blouse, off-white pants and those loafers. The only thing that is missing, is his yacht with the name Serenity.

A smile creeps up on my face, as I step into the room, rolling my pink suitcases with me, because he actually looks approachable.

‘Hi there,’ he says with a small smile on his face. He walks up to me, holding out his hand. ‘I’m Henry, nice to meet you.’

I can’t help but blush. He is so charming and his accent makes him so posh. I place my hand in his and it almost disappears. Not to be that girl, but my size kink is activated right here and now. ‘Adelaide,’ I say. ‘Uhm, it’s nice to meet you… Too.’

I curse my tongue.

‘How was your flight?’ he asks, as he gestures to the couch for us to sit on.

I take place right next to him and I feel like a child sitting next to her dad. Why is he so massive? ‘It was okay. Yours?’

‘It flew by.’

I raise my eyebrows. ‘Was that… a pun?’

Henry chuckles nervously. ‘Maybe, I’m sorry.’

I look around me. The hotel room seems okay, but I bet we’re not going to stay here for long. I stare at the silver tray in front of us, with a set of keys and an envelope with our names on it.

Henry takes the envelope from the tray and holds it in front of me. ‘You want to read it?’

I shake my head. ‘No, you go.’ The whole idea of reading out loud without practice, makes me want to vomit. Before the table reads, I use this program that will read everything for me, even using the right intonation. I stay up for way too many hours for that, because once I’ve heard it, I made notes, I can better read it.

Back when I was doing ‘Remembering High School’ I had the woman who played the adult version of me read it to me, because I had to portray the young her and keep her character in mind. Since she was an established character on the show, she had certain ways of saying things I had to copy. She never knew the real reason I wanted her to read it out loud for me.

He cocks an eyebrow, but then opens the envelope. He clears his throat, before a dramatic reading of our first assignment rolls out of his mouth. How can he make a simple note sound so… Sensual, almost? His deep and dark voice, making it sound way more intense than it actually is. I wouldn’t mind if he read my scripts out loud for me.

‘Dear Adelaide and Henry, the adventure of ‘The Celebrity Project’ has officially started,’ he says, tilting the card a little, so I can read a little bit with him. It’s a nice gesture really and I appreciate the thought. ‘We have provided you with a nice car, to drive to the little cottage, specially arranged for the two of you. Tomorrow will be a nice day for you to relax (because you two are both severely jet lagged we presume) and the day after that, you’ll be expected for your first assignment. Enjoy the car ride and remember: look out of your window every now and then. We are aware that Henry is really handsome, Adelaide and you’ll be forced to only look at him, but nature can be beautiful too.’

I scrunch up my nose. That last sentence seemed so forced and this is exactly the reason why I don’t like these types of survival, borderline reality shows. It’s not reality. It’s this forced setting, hoping to get people to believe that this is how real life should look like.

And I don’t like deceiving people like that. I almost regret participating.

‘Right, well, we might as well just go,’ he says, his tone flat, maybe just as annoyed with that last sentence as I am. Probably even more so.

◎ ◎ ◎

Why is there a pink carseat in the passengers seat? I mean, I’m not the tallest, but I’m definitely not that tiny. I look around us, only to see no member of the crew around. This is great. I want to take the seat out, because I don’t want to sit on it, but it’s securely fastened and only with a different set of keys, I can undo it.

And of course I don’t have that.

I really regret being here.

However, I still sit on the carseat, because I don’t want to sit in the back because I’ll get carsick and when I see Henry’s cocked eyebrows and a poorly hidden smirk, I simply say: ‘Don’t.’

Okay, maybe I do understand why they put me on a carseat, because this man looks so enormous and otherwise I’m simply non existent. He starts the car and simply drives off. I don’t know whether or not I should say something to him, because I feel like we should talk.  I mean, that’s why the camera’s are here right?

‘What is your newest movie about?’ Henry asks.

‘About a woman escaping from her past and she moves to Japan, when one day an old friend becomes her new manager,’ I say.

‘Romantic comedy?’

‘Of course.’

He nods. ‘You don’t get tired of doing those?’ he asks.

Yes, I do get a bit tired of them, but there are two things: for starters, just like those romance books (that I would buy my mom one for her birthday every year, because I knew how much she loved those), romantic comedies sell really good. And no one wants me for something else. I feel like directors don’t trust me with big roles, like Rose in Titanic or someone else major. Besides, I’m Asian American, when was the last time one of us got a major part in a movie that’s not a romantic comedy?

But I don’t want to seem ungrateful and it’s a nice stream of money coming in every time and that’s basically all I want.

‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s okay. You shot something new… new movie… Right?’ For fuck sake, Adelaide, you were doing so well.

‘I did, actually,’ he says. ‘It’s something I’m very excited for. It’s more of a dramatical part.’ I listen to Henry, as he is talking about this movie. How he plays a single dad, trying to figure out this parenting part with his daughter, when his brother and sister-in-law pass away and he has to take in four monsters of boys in his house. The way he talks about this, I notice a shimmer in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he apologizes. ‘I let myself go there for a second. It’s just I’m really excited about this movie.’

‘No, I get it,’ I say, as I look out of the window. I let out a deep sigh, as we drive over the sandy roads. Before I can say something else (as if I knew what), Henry hits the break and like the cliches in the movies, he holds out his arm in front of me, as the car comes to a halt.

There are four dogs and one owner on the road and the man screams something in Italian to us. Clearly we were supposed to stop for him. ‘Shit, sorry,’ Henry mumbles, as if the man could hear that.

His warm hand dropped to my bare thigh and with my pointer finger I tap him on the back of his hand. ‘Excuse me,’ I say.

‘Oh no, terrible sorry,’ he says quickly, retracting his hand. ‘What do you think the cottage will look like?’ Henry asks, when he pulled up again, not driving as fast as he did before.

Shrugging I play with my water bottle. ‘I don’t know, but I think I know one thing.’

It takes me a while before I can get the words out of my mouth, but Henry doesn’t force me to say anything, by asking something like: ‘Care to let me in?’ He actually lets me find the words and it feels nice not to be rushed into saying something.

‘I bet there is one bed that is large and comfortable. However, there is also one uncomfortable couch, too small for you. So people want to see whether or not you are a… gentleman and offer to sleep on the couch.’

‘You think?’ he asks frowning. ‘A bit far fetched, don’t you think?’

When we arrive at the tiny cottage, we walk inside. It’s nice decorated, warm colors mixed with nice hints of different pastel colors. My eye falls on the very uncomfortable looking couch that is pretty tiny if Henry is supposed to be sprawled out on that, but we don’t know what the rest looks like.

After a small tour through the house, we have come to the conclusion that there is indeed only one bed. I look over my shoulder, my eyes meeting Henry’s. ‘See?’

Taglist: @thelastsock​ // @jolly-polly​ // @henrythickcavill​ // @maan24​ // @diegos-butt​ / @agniavateira​ // 

[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Twelve): Your Demon, Never Leaving

Notes: Soooo, its been a minute, like I said, been kind of sick. And I've been sitting on this chapter for a while, I was gonna wait until I finish the next. But decided, fuck it. We're still rocking around the angst train with this and I'm sure some of you are like, when is Johnny gonna be let out of brain jail and the answer is soon, next chapter, promise. Our girl just needs some time to process and what better way to do so, then to get into a fist fight and talk to some folks.

Word Count: 11873

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and mentions, bit of blood and violence, general angst, some talks of sex but no actual in chapter sex. 

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

V finds herself in Westbrook next, kicking herself for forgetting that Wakako never paid for the Dorsett job. The sun’s barely been up but an hour by the time she makes it to Jig Jig street, the merc preoccupying her time by pouring more energy drinks from a vending machine into her thermos. A quick hack used to get them for free. 

She leans against the wall of the pachinko parlor while she waits, someone passing by offers to sell her drugs and a joytoy tries to flirt with her in the meantime. Both swiftly denied and the merc jumps when she sees the parlor lighting up, Wakako likely already tucked in her back room. She slides on her mask as discreetly as she can before she walks across the blue tiled floors and past the desk clerk, who shoots her a dirty look. 

Past a beaded curtain, she sees Wakako at her back desk. A slick black and gold color scheme that seems completely at odds with the gaudy vibrancy of Jig Jig street. Wakako is one of the older fixers, V would wager to guess she’s at least Padre’s age, with long gray hair pulled back off her face and cold shrewd eyes. 

“Well, well,” the fixer greets, “who do I spy but V, in my humble parlor no less.” 

“Here in the flesh, never did answer my call,” V can’t help but sign, thankful her bitter smile is hidden behind her mask. 

“I must have been busy, I’m sure.” 

“Of course.” 

“So, what brings you here?” Wakako asks, tapping her red nails across the wood of her desk. 

“Last gig, said I had to swing by to grab my payment, remember?” 

“I don’t forget such things, V. Here is your reward, it comes with a fairly ample bonus. Go to Cassius Ryder in Watson, he’ll weave you a derma-imprint with smart-gun compatibility, a Tyger Claws special. You did good work, you and that… friend of yours.” 

“Appreciate it,” V signs, feeling her muscles tighten at the mention of Jackie. Then the money comes in, over three thousand, not bad at all. But, she could still use a bit more before she pays back Vik. If she completely drains her bank account for him, Vik will throw a fit. 

“And V,” Wakako calls out before the merc can leave, “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for your calls from now on.” 

V simply nods, unsure of how to take the comment as she leaves the pachinko parlor. Wakako is hard to read, that much she knows. Everything the woman says seems to drip with poison and sarcasm. She could wish V could morning and the merc would wonder if it’s a veiled death threat. Kindness and cruelty sound the same coming from Wakako. Meaning the statement could be a cruel taunt regarding V’s ruined reputation or it could be genuine, that somehow the merc has built back some of it. She has been going hard the past three or four days, refusing to do much else. Deciphering Wakako will only drive her crazy, V determines, leaving Jig-Jig street and climbing in her stolen MaiMai. 

The fight in Kabuki is worth at least two grand, meaning if V’s lucky enough she can finish it up and pay Vik back while still leaving around… two grand in her bank account. Not much, but she’s worked with less. If she loses, she’ll just have to make it back in more scanner jobs, she supposes. Or start selling some stuff. 

She parks near the coordinates Coach Fred sent her. V pulls off her mask, it could be considered unfair, fighting with a face cover. When she gets out of the car, she catches a flash of something in the side mirror, breath catching in her throat. Thinking it’s a flash of dark hair and a beard, think it’s him, she looks again. But only sees her reflection, granted, she looks like she’s already been fucked up in a fight. 

Her hygiene has… suffered during this ordeal. Nose bruised to hell and back, looking a little crooked she realizes. There’s blood and dirt on her face, the worse of it down her lips and chin. She smells like sweat, blood, and still vague hints of stagnant water. Wakako probably smelled V before seeing her. 

The merc first takes a deep breath, grabs her nose and cracks it back into place, setting it as pain shoots through her face and tears blur her vision. . She curses, giving herself a moment before she goes looking through her bag for wet wipes or antiseptic ones, something to give herself a quick whore’s bath. But finds nothing, her supplies needing a restock. 

In a pathetic attempt at something, she spits onto her hoodie sleeve and tries to scrub some blood off with the drool. Only managing to smear the dirt and blood into a new pattern. As far as she knows, no one she cares about will be at the fight. She’ll shower before she sees Vik. For now, she’ll just be gross. Too exhausted and overwhelmed to care about how strangers view her hygiene.  

She takes three heavy drinks of energy drink and makes her way to the feet, down a set of stairs that run next to the overpass, walking across cracked cement through patch work metal shacks. Up a little yellow ladder and climbing over air conditioning units. Even getting to the fight has to be an ordeal it seems. 

V can see the backs of people, on one of the other rooftops involved in this little parkour endeavor. A crowd gathered around and she has to assume that’s where the fight is. A little set of metal steps up to the slightly higher platform. When she walks up the stairs she can see the crowd is around a clearing on the roof; two identical men squaring off. She half expected a Tyger Claw gang member, given the area is their turf. But the men look fairly nondescript, twins who box, she supposes. 

“This is pointless, I know where I’m gonna strike before I do it,” one of the men say, fist raised to his brother, though the wording seems off. Of course, one would know where they’re going to strike. Brain damage too many blows to the head, maybe. 

“Typical, I knew I’d say that.” 

She raises an eyebrow but shakes her head, and clears her throat. The men straighten up, two pairs of brown eyes staring straight at V. They’re older than her, which isn’t saying much, with bald head and implants around their heads. Completely identical, only thing to separate them out is their clothing; one is a tee shirt and the other in a tank top. 

“Was told I have a fight here,” V signs, “so, which one of you is it?” 

“Me,” the men speak in unison and V blinks, confused. 

“Didn’t know it was a tag team fight, but alright, who’s up first?” 

“No, no,” the one in the t-shirt waves his hand, “you don’t get it. That body and his one, I’m the same person.” 

“I’m seeing shit then?” 

“I used to be twins, which you could probably guess. The twins had a close bond, but they wanted to be closer, stronger. “

“So they installed neural oscillation synchs. And now they’re… well.” 

“Me, one person, two bodies,” the twins finish in unison again. 

And here she is, two persons, one body. Whether she likes it or not. The whole tale is horrific to the merc, unable to understand why anyone would willingly undergo something like that. She has a twin, Eira, and despite everything that’s happened, V loves her sister dearly. But, she can’t imagine ever wanting to merge themselves together, to want to lose herself. Its part of why what’s happening with the chip is… horrifying. She doesn’t want to be something else, someone else. V is far from perfect, but, she’s her. As many times as she’s wished to be better, she’s always wanted to still be her. 

These two willingly signed up for the horror show, V’s enduring, just split across two bodies. They wanted to be someone else, to morph into some new amalgamation of who they once were. 

“So, I’m fighting you both at once?” She asks, trying to get out of her own head, to focus on the here and now. 

“My bodies do everything together. Everything,” the pair speak with finality and V can’t help but smirk at the implication. How far does everything go?

“Everything? Even in the bedroom?” She signs, waggling a brow and can feel the immediate annoyance. 

“I have one girlfriend for both bodies, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Shared between both.” 

And it takes everything in her not to laugh, a smile pulling at her lips and face flushed at how stupid it is. 

“So, what. she gets a daily double teaming?” 

“No. She’s with one body from Monday through Wednesday and the other Wednesday through Sunday. Bitch.” 

“You take shifts?!” V bursts, the entire ridiculous nature of it is exactly what she needed, cracking up at their whole situation. 

And maybe it’s mean to laugh, but she can’t help it, holding her stomach as she cackles. The insult more than worth it to know these two have their girlfriend on a sex schedule, that they take shifts for fucking. They have fuck shifts, how is she meant to handle that information?

“We doing this or what?” The twins yell, obviously not amused by her outburst. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she signs as she comes down, “but we’re doubling this, four grand.” 

She was already at a size disadvantage, the twins not huge, but taller than her. And now they’re outnumbering her as well, it’s already high risk, so she needs higher reward. The twins consider her deal for a moment, before nodding to each other. 

“Fine, see no problem there. So, can we get started?” 

“Show me what you got.” 

And three pairs of fist raise. The twin the tee shirt moves towards her first and she steps up to meet his charge, swinging the first punch and knocking her knuckles into his head. And then she steps back, grin on her face. Its been a long time since she’s sparred, a good clean fight with just fists and no weapons, it feels good.

She throws another punch and misses, the same twin comes back in to hit her, but she connects another punch first. He staggers back, but swings at her, a hard pain wracking her jaw when he connects. V blocks the next swing and momentum makes him twist around, letting the merc get a cheap shot against his back. Then another as he twists then she connects a right hook to his jaw; three hits in rapid succession, he stumbles back. He hits the ground. Then the other twin comes charging. 

V throws a right hook into the force of his run, catching just the right way to make his nose bleed. She swings for a left jab but the tank top wearing twin ducks and steps back, the one in the t-shirt is back on his feet.  

Tank-top comes at her again, right fist hitting her temple and she throws her own in return, knuckles catching his ear. She misses with her left and he brings a knee up, knocking it into her chin, making her teeth clang together as she bites her tongue in the force. He swings another punch and she deflects with her left forearm, punching her right into his face. He falls back. 

T-shirt comes at her next and gets punched in the eye, blackening under her fist. She connects the next punch to the opposite cheek, knocking into his nose. He stumbles back and wipes blood from his nose. 

The other twin swoops in, he acts like he’s going to knee her again, then swings a fist and catches her already injured nose. Pain cracks through her, but she laughs and throws a punch in return, connecting two more hits against him. Twins switch out again, t-shirt twin kicking her in the gut before throwing three quick hits. Then he shoves her back, only for her to push back and throw two more punches. And he’s down. One half done, she turns her attention back to the twin in the tank top. 

He tries to keep distance from her and she waits him out, fist raised. And after a quick moment of dancing around each other, he runs at her. A punch to her head, a swing to his own, and she connects one more to his chest.  And he hits his knees. V stares for a moment, unsure if she really just won a bare knuckle fist fight against two grown men? 

“Stop, stop, I give up!” One twin yells and gets up, face bloody as he walks to the railing. V looks down at the other twin. 

“You got more fight in you or had enough like your brother?” 

“That ain’t my brother,” he yells as he gets up, “that’s me. Jesus, what’s so hard to understand?” 

One leans against the railing and the other sits on a table by a couch, each with fresh blood and bruises on their faces. She finds herself standing before them, mind still revisiting the twin’s dynamic and situation. Melding yourself with someone else, even someone so close, she can’t even imagine being that close to someone. Even her own sister, she has a strained relationship with. She’s going into this situation with the chip kicking and screaming. 

“Here, your winnings,” the twins eyes glow as they transfer four grand into V’s bank account. 

“Not bad at all.” 

“Don’t worry, there’s always the next fight,” one twin tells the other. 

“Stop talking to yourself!” 

V can’t help but smile at the odd exchange, “Thanks for the fight, it was fun just sparring for once, I’m V. By the way.” 

“Certo,” the one in the tee introduced himself. 

“Esquerdo,” the other chimes in. 

“I know I kind of razzed on you earlier, just your situation is… interesting to me,” she admits, genuinely a part of her just wanting to ask a bit more about it. The twins must not have been perfectly alike, not anyone is, then they melded together. She can’t help but think of the ghost in her head, the man she’ll meld into, the fear of it. 

“If you’re here to pry more into my sex life, piss off.” 

“No, no, not that. Do you two read each other’s thoughts?” She asks, Johnny responded to her thoughts in the subway, assuming it was him and not an exhaustion induced hallucination. 

“No. Same person. Same thoughts.” 

“If that weren’t the case, I’d be on schizoid meds.” 

“Yeah, be weird having someone else's thoughts in your head… Would drive anyone crazy. Speaking of, wasn’t that, I don’t know… scary.” 

“What?” 

“Melding together like that, becoming one person. Because like… you’re no longer you, right? You’re a new combo, wasn’t that terrifying, to lose yourself?” 

“Not really, everyone’s always becoming someone new. Brothers knew each other well enough, loved each other enough, they knew they didn’t mind becoming each other.” 

“Strange… no offense.” 

“Why you so curious about it?” 

“I don’t know,” she stumbles for a response that makes sense, can’t explain she’s thinking about the ghost in her head, “I got a twin myself, actually. Love her, but life took us to different places. Can’t imagine… becoming part her, part me.” 

“You don’t though, you just become something new, the best of both of you.” 

“Interesting, uh, I won’t hold you up any longer. See you around.” 

V heads off and makes her way back home, guzzling energy drinks along the way, stinging the new bite mark in her tongue. She passes by Barry’s apartment on the way to her own, she’ll grab a shower, she decides before she talks to him either. Showing up at a former cop’s doorstep covered in blood and sweat sounds like a bad idea. 

The merc strips down as soon as she’s in the privacy of her apartment and makes a beeline for the shower, Hot water a godsend even as it stings her cuts and bruises, the heat relaxing her tightly wound muscles and the ache in her head. Her eyes drifting shut, body relaxing. A blink that lasts a second, maybe a minute, or two too long. 

Then pain shoots through her tailbone as she crashes to the wet shower floor, falling right onto her ass. She curses beneath her breath and gets back onto her feet, finishing her shower quickly before she falls asleep again.  The energy drinks are cutting it less and less, three days without any sleep, other than long blinks. 

She checks her tongue in the mirror thankful the bite didn’t tear at her piercing, and sighs as she takes a look at herself. Still bruised, but no longer bloody or dirty, dark bags have formed under her eyes and she’s paler than before. Her headache has become a constant throb she can’t get rid of, ears irritated from the rub of her hearing aids, the pain in her joints is equal parts overexertion and neglecting her immunosuppressants, the familiar burn of her disease flaring up. 

If Vik and Misty see her like this she’ll never hear the end of it. It feels like lying as she grabs up her foundation and concealer. She laves on a heavier layer of makeup than she’d usually do, applying it until she looks a little more human, a little more awake and put together. After everything she’s put them through the last thing she needs is to cause them any more worry. 

V throws on some clothes and makes up a new fresh batch of her caffeine cocktail before she leaves out again, fiddling with her bullet pendant as she makes her way down the stairs. She knocks on Barry’s door, trying to get the neighbors attention. 

“Hey, you home?” She signs, turning the volume up a little on her translator, hoping he’ll hear. 

“Who is it?!” A rough voice yells out. 

“V, your neighbor, remember? We talked about rides, You were all worked up over the newest Mizutani. I said it was for flash-posers.” 

“Heh,” he chuckles behind the door, “you don’t forget a gonk thing like that.” 

“You gave me this look, I was about to run back to the Badlands right then and there.” 

The door finally opens, showing Barry, just as she remembers the older man. Dark crew cut, over a foot taller than her, with tattoos across his biceps. He leans against the door frame, looking down at her by necessity. 

“I remember, what do ya want?” 

“To talk, I know that’s what you need right now, even if you don’t realize it. I can’t turn back time or magically make everything okay, would if I could, promise. But.. if nothing else, I’m good for a chat, hear you out as best I can,  and make sure you know you’re not alone.” 

“Now hold on a sec,” he makes her pause, the heaviness of it taking him off guard, “we barely know each other, and you just rock up here talkin’ to me about my problems? Where’d you get the idea something with me was up? You watchin’ me? Somebody send you?”

“You got me, your buds from the station asked me to drop in. I figured, why not, decent guy even if he’s got shit taste in rides,” she signs, with a teasing smile. 

“Come back just to get your ass kicked?” His grin makes her snicker, “man, you really know how to cheer a guy up. Maybe those two asshats really are worried about me… All right, come on in. You wanna talk, let's talk.” 

Barry leads her into the apartment, it’s layout a little different than her own. Most notably where her window stretches across the wall, he has none, with a couch against it instead. The apartment dark and gloomy without the sun being able to touch it, her boot knocks into an empty can, one of many. There’s trash across his floor, discarded takeout boxes, bottles, cans.  Has he left the apartment since she spoke with his friends? Has he locked himself up in here for the past three days? 

He sits down on the couch and V plops herself on the table in front of it, careful not to sit on his ashtray or nearly empty pizza box. She wants to be able to make eye contact and she knows human voices are far more comforting than AI ones, turning off her translator. 

“I lost someone, too,” she hates the scratch in her throat, the slight widening in Barry’s expression as he hears her speak for the first time, “he was my best friend, a good man.” 

“What do you mean ‘too’? Wait, this about Andrew? They… told you about him…”

“Yeah, I know it ain’t easy, losing someone like that.” 

 “Best bud I ever had… known him my whole life. Only person I could spill to without being judged.” 

“Take it Petrova and Mendez weren’t that great at listening?” She raises an eyebrow, Mendez seemed like a genuine dickhead, but Petrova was nice. Surely, she wouldn’t have minded hearing Barry out, given how worried she seemed. Barry shrugs his shoulders. 

“Petrova’s a decent gal, but she’s not good with this stuff. Mendez just doesn’t get it He thinks us blues need to be tough. Can bear the sight of a kid getting murdered? Born with pussy genes, according to him,” Barry tells her, the crestfallen expression telling her those are exact words from Mendez. 

“You told them about Andrew, though?” 

“Honestly? I thought about it a lot. Anyway… they don’t know everything. Better that way,” his soft nearly whispered tone tells her there’s more to this, something he doesn’t want them to know Or maybe he’s just like her and prefers to keep his cards close to his heart. 

“What exactly happened with Andrew? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Does it matter? Uh,” he rethinks when he looks at V’s face, “old age took him…. No wonder, seeing as he was only a few years younger than my grandma.” 

“I know it doesn’t make it hurt any less. But, Andrew had a long life with a good friend like you sticking by him through most of it. No better way to go, if you got to. And in Night City of all fuckin’ places? That alone deserves a fuckin’ monument.” 

That makes Barry smile, a soft laugh tumbling from his lips, “ashbox in a niche will have to do.” 

“So, was Andrew like a grandpa to you?” 

“Hm. Wouldn’t go that far. He was like… egh. I don’t know. A window into the past or… something. He reminded me of my gram-grams, about our little talks… time when everything had its proper place, y’know? He was the last living record of those times.” 

“He clearly meant a lot to you, it’s only natural losing him is gonna hurt. Mendez is full of shit, to be blunt. Life and loss is hard, really fuckin’ hard. And feeling that hurt doesn’t make you weak, makes you human.” 

Her throat feels tight as she speaks, each word making her feel more and more like a hypocrite. Preaching the importance of feeling out your hurt while hiding from her own. She can still taste gunmetal, feel the weight of the barrel on her tongue as she willed herself to pull the trigger. Talking a man off a ledge she tiptoed no more than a few hours before. And it’s not that she doesn’t mean what she says, but she can’t give herself the same kindness she affords him. 

“What if he’s right though?” Barry asks, eyes big with worry, “maybe my genes are soft? Don’t only the strongest survive?” 

“Losing people hurts. And that’s okay, doesn’t make you weak, and ignoring it don’t make you strong. If you felt nothing at all, then his loss wouldn’t have any meaning. You lost someone you cared about, who was there for you most of your life; anyone with a heart would be hurting right now.” 

“I guess… so. Thanks for the talk. I, uh, need time to take all this in.” 

“Alright, take care of yourself,” she stands from the table, “and if you need anything else, you know where to find me.” 

She leaves Barry’s apartment and lets out a soft sigh, rethinking what she told Barry, wondering if she handled it well. Taking in how it applies to her. The words she can easily speak to someone else, but not to herself. Feeling hurt doesn’t make her weak, just human. Painfully, disgustingly, revoltingly human.  

V shakes her head, making her way out of the apartment complex and taking the NCART down to Buran and Bradbury. Walking down the family little cluster of storefronts, pass strippers dancing in windows, where Gary the wannabe prophet sleeps on some abandoned filthy mattress, and into Misty’s store. Her heart jumping in her throat when she sees the older woman. 

“V!” Misty calls out, green eyes brightening and a breath of relief leaving her chest, “its been a minute, got worried about you.” 

“Nothing to worry about, just been, busy… Actually, wanted to see Vik, got a debt to pay back.” 

“Hmmm, c’mon then, I’ll walk you back.” 

“I think I know the way by now,” V signs with a raised eyebrow. Misty isn’t going to start babying her now, is she?  Sure, V got hurt and is in the shit right now, but that doesn’t make her any less of a grown adult. 

“You’re the first customer to walk in today and I’m bored out of my mind, just give me this,” Misty jokes and V feels bad for doubting her intentions, though there's still something in the way the older woman looks at the merc. More akin to a worrying mother than a friend. 

“Alright, whatever you want.” 

The two women leave out the back of Misty’s store and into the back alley, V searches for the bald little cat she pet last time she was here, but it’s gone now. Misty leads the way down the stairs to Vik’s clinic, the ripper doc in his usual spot at his desk. 

“Someone’s here to see you, Vik,” Misty announces as they walk through, the older man looking up to see V. A smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes pulls across his face, more of pity than happiness. 

“Hey, kid, how you’ve been?” 

“Getting by,” she shrugs, “more importantly, I got the eddies to pay you back.” 

“What is this?” He asks as she starts to transfer the seventy thousand. 

“Optics, mantis blades, and the launcher; all adds up. That’s the best estimate I could ge. If they cost more than that I-” 

“Hold onto ‘em,” he waves her off, “just in case. You need ‘em more than me.” 

“Not taking them to my grave, Vik, please, it’s the least I can do.” 

His jaw clenches, gaze dropping; “twenty-five thousand, I’ll won’t take a dollar more” 

“What? That’s not even half?” V blinks incredulously, can see Misty smiling at the exchange.

“Covers the mantis blades; you didn’t ask for the optics or launcher, seems fair to me.” 

“Even if I didn’t ask for ‘em, doesn’t mean they didn’t cost you a pretty penny.” 

“Not worried ‘bout it, spend the money on yourself.” 

“Vik, seriously, there’s no point in me keeping it.” 

“Six months is longer than you think, V,” his voices rises, a hint of frustration, “I’m not letting you throw that kind of cash away just because your-” 

And he stops himself, before he can says what they all know. Just because she’s dying. Her jaw clenches and she swallows hard. Trying to search for how to respond, how to deal with that. 

“I know you wanna pay him back, but Vik’s just trying to look out for you, V. Never hurts to keep some money in your account and besides, you’ve got way more than six months left in your,” Misty says, trying to smooth over everything. Her concern and worry always softer spoken than Vik’s. 

“It’s not just because I’m dying, you’ve done a lot for me over the years, want you to have something to show for it.” 

“That’s what friends are for, V.” 

“Fine, fine, never had to beg someone to take my money,” she jokes, sending a transfer for the twenty-five thousand instead.

“Other than that, how have you been?” 

“Already told you, getting through, not much to report.” 

V shrugs her shoulders again, wondering why he’d ask the same question twice. And she can the clench in Vik’s jaw, the somber downward pull on Misty’s expression. They don’t believe her. And she can’t blame them for it, because she knows its not true. 

“And how are you really feeling?” Misty asks, softly. 

“I… is there anyway we could talk about Silverhand and the chip?” 

“I’m no expert, but fire away, I’ll see what I can do.” Vik tells her. 

“I’m seeing him, I saw him, again. And I hear him, even without my hearing aids, is that? Is that normal, I none of this is fucking normal what am I talking about…” She rakes a hand through her hair, cleaning her jaw. 

“Well, that biochip is designed for users to communicate with constructs. It's just doin' its job. As far as hearing goes… Johnny’s in your brain, not your ears. You're deaf because the autoimmune disease destroyed your inner ear, but the Relic bypasses that and stimulates the auditory processing part of your brain like he’s actually there talking to you.” 

“So, my brain treats him like he’s real, even though he’s not?” 

“I mean, he is real, he’s a person,” Misty softly corrects, “just a person in your brain.” 

“He’s data on a chip,” Vik corrects Misty in return, earning an eye roll for his troubles. V can’t say she gives too much of a shit about the philosophical aspect, more just wanting Johnny not to choke her out. 

“He… tried to kill me,” V admits, both Vik and Misty’s eyes going wide. 

“What!?” 

“Oh… V.” 

“Tried to put my head through my window. It… he… felt real as anyone else. He wants to kill me, I think, I don’t know what to do.” V can feel her eyes stinging again, tears threatening to escape, as she finally puts her anxiety out into the world.

“Well... long as you don't give him control, can't do too much harm. 'Course that won't necessarily be possible after some time.” 

“And… what then?” 

“What do you say, we don’t let things get that far? Find a way to get rid of Silverhand and fast.” 

“What about his memories, why can I see them?

“You two share a brain now,” Vik says matter of fact and she wants to scream, “he has access to your senses, perceptions, even memories. Likewise, you get a look into his. After a while, won’t even know whose is whose.” 

“Right…” 

“V…” Misty says the merc’s name in a soft voice, “if you need to talk, we’re here for you. ” 

“I need to go,” V signs and shakes her head. 

She doesn’t want to deal with this. Hasn’t wanted to deal with it for days and she has no idea where she’s even going or what she’s going to do. But she hurries through the clinic gate and up the stairs, getting ready to cut through the backdoor of Misty’s shop. 

“V!” Misty yells out and grabs V’s shoulder, all too reminiscent of the merc’s exchange with Cecelia the night before. Women who’d be better off worrying about someone else, spending their time worried about V. 

“I can’t do this right now, Misty, I’m sorry.” 

“You can’t run yourself ragged, honey, you’ll kill yourself before the chip does.” 

“And is that really such a bad idea?!”  She blurts out without truly meaning too, at her ropes end, because she can’t do this anymore. 

“You don’t mean that, V.” 

“Why not? I can’t fuckin’ live like this! I haven’t slept in three days, I’m fuckin’ terrified that I’m gonna wake up and it’s not gonna be me!  That he’s gonna take over and kill me in my sleep or, or, if it’s not him, it’s gonna be his memories, his life, that I’m gonna lose a piece of me and not even know which one! I survived, but maybe… I shouldn’t have… ”

Her voice trails off, becoming choked and pathetic as a dam threatens to burst. Tears collecting in the corners of her eyes, threatening to break lose. But she doesn’t want to break down in front of someone. A few people in the alleyway give her side eyes, looking at her like she’s already lost her last scrap of sanity. 

“C’mon, V, we can talk more up on the roof, okay?” 

Misty wraps her hand around V’s, gently tugging the merc into the elevator. And V doesn’t have the energy to fight her, holding Misty’s hand in return and following along. The warmth and kindness of the touch sinking into her bones, making her squeeze tighter just to hold on to the small gesture of affection. As the elevator starts to shake and rattle upward, V can feel her limbs getting heavier, her exhaustion pushing her to lean her weight onto Misy. 

To the merc’s surprise, Misty doesn’t seem to mind her weight, doesn’t even flinch when V lays her head onto Misty’s shoulder. Instead she lays her own head over V’s for the short moment, short wispy hair tickling the shorter woman’s cheek.  Misty’s warmth and affection feels like a lifeboat, rather than the innocuous touch V knows it to be. 

The elevator comes to a stop and Misty pulls V up the stairs up to the roof. A place V has visited so many times with Misty, Jackie, and Vik. A cool September breeze rolling through, cooling V’s skin while the sun works to warm it. The two women sit in the little plastic lawn chairs that are put around a table. V feels like she’s sinking into it. She feels heavy and like she’s dragging her own weight. Her emotional outburst just compounding her physical exhaustion. 

“I meant what I said, V. That as long as your alive there’s still hope.” 

“Misty...I-” 

“I can’t imagine how hard this is, I don’t think anyone could. But… I don’t think it has to be this terrible hell, you think it is. Fate doesn’t act without reason and there has to be a reason for this, for all of it. But if you…end it all like that, you’ll never know.”

“You think this is fate…?” 

“I do, your soul and Johnny’s were brought together for a reason, I think you owe it to yourself and Johnny to find out why.” 

“So, what, everything that happened is fate, I’m supposed to blame fate for all of this, for the heist, for Jackie, for-?” 

“Better than blaming yourself, isn’t it?” 

The question takes the winds out of her sails for a moment. She’s never put much stock into fate and the idea that things are meant to be, meant to happen. It sounds ridiculous to her. That the fates or some mystical pull in the universe put them in that hotel, an excuse to take blame off her own shoulders, a way to avoid accountability. 

“I already had a bad feeling before you and Jackie left, the heist was on the anniversary of the tower going down, and it just happened to be Johnny on the chip. And theres your tarot reading… there’s more to this, V, I know there is. There has to be,” Misty tries to implore her to understand, to accept the idea that this was meant to be. And all at once V is reminded of something she’s wanted to forget. 

“I’m sending you something,” V says softly, watching Misty’s brow furrow as she sends her the image of that SID profile, that night her door wouldn’t unlock. 

“What is… is that?” 

“His SID data.” 

“How’d you get it?” 

“Night before the heist, I tried to unlock my apartment door. Wouldn’t work, mainteance guy comes down, says my SID chip is reading as someone else’s. Sends me the data, it’s him… How the hell does that happen? We hadn’t gone near Konpeki yet, I… “ 

And she’s said it, put out that maybe there is a little something to this fate thing, that she doesn’t want to admit, doesn’t want to acknowledge. How cruel can the world be if this was all intended? But, she can’t quite come up with a logical reason for it. It could just be the mother of all coincidences, but that feels like a cheap explanation at best. 

“V... “ a small almost incredulous smile comes across her black stained lips, “this was meant to be. You and him, merging, it’s fate. There's something the world wants from you two, just got to figure out what.” 

“Its… a hell of a coincidence… “ 

“A higher power is screaming at you and you’re gonna turn a deaf ear?” 

“Only kind I got.” 

“Smartass,” Misty teases, “have you talked to him?” 

“Who? Takemura?” 

“No, Johnny.” 

“No,” V blinks in disbelief, has Misty lost her mind, “strangely enough I didn’t feel like striking up a convo while he was trying to kill me.” 

“You should.” 

“And why the absolute fuck would I do that?” 

“Like it or not, V, his fate and yours are one now. This is as much about what the world has planned for him as it does for you.” 

“He tried to kill me!” 

“And?” 

“And!?” V flails her arms out exaggeratedly, the flippant response taking her back, “I didn’t appreciate it!? I…?” 

Misty laughs at V’s shocked reaction and the merc can’t help but chuckle too, the entire thing sounding and feeling ridiculous. 

“Did you appreciate it when Jackie put a gun to your head?” 

“That’s different, Jack was just doing a job.” 

“So, it’d have been better if he was being paid to do it?” 

“Yes, least Jackie had a reason, dipshit just wanted to hurt me.” 

“Is that what you think?” Misty raises an eyebrow and tilts her head softly to the side, halo of blonde hair bouncing with the movement. 

“Is there anything else to think?” 

“Not saying it makes it okay, but, Johnny woke up fifty years in the future, in the head of a stranger. Feeling your feelings, your memories, and last thing he remembers is whatever the hell Arasaka did to him.” 

“And?” 

“And maybe, the fear you felt that night, wasn’t all yours.” 

V hums, rubbing her hands together, “I’ll think about it. Still kinda think offing myself is the easiest move, though.” 

“What would Jackie say if he heard you talking like that?” 

“He’d kill me first for even talkin’ like that. Tell me to pull myself together, that it’ll all work out in the end.” 

“And it will, don’t know how, but it will. Just need you to want to live long enough to see that happen.’ 

“Fine, fine,” V sighs, “no blowing my brains out on this fine day, happy?” 

“Wanting to live is about more than just not killing yourself, V. You need to sleep, eat, drink something other than energy drinks and booze. Take care of yourself and actually deal with your shit” 

“But that sounds hard.” 

“Is it harder than running yourself ragged and no sleeping?” 

“Maybe.” 

“V…” 

“I’m just… scared, of seeing his memories, his past. Or, him getting a hold of me in my sleep.” 

“I could watch over you, make sure nothing happens.” 

“And what if he hurts you?” 

“He’s still in your body, V.” 

“Doesn’t mean he can’t use it to hurt you, I’m not risking that,” V tells Misty, shaking her head emphatically. 

“You could sleep in Vik’s clinic, no offense, but pretty sure Vik could stop your body if Johnny uses it to do anything.” 

“Nah, this is my demon, no one else’s. I appreciate the chat, really, I think I need to be going though.” 

“V… please.” 

“I’ll sleep tonight, in my own bed, alone. Just in case, but I’ll sleep, promise,” V reassures Misty as the merc gets up out of her seat, a few ideas already fluttering around in her head. 

“C’mon, I’ll get you set up with something to help you sleep, alright?” 

V’s soul feels a little lighter as she follows Misty back into her shop. The older woman getting a little sleeping kit put together for the merc. Lavender oils, tea, and spray. Moonstones meant to relieve emotional tension and help her relax. V can’t help but smile at the kindness of it all, Her money refused for the second time when she offers to pay Misty for it. 

“Take care of yourself, please,” Misty begs again, ruffling her hand through V’s hair. 

“I’ll give it a shot, thanks again, for everything.” 

“Wait,” Misty calls out, stopping V before she can head out, “you mentioned Takemura earlier, did you and him talk?” 

“He called me, morning after I got back to my place, wanted me to meet him for a chat.”

“What about?” 

“Don’t know, not meeting up with him.” 

“V…” 

“You know you keep saying my name like that it’s going to start hurting my feelings.” 

“Why haven’t you talked to him?” 

V shrugs, “He’s a corporate rat, can’t trust him.” 

“He saved your life.” 

“He also tried to kill me, which I think balances itself out.” 

“If he wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here, V.” 

“Corpos are tricky bitches, guy probably has some scheme up his sleeves, kept me alive so the wolves would have fresh meat or some shit.” 

“V… “

“My name is starting to feel like an insult.” 

“Talk to him, what’s the worse that can happen?” 

“You really want me to answer that?” 

Misty rolls her eyes and the two part with a quick goodbye, V feeling a little more energized, despite still being sleep deprived. She still has a few things she wants to cover before she goes home and sleep. Misty brought up something important, what Jackie would tell V if he were here to tell it. He’d want her to at least try and she owes him that much. 

It's a longshot, she knows, but she pulls out her holo. Evelyn, the client, claimed she knew how to remove the chip. That was before it was damaged and V’s not entirely sure Evelyn knew half as much as she claimed too. But it’s worth a shot, prefers it to anything a corpo suit like Takemura might be offering.  She calls Evelyn’s number, but an automated message tells her it’s not avaliable at the moment, V opts to leave a message anyway. 

“Hey… this is V. Got the chip, I know the heist had a few… hiccups, but if you could call me back, that’d be cool.” 

V huffs as she hangs up, blowing hair out of her face. She still doesn’t want to risk talking to a corpo, so she opts for her next idea. Learning more about Johnny, which feels weird to even think about. She’s not sure she buys the fate angle, not sure she really wants to ever have a chat with the man who bashed her head against a window. But, if nothing else, she wants to know more of who she’s dealing with. And while she gets his memories, she doesn’t have a good grasp on accessing them.  She could look him up online and fully intends to. But, she has some other ideas in mind. 

Dino is in the rockerboy scene, would know a bit about Samurai and Johnny. And despite what his faceplate looks like, he may actually be old enough to have crossed paths once or twice with the guy. The fixer may not be offering her jobs right now, but he only knows her as a V the merc when she’s wearing her mask. Without it, she’s just the girl he fucked in a bathroom stall once. Not her proudest moment, but hey, means he may entertain a conversation with her. 

The trickier one is Rogue, who she knows was close with Johnny, was too close. V grimaces at a few choice memories that stand out to her. But Rogue’s the queen of fixers and has never so much as looked V’s way. It's doubtful the older woman would want some no-name merc asking about her ex from fifty years back. But, that’d be her best source to try to get some solid first hand info of how the beast in her brain operates. 

The Afterlife is closer, but Dino is more the sure bet as far as talking to her goes. So, she catches the NCART into City Center. She gets off at the nearest stop, making her way through the crowd as she walks to his bar; Electric Orgasm. Because the man can’t name anything without sex being involved. The humiliation of fucking a bassist who named his band Gloryhole Bandits will truly never leave. 

Her boots scuff across the black and white dirty tiles, music blaring in the bar, making her turn her hearing aid volume down. She walks past the arcade and vending machines on her left, the stage with a band playing on her right. Dino is in his usual spot, leaning against the red bar. 

The fixer is taller than her by a ways, as most men are, prominent muscled biceps, one plated with bolts in an implant. Chrome in his jaw and along the back of his head, a mohawk of teal dreads and eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. An energy that suddenly seems all too familiar, a rockerboy wearing sunglasses indoors with a smug air, the attitude of a man convinced it’s his world and everyone else is just living in it. 

“Hey, you,” Dino greets her with a smirk she’s never seen him without, the drag of his tone telling her he remembers her face. Or maybe he’s just remembering what her throat feels like. 

“Hey,” she signs and she can see his brows furrowing, thinking for a moment. ASL and translators aren’t… particularly common.  She’s the only person she knows who uses them, but Dino seems less confident in that fact. 

“You finally decide you didn’t get enough of ole Dino?” 

“Maybe I did, but turns out men speaking in third person makes me dryer than a desert,” she teases, climbing onto the stool next to him. 

“Oh, c’mon, girl,” he wraps an arm around her shoulders, leaning in close, “don’t break my heart like that.”  

“I don’t think your heart is what you’re most concerned about,” she ends her signing by tapping her finger to his chromed chin, “so any news in the music scene?” 

“Nothing too exciting, a few new baby faced wannabes. We’re planning another show here in a few weeks, if you wanna pay me another visit, that is.” 

“What, not a fan of the newer crowd, prefer the classics?” She pointedly ignores his invitation, she can’t deny she’s attracted to him, but fucking a bassist in a public bathroom needs to be a one time experience in her life. 

“‘Course, new bands ain’t got style or soul, just young pissants hoping a guitar will help them get their dick wet.” 

“Because you’re so much better than that,” she rolls her eyes and he smirks, “old school bands, like, I don’t know… Samurai, more your thing I take it?” 

“Oh fuck yeah, you wanna talk style, Johnny Silverhand had fuckin’ style.” 

“You ever meet him?” She signs, stomach drop at the mention of that name. 

“Pssh, c’mon, little young for that. Did hit one of his gigs once.” 

“So, not that young, actually,” she taunts him, because she can’t resist. 

“Only as old as you feel, but...” he seems to to drift off for a moment, remembering, “that gig was fucked up, remember that much.” 

“They play that good?” 

“Eh, played normo. But Johnny, ‘parently he had some ‘saka suit tied up backstage. Said if they didn’t get at least three encores, he’d bash the poor bastard’s faceplate in.  Like I said, he had style, kid.”

“Firstly, you don’t get to call me kid after your dick has been inside me. Secondly, that all you know about the guy?”  

“What? You a Silverhand fangirl?” 

“I would actually enjoy killing you for saying that,” she signs and forces a smile to her lips, to make it seem lighthearted. But just the notion of being that man’s fan has left her stomach churning and her skin crawling. 

“Hehe, well how about I buy you a drink to make up for it?” 

“I actually got to head out now, bye.” 

V is out the door before Dino can say another word or stop her.  Sex isn’t exactly a prority right now, dying taking precedent.  Though she’d be lying if she said a part of her didn’t want to take Dino up on his offer. Her sex drive truly knowing no bounds. 

Additionally, the merc tries to limit her amount of repeat partners; Cece and Jake the exceptions because of her own odd logic. Cece and Jake are both in their forties with kids. They’d have to be out of their mind to want anything more out of V, considering a twenty-year old merc isn’t exactly step-mom material, at least not if you give a damn about your kids.Means less worries about them wanting… more. 

While less tethered than them,  Dino is a grade A fuckboy with the same love them and leave them attitude, so he’s low risk as far as that’s concerned. Maybe another time, when there’s not a bomb in her head. 

She takes the NCART back towards Watson, feeling a little silly for pinging back and forth between the areas. But as expected, Dino was ready to spill his limited knowledge on the rockerboy with only a little bit of needling, probably just happy to oogle the merc. Rogue will be her own problem of getting information out of, given the Queen of Fixers is a little over V’s head. Maybe she can pretend she’s looking for work, granted she knows Rogue would never work with her after her reputation tanked. But, could at least get her into Rogue’s booth and a chance to have a convo. 

There’s an odd, bittersweet sense of nostalgia as she gets off a stop near the club, slides her mask on,  and reaches the little enclosed alleyway that leads there. Stuck in one spot in the alley, remembering the night she met up with Jackie here, half expecting to hear him on the phone with his mother. But there’s only chatter of other mercs. She takes a deep breath and curses beneath her breath when she sees the flashy red and blue poster pinned to the alley wall, graffitied over. But the band is clear, bright red flaming oni face and Samurai underneath it. 

Childish as it may be, she scratches her nail up under the corner of the poster and gets a hold of it, ripping it from the wall. An odd little sense of satisfaction at the way it tears half assedly, destroying the logo and oni head. Mild act of vandalism completed, she drops the piece she ripped up and continues on her way. 

Turns the corner, through the doorway, down a set of stairs, through a pair of double doors and down another set of stairs. Fellow mercs are scattered in the hallway outside of the main doors, a few stare at her, seem to be whispering. Must be her imagination, flashbacks of the other kids in The Herd mocking her start to flicker in her mind. They’re all adults here, though,way above schoolyard rumors and bullying, right?

The same bodyguard from that night is blocking the entrance to the bar, he looks down at her and scoffs. Her jaw clenches behind her mask and her stomach drops, she really is a fucking laughing stock here now, isn’t she? 

“And what do you think you’re doing here?” He mocks her and she hears some snickers, a cold sweat breaking out on her skin. 

“Here to drink and talk shop like anyone else,” she signs, hoping he can’t see the nervous twitch in her fingers. 

“After the shitshow at Konpeki? Not happening, get lost.” 

Her face burns hot with shame behind her mask and it takes every ounce of self control not to kick him. She forces herself to turn around and walk out instead, trying to behave. Trying to ignore the side glances or the soft snickers as people watch her get turned away, mocking the pathetic little merc who thought she could still have a rep after that shitshow. The fuck-up they all blame for the heist gone bad; for Jackie and Bug being gone. 

When she reaches the alleyway, alone, she pulls off her mask and puts it into her bag, tugging at her hair. Her feet stomp, anger and shame hot under her skin as she walks. She wanted to prove she was strong, capable, worthy of respect, worthy of something. And all she did was prove she’s as worthless as she always thought, as her supposed clan thought. 

“Fuck!” V screams her anger out as she reaches the end of the alley, and slams her fist into the wall, feeling her knuckles split open against the wall. She follows up by kicking it, she needs another boxing match something to get the anger out. 

“Need a smoke?” A sly female voice asks and leaning against the wall around the corner is Rogue. V still recognizes the much older woman from when Jackie pointed her out. And her face is still recognizable from Johnny’s memories, just more wrinkled with time. Her teal fluffed up mohawk of hair now traded for long gray hair shaved on one side. Cyberware notches along her cheeks and chrome peeking out over the neckline of her shirt. She’s puffing away on a cigarette, eyebrow raised  as she watches the merc like a cat watches a mouse. Rogue is exceptionally tall for a woman and casually even in her older age, V can see the maintained muscle of her abs around a chrome inset. 

Dumb luck seems to be on V’s side. Rogue, if she knows V at all, knows her as the masked merc. Which means V may be able to pass as a random civilian. She double checks and casually musses with her hair, making sure her hearing aids are covered. Rubbing at her neck but turning off her choker translator. 

“Appreciate the offer, but I don’t smoke,” V tells her, shrugging her shoulders and leans against the wall, hoping her body language is as casual as she intends. Even if her own voice is grinding to the ears. 

“Sure looks like you need something to take the edge off.” 

“Eh, I’ll survive, always do.” V picks dirt from her bleeding knuckles, “you’re Rogue, right?” 

“We know each other?” 

“Boss of the Afterlife, everyone knows you,” V opts for stroking the older woman’s ego, on the off chance it makes her lips even a little looser.

“Ugh,” the older woman scoffs, V’s praise not quite hitting how she wished. 

“Not all it’s cracked up to be?” 

“You don’t know the half of it, but ain’t too keen on that label. ‘Boss’,” she roll her eyes, ''Makes it sound like I've got an army of greasy henchmen.” 

“I mean, guy inside didn’t look that greasy.” 

“Cute.” A soft sarcastic lilt colors her tone, but the slight hint of an almost smile lets V know she’s at least amused by the merc. 

“So, what’d you rather be called?” 

“Hmm,” she hums, taking a drag off her cigarettes before breathing out the smoke,  “Good question. I'd have to think about that one…”

“Mind if I shoot another question your way?” 

“Why not? But ask at your own risk.” 

There’s an almost condescending bite to her voice, making it clear if V doesn’t traverse this next question carefully, she may find herself back in the landfill. Something about it… attractive, if the merc is being honest. And she’s not sure if that’s a physical attraction to the much older woman or that Rogue is… what V wanted to be. Exudes the confidence, commands respect, and is a legend in Night City; no one questions her strength or her competence. Rogue truly made it in Night City, something V can only dream of now. 

“You use to run with Silverhand back in the day, right? What was he like?” 

“Johnny...? Where’d that come from?” 

“Seem to be as many rumors about him as there were fifty years ago. And not all of 'em gel together, figured this be one of my few chances to ask someone who actually knew the guy.” 

“You a media, now?” 

The ‘now’ hits V’s ear the wrong way, maybe just a slip of the older woman’s tongue. But, Rogue doesn’t know V, especially not without her mask, just some random stranger striking up a conversation. For all Rogue knows the stranger could be a media, maybe V’s worrying for nothing. 

“Just curious, ain’t got to answer if you don’t wanna, both know I can’t make you do shit.” 

“It's good you know that,” Rogue smirks, “Johnny was… strong, arrogant, uncompromising. He'd burn down half the city just to prove he was right. And burn the other half just for fun.” 

“Sounds like…” V trails off, not completely sure of what she wants to say. 

“Like a kid with a box o' matches and a can of CHOOH2.”

“Still stuck by him, though, didn’t you?” V can’t help but ask, more to herself than to Rogue, but the question bugs her. Even back in the day, Rogue was a certifiable badass, hot as all hell to boot. Yet she wasted her time on some greasy manchild?

“And how exactly would you know that?” 

“Lucky guess,” V quickly covers her ass, “called him a kid, but way you say it, sounds more fond than mad, ya know?” 

“Maybe, doesn’t matter, won’t speak ill of the dead, anymore burning questions or can I get on with my life?” 

“I ain’t stopping you,” V says, shrugging her shoulders as she watches Rogue stomp out her cigarette and walk back down the alley towards the club. 

V lets out a heavy sigh, she didn’t exactly get a great deal of information. She didn’t expect to get a biopic of the guy’s life. At the very least she got a bit of a better idea of his personality, but it’s done nothing to put her at ease. Anti-corp rockerboy, reckless, unpredictable, and destructive. It doesn’t give her much more of an idea of how to handle the guy. Misty is saying to give the guy a chance to at least talk, but god knows what he’d do if he had half a chance to hurt her again. V shakes her head, she knows Misty means well, but whether it’s fate or shitty luck, being stuck with this asshole can only mean bad news. She’d be better off keeping him under lock and key. It’s not worth the risk. 

She makes her way back to her apartment at that, remembering her promise to sleep. She grabs a shower as soon as she gets home, letting the hot water relax her for a moment. Ther merc changes into comfy pajama, throwing on her slightly silly but cute plush golden brown hoodie, with little bear ears. It’s ridiculous and childish, but she loves it. The softness of it making her want to burrow under the sheets and never come up. Already exhausted and ready to sleep by the time she’s placed the moonstone in the shelves at the end of her bed cubby and sprayed lavender mist over the pillows. 

Her eyes are already heavy when she lays down, half asleep already, she grabs her holo, deciding to try one more time. Evelyn hasn’t called back at all, so V sends her a quick text message. Right now, the blue haired woman is her only real lead on anything that could help. Other than speaking to Takemura and… that’s a road she’d rather not travel if she doesn’t have to. 

V: We need to talk, it’s important!

[Unable to deliver message. Recipient may be temporarily unavailable.]

The merc blinks at her phone screen, yawning as she puts it aside, what on earth is going on with Evelyn? There’s no way Arasaka could have linked the heist to her is there? They wouldn’t have had a chance to track V’s call, Jackie’s phone had no correspondence with Evelyn if they got it, the bot couldn’t be linked back to her. Maybe Evelyn changed numbers and ditched town? V hopes the fuck not, but it would have been the smartest thing to do. But if so, V’s one lead is gone. 

Thoughts and worries flicker through her mind, but exhaustion crashes down on her before they can run rampant, slipping into sleep. Darknesss flooding her vision. 

A blanket of black then neon begins to bleeds through, brighter and brighter until it blinds. 

World around her shifts and she’s no longer her but him. 

Bright lights in a dingy club, the cling of sweat on skin, the weight of a guitar. Hands of flesh and chrome strum the strings, vocal chords straining as his voice screams out his lyrics. Kerry not far off to the side, the rest of Samurai behind him as they play through Blistering Love. A decent sized crowd screaming and dancing along to every note they play. 

And its a soft thrum at first, the chaos that starts to erupt, but not because of the music. A steady murmur thats something is wrong, then chaos bursting forth as security starts running through the crowd. Trying to push through people, shouting over the music for someone to stop, unable to draw their guns in the sea of bodies without risk of hitting someone else. 

Johnny’s gaze looks over to Kerry, confirmation that his friend is seeing this too, that the attention on them is shifting elsewhere. Samurai forced to play second fiddle to the growing commotion and when he looks back to the crowd he sees her, a woman cutting her way through the audience. Sweat stuck to her brow, a split lip with a steady drip of blood, and a wild mused mohawk of teal hair. Bloody lips pulled into a smug sneer as she ducks and dodges through the crowd, away from security. 

Then that soft thrum explodes into something more, someone in the crowd throws a punch at a shoving bouncer and they throw one right back. The audience breaks out into a brawl as drunk idiots start attacking the bouncers or each other; blood spraying and teeth knocked clean out. Music stopping as they know the audience is done giving a shit about them. 

“Jesus fuckin’ christ,” Kerry curses as a beer bottle smashes at the back wall behind the band, nearly nailing him right in the head. 

“We better delta before the pigs get called.” 

“Take care of this for me, Ker,” Johnny ignores Nancy’s warning, handing Kerry his guitar. He can see her making her way towards the door, trying to slip out in the commotion with a bouncer still on her heels. He’s not letting her go without making damn sure she knows who he is. An undeniable pull of attraction to her, to the kind of woman who can turn a crowd of drunk club goers into a battle royale.

“The fuck are you doing?” 

Kerry questions him, but Johnny’s already jumped off stage and into the fray, shoving and pushing his way through people. He walks surefooted, head held high and no shame as he cuts his way through. Shutting down anyone who gets in his way however he has too; a solid left hook, silver knuckles leaving their nose a cracked mess. Slamming an elbow into someone's jaw and hearing the crack of it over the noise of the crowd. All with his eyes staying focused on her, on the flash of teal hair under neon lights. 

She's nearly to the backdoor, Johnny not far behind, when a heavy wraps around her upper arm. One of the bouncers finally gaining ground and trying to wrench her backwards, though he can't manage to drag the amazon of a woman back.

"Think you'd get away with this, bitch!"

Her hand pulls back to throw a punch at the bouncer, but Johnny's hands are faster, stepping in to save the day. He slams his fist onto the bouncer's face, nose cracking and teeth gnashing under the force of the blow. The man is knocked back, the woman's green eyes glaring at Johnny, she looks pissed. Lips bloody and sneering, eyes dark with distrust. Domineering and angry in her demeanor, even while he's playing hero.

He reaches over her to wrench the door open, an excuse to be in her space, taking what advantage he can of the small height difference. She's only around an inch shorter than him, the heels of his boots extending that difference slightly. 

"C'mon, no reason to stick around," he says, hand on her back as he pushes her through the door into the alley. 

The night air cools his sweat slick skin, the woman quick to move away from his touch as the door shuts behind him. Silence enveloping them with the noise of the club is shut out. Johnny just takes her in for a moment; hot as all hell. Sweat clinging to her skin, freckles across her cheeks, split lip, and dyed hair falling into her face. A face cold and cruel in its expression, contrasted against the flush of exertion on her skin. 

"The fuck do you want?" She asks him, glaring. Tone and attitude nasty, making him smirk. Always did like the bitchy types, more fun when someone's got a bite to them. 

"Just saved your ass, wouldn't kill you to say thanks," he returns, already thinking of tasting the blood on her split lip and  grabbing a handful of her ass. 

"Don't need your help, rockerboy." She rolls her eyes at him, if he gets half a chance he could have her eating out of the palm of his hand by daybreak. Or better yet, could find himself between her legs before the sun comes up. 

Johnny's not stupid, knows damn well the effect he has. The way he can draw people in, only reason Kerry still hangs around, maybe the only reason Samurai still exists at all. 

"How 'bout a drink then?" He offers, smirk on his lips. And she groans, pissed off by the littlest thing.  

"Fuck off."

He watches her stomp off, eyes drawn to her ass and the swing of her hips. But he doesn't go after her. Not giving her the satisfaction of seeing him chase after her twice in one night, instead lighting himself a cigarette. He's seen her type before, runs with the Atlantis crowd; no doubt in his mind. They'll run into each other again. 

And as he breathes out a cloud of smoke, the world around him obscures. Gray filling his vision, flooding it, choking him on it. Until his throat itches, his stomach churns, pain cracking through her head… her head. 

A migraine wakes V up, every single cell in her body on fire, a sharp pang in the back of her skull. Her stomach clenches and twists, tighter and tighter. When she opens her eyes, the world is shifting and glitching, swimming before her, eyes unable to focus. Every muscle in her body winds itself into knots and can’t get a deep enough breath, lungs struggling to take anything in. 

Relic Malfunction Detected

The words flash across her optics as she flops out of bed onto her knees, gasping for air and retching to vomit all at once. Body unsure of what to do while everything seems to fall apart at once. She clutches at her chest, claws at her rib cage desperate to feel if her heart is even still beating, begging herself to just breathe, to just breathe. 

And it starts to pass, her stomach calming down, her breathing evening out. Her muscles starting to release some of the tension. She’s still dizzy and the world is still wobbly as she wipes spittle from her lips, forces herself to stand up. V needs to do something, speak to Vik, maybe he can give her something. Do something for it, but he’s made it clear he has no idea how to save her. 

She trips over herself on the way to her bathroom, grabbing at her sink for some balance. Looking down with her eyes closed as she breathes, steadying herself, waiting for the new fresh wave of nausea to pass before she looks up into her sink mirror. 

But it’s not her she sees. Johnny fucking Silverhand reflected back at her, leaning his hands against her sink and staring into her eyes; glare harsh with that barely contained anger he brims with. Always looking a moment away from lashing out. And when she twists her head, his follows, as natural as a reflection. Like she’s really him. 

“Jesus fuck!” 

She curses and jerks back, falling back onto her ass, not even minding so long as she doesn’t have to see him. V grabs at herself again, feeling that’s her. Soft flesh, not hard muscle, skin where his chrome is. Her blue painted nails, her dumb bear hoodie, her bleached hair, and her smooth face; that’s it her. That she’s still herself. And she is; for now, But for how long? 

V can’t keep doing this, can’t just wait until Evelyn answers her calls or texts back, she needs to do something. Anything. Even with popping the blockers like candy, she’s seeing him, living his memories. He’s bleeding into everything and she’ll lose herself to him before long. She can’t hide away, Jackie would want her to save herself, would want her to live. And she if she intends to do that she needs to move. 

The merc rises, as she’s had to so many times before. Her reflection is her own again, still woozy from the aftermath of the relic malfunction, but she pushes through to shower and change. Collecting all she needs before she leaves the apartment, marching out of the apartment building with single minded determination towards Tom’s Diner. She’s got a date with a corpo. Maybe it’s a trick and maybe he can’t help, but he’s something. As he put it so elegantly, if she intends to live, she’s got to get back in the ring and she’s been fucking around in the sidelines for too long. 

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

y’know the wildest thing still to happen to me on this hellsite was my first experience of sexting, sans nudes, that was done in front of at least 250-500 followers because of those horny anons i had in early 2013 when i was 17. instead of being exposed to it on my phone privately with a partner at that age, it was done publicly for the internet to see lmao. i remember begging the anons to stop and “come off anon” because i was “losing followers” at the time too bc i was so insecure about my follower count lmao. and then yeah when they came off anon they were both 28 years old.

to write the responses, i just consulted cosmo mag sex pages for ideas hoping that the anons would like the options i chose. in one i detailed doing anal- a sex act i hadn’t even done yet irl- let alone every other thing i suggested in them (head, idek long, drawn out foreplay, some stupid fancy sex moves that cosmo was all like “use these moves to spice up your sex life 🔥🔥”, sex in a bath, i’m pretty sure i had some lines about tying or handcuffing them to a bed (????) etc etc etc)….

when again, i had never even done any of those above sex acts in real life. i was a naive teen who was incredibly shy in regards towards her love life because she’d “never been kissed” and had never had the “hot emo boyfriend whose in a band and is covered in tattoos” she’d always wanted, let alone even a boyfriend that she had actually fucking liked (ie clear braces boy, for like a month in year 9/2010 vs the popular boys that made fun of her, that she always had unrequited crushes on)…. hell, my blog title when i first started on here in 2011 was “the perfect epitome of being forever alone” because of these very reasons. but here she was, writing explicit sex acts to strangers like she knew what the fuck she was doing, to an audience of 250-500 people- and then to fucking grown ass men in inboxes. i was just parroting the shit i’d read in cosmo (both sex advice and sometimes excerpts of erotica/“sexy, steamy reads” they had some months) and also heard repeatedly in the porn that my high school stalker/creeper at public school loved to show (harass) me with to flirt with me, whenever we were alone together at school in 2012/2013.

like you could tell how naive i was….. because i used ridiculous lines like “like a gentleman entranced, you lead me to the bath for our next foray” and dumbass prose-y things like that. because what the fuck does that even mean 😂😅????

and this is why i think minors should be careful with their online experiences. like yeah, you could say that i wasn’t a minor anymore- more of a “young adult”- who should of made the smart decision to not engage with these anons. but i was a kid. i thought it was fun. and when the dudes came off anon, i thought to myself “it’s not like i’m ever gonna meet them if i ever go to the US or puerto rico at any point. it’s not like that they’ll ever recognise me in person or ever reach out to me again in the future. i might as well do it.” and i did eventually end up ignoring the guys in my inbox, due to my mental health kinda plummeting from the middle til the end of 2013 because of my end of high school exams and stuff… and also the puerto rican guy’s infamously inappropriate “hot PE teacher fucks HOT female high school student in the girls change room showers” fantasy which fucking disgusted me, when he full well knew that i was STILL IN high school.

and obviously again, there’s the point about using the “block” button function. but as i’ve stated several times over my years on here, back in my early days of tumblr, i never wanted to block or unfollow people (even if they were trash like these two men), because it seemed so “mean” and “final”. obvs now i have no qualms about blocking people, and actively encourage younger people on here to use the block button with reckless abandon towards creepy people or people who can hurt them in some way. but to high school teenage me, the whole “using the block button” thing seemed to go against me being a “nice girl/person” so i never used it, no matter which social media platform i was on.

this is why i’m hella scared for young teen girls on tik tok wanting to have onlyfans accounts: because it’s where they’ll be exposed to ACTUAL CREEPS AND PREDATORS incredibly quickly; all because they can make money off selling images of just their feet or eventually their body….. depending on what these creepy strangers demand from them….. and they’ll feel like they’ll have to do it…. but to do it before you even start experimenting properly with relationships and sex is even worse. like. yeah. i’ve admitted before that i originally started this tumblr to possibly post nudes, to see if i’d get the positive feedback that i so desperately wanted/craved from the boys in my year at catholic school- eg. to be called “sexy”, “hot”, “fuckable” possibly “beautiful”- like some of the so called “popular girls” got on their hella basic bikini photos back then (like i remember one girl i knew ended up with like 500 likes and a fair amount of comments on one of her bikini pics and i was INCREDIBLY BITTER because not even a pic of me with a nice outfit on, my hair done and makeup on could EVER get those numbers, let alone even break over the double digits).

but i decided posting nudes or other explicit images on here was an absolute no go, because i realised that i never wanted people that i knew digging up barely clothed/naked pics of me and sending them to me all like “hey, is this you?” and then possibly mocking me, all because i would’ve been dumb enough to put my face in them probably at the time. now when i take nudes and send them, i never show my face. because i know now, that even in relationships, your partner can use nude pics as leverage for arguments or to abuse you in such a way that they’ll upload your pics without your knowledge to god knows where on the internet probably as a way to get back at you in a horrible breakup.

this is what i sincerely hope some young girls who ever contemplate starting onlyfans accounts take some time SERIOUSLY CONSIDER. please know that if you share shit on onlyfans, it can shared and re-shared (i think idek how OF works tbh) to god knows who- and eventually end up in the hands of people you know. i don’t fucking care if it’s a “good way to make money!” or if people think that im trying to stop teen girls from being “girl bosses” and the other dumb as fuck internet memes you want to throw at me. because this shit isn’t “haha internet meme funny” material. it’s some fucking serious stuff. and also, i’m not saying “don’t become a sex worker when you’re older” or whatever either. you’re free to make that choice when you’re in your 20s (no i even mean 17-19 year olds in this post as “young teen girls”- sorry you’re basically kids to me at almost 26). just please consider where the fuck your stuff can be shared to. who it can end up being shared with or to.

this is why i was so fucking adamant with my infamous old follower mr adelaide fuckboy/MAF that i personally would NOT consider becoming a camgirl for him or just generally… because i had no idea where the fuck my images or videos would end up. and do you know the places i’d never want them to fucking be??? in the hands of my high school stalker/creeper. in the hands of those two 28yo men from 2013 (who’d now be in there late 30s or early 40s). i absolutely don’t want them in the hands the mid-to-late 20s and early 30s men that that girl i met at public school in 2012 who was pissed that i didn’t believe that were “adults” because we were finally over the legal age of consent (16) in our state of australia, and so we were apparently fine to “fuck” literal grown ass men because “just fuck them and they’ll be nice to you!!” which i knew was fucking bullshit.

i absolutely don’t fucking want explicit videos/images of me ending up in “why the fuck won’t you let me give you “sex lessons” in the back of my car as a “favour” and as payment for teaching you how to drive you stupid, stuck up & frigid, virgin bitch!?” guy’s hands from 2014 (when i was 18/19 at the time and he was 25… he ended up being the first person of many i’d EVER block on social media lol). or i don't want them in the hands of those weird early 20s dudes (one of which was trying to set me up with his friend) who hit on me at 16/17 (2012) who were angry that i didn’t like and watch porn as much as they did…. and who promptly asked me at the end of their period of harassing of me: “do you know any sluts we could add?” because i kept refusing their suggestions etc.

hell, quite frankly i don’t even want them to go to mr adelaide fuckboy/MAF either, but the very few and far between nudes that i sent on snapchat to him back in 2016 are some nudes that i’d rather forget lmao. hell. i don’t even know if MAF ever deleted my nudes or shared them somewhere else or not, after he fucking wheedled them out of me with “i’ve followed you for 4 years, don’t be a shit! you owe me nudes!” so he’d just shut the fuck up about my social life decisions and leave me the fuck alone.

i don’t want ANY ONE of the guys i mentioned above to get their hands on photos of minors either…. because i definitely know my hs stalker/creeper would… because his fave “make her jealous” tactic that he’s always used on me is that “hey…. i’m dating a *insert teenage girl’s age here*! be fucking jealous that you don’t fucking have me and feel guilty that you won’t fuck me like this girl does!!!” just like he did in 2015, when i ran into him on the home from uni… when i turned 20 the next week and he turned 20 that december. at that time it was a 14yo girl he used as an example of him “dating”/“fucking” to make me jealous. instead, i was completely and utterly fucking disgusted. like any fucking sane and normal human being would/should be at that horrible age gap. that is literally a fucking child that he was fucking grooming. and we were literal adults. back the fuck away.

just please. PLEASE CONSIDER the types of people that trawl these kinds of sites and their intentions. please consider that you are young. very fucking young. you literally DO NOT need to upload nudes to the internet because it’s apparently a “lucrative” business. fuck the jokey “boss babe” rhetoric around it all the way to fucking hell.

because if you’re a minor: i do not want you to have your first experience of sexting or sending explicit images literally in front of god knows how many total strangers for the whole world to see (okay i know only fans is like subscriber/follower based or whatever. but i don’t care)…… even when you (depending how good you are with relationships etc) haven’t reached the common supposed milestones of your “first boyfriend/girlfriend/partner” or “first kiss” or have even “lost your virginity” (which isn’t real anyway- don’t buy this fucking bullshit)…. just like i stupidly did with my exposure to sexting here on my tumblr back in 2013. these people don’t/won’t give a flying fuck about your privacy or safety. they don’t/won’t give a fuck about your boundaries either.

please don’t possibly scar yourself for life, just because you’re being told that it’s a quick & convenient way to make some money for weirdos on the depths of the internet. you will regret it in future. just like i do now with mine. it should’ve been something personal between me and and a guy i trusted and liked at the time. not to some random 250-500 random strangers on this hellsite (okay the notes on these posts were literally single digits or non-existent, but still… and also some of my irl friends who had tumblr saw these posts as well) for a show….. and then privately with two 28yo literal grown ass men…. who should’ve been fucking hitting on women their own goddamned age and in their own countries and NOT a 17yo high school KID (at the time) from australia; who, now in her 20s, needs therapy to sort this shit out lmao. mind you they both reeled me in with the “you’re so mature for your age” bullshit line…. which i fell for a little bit, even if it did make me feel kinda gross at the time, too. don’t fall for that bullshit either.

[themorp]

Writing Prompts

A lot of these are Au related! And some of them hint at violence/gore, so please be aware of that.

“Don’t move. They rely on sight.”

“I knew it was you!”

“Please tell me that’s not my soulmate.”

“Did you seriously get yourself stuck in a chair?”

“I am so sorry that the words on your arm are so stupid.”

“Prepare for canon fire!”

“Look out!”

“That’s gross... Cool! But still gross.”

“That was my kill!”

“Are you from the Northern Empire?”

“Well I’m not sure weather to be offended or relieved- my wanted posture looks nothing like me.”

“That is NOT how you hold (weapon).”

“Well... this is awkward...”

“Can I kick his ass?”

“HOW ARE THEY SO HOT??? HOW DARE THEY!!!”

“Be quiet! They’ll hear you!”

“Did you steal from that couple?”

“That thing has a curse on it. I’d be careful.”

“I didn’t realize it was a shrinking potion, I swear!”

“I knew (mythical creature/cryptid) were real!”

“Can you get me out of this thing?”

“I have never met you, but I know someone who needs help when I see one.”

“I left you guys alone for FIVE MINUTES!!!”

“That looks painful.”

“Yikes... Glad that’s not me.”

“We’re gonna have to cut it off before it spreads to other parts of their body.”

“And where, exactly, have you been?”

“HOW DID YOU PISS OFF ALL THE GUARDSMEN?!”

“I said distract them, not knock them out!”

“For the last time!!! That is not edible!”

“That man is crazy.”

“They’re going to burn them at the stake!”

“Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“You’re rescuing me?”

“I never knew the outside world so... big.”

“Put the fire out before we’re noticed!”

“This rescue mission is gonna kick my ass.”

“I... I think they’re still alive...”

“Are you sure they aren’t infected?”

“That’s a brutal looking scar.”

“How did you manage to pull that off?”

“Put down the (weapon)... I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Well that isn’t normal.”

“What are you?!”

“Dragon bonding isn’t for everyone.”

“Who the hell thought this was a good idea.”

“I am no longer giving a fuck.”

“I want to give up, but I have someone worth pushing onwards for.”

“This storm came out of nowhere!”

“That was dangerous and reckless! But... it was impressive...”

“Who the hell is stupid enough to do that?”

“Can you see anything?”

“Is that what I think it is?”

“I haven’t had meat in years.”

“Was that a gunshot?”

“Can we keep it?”

“Well. This is unexpected.”

“Why are you covered in mud?”

“I have never been held like this...”

“Don’t touch me! You stink! What the hell was in that swamp?!”

“What is... kissing?”

“That’s disgusting. Don’t stop.”

“Aww... what a cute dog...! Wait... THAT IS NOT A DOG ABORT ABORT ABORT-”

“Can I have a hug?”

“How do you live like this?!”

“You’ve never been in a real battle, have you?”

“The Chief will decide your fate.”

“You know I was expecting you to be bigger.”

“Barricade the doors!”

“This is a strange ritual.”

“I don’t think this is a regular maze...”

“Is that blood?”

“There’s a hole in the floor.”

“What the hell was that? Did you hear that?”

“Zombies aren’t supposed to be smart!”

“Is that a ship?”

“Get the hell out of my way.”

“Did you just (physical attack such as punch or kick) me?!’

“They’re weakened by silver.”

“I really wish I had my holy water right now.”

“Well that backfired.”

“I’m so hungry... Can I feed off you a little?”

“YOU DARE OPPOSE ME?”

“Please help me, this man has been following me and I don’t want him to know where I live.”

“Is that really you?!”

“Has it really been three centuries?”

“Are you sure you’re human?”

“That was an alien- That was an alien- THAT WAS AN ALIEN-”

“We SHOULD NOT SPLIT UP!!”

Is it just me or is the floor moving?”

“How the hell did someone get in here?”

“Well, this is awkward... Can I have my payment now?”

“Since when were you so smart?”

“They’re right above us.”

“It’s almost like it can see into my soul.”

“BUGS DON’T GET THAT BIG HERE-”

“I hear growling...”

“DO NOT THROW THE BABY”

“Is that a threat or an offer?”

“I have so many pictures of them being an idiot.”

“The clock has less than hour left.”

“HAVE YOU EVER WATCHED A HORROR MOVIE?!?!”

“Was that you?”

“I think I’m going crazy.”

“We have to go- a scout discovered our shelter, the hive is coming.”

“It’s so damn hot.”

“I... I can’t remember...”

“Aww that’s so cute how much is i-... nevermind.”

“Did you just eat an alien egg?”

“You do realize they’re siblings right?”

“How are you so cute?”

“I am in debt to you, and until that debt is paid I will be you loyal servant.”

“Are you... Are you riding a dragon?”

“You’re under arrest.”

“Here, drink this.”

“Potion making is sensitive, so please be quiet whilst I work.”

“Has thee never seen a Vampire?”

“That was not rad at all.”

“I think it’s dead.”

“You go first.”

“You treat me as if I’m not a litterall demon from hell.”

“I will protect until my dying breath.”

“Don’t worry, you’re safe now.”

“It’s an honor to meet you.”

“You’re not from around here, re you?”

“What? Never seen a hybrid before?”

“That is not how you use that.”

“Did you know different flowers have different meanings...? The ones I gave you are quite unique in meaning.”

“Your family is... interesting...”

“If you’re not gonna eat grubs then you’re gonna starve. It’s all that’s out here.”

“That’s not human.”

“Stop standing there staring and help me!”

“I’m too short...”

“Was that an insult?”

“Keep up!”

“Don’t look behind you.”

“You have to jump! You have to trust me!”

“Is this it?”

“I can’t believe my soulmate is a human-”

“Well that was weird.”

“Have you ever exercised?”

“Don’t test my patience, pet.”

“How am I going to tell [Name] about this...?”

“It’s a match made in heaven!”

“Be careful, they’re sensitive!”

“So this is a fruit...”

“When I feel bad I go beat the shit out of someone. It works.”

“DID YOU PULL THE LEVER I SPECIFICALLY ASKED YOU NOT TO PULL?!”

“In DnD we call that rolling a one.”

“[Name] is gonna kill me!”

“Rest in pieces.”

“Hurt them and I make your life hell on Earth.”

“So he’s a dumbass-”

“Someone shoot me-”

“Give it back! That’s private!”

“It was so obvious! I’m such an idiot!”

“Is that all you have?”

“The expedition was successful.”

“There were no survivors.”

“I thought I lost you.”

“Stop! Stop! There’s a cat!”

“Why am I here again?”

“Having detachable body parts is actually a convenience when you’re a cyborg.”

That’s a big ass [Animal]”

“Do you know what you’re doing?!”

“Did you seriously have to pick the lock? When I have the keys?”

“They’re dangerous.”

“And that’s my que to leave.”

“You are my greatest treasure.”

“I seriously hope you’re not thinking of doing what I think you are thinking of doing.”

“WHY THE HELL ARE YOU NAKED?”

“Is... is that a dwarf?”

“You’re as odd as your friends said.”

“There is no need for violence!”

“All I wanted was a doughnut-”

“Why are the barn lights on?”

“They got into ANOTHER fight?!”

“You’d think living with a family of sorcerers would teach them something.”

“Thank goodness most dragons aren’t venomous.”

“Nagas are quite fickle creatures.”

“Satyrs are not to be trusted.”

“You walked into the faery ring, you belong to the fae now. I can’y help you.”

“Go ask them out! They look cute!”

“Angels aren’t supposed to fall in love... but how was I supposed resist you?”

“I thought humans were bigger.”

“Your highness is a royal pain in the ass.”

“That hurt.”

“I am not looking forward to this at all.”

“I do not like caves. I don’t like cavbes at all.”

“MOSS!!!!”

“This town seems abandoned.”

“The radiation levels aren’t too high here.”

“Put your masks on.”

“You know you shouldn’t give your name to strangers, especially a fae in the forest.”

“I never realized how big the ocean was.”

“I have an idea- it’s dangerous, crazy, and reckless, but it might just work.”

“Is this your child?”

“I’m surprised Cerberus likes you.”

“Hellhounds aren’t usually friendly.”

“That’s a big meal for one person...”

“Werewolves aren’t fans of silver.”

“The dumbest myth about us vampires is that we hate garlic.”

“What brings you to my territory, little human?”

“Don’t bare your fangs at guests! It’s rude!”

“I’m only protecting you because I made a promise.”

“That was a terrible attempt at a prank. Let me show you how it’s done.”

“You do realize demons can sense emotions right?”

“You foolish human! You could have gotten hurt!”

“Watch your step.”

“It’s called a secret entrance for a reason.”

“Did you just... kiss me...?”

“My soulmate is a dumbass but I love them.”

“This jackassery will not stand!”

“Unless you have a death wish I’d leave those sirens alone.”

“Swim with me?”

“Have you never frolicked before?”

“You’re fired!”

“Does this armor make me look fat?”

“Your soulmate is a Naga?”

“Gargoyles are cranky in the morning.”

“That little fucker is at it again-”

“I don’t remember the last time I laughed like that.”

“Elves are usually attractive... but them... they’re ethereal..”

“I think I’m in love with a snake man.”

“Are orcs usually this big?”

“Confess? And risk ruining what i have with them? I’d rather drink bog water that a Satyr bathed in!”

“Are all humans this attractive or is it just you?”

“Guns are so odd... They only do their job after they’re fired...”

“Are you usually this full of yourself?”

Do you have any idea what you just did?”

“I wasn’t expecting to meet my soulmate when I snuck into Area 51.”

“Turn off the lights!”

“I won’t let you go, not again.”

“That’s so dangerous...! When are we doing it?”

“You humans are so fragile, yet you are the apex species of your planet.”

“IT’S NOT WORTH IT! GET BACK IN THE CAR!”

“Don’t look back!”

“They’re attracted by (heat, sound, etc.).”

“It looks dangerous.”

“Don’t touch it-”

“Careful it’s soup.”

“Did... did that thing just speak?”

“It’s a boat! Oh my god it’s a boat- we’re saved-”

“Keep your distance.”

“I will not hesitate to leave you behind.”

“THEY’RE SIBLINGS?!”

‘I am slightly worried... never mind I am very worried.”

“THEY’RE CHOKING!”

“It’s too damn hot to do anything.”

“Stop singing!”

“Life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, kid.”

“That is one ugly ass [Animal/baby/clothing item].”

“I’VE SEEN THIS IN A HENTAI BEFORE!”

“Please shut your trap before I stuff it- shit that sounds sexual-”

“Is that- Is that a fucking cat?”

“That is not what the mean when they say; ‘smash that like button’“

“Where did you learn to drive?” 

“Oof.”

“I’m know I’m stupid but I’m not THAT stupid.”

[imagine-loki]

Caught in his web, Chapter 53

TITLE: Caught in his web CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 53 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki is a crime lord, a very dangerous man in the city. He is owed money, but the man is unable to pay Loki back, so Loki takes his daughter as payment instead.  RATING: M

Chloe had her work experience this week. She was really excited about it, and a little nervous. But Loki gave her a pep talk and had her go shopping with Amanda and Georgie to buy whatever she wanted for the week to make her feel better about it.

So of course, she splurged on new clothes. And a fancy new notepad with pen to take notes.

When she got to the fashion magazine building on the first day, she was made to feel welcome instantly from the receptionist. She introduced her to Holly, who was going to be her mentor for the week.

Holly was lovely, she explained everything she could possibly think of to Chloe. And kept telling her to ask as many questions as she wanted. There was no stupid question to be asked, she told her.

During the afternoon break, Chloe sat down to eat her lunch and she gave Loki a quick text.

C: Hey. It’s going absolutely amazing! Having so much fun already. As usual you were right about me being nervous for nothing. I was thinking of cooking tonight, so Tania can go early. XxX

L: I’ve already sent her home. But because I’m cooking for you tonight for a change. Glad you’re having a brilliant day, see you later. xxx

C: Ooo, awesome! Looking forward to it. Love you. xxx

Chloe was excited about Loki cooking her dinner tonight. It was a very rare occasion he cooked. But she had noticed that since the incident the other week, he was much more attentive and loving than ever before.

And she certainly wasn’t complaining.

-

Loki smiled when he received Chloe’s reply. He slipped his phone into his pocket and as he looked up to the man on front of him, his face hardened.

‘You owe me money.’ He growled and got to his feet, stalking around his desk towards the terrified man who was kneeling on the floor, begging for more time. Loki had paused him in the middle of his plea while he had replied to Chloe, making the mans torture of not knowing what was going to happen even longer.

‘I do not have the time to deal with your blubbering and begging. I have a girl to get home to and cook for. So I will make this plain and simple.’ He walked around behind him and grabbed his hair, hauling his head back. He whipped out his dagger and placed the blade firmly against the man’s throat.

‘You either get my money to me by noon tomorrow. Or I will not only come after you, but I will also come after your wife and children. I know they live in that lovely little detached home in the outskirts of Camden opposite the park. So if you don’t want them to meet a swift ending, you will get me ALL my money by tomorrow.’ He snarled, pressing the blade into him enough to make him bleed.

‘Am I clear?’

‘Y… Yes.’ He stuttered, scared to move because of the blade.

‘Good. Now get the hell out of my sight.’ Loki snarled and pushed his head forward so he fell onto his face before scrambling up and out of Loki’s office as quickly as possible.

Loki pulled out a napkin and wiped his dagger clean. ‘Have Nelson come round the front, I’m heading home early.’

‘Will do. Have a good evening, boss.’ Samuel nodded and disappeared into the lift.

Loki smirked and slipped his dagger into his pocket and went to his desk. He opened the top drawer and pulled out the little box which held a beautiful bracelet for Chloe. He smiled and slid it into his pocket before making his way down to his car.

-

When Chloe returned home, the smell of a lovely stew was wafting through the house and Bear came running to meet her at the door.

‘Hey buddy.’ She crouched down to greet the pup. ‘I still can’t believe how big you’re getting.’ She laughed as he licked her face.

‘Hello, doll.’ Loki grinned, watching.

Chloe looked up and laughed, he was wearing an apron over his suit. She’d never seen him wearing an apron before.

‘Are you not going to greet me as enthusiastically as Bear?’ She teased, taking off her jacket.

‘I can if you want me to.’ Loki growled and wiggled his eyebrows at her as he moved in on her and captured her in his arms. He bent down and started kissing all over her face, making her laugh and push at his chest.

‘Dinner smells good.’ She said as she sniffed at the air.

‘I hope you’ll like it. Come on, wine is waiting.’ Loki slipped his hand into hers and led her through to the kitchen, with Bear following behind at their heels.

‘How was your day? Did you enjoy it?’ Loki asked as he pulled a chair out for her and she sat down so he could tuck her in.

‘It was amazing. I think I’d quite happily work somewhere like that, actually. If my main plan doesn’t work out.’ She picked up her wine and took a sip as Loki sat down at the head of the table in his usual spot, joining her with the wine drinking.

‘Really? That good?’ He grinned.

‘It was.’ She nodded, smiling.

Loki was just so happy and relieved that she was back to normal. Happy and enjoying life again. The first few days after getting her home she had been a little quieter than normal. But once she went back to college and met with her friends again, her usual sparkle came flooding back. Everything was perfect now.

‘I have a little something for you.’ Loki smiled mischievously and pulled out the box from his pocket.

Chloe’s smile grew even larger as she opened the box and saw a beautiful charm bracelet. Already it had a dog charm and a heart charm.

‘You’re so soppy, you know that?’ Chloe grinned, toying with the heart charm. ‘Thank you so much, it’s beautiful.’

Loki put it on for her and leaned in to kiss her.

She waited at the table, drinking her wine while Loki went to serve the stew. It was his speciality and Chloe thought she had died and gone to heaven when she tasted it. It was gone so quick, and she just had to go back for seconds, making Loki laugh.

‘There’s plenty, so we can have leftovers tomorrow night. Or you can take some for lunch over the next few days.’ Loki suggested.

‘Lunch. That means I get it all!’ She playfully stuck her tongue out at him as she sat down with her seconds.

‘Watch it, girl. I’ll need to put that dirty tongue of yours to better use.’ He warned, narrowing his eyes at her.

After dinner, Loki didn’t give her much time to let her dinner go down, he coaxed her to the living room, abandoning his apron on the way.

‘Not very sexy.’ He chuckled, stealing kisses from her.

‘Not with stew spilled down it, no.’ Chloe giggled.

Loki slid his hands down her back, right down to squeeze her bum. Then he moved her over to the sofa and sat down, pulling her with him so she was straddling his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck while they kissed, his tongue delving deep into her mouth and moving slowly against hers.

She started grinding against him, feeling his bulge between her thighs as she pressed down to try and get as much friction as possible.

Loki gripped her hips tightly, moving her about on top of him. Though she didn’t need much help at all, she was as desperate and horny him.

Chloe reached down between them and hastily unbuckled his belt, she unzipped him and reached into his trousers, taking hold of his cock and squeezing. He gasped and bucked his hips up against her, groaning into her mouth.

She managed to pull him free and stroked him a few times, while he slid his hands up her body underneath her dress to toy with her breasts.

‘Undress for me, doll. I need to get inside you.’ He growled.

‘No need.’ She let go of his cock and lifted herself up slightly and hovered over him. As she moved down, he moaned as he felt her bare cunt rubbing across his tip.

‘Ooooo, you little minx.’ He growled and slid a hand under to stroke over her clit.

She was wet enough for him, so they both didn’t waste time and she sank down onto his cock. Her body welcomed him in with the usual delicious stretching and hitting every sweet spot inside her.

Loki rocked upwards and met with her movements, hitting nice and deep. She buried her face into his neck, whimpering as he took more control and guided her himself by holding her hips.

‘Ohhhh, yes, doll. You’re all mine.’ He growled and slid one hand up round her back, right up to tangle into her hair as he fisted her tightly and yanked, forcing her head back and exposing her neck to him.

He felt her clench around him as he sucked and nipped along her sensitive throat, growling like a mad man. But she just felt far too amazing around him, so soft and wet. Oh so tight.

Loki was so close, and he could tell that Chloe was too by the noises he was getting from her. He couldn’t hold back anymore, so he flipped them over and fucked her hard into the sofa, pinning her down with his body.

‘I’m never sharing you with anyone.’ He snarled, rutting into her like a wild animal.

Chloe came hard around his cock, crying out in pleasure. Pulling him with her as he moaned just as loud and emptied into her.

Both of them were sweaty and breathing hard while Loki throbbed for a little longer inside her, making sure not to waste a single drop. Chloe trembled as he kissed her forehead and smoothed a hand down her side.

She thought he was finished for the night… But no. Instead of pulling out of her, he grew hard within her again. He rolled them onto their sides, her back over the edge of the sofa. But Loki kept a hold of her, he wouldn’t let her fall.

He hiked her leg up over his thigh and started fucking her roughly again. This time he also slid a hand down to her backside and started probing at her anus with a finger. He covered it with their juices first, giving just enough lubricant so he could slide said finger into her back entrance.

She moaned and found herself pushing down on him, meeting with his thrusting and getting that finger as deep as possible.

‘Good girl.’ Loki rumbled as she hid her face into his chest while getting fucked into next week for the second time.

[nomnomsik]

Tinge Me in Love

Synopsis: After two years of separation, Kim Namjoon takes a step back into your life. Rather than the bad boy punk who got into several physical fights with you during high school, he returns somewhat changed. And before you can sort out your feelings from this sudden disturbance in your life, you’re faced with yet another interruption: Photographer, Kim Taehyung, and his confession.

Pairing: Idol!Namjoon x Artist!Reader, Photographer!Taehyung x Artist!Reader

Genre: Yandere!au, Idol!au, Love Triangle!au

Word Count: 7.4k

A/N: Part 1 of 2. I hope to explore more about Taehyung and OC’s past as well as Namjoon’s buried memories and the cause of OC’s nightmares. I hope you enjoy. Please let me know how you feel as it gives me the motivation to quickly write the second part!

Trigger warnings/Tags: Profanity, yandere-themes, possessiveness, physical violence, misogynistic remarks, insinuation of sex, descriptions of depression, unhealthy relationships. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Every day above the clouds, every day above the clouds. 

My feel above the clouds, check it above the clouds. 

Chemistry with the clouds, a day with the clouds.

First-class has never felt so relaxing in his life before. Maybe it was the warm temperature of the plane or the view from his spot by the window that displayed the sparkling city of Seoul underneath him, bathed in the violet-colored sky. 

Or maybe it was because of the sparkling champagne that tingled in his mouth, putting him in such a good mood. But he knew these weren’t the reasons why. He couldn’t hide the excitement in his face, giddy to finally be returning back home.

He was floating. There’s no other way to describe what he’s feeling. When he lets out a relieved sigh, planting a foot down in Incheon airport, he feels like he’s dreaming. Has it only been three weeks? Four? His painstakingly long schedule itched him to where he was begging to come back home, tired of waking up at ungodly hours for photoshoots and interviews. But now, none of that matters.

He has one night of relaxation for sure back home. 

It’s only when his manager comes up to him, tapping him on the shoulder that he’s flung back to reality instead of the thoughts inside his head, trying to hide the scowl on his face as he spots whispering fans behind him. His beige-colored trench coat flows behind him as he takes large strides to the parked van waiting for him at the front of the terminal, promised with privacy.

As his manager steps in the driver’s seat, Kim Namjoon is driven off. The gentleman awakens his phone, his lips pulled up in a tight smile. 

One call couldn’t hurt, right?

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Ma’am? Ma’am?”

You stir, groaning as you struggle to grasp where you are. It’s dark with the only light coming from the headliner of the car, casting yellow rays around you. It’s warm where you are, hot air blowing over your skin as your heavy coat signifies otherwise. 

The back of your collar feels somewhat wet, as you realize, sighing in irritation and cursing yourself for not properly blow drying your hair before you left. As you blink several times, rubbing your tired eyes, you’re able to make out the face of your cab driver, shaking you awake.

“We’ve arrived at the destination.” 

“Ah, thank you.” You murmur, clumsily handing him the payment from your pocket as you open the door and step into the chilly and poorly-lit streets. You stumble at first, shivering in the dark as you hug your body despite the coat that you had worn that day. Once you recover, you take slow steps, only to stop and shake your head repeatedly. Seconds past before you finally and fully wake up from your drowsy space, looking up at your apartment complex. 

With your head downward, you stare at the shadow underneath you from the illuminated street light above. You’re so concentrated that it isn’t until the smell of cigarette smoke reaches your nose that you look up, spotting a familiar figure off in the distance. 

You stop dead in your tracks, feeling chills and grimacing as the man catches your figure from the corner of his eye. 

“Miss me?” He calls out in the quiet night.

“Absolutely not.” You spit like venom, walking past him as he follows you, taking a drag of his cigarette as you both turn the corner. Namjoon closes in on your right side, extending his arm for an embrace as you shrug him off. 

“It smells terrible.” You complain with intentional annoyance, signaling the cigarette as you carry on into your apartment, waiting outside in the chilling cold for the elevator to bring you up to your floor. When you look over, Namjoon digs the cigarette into his ashtray, pocketing it back into his coat and meeting you by the elevator doors. 

“Hey.” You start, drawing Namjoon’s attention who only smiles, those stupid dimples on him poking through his cheeks. 

“Hmm?”

“Didn’t I tell you that you have to let me know before you come to my place?” You huff, clicking your tongue when he gives you a deadly smirk. 

“But I did.” Namjoon insists. “I called you, but you didn’t pick up. So instead, I opted for a text, which again, you didn’t respond back to.”

You roll your eyes as you pull out your phone, stepping into the elevator as you irritatedly punch the number to your floor. He did call you, as well as text you, but there was a more important problem. 

“That doesn’t just mean you can come over. If I don’t respond, maybe- Don’t come to my home? And invade my space just because you’re bored all the time?” You question in frustration as your nails dig into the back of your phone case.

“Oh, c’mon. Lighten up. You haven’t seen me in so long. And I missed you.” 

You scoff, brushing him off for all the time he did the same to your feelings. If Namjoon wanted something, then you obliged. There’s no use arguing with him. Not when you’re tired. And definitely not when your whole floor is sleeping. Why give them more reasons to hate you as you bicker with him in the hallway?

Your mouth and lips feel dry as you nervously take a glance at Namjoon who just hums to himself. Next comes the jittering of your fingers as you clasp them together, balancing the weight of your feet as you step out of the elevator. 

“Have you taken your walks by the Han River lately?” You mumbled, trying to fill the empty air.

“How could I walk there when I haven’t been in Korea?” He asks confusingly, scratching the back of your head. 

“Ugh, you’re so annoying, you know that?” You roll your eyes. “Y-you want to go with... ”

Namjoon smiles as your voice trails off, your eyes meeting his as you rashly turn your head in the other way. He can't help but smile at the way you still think about him no matter how much he seems to annoy you. 

“I'll think about it.” 

You chuckle at his response, eyes closing as you shake your head in agreement. The conversation dies out once again as you approach your apartment room, rummaging around for your keys. 

When you slide in your key and unlock the door, you look over your shoulder as Namjoon waits for you, raising an eyebrow as you just stand there. You reluctantly push it open, sighing as you step into your abode, sliding off your heels and walking to your thermostat, bringing in warmth. 

As you approach your closet, you slide off your padded jacket, fixing it on its coat hanger and placing it in with all the other coats. But as you close the door and turn around, you flinch. You barely stop yourself from colliding into Namjoon’s chest, halting your feet as you instinctively meet his eyes.

He’s close. So close that he casts a shadow on you from the lighting fixture above the two of you, expression puzzled. 

“Why do you smell like that?” Namjoon’s face morphs in confusion as he tries to take a better whiff of the aroma floating in the air. You can feel your legs trembling as you look away, a dead giveaway from the guilt on your face, lips shut tight.

“...”

Namjoon hums, his eyes scanning your body and facial expressions, a finger coming down to tilt your chin up. You hate how he can easily read you like this, like he knows everything about you. You can’t help but gulp, only to feel a rush of anger, pushing him at his chest and brushing past him.

“...”

“Well?” He shouts as you walk away from him and into your kitchen.

“I’m bound to smell like acrylic sometimes. It comes with the job of an artist.” You shrug, feeling his presence behind you as you dig through your refrigerator for a drink. Maybe a beer would help unwind your nighttime stress.

“No, it’s more of like…” He chuckles. “You smell like nasty Saint Laurent cologne and cheap conditioner from those hotels near-" His fingers brush through your hair as you flinch, standing up straight and pushing him away from you. “Your hair is somewhat damp…” He whispers under his breath. 

“Don’t touch me like that… And it was…  raining earlier. Why does it matter?" You mutter, standing awkwardly in your spot as your refrigerator door swings open. Why were you so terrible at lying? Why did you even feel the need to lie in the first place? 

Ugh. Your arms wrap around your body as you suddenly feel exposed in front of Namjoon’s gaze, his eyes and mind whirling as he predicts his next move to be one step ahead.

“Didn’t have enough time to blow dry it? Were you that much in a rush to leave?” He laughs, knowing the floorplan of your apartment like the back of his hand and walking into your bathroom, only to come out with a towel in hand, throwing it which you begrudgingly catch. You toss it over your head, letting the edges fall and cover parts of your vision as you lazily dry your hair. Namjoon comes over, gently running the towel and watching it absorb in the moisture. 

You want to swat his hand off, but you let him run the towel through each section of your hair. It’s somewhat soothing, feeling him be so gentle with you for once. Not yelling, shouting, intimidating, or intruding. And he could’ve kept the tranquil mood if he didn’t open his mouth.

“Y’know, y/n… It’s cute that you think you can get away with your lies.” He smiles, amused as he backs off and opts for a seat on your couch. “Don’t be a bad girl.” 

“Ugh.” You groan, grabbing two cans of beer out of the fridge, setting them onto the counter. A crack echoes in the room as you bring the cold aluminum to your lips. You chuck the other can over, which Namjoon swiftly catches, cracking the lid open. 

Humming, you take slow steps into the small living room, the hard can still on your lips as Namjoon follows with his eyes. You collapse onto the soft cushions, feeling somewhat refreshed as Namjoon sits to your left, looking at you from the edge of his peripheral vision.

“How was your overseas schedule?” You ask, slouching as you stare at the blank ceiling above you. It’s better to say something than keep the awkward atmosphere.

“Boring and tiring. I was running around everywhere and I kept thinking about you the entire time.” Namjoon sighs, leaning back against the soft couch as he takes a sip of his drink. 

“Right.” You deadpan.

Namjoon’s face erupts in a mischievous smile as he scoots closer to you, yourself taking two scoots back. You look up at him, face scrunching up as you give him a cue to stop.

“You should pick up my calls more often. I get lonely without you.” Namjoon murmurs, nearing close to your ear. You remain stoic, pushing him away as you clear your throat.

“I’ve been working late.” You shrug, feeling the alcohol slide through your throat with ease.

“Clearly not.” Namjoon chuckles, finishing his can of beer as he watches in amusement with how you glare at him, your lips quivering as if you were going to curse him out. “So, who was it? Did you happen to get a boyfriend while I was gone?” 

“What’s it to you?” 

“What’s the harm of me knowing?” He chuckles again, that smirk still plastered on his face.

“It’s a rude thing to ask.” You put simply. “And this isn’t the first time you’ve asked either. You always want to know.”

“It’s not my fault you lose interest easily and move onto another guy so fast.” He retorts. “I can’t even keep up with you sometimes.” 

“Can you stop your stupid competition?” You spit immediately, feeling anger begin to build up in your head as if your brain was about to explode on him. Maybe, you shouldn’t have drunk alcohol. God, you could feel your body loosening up, losing that restraint that let you bottle up exactly how you felt.

“Huh? What’s with that?” He questions, throwing you an irritated look, his legs crossed in front of him. 

“You love it, soooo much. Don’t lie to yourself. You just know- you’re so sure of yourself that nobody will be better than you. Aren’t I right?” 

“Is this how we’re going to spend the first night back together from my long trip? If so, forget it.” Namjoon sighs, placing the can onto the coffee table.

“Don’t you dare try to end this conversation again, Namjoon. Explain to me why you always do this! Do you enjoy humiliating me all the time? Why don’t you ever want to respect me? I never ask for much.”

“Not respect you? What nonsense? This is how we’ve always been like.” He spits back, now glaring at you. “Since when has our relationship ever been normal? Ever been centered around respect? Why are you complaining about it now?” He retaliates, feeling the growing frustration emanate from his body. "You told me how many times you hated me and I told you I wish you could just die, and now you're trying to tell me that I'm bothering you? With something so small too... How idiotic." 

Your knuckles shift white as you seethe in anger. It was true, high school “you” did have a different way of thinking. It didn’t matter how many times you got into a fight with Namjoon, he liked you and you liked him. There was spunk and defiance that both of your teenage selves looked for. So much so that the two of you were attached at the hip, not one without the other. 

You and him didn’t care about either person’s feelings. It didn’t matter. To you, Namjoon was attractive, well-built, and a boy that fluttered your heart. Whether it would be his cheeky grin or his secret soft side that he only showed you, it was almost like your relationship was normal. 

Did he have a valid point? When did your relationship ever have boundaries to not cross? Both of you were too stubborn to ever admit "I love you." You weren't going to be weak and vulnerable in front of each other in high school. How could you ever be normal when the two of you even threw curses at each other in bed? 

You stand up, huffing in anger as you stomp your feet to the kitchen, slamming your aluminum beer can down on the counter and crushing it in your hands. This isn’t high school. The two of you are adults, twenty-three years old! You should be mature, voice how you feel, but you can't. Not when you fear the nightmares you wake up from, face covered in sweat and arms holding onto your trembling body. 

But just for tonight, you’ve had enough. You can’t even be in the same room with him for an hour. Forget about it. You can’t keep peace with him. It’s like you were bound to fight, only to be pulled back into each other. It was a vicious cycle that you couldn’t fully separate Namjoon from your life. Not when he looked like that in your mind. 

But more importantly, the alcohol was slowly giving you a headache, your face hot and thumping loudly in your ears.

"Fuck…" You mutter, steadying yourself against the counter. “I-I’m going to bed.” You whisper, wobbling your way into the hallway as Namjoon quickly stands up from his seat, concerned and coming to support you up from the side. "Ugh, d-don't touch me… I can't stand you-"

"You can barely walk," Namjoon argues, leading you down the hallway. He opens the door to your bedroom, helping you as you tiredly fall onto your single-sized bed. 

Namjoon haphazardly throws the blankets overtop your body as you immediately bury your legs underneath, growing comfortable. Staring, he watches as your tired eyes close, your hair sprawled out messily over your pillow as his fingertips rest against your cheek. 

He takes slow steps away, extending his arm as his hand finds the doorknob to your bedroom. There’s only the ticking of the clock in the living room now as Namjoon stands by the door, looking over at the bed and quietly exiting. 

All the lights of your apartment are off except for the dim lighting fixtures in the hallway. Slowly and carefully, Namjoon makes his way into the darkened living room, beelining toward the couch. He takes off the bottom cushions, scooching the coffee table back and extending a makeshift bed from the contents inside the couch. He throws a cover over top and plops down, letting the back of his hand rest overtop his face. 

The smell that you carried in still lingers in his mind, as he uncomfortably turns in his spot. He doesn’t even realize that his knuckles had buckled into fists, tightly pressed together. A yawn escapes his lips as he begins to settle down. He doesn’t even realize that his breaths even out as he drifts into a peaceful sleep.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Good morning.” 

“...”

Tight arms wrap around your stomach as you grimace, looking over to see Namjoon, his chin resting on your shoulder. 

“Stop. Or I’ll purposely spill this latte all over you.” You threaten, shrugging your shoulders as Namjoon continues to latch on. 

“Are you ever in a good mood?” Namjoon muses, leaning over you as he takes a quick sip from your cup. You scowl, moving the cup back away from him and onto the counter. Namjoon wipes his lips with the back of his hand, looking at your irritated expression. In a split second, a chill runs through your body as something wet meets your cheek, your feet rapidly taking several steps back as your hips crash and bruise into the counter behind you.

You wince in pain, buckling over, slapping your hand in front of your chest as the other caresses your cheek. Namjoon shakes off the stinging pain of his hand of where you hit him, slowly looking at you with an expressionless face, eyes blank.

“Don’t. Do that.” You whisper, fingers steadying your body on the counter behind you as your face grows hot. Whether it’s from embarrassment or humiliation, you aren’t sure. But, you can’t stop the memories that rush through your mind as Namjoon simply nods. Surely, he’s having the same thoughts as you.

But, you’re wrong. It’s almost like he changes his mind, tilting his head back, chuckling, arms crossed in front of his chest, rose gold blonde locks parted to the side of his face.

“Actually… Tell me why.” He sneers. “You couldn’t get enough of me, before.” 

“Does it look like we’re in high school?” You grit, brushing past and bumping shoulders with him as you storm from the kitchen. “I hope you’ve had enough fun toying around with me. Just leave before I get mad.”

Namjoon remains still, exasperatedly sighing and walking over to the door, sliding into his shoes as he turns the doorknob, taking a single step out. 

“Also, asshole! Don’t come over without giving me enough time, again!” You yell from down the hall. 

She's acting like her highschool self...Who is she kidding? 

“Why? Are you going to bring your new boyfriend home?” Namjoon laughs obnoxiously, sliding his hands into the pockets of his trench coat.

“Yeah.” You mutter, another lie slipping through your lips. “Yeah, so don’t just come whenever it’s convenient for you.” 

“Hey, y/n…” Namjoon steps back into the apartment, letting the door shut close. “Is your offer to visit the Han River still standing for tonight? We should go together, like good old times.” 

“Huh?” You call confusingly, walking back into your living room, your temper having died down as you turn the corner. 

“Do you want to go to the Han River together tonight?” He asks again, reaching for your hand as he successfully interlocks fingers. There’s a small smile plastered on his face, his dimples embedded in his cheeks as you pause, only to snap back and slowly pull away from his grip.

“I-I might have plans. I’m not sure. I’ll let you know after work…” You trail off, looking away as Namjoon glares for a split second, only to nod when you look back. 

“Hmm, alright. Bye.” He finally leaves his time, letting the door shut as he steps into the hall. 

You take a deep breath, scratching your scalp as you go back into your room, packing your purse and heaving your tote bag over your shoulder. As you take a look at your reflection in the mirror, you smile, giving yourself a cheeky wink and rushing to your door. Sliding on your heels, you lock your apartment door and make your way down the elevator. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

The first thing your ears pick up is the sound of the shutter of a camera, opening and closing, opening and closing, at incredible speed. The next is the bright flashes of light as your heels clack against the concrete ground, and then the large lighting equipment around the photoshoot. 

“Good morning.” You say loosely, watching as the photographer keeps his eyes solely focused on his viewfinder, eye pressed against it as the sound of the shutter goes off, and then the bright flash. When he looks at the result and seems somewhat satisfied with a nod of his head, he turns around, his blue hair with a hint of green shifting and bouncing.

“Good morning.” He replies quietly, looking over his shoulder at the model, whose skin was porcelain and pale, arms and legs thin with a bob of black hair on the top of his head. The gentleman was wearing tight jeans and a jean jacket, denim on denim. “We’ll take five.” 

The model simply nods, stretching his arms above his head and falling onto his side as he lays down. You notice Taehyung’s purple turtleneck that hugs his body tightly, an odd choice given his undeniable love for baggy sweaters and shirts. But you have no time to question him about it as he pulls you into the secluded hallway of his studio, your feet struggling to keep up with his pace as he corners you against the door. 

"What-"

His forehead is against yours, his breath fanning your face as his hands are roughly pressing against both of your shoulders. 

“Can I?” He whispers as you shudder, immediately understanding his innuendo as you nod, his lips meet yours. It’s sloppy and messy, with Taehyung’s tongue swiftly getting inside your mouth, making your legs weak. It was almost like Taehyung was going to devour you, as you struggled to keep your breathing straight, his passion intense as your back pushed against the door.

As you parted, his tongue trailed on your upper lip, slipping back into his mouth. 

“T-tae…” You gasp, burying your head into his shoulder as he hums at the nickname, continuing his trail of kisses from your ear and down your neck. His hands hover against your hips, one of his cold fingers slipping underneath your blouse as you jump, cheeks inflamed. “Not here…” 

“I missed you.” He simply replies, finally letting go and taking a step back. His hands now ruffle through your hair as you feel his concentrated gaze now on you. “Why’d you leave last night? You shouldn’t have left.” 

You can’t reply as you swallow thickly, only for Taehyung to cock his head to the side.

“It’s alright. I’m not mad. It’s just… lonely to wake up to an empty bed.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have left.” You mutter, Taehyung’s interest piqued as he stays silent, only judging. “I’ll stay next time, Mr. Kim… er-” 

An awkward silence falls between you two as Taehyung feels suddenly embarrassed, the first time his gaze breaks today. You watch as he opens his mouth, about to say something, only to close it. His eyes look as if they’re pleading with you, but he just shakes his head. 

“It’s fine. You can call me whatever you want. Professor, Mr. Kim, Taehyung…” His voice grows quiet as he checks the watch on his wrist, giving you one last kiss on the lips. “Break’s over. Work hard on your part of the exhibition. And- If you want, come over to my place tonight?” 

“Y-your place?” You feel breathless. “It’s not good if the paparazzi find out... You can’t just invite me to your home, Taehyung.”

He smirks, patting the top of your head. 

“I just did sweetheart.” 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Explain to me why you always do this! Do you enjoy humiliating me all the time? Why don’t you ever want to respect me?”

Shut up. 

Namjoon groans in the backseat of his manager’s van, punching the cushion of the headrest beside him, retracting and placing it on his forehead. There were vibrations from time to time as he watched the usual scenery to his agency building. 

We were everything to each other, y/n.

“That’s just how dumb teenagers think, Namjoon!” 

Stop coming into my head.

He scoffs lightly, eyes creasing as he drifts into the back of his mind, seeing a small glimpse of high school memories pop and burst. Though, he didn’t mind that part of his life that much, having met you from all those bothersome days. But, you weren’t some guardian angel either that had “rescued him”. 

“They’re posted! They’re posted!” 

“What? Already?” 

There were several conversations in hushed whispers through the senior hallway, students scrambling and others full-on sprinting to see the test scores posted on a bulletin outside one of the classrooms. While Namjoon took lazy steps, yawning with his hands shoved in his pockets, he merely watched the hoard of people surrounding the sheet of paper tacked onto the board. 

Some groans could be heard and others gazing in awe. While Namjoon popped an eye open, he was greeted with a pat on the shoulder and thumbs-up.

“Dude! You got the third highest score, congrats!”

“Really? Damn, I hoped to get higher.” He smirked, getting a playful punch to his side. 

“Cocky bastard, be grateful! Some of us wish we could even get onto the list.” There was a chuckle and laugh as Namjoon approached the board for himself, humming and walking off a second later. “Going to get lunch, Joon?” 

“Yeah. Let’s go.” He nodded nonchalantly, digging through his bag for a smoke and lighter. 

As they made their way outside, Namjoon walked to the back of the school, leaning against the brick walls, hanging the flame underneath the butt of the cigarette. The wind was strong, blowing his rose-gold locks back and ruffling his thin dress-shirt uniform. 

“Who is she?”

“Huh?” Namjoon asked confusingly, looking dejectedly off to the side. The person, his “friend” had implied was you, your mouth moving as if you were giving orders, clipboard in your hands, and hair blowing behind you. “I don’t know, nor do I care.”

“Hmm… She's really hot, don’t you think? You think I got a chance?” The other pondered, until he put his fingers together, letting out a loud whistle that even made Namjoon flinch. “Hey, you!”

Namjoon almost laughed, jamming the cigarette back into his mouth as you paid no attention to his friend. There was no indication of whether you actually heard the sound or not, but there was clear embarrassment in the other guy’s face. 

“Hey!” His friend shouted again, this time taking the incentive to walk up to you until you finally looked at him. "Do you need some help or anything? You seem to be giving directions to some students and all..."

"Um, no? Who even are you?" You smiled, trying to hide your offense and questioning the gentleman. 

"You don't have to be so rude, y'know. I was just trying to help." 

"I don't think I ever asked for your help, though? So who are you, again?" You continued to smile even though your passive-aggression was bleeding through, continuing to piss off Namjoon's friend. 

"Ugh, I hate chicks like you. You take attendance for homeroom and you act like you don’t know who I am?" He groaned, throwing his hands up as he walked back to where Namjoon stood, who didn’t even look at the pair. "Why do the pretty ones have to be such bitches?" He complained as Namjoon gave him a dirty look. He could feel the glare that was currently being thrown in his direction by you because of this idiot. 

Why am I getting targeted? I’m not even doing anything. 

“Hey, what's your problem?” You yelled across the courtyard. “Just because I didn't need your help, you're calling me a bitch? The hell is wrong with you?" And you would’ve left it alone at that until you heard the next thing that came after.

“Such a fucking loudmouth. If she wasn't so nasty I'd put it to good use, to be honest.” 

“Dude, gross.” Namjoon spat in distaste. He looked back over to where you should've been standing. But instead, he saw you slowly approach the two of them, underneath the shadows. There was clear disgust in your expression and the consistent clicking of your tongue as Namjoon rolled his eyes.

Great. Just great. 

“You should learn to shut up sometimes, dude.” Namjoon angrily muttered, leaning his head into his palm. “Always giving me problems.”

“Hey, asshole.” You called, finally closing the distance and pointing to the guy beside Namjoon. “Say that again to my face next time.” 

“W-what? Pff, don’t make me laugh.” 

“No, c’mon. Do it.” You hastily reply back. “It’ll give me a good reason to beat the shit out of you.” 

“Dude, can you hear this? These edgy girls-”

Namjoon just rolled his eyes, taking another inhale of his cigarette until he heard a loud thunk beside him. 

His fingers almost fumbled his cigarette as his mouth gaped open, taken aback by the scene in front of him.

You had slammed your wooden clipboard on the guy’s head, hearing it pop and crack. 

And then again. 

And then again. 

He watched as the guy’s legs gave out, falling onto the ground as Namjoon took two steps back, eyes widening. Shit, what the fuck?

Then, you tossed the useless and broken board to the side, kneeling down beside his friend and flicking the side of his head. “Stop struggling and crying like a baby. I’m not into such things.”

“J-Joon, hel...p...”

Now that he thought about it… This wasn’t his problem really. Maybe, he should just give his "buddy" a few words of advice. 

"You have no one to blame but yourself, so don’t even start complaining to me. There was no reason to mess with someone, but you still did.” Namjoon voiced out, letting a deep exhale and watching the cigarette smoke drift into the air. 

But as he was about to take another inhale, he failed to catch the grimace on your face as you rashly stood up, swiping the smoke out of his mouth and stomping it dead on the ground.

You came up to him, tugging his collar forward and looking him in the eye. "Are you trying to kill us all with this shit?”

He paused for a moment, stunned. But then, he could’ve died laughing at that moment. A stream of hysterical laughter left his mouth as you gave him a confused expression, nervously letting go and stepping back. 

Wait, he hadn't laughed his hard before in ages and he barely knew why he found this situation so funny in the first place. But, the more he thought about how you were an unfiltered asshole who seemed to lack obvious social awareness and respect, he cracked up. 

“Hey, hey…” Namjoon started after clearing his throat from cackles. “At least tell me your name.” 

…

...

He was glad that he got to know you him that day, not that you could define what you had as typical friends were. You would watch on as he got scolded, the first time being caught with a cigarette on the school property and the second for teachers insisting he change his hair back to his natural black. 

There were other times too, like when he flipped off a teacher for being sassy with him or when he would brawl with his fists behind the school with other students he had a problem with. The teachers and staff who saw his potential pleaded with him for a compromise, but all he saw were threats.

Namjoon only had a small glimpse into your life, finding you one day in the afternoon. You had found solace in the empty art room and drifted off, leaning your head onto your easel as the orange color of the sunset seeped into the dark classroom. He watched you quietly for a second, then gently closed the door shut and left. Often, he would stop by without letting his presence be known, looking through the tiny window of the door. 

“Ugh-” You coughed, covering your mouth with the back of your arm. A lit cigarette had been propped in between your fingers until you threw it on the ground outside, stomping it out. “Tastes like shit…” 

“What are you doing?” 

You flinched as you heard Namjoon’s voice in the distance. As you turned, his arms were folded across his chest. “Nothing.”

“Hmm…” Namjoon pondered, then turning the other way. “C’mon, let’s go.” 

Were you worried that you’d look weird just waiting around for him and doing nothing? You had grown to the habit by the time a month had passed. The more times you planned to meet him, the more times he found a cigarette stuck between your lips. Perhaps you were easier to manipulate than he thought.

… 

… 

Who is that? Who’s that standing next to you and why are you smiling like that?

Namjoon paused in the middle of the second-floor hallway, feeling his heartbeat speed up. There you were, conversing with another guy when you already had him. There was no need for you to even want to have a conversation with someone else, so why? Did you forget that you planned to meet him after classes?

“Ah, it's you. What a coincidence.” The underclassmen gave you a wave. “I didn't think that I would run into you here. I was just about to go home, would you like to come with me, sunbae?”

You weren’t going to say yes, were you? Shit-

“Y/n!” Namjoon shouted loudly enough to get your attention. He came up beside you, giving you an innocent smile and hug, only to turn his head to the younger male. “It’d be good for you if you’d stop thinking what’s mine as yours, asshole.” Namjoon spit in a low voice. 

“Is there some problem with me being next to her?”

The light in Namjoon’s eyes died out as his arm lunged forward, pushing the guy off to the side. He watched him trip, losing his balance and toppling down the staircase. The chatter in the hallway immediately died out as soon as multiple screams echoed out.

“Namjoon?!” You shrieked, attempting to run down the staircase. But, before you could even put your foot down on a step, Namjoon grabbed your forearm, pulling you back harshly and colliding into him. Why couldn’t you just forget about everyone else but him? Did they truly matter?

“What the fuck?!” You grabbed him at the collar, slamming him into the wall as students shrieked and moved out of the way, rushing down the staircase. Others, trying to help the underclassman up. “Why’d you do that?! Huh? Why- Stop fucking laughing! I swear I’ll-”

Namjoon only buckled over and laughed even harder, clutching his stomach as you dropped him onto the floor. “What? You’ll do what?” He snickered, taunting you further. “Don’t tell me- don’t tell me you're mad at me? Hahahaha! How ridiculous...” 

“What the fuck is your problem?! What the hell was that for?!” You sneered, looking at Namjoon who sat comfortably with his bottom on the floor. 

"Listen up, princess, because it seems like you don’t know your place in our ‘relationship’. Tell me, right now, who else you have?” He taunted and grinned, rising to his feet as you threw him a dirty glare. 

“Piece of shit.”

“As per usual, you can’t even answer me.” 

… 

… 

"What the hell are you doing? Hey, I’m talking to you… Helloooo?" 

"Nnnn…?" Namjoon groaned, shifting uncomfortably on the couch in his empty living room. He was still in his uniform, hearing the clock ticking in the hallway. His hand came up to his head as he gave it a violent shake, ruffling his messed up bedhead. Ah right, he had just come back from Saturday tutoring… Jeez, what time was it?

"You told me to come over and yet your ass is sleeping? You really are annoying." You sighed, plopping your school bag onto the wooden floors. “And you snore so loudly, shut uppp.” 

"Nnn…" Namjoon groaned again, shifting away from your loud voice. 

"Hey… Hey!! Wake up!! Namjoon!!” You whined, leaning over to shake his shoulder. “You know what? Fine, I’m leaving. Why’d you even text me if you’re just going to- AH-”

Namjoon grabbed your wrist, pulling you down with him. There was a smile on his lips as he chuckled, his eyes still closed. He poked one open, leaning forward and pressing a kiss on your lips. You flushed, eyes wide as Namjoon stared straight at you. And as he pressed harder, you could feel the smile that formed as he smirked. 

Not pulling away, huh…

“Hey! I’m was talking- Mmpf-” 

Namjoon grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling you harder into him as you struggled in his hold. You couldn’t help but thrash, trying to get words out of your mouth until you finally kicked him in the knee.

"You…!! Asshole!" You cursed, pushing him off. “Are you trying to make me angry? I told you to stop.” 

“Sorry.” He muttered, sitting up straight and staring up at his blank ceiling. Several minutes of silence passed between the two of you as neither could form words. Your own hand came up to your lips as you realized Namjoon had taken your first kiss. When you looked over at him, a part of you wondered if it was the same. 

Seeing Namjoon so quiet and calm always made the atmosphere feel like a lucid dream. If you interfered, it would burst back to reality. 

“Namjoon, someone like you will never learn what it’s like to be in love.”

“...”

“You’ll be lonely till the day you die.” 

“You’re not good enough. You never will be. Your family is better off without you. Even I don’t need you.”

That wasn’t your voice. That wasn’t something you would say to him. Yet, he could imagine those words leaving your lips. It was simply his own whispering to himself, smirking in its intangible form as he pinned you between his arms, breath fanning over your face.

Just after twelve in the afternoon, you both were each other’s first. Normally, he would’ve expected it to be more romantic, filled with praise, gentle touches, and kisses. But instead, it was full of sneers and snide comments, hair pulling, scratching, and fighting for dominance. Neither of you knew what you were doing, but both were too stubborn to admit to the other. 

In the aftermath, you both laid exhausted, marks and bites littered over your neck and shoulder. Namjoon adorned bruises and scratches, but he merely stared at his empty palms. 

He didn’t feel anything...

Namjoon had unexpectedly cut you off after high school graduation. He had planned it for a while, telling you with an unmoving expression as you tried to hide your own bitterness. But what could you even say anything when he asked mockingly, “Don’t tell me… Did I mean something to you? Because you were nothing to me.” 

He had learned something after having you in his bed, not all at once, but slowly. It took him months to figure out what he felt, leading himself to the conclusion which he struggled to carry out to the end. Did he seriously think love and affection could solve everything wrong with him? Why did he expect you to just sweep him off his feet and suddenly cure him as if you were his savior and protector? 

No, there was something very wrong. He knew he couldn't cling onto you, like that. He knew he couldn't completely revolve his entire self-worth and survival solely on you. He knew that there was something wrong with the way he felt when he saw himself getting replaced. It was wrong, putting you on this unreasonable pedestal... But, he felt so good with you… 

Maybe he took everything for granted. Staring at his reflection in the mirror and seeing the spark in his eyes gone. Like he became the shell of Kim Namjoon, disconnected from the motions, from life… from you. 

And he fell. Deeper and harder. It felt like he splashed into a crashing river, letting his body fall under and drown beneath. It weighed him down and dragged him further, almost as if his fingertips couldn’t reach above the water. 

“I want to see you… P-please…” 

Namjoon spings awake, panting in the back of the van as he realizes they were still driving on the road. He could see his reflection off the glass window, his heart rapidly beating in his chest. He knew what happened next in the memory, his hand digging from the bottom of his roots to the fringe. 

“Fuck…” He curses, gripping onto his hair. “I’m so screwed…” 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Y/n, are you coming tonight?” 

You look up from the enormous painting you hover over, setting your paintbrush down to the side. As you take a brief glance outside, you realize just how dark it had gotten. How late was it? Your first instinct is to grab your phone, seeing 6:30 pm on the clock and bringing up Namjoon’s contact. 

“I- Um…” You stumble, tightening your grip on your phone case. “I was going to see my friend today, ah, I guess not really my friend, just an acquaintance of mine, so-” 

You stop yourself, feeling somewhat embarrassed by your rambling. Taehyung just smiles from the door of the spare room he lent you in his studio. After all, you were his partner for their collaboration exhibition who deserved the best. 

“If that’s the case, come with me.” Taehyung smiles, picking up a clean cloth from a stack and wiping the paint off your hands. “You’re not friends… so…” 

“R-right, I just… I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a month…” You answer weakly, letting Taehyung hold onto your hand. You couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach. It was kind of embarrassing speaking about these kinds of things with your professor who had taught you in college, not to mention him being so much younger and smarter.

“You’re really indecisive, you know?” 

Your head shoots up, expecting to see an irritated expression on Taehyung’s face, almost imagining how Namjoon would’ve looked like. But instead, he’s rather calm, his shoulders relaxed and his eyes honestly staring back at you. There was strangely, kindness behind words that seemed to be more of an insult. 

“You also don’t ever seem to believe me or trust me.” He continues, watching as you flinch and gulp. 

You look at him with wary eyes as you slowly pull away, folding your arms across your chest. The atmosphere is still somewhat calm, but you can feel the discomfort slowly growing. 

His emotions are unreadable, his face always stoic and his tone soft. You can’t predict what he’s thinking, you can’t get ready for what he might say next, you can’t-

“So, did you not believe me when I said I love you, either?” He whispers, closing in on you. “Because I’ve loved you for so, so, so long…” 

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Five

A/N: If you didn't see my post yesterday, I decide to break this chapter into 2 chapters. The preview for this chapter is included in the next chapter.

Words: 3.7k

Warning(s): Explicit language, mentions of drug abuse

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I blink my eyes open to see Izzy standing over me, my brows furrowing at the sight of him, confusion filing into my mind.

“Izzy.” I croak out, closing my eyes again for a moment.

“Viv.” He replies.

"What're you doing here?" I groan, tiredly.

"A girl I hooked up with last night lives in this neighborhood." He tells me. "Karen let me in."

“Of course she did.” I mumble, sitting up with another groan, and he sits on the floor next to me, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it.

“So, like, what happened?” He asks me, looking around at the shithole mess I made last night and I lick my cracked lips, feeling the tightness of dried, mascara coated tears that have glued to my face, and let out an exhausted breath.

“You ever walk into your house and wonder ‘exactly how many surfaces did my husband and his mistress possibly have sex on’?”

“Nope.” He replies, blowing out smoke, and I glance at him.

“Well, that’s what happened.” I reply, sighing. “I thought I was doing good, Izzy. I really thought we were getting better. And we weren’t. It was all bullshit.”

“Trust me, Viv, I’ve fucking been there.” He mumbles.

“I gave her a key to my house.” I repeat what I told him earlier and he looks at me for a moment, looking as if he doesn’t quite know what to say. “I might as well have just handed him over to her and said, ‘he’s yours, have at it’.” I add, letting out a chuckle, although it’s not funny. “I’m not like her. I act nothing like her. I haven’t accomplished as much as she has. I’m not established like she is. I look nothing like her--”

“--She’s a ten but the drugs make her a five. And her being batshit crazy knocks her down to a solid two...on a good day. You’re a ten. Your niceness adds two points, your patience adds two more points, and your crazy is hot, which adds five more points. So technically you’re a seventeen. Don’t compare yourself to a fucking crack addict when there’s barely anything left of her to compare to.” He orders sternly, and I push a strand of hair behind my ear. “And the only thing she can say she’s got on you, is screwing your husband, and she brags about it because strung out Nikki Sixx is obviously a prize.” He sarcastically states and I smile a little. “He didn’t cheat because you weren’t enough, Viv. He cheated because he’s fucking stupid and the drugs just add to it. I assure you, if you were ugly or something, none of us would wanna fuck you. But we do.”

“Gee, thanks, Izzy.” I flatly say, furrowing my brows slightly, and he nudges me with his elbow.

“You’re a seventeen.” He reassures me, smiling.

“See, this is what I would’ve appreciated hearing the other night.” I inform him.

“I was an ass the other night.” He admits. “I’m sorry for yelling at you...and there’s nothing wrong with you not picking up on our hints that something was wrong. You just see the best in people sometimes when they’re fucking shitty, is all.”

“Trust me I’ve learned my lesson.” I scoff.

“No, don’t let this bullshit ruin a good thing. You can still see the good in people and try to be positive about them, just use a little discernment from now on.” He shrugs and I wipe my eyes as he takes another drag of his cigarette.

“Did we just have a moment, Izzy?” I ask, and he furrows his brows and looks at me.

“No.”

“I think we did.”

“No, we didn’t.”

“I think we did. I think we just got a little closer in our friendship.”

“Nope, I don’t think so.”

“We did.”

“We didn’t.”

“I love you and I’m glad we’re friends.”

He just looks at me, trying not to smile, before getting a serious look on his face.

“It’ll be okay, Viv.” He assures me, genuinely, and I nod.

“I know it will be, I’m just kinda scared to go through the hell I’m gonna need to go through in order to get to the ‘it’s okay now’ part.”

“I know you are.” He tells me, exhaling more smoke. “I know you are.” 

That’s the thing about Izzy: a raging jackass when he wants to be, and quiet for the most part, but when he gets serious about something, it’s genuine and hard to ever forget.

Once Izzy decides to go home, I’m staring at the letter from Playboy, eyeing the number left at the bottom of the page for their project manager.

“Just call and see what they say.” I tell myself, taking a deep breath, my palms starting to sweat.

I dial the number and it rings a few times before someone picks up.

“Playboy Enterprises, this is Erika.”

I convince myself to calm down and ease the nerves bunching in my stomach before I reply.

“Y-Yes, this is Vivian Sixx. I got a letter from you guys?”

“Yes, they’ve been hoping you would call. Give me a moment and I’ll transfer your call to our PM.” She tells me.

“Okay, thank you.”

I wait for a moment as the line cuts out, before it cuts back in again.

“Mrs. Sixx?” Another woman’s voice greets me.

“Yes?”

“This is Danielle Wyther, I’m the one that sent you the letter.” She explains.

“Oh.”

“I take it you’ve made your decision.” She says next and I let out a little sigh, hesitantly giving an answer.

“I’m not comfortable doing full nudity--I mean, I don’t have an issue being nude but, like, I want the important parts covered.” I’m saying before I can stop myself, and I furrow my brows and mouth “what the fuck” to myself for being so blunt.

“...We didn’t expect anything different from you, Vivian, no worries.” She tells me and I let out a relieved breath. “We’ve already prepared for more tasteful photos.”

She goes on to tell me when I need to meet with her to sign my contract of payment and a temporary NDA ensuring I won’t let it out to the public I’m posing until they decide to announce it themselves, and then we go over when I need to come to Chicago to shoot.

Once a date is set to meet, and for the photoshoot itself, we hang up and I turn around to see Karen holding a cup of coffee, wearing her bedroom shoes due to the glass on the floor that I need to clean up.

“You didn’t hear that.” I tell her.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” She replies, obviously knowing what I’m talking about, but clearly not in a hurry to tell Nikki about it.

She just raises her brows and takes a sip of her coffee, minding her own business. 

After breakfast, I try to clean up the best I can, not even necessarily wanting to go to my room to grab a change of clothes and shower once I'm done, but I do. 

I'll just leave our room a shitshow for him since we're coming back for a five day break in like a week anyway. 

I shower and change clothes, grabbing my car keys.

"Where are you going?" Karen asks me.

"To see Sharise and Sky, and then I’m going out with the guys before I get home.” I tell her.

“Alright, be careful.”

“I will.”

I knew Karen wouldn’t say a thing to Nikki about Playboy, and she honestly never said a thing to me about it...but I could tell she didn’t necessarily agree with my decision, because nobody really agreed with it, they tolerated it.

In all honesty they all thought I had lost my mind, finally, because I was Vivian. Goody-goody, Christianly, worst-thing-ever-done-was-marry-someone-my-mother-didn’t-approve-of, Saint Vivian.

“Yes, I’m sure about it, Sharise.” I tell her, Skylar sticking a unicorn sticker to my face, making me smile at her as Sharise raises her brows at me.

“But you’ll be n-a-k-e-d.” She spells out so Skylar won’t catch on. “A-s-s and b-o-o-b-s out. For everyone to see.”

“Not really, everything’s gonna be covered.”

“Barely.”

“But still covered, nonetheless.” I argue.

“Do you want me to go with you?” She asks next.

“I wanna go!” Skylar says, looking at her mom, not even knowing where exactly we’re going, but wanting to tag along.

“No, I’ll probably have Duff or Steven go with me.” She tell her and she raises her brows.

“Oh...Duff...okay…”

“What?” I ask, furrowing my brows a little and she holds back a tight-lipped smile, shaking her head and shrugging.

“Nothing, Viv. Nothing at all. It’s just...you know…”

“...What exactly do I know?” I question.

“You know what you know.” She says back, matter-of-fact, and I think a moment before scoffing out.

“Oh, puh-lease, Sharise.” I hold back a bark of laughter.

“You know where I’m getting that idea, too.” She states and I shake my head.

“You are crazy.”

“Am I? You’ve just recently been hurt, you’re vulnerable, you’re confused, he’s available and attractive, and a complete gentleman--”

“--Which is exactly why nothing is happening because he’s not going to take advantage of me right now.” I tell her.

“Right now?” She widens her eyes and I sigh. “Ah, so you admit something’s cooking, it’s just not being served at the table at the moment.”

“It’s being poured down the drain because he’s got his own thing and I’ve got mine and neither of us are like that with each other.”

“He broke up with his ‘thing’ earlier this year and yours was just caught with a crack pipe in one hand, a needle in the other, and another woman’s mouth on his d-i-c-k, which sounds like a justified divorce to me.” She says to me, picking Sky up, and I let out a breath...because she’s right.

“Look, just think before you jump into the deep end. Just because there’s room for you to land, doesn’t mean there aren’t sharks waiting for you to dive in.” She warns me and I just nod slowly, rubbing my lips together.

I stay at Sharise’s for a couple more hours, before I’m meeting Duff at the Whisky because they’re playing a show tonight.

“Thank you.” I say as a girl in the crowded room moves for me to squeeze by her to get backstage with the guys once the show is over.

I crack open the door, seeing Axl in his assless chaps, his hair going all kinds of directions in it’s teased glory, and he smiles widely at me.

“Hey, Viv.” He greets me, and I step in to see everybody else in the room: Slash, Izzy, Stevie, Duff, and...no, no, that’s impossible.

I furrow my brows, my heart stopping in my chest.

“D-Dad?” I ask.

He’s just as shell shocked as I am, until his face is lighting up, tears coming to his eyes, as he nervously steps to me.

“What’re you doing here?” I ask next, realizing I’m about to cry.

I haven’t seen him in four years. We’ve written to each other every once in a while just to check up, but I haven’t seen him or heard his voice in four years.

“I’ve been coming down this part of town the past few nights when I heard you were back home.” He explains to me.

“Why?”

He doesn’t have to answer this, I know why. He heard his daughter’s husband possibly cheated on with her, and the mistress announced it on national television.

“Well, I couldn't really comfort you through a stupid letter.” He says and a tear rolls down my cheek.

“Aww, Dad." My voice cracks and he gives me a big hug.

"And I'll fly to wherever he is and give him a piece of my mind,  just say 'when' and I'll give him a real reason to go crawling to another woman." He states and I laugh, pulling away to wipe my eyes, getting a good, up close look at my dad. 

His hair is already starting to grey, despite only being forty-one, and his brown eyes haven't lost any of their spark that's been in them even since I could remember. 

He wipes my tears, giving me a reassuring smile. 

"I'm okay, Dad." I tell him, sniffling, looking around at the guys before looking back up at him. "How do you even know them?"

Apparently, several months prior, my dad happened to be in the same convenience store as Steven, who he saw was trying to smuggle a bag of Cheetos up his shirt because he couldn’t afford to buy them so my dad gave him a few hundred bucks and when he told Steven his name Stevie remembered my maiden name was “Kinston” and asked my dad if he knew me. It went from there and resulted in my dad checking in on them from time to time, but none of them ever told me because they weren’t ever really sure how I felt about my dad.

After the guys get changed, we’re heading to get some food  at the Rainbow with my dad tagging along.

“After she watched the Wizard of Oz with her aunt, she’d pretend she was the Good Witch of the South and used to get out of her little bubble baths and run through the house, calling herself the ‘Bubble Fairy’, with her mom chasing after her.” My dad tells the guys and I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing he wouldn’t have told the story of the notorious “Bubble Fairy.”

“Dad, they didn’t need to know that.” I say to him, seeing Duff and Slash trying to hide their laughter.

“Oh, it’s not that bad, Viv, you were a toddler.” My dad insists. “It was precious.”

“Yeah, maybe you should recreate it and let us see if it’s just as precious.” Izzy says to aggravate me.

“Hey, watch it.” My dad scolds him and I smile smugly at Izzy.

“Yeah, watch it." I echo and Izzy narrows his eyes at me.

"Whatever you say, Bubble Fairy." He says to me and I'm kicking at him under the table, before I'm looking at my dad again, taking a sip of Pepsi.

"Change of subject, why didn't you just come by the house?" I ask my dad.

"I didn't know if you would've wanted me to, if you were still trying to handle everything." He adds. "I was going to when I heard you had a health scare, but I didn't want to overstep any boundaries."

"Dad, I wouldn't have minded." I assure him, shaking my head a little. 

"Well, how much longer are you going to be in town?" He asks.

"Um, I'm flying out tomorrow for about a week, but we're supposed to be coming back home for a break." I explain. 

"'We're'? He's coming back home with you…is he staying with you?" He questions and I blink a couple times. 

"Well, y-yeah, we're still married, dad, so we're gonna be staying in the same house." I explain. "Especially since his manager thinks it's best if we play it off to the public and the media that the situation was a misunderstanding." 

"How the hell does one 'misunderstand' being engaged to a married man?" He asks, and the guys raise their brows.

"Well--"

"--I'd rip his manager a new one and tell him to use it to let out all the extra shit he's full of." 

My eyes widen, and I'm shocked, because I've never heard my dad this angry. 

"Dad, it's okay. After the tour if we want to file for divorce, we will."

"When is the tour over?"

"Next spring."

"Vivian, do you have any idea how long divorce takes to be finalized?" He asks and I rub my lips together. "If you genuinely want to get divorced, I suggest filing now so you can almost be done with it by the time the tour ends." 

"We've tried. She won't listen." Axl states, lighting a cigarette and I glare at him. 

"I'm weighing my options, dad." I say.

"And what's he doing?" He asks next. 

"Shooting heroin and screwing groupies." Axl interjects again.

"Axl." I snap. 

"Dude, c'mon." Duff lightly says, not amused with his suggestion. 

"What?" Axl looks at us. "Coming from a dude, infidelity is like cockroaches. For every one you know about, there's a hundred more you don't know about." 

"Dude!" Stevie scolds him, looking at him like he's lost his mind. 

"So we're just gonna pretend there's no chance that Vanity isn't the first chick Nikki's been with in the six years they've been together?" Axl keeps going. 

"I'm going to the bathroom." I mumble, getting out of the booth, trying not to think about the possibility of Nikki cheating with multiple other girls, but knowing it isn't too far-fetched to consider it.

After a couple minutes of wiping tears in the bathroom stall, I hear the door open, and wait to hear the clicking of heels on the tile floor, but instead hear heavy footsteps.

“Viv?” Duff asks and I let out a relieved sigh, sniffling.

“I’m fine.” I say to him, despite it not sounding convincing in the slightest.

“No, you’re not.” He tells me and I roll my eyes, opening the stall, looking up at him.

“I am.”

“There’s no fucking cameras around, you know that right?” He raises his brows and I exhale softly, throwing my wet, snotty tissue in the garbage can, stepping to the mirror to fix my face the best I can.

“I’ve thought of the possibility of him having others.” I admit, wiping the running mascara from my face as he leans against the stall’s fixture and looks at me in the mirror. “I’ve thought about it, and it’s one of my worst fucking fears is hearing this whole time there’s been girls left and right that’s he’s managed to sneak past me. I don’t like it, but I have thought about it. I’m not oblivious to that possibility.”

“I know you aren’t.” He nods.

“But he’s all I’ve known.” I tell him, taking a deep breath. “He’s all I’ve known and he’s all I’ve got and if I look for any more trouble, I’m gonna find it, and I’d rather not repeat this cycle of feeling like the biggest fucking idiot, so if we can just skip the conversation altogether I’d be really appreciative of it.” I state, turning to face him.

“Got it.” He promises. “And Axl doesn’t mean anything by it, Viv, alright? He just misses the mark when it comes to communication.” He shrugs. 

“I suppose.” I sigh out. “I’m sorry, you’re probably tired of me crying.”

“I wish you wouldn’t cry because I don’t like to see it, but I think you have every reason to, right now. I’m just happy you’re not completely losing your shit like I expected you to.” He explains and I raise my brows.

“Define ‘losing your shit’.”

He looks at me with raised brows.

“What did you do?” He asks me, amused.

“It’s not really what I’ve done...more so what I’m going to do.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“...Playboy sent me a letter, offering $40,000 for a cover shoot and interview, and some pictures to go along with it.” I watch as his eyes widen, and he gets an uneasy look on his face.

“Viv, you aren’t, like, the Playboy type, though.” He points out, worriedly.

“Well, no, I’m not, and I know that and they know that, so when I called just decided to do ‘tasteful’ nude shots.”

“‘Tasteful’ by Vivian standards, or ‘tasteful’ by pornographic magazine standards?”

“Vivian standards. Naked, but none of the good stuff is showing.” I state.

“Oh, okay.” He laughs out, nervously. “Are you...sure about it?”

“Well, at first I did it for the money because if Nikki leaves me, I’m not gonna have a penny to my name--”

“--Vivian, if you need money and somewhere to stay if things go to shit, you can just ask me or one of the guys.” He offers, looking like the thought of me posing nude just for money, doesn’t sit right with him because he knows I wouldn’t do it unless I felt I had no other choice.

“You didn’t let me finish.” I tell him, smiling. “But then they said it’d be tasteful and I wouldn’t have to show everything, and now it sounds kinda fun.”

“And what does Nikki think of it?” He asks me an important question and I go to speak, but stop myself, exhaling.

“What Nikki doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.” Is all I can come up with.

“Uh, I think Nikki will know when he sees his wife on the cover of Playboy.” He argues.

“It’s not like I’m gonna be posed on the front with my tits and pussy out, spread eagle for the world to ogle at my anatomy.” I counter and he squeezes his eyes closed, shaking his head a little.

“I didn’t need to picture you like that, Viv.” He says and I feel my cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“Oops, sorry.” I say, rubbing my lips together. “Hey, there is something I need to ask you, though.”

“Yeah?” He replies, looking at me.

“Tomorrow I’m going to their office here in town to sign the paperwork and stuff, and then I’m going to Chicago for the photoshoot, because conveniently enough, Motley Crue will be in Chicago for a few days, and I was wondering if you’d want to come with me.”

He laughs like it’s absurd.

“You are crazy.” He says, in disbelief.  “You are crazy.”

“Duff--”

“--If he finds out I was there with you, Viv, I just--you are crazy.”

“So, you’re not gonna go with me?” I ask him, scared he’s going to say “no” to avoid pissing Nikki off.

But he completely surprises me when he says:

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

[angelicthor]

billion dollar man - part 14

pairing: tony stark x reader

summary: after mounting bills and debt cause you to look at alternative means of making money, you’re thrown into a whole different kind of life when one of the most famous billionaires on the block offers to be your sugar daddy, of course in exchange for a different from of payment. non-superhero au.

warnings/genre: +18 only, sugarbaby/daddy relationship, fluff  + angst 

masterlist | billion dollar man masterlist

a/n: i am so sorry for the long wait but i’ve finally moved! i hope you like it, please comment!

You ungracefully collapsed back onto the bed with a breathy laugh, heart still racing and thighs burning as your soft pants filled the otherwise silence of the room, your skin glistening in a light sheen of sweat at the exertion of riding Tony’s cock until you’d both orgasmed, his cum filling you as your cunt milked him dry.

Tony wasted no time in pulling you back to him, cupping the back of your head as he pressed his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss which you eagerly returned, giggling as his beard tickled your chin, feeling him smirk before he moved to scatter wet kisses down your throat and across your collarbone. He purposely grazed his stubbly checks across your sensitive skin, revelling in the squeals you emitted as you attempted in vain to push him away, his gleeful laugh filling the air between you and couldn’t contain your grin at the sound.

The two of you remained in your embrace, the outside world melting away as you exchanged sweet nothings intermingled with soft caresses and tender kisses. You lay tangled together, head resting over his heart as you traced patterns on his chest, fingers brushing over his scar as you did. You smiled as you thought about how far he’d come; earlier in your relationship Tony wouldn’t let you touch the marred skin, becoming uncomfortable if he thought you were too focused on it. You knew it had nothing to do with his appearance and more to do with what had caused it but the fact that he was still pliant under your hands as you so openly touched it caused a comfortable warmth to spread throughout you.

“Hey Tony, can I ask you something?” Tony hummed in affirmation before you continued, “When we met on that site, where did you get your username from? I never found out; I mean most guys were using shit like ‘richguy69’, so where did ‘Iron Man’ come from?”

You regretted asking as soon as the words left your lips, the way Tony’s body tensed slightly under yours and his fingers stopped their movements on the smooth skin of your back letting you know that he wasn’t fond of this question and you were heading into unpleasant territory. You tried to backtrack, telling him that it was stupid, that you shouldn’t have asked, and he didn’t have to answer you, but he cut you off.

“No,” He snapped, sighing when he felt you jump at the harsh sound, “No, it’s ok. It’s just – it’s not…” Tony trailed off with an agitated sigh as he attempted to pull his mind together and you remained silent as he did, fingertips ghosting over his stomach to calm him, reminding him that you were still there.

“My dad, he uh, he wasn’t the warmest of people. Especially not to me,” Tony let out a humourless chuckle, eyes locked on the ceiling as he spoke, “We never really got along, hell he was never around to get along with. But – but I remember, I was seven and he had already decided I was a disappointment, shipped me off to boarding school, told me I needed to toughen up. That I was too soft. I tried to make him happy, but I was never good enough.”

You didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? How could you possibly hope to ease those wounds inflicted by the man who was supposed to raise him, to guide him through this world, not tear him down and leave him broken.

“Dad, he – uh – he used to have this pocket watch, pretty sure it was his grandfather’s. It was engraved on the cover, ‘Stark men are made of Iron’, it was kind of a family motto. He was prouder of the damn watch than he ever was of me. The one thing he ever tried to teach me was the value of steel, how to be strong and resilient, how to make the Starks proud.”

He spat the words out, heart hammering in his chest as he thought of the coldness his father had bestowed upon him and you held him tighter to you as you silently reminded him of your presence. “He tried to teach me how to be a man, but all he did was leave me bitter and alone.”

Your lower lip began to tremble as you heard the anguish lacing his voice, eyes stinging as you fought back your tears. Tony needed to get this off his chest, you doubt he had ever told another soul the truth about his father and he was in desperate need to free himself of the burden.

“You know I resented it? He loved the damn thing more than me and I was actually jealous of a fucking pocket watch. They went away for Christmas in my final year of collage – I was supposed to go with them but I couldn’t bare the thought of spending that much time with him, shit, I didn’t know how to – anyway, that damn watch was just sitting on the side in his bedroom and I… I smashed it to pieces, I just saw it and I despised it and I kept hitting and hitting until there was nothing left to save. Felt like a weight had been lifted, you know?  They both died three days later. Car crash. They were pronounced dead on site.”

A few stray tears escaped your eyes, the hot drops marring his skin and you swiftly moved to wipe them away. Tony stalled at the sound of your soft sobs, his hand hooking under your chin to gently tilt your head back to look into your eyes, his own sorrow so visible in his features it made your heart clench even further.

“I’m sorry, I – I’m so sorry Tony.”

“Hey, what are you sorry for?” Tony cooed, digit moving to swipe away a lone tear that was trailing down your cheek.

“I just – You didn’t deserve any of that Tony,” You saw he was about to brush of your sentiment, shaking your head as you leant up on your elbow, free hand finding his hair as your carded your fingers to through his tousled hair. “You’re a good man. You’re strong and caring and those two things don’t cancel each other out and – and your dad was a fucking asshole and you deserved better, and I’m just – I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

You littered Tony’s face with kisses, a small sense of pride coming over you when you saw the slight twitch of his lips, the corners turning up in a minute smile before he captured your lips with his own, tongue licking into your mouth as he kissed you with every ounce of admiration he held for you.

“It wasn’t all bad babygirl: I had my mom, she was a good woman, and Jarvis – he was our butler, more of a father to me than my own ever was. Mom, she – ha – she would have loved you.”

“Really?” You asked in disbelief.

Tony let out a deep chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead as he pulled you closer to him, tucking your head under his chin and hitching your thigh over his hip. He told you more about his childhood, focusing more on his mother and Jarvis and you were glad he had some happy memories that his father as unable to taint.

You let Tony talk for as long as he needed, he didn’t mention his father again but you felt as if his childhood was not something he often visited and you could tell by the way he spoke that he was close with his mother and Jarvis but you were still anguished over the truth of Tony’s father, swearing to yourself that you’d find some way to ease the complicated and conflicting emotions concerning his childhood and the lasting impression of his father’s poor parenting.

a/n: i don’t have a tag list but if you want alerts please follow @angelicthorwrites and turn on notifications

[name-me-regret]

Till I Touch The Sky - 1/9

Till I Touch The Sky Chapter One: A Bit Of Fairy Dust

Summary: Peter is having weird dreams, and on top of that, May has a new boyfriend that Peter just does not like, and then adding on his ever increasing health problems... Well, Peter’s life seems pretty shitty right now.

Then he meets Tony Stark and he gets offered an internship, and things start looking better. However, he soon realizes that his dreams are more real than he could have imagined.

Chapter Summary: Peter starts having some weird dreams after a fall...

Read on AO3.

FANFICTION MASTER POST

Author’s Note: I wasn’t planning on posting this until it was finished, (because it’s taken over my life and I can’t work on anything till I finish this) but wanted to post it for Tom Holland’s birthday. Also, it’s the start of Pride Month! I want to work on finally finishing Saving Grace and get started on the sequel of Martin Child.

Here’s some art of Harley and Peter meeting in my He Makes Him Happy fanfiction, so check that out. I’m thinking of six chapters for this, and I hope I can stick to that this time. Hope y’all like this story. Leave me a comment and let me know.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

 ”Free spirits, free spirits Can you hear me calling? Oh, it's all or nothing When you're free spirits, free spirits Can you hear it calling? 'Cause I don't wanna live no normal life, let go

 Is this Heaven or Armageddon? Are we gettin' high, we could've watched the ending We were trodding down our memories A cemetery full of bottles that are incomplete When you're loving more, caring less It's the highs and lows with no clears And we wanted it all then But we're never runnin' out, we'll be

 Free spirits, free spirits...“

~Free Spirit - Khalid

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

April 02, 2015   Peter and May Parker were a small family unit, just two of them. It had been them against the world ever since Ben had died. However, he knew that May struggled to make ends meet, Peter wasn't stupid. In fact, Peter Parker was quite the genius. Although, that could be debated since he didn't see this coming, not even a little bit.   May Parker started dating.   He supposed he couldn't blame her, because everyone needed a companion and she was perhaps lonely. Also, ever since Ben had died, the burden of the bills and mortgage on the house had fallen on her. She’d been unable to make the payments, which is why they was now living at this apartment, since they’d lost Ben’s parents house.

So, he could understand that she needed help, and the worst part was that Christopher seemed like a real upstanding guy. He had a doctorate and after working for a big corporation was starting up his own medical tech company. He also knew how to cook and was able to get Peter's breathing machine for a cheaper price they could afford.   Peter hated having asthma the most, especially since it was hard on him when the elevator broke in their building and he was forced to walk up the stairs. That's what he was doing now, climbing up the stairs as he huffed and puffed, and by the time he made it to their floor, he'd ran out of breath.   The teenager leaned against the wall by the door for a few moments, feeling his face heat up as the twin brother and sister from down the hall passed by and eyed him with disgust. Peter knew he was grossly out of shape when a few flights of steps had him winded, but when his lungs were weak, he couldn't really exercise.   Peter straightened when the two had passed him, having dropped his head as soon as Riley and Hailey (the twins) had spotted him, having felt his face heat up in embarrassment when they’d seen him struggling to breathe. He'd already recovered after a few moments, but had waited until they had entered the stairwell. Now, he shifted his backpack back onto his shoulders, taking out his house keys and entering his apartment. When he got there, he saw that the usual clutter around the house had been cleaned up, his few LEGO sculptures they’d been able to afford (cheap ones with less than a hundred pieces) had been moved to a small work table in the corner, out of the way.

He tried not to let it bug him, since it had been on the floor before and anyone could step on a loose piece of his latest project. It was not fun to step on a LEGO, and Peter should know from personal experience. So, he supposed it was a good thing that Christopher had moved his structures onto a small table and off the floor.

The teenager huffed as he kicked his tennis shoes off at the door, not in the best of moods due to the elevator being out, and then the twins (who were both so pretty) giving him those looks. He hated his asthma, so much and wished to just be rid of it, or his stupid weak lungs, and his stupid allergies. Peter Parker just wanted to leave his whole stupid, weak body behind.

Peter fumbled for his inhaler as he started to get worked up, taking an inhale and feeling as his airways opened up. He waited a moment before he straightened and tossed his bag against the work table, cursing when one of the structures was knocked on its side. The teen moved over to fix it, hoping none of the pieces had been knocked off. It was the car he’d built from the Bricks On A Roll bucket, which had many wheels and the ability to make different structures. He’d done the red car on the front, a motorcycle, and the ice cream cart as well. He wasn’t sure if his was missing pieces, but it didn’t have the big ice cream cone piece as shown on the pack. Well, judging by how shitty his luck was, it was likely that his was the only one without it.

As he moved away, he failed to realize one of the wheels was missing from the red car, and hissed as he stepped on it. He stumbled back, tripped on his backpack and fell, hitting his head on the work table.

‘Whoa!’ Peter exclaimed as he moved his hands over himself, trying to see if he’d broken something. His head felt fine, in fact, he felt great! The constant pressure he always felt on his airway wasn’t present, and wondered if the fall had somehow miraculously cured him. Maybe, it was possible.

He turned around and froze. Peter should’ve known that his shitty Parker Luck would kick in. Because miracles didn’t happen to Peter Parker.

There in front of him, was his body on the floor with blood on his forehead where it’d struck the work table. He was looking at his body from the outside, so... did this meant he was dead?

‘Aww, come on!’ Peter cried out.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Peter hummed as he tried to figure this out, because as far as he could tell, he wasn’t dead. It didn’t help that he was currently floating over his body like a damn ghost. However, he could tell that his body was still breathing, if the way his chest was moving up and down was any indication.

So, not dead.

If that was true, then what was happening right now?

His thought process was cut off as he heard the key in the lock, and glanced at it. His eyes widened as he saw his aunt come through the door and glanced back at his body, and knew this was going to be bad. Peter winced as she screamed and rushed to his side.

“Peter?! Oh baby, wake up!” May sobbed, hands going to his forehead and flinching away from the blood there. She fumbled for her cell phone, her hands shaking so badly that she was barely able to dial 911.

‘May, I’m right here. I’m alright,’ Peter tried to tell her, floating over to her, but when he tried to touch her, his hand passed though her. He gasped and flinched back as if burned, looking at his hand and then at his body as May caressed his face ever so gently. If he could cry, he would, but as he was now, he only felt panic and terror, and a sorrow so profound that he curled up from how intense it felt.

He didn’t understand what was happening to him. Peter just wanted to be wrapped in his aunt’s warm embrace. He wanted all this to be over. Then, without knowing how, he slept and then he felt like he was falling; falling so very fast.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Peter’s eyes snapped open and he gasped in a breath, hand going to his throat and he couldn’t breathe! He heard a scraping sound and then a hand on his and he flinched away.

“Peter, you’re fine! Look at me, baby. It’s May,” a familiar voice said. His eyes snapped toward her, and immediately slumped down in relief when he realized it was his Aunt May. She pulled his hand gently away from his throat, fingers soothing away the scratch marks he’d made on himself in his frantic struggle.

“Wha-?” Peter tried to speak, felt a catch in his throat and coughed harshly. The mask over his face fogged up, but he had enough experience with his asthma to know he needed it so didn’t remove it. Peter dreaded to think of how many hours she was missing of work, since his Medicaid would pay for his hospital bills. It was just that it didn’t always pay for all his medicines, and May ended up paying some of it out of pocket. “M’sorry,” he whimpered, hating to be such a burden to her.

May smiled wanly, brushing back a few curls from his face. “It’s alright, baby. We’ll make it somehow. Besides, Chris will help us, you’ll see.”

Peter tried not to let his mood sour at the mention of the man, and instead gave a nod, glad the mask covered most of his face. He might not like the man, but he helped the burden on May. Besides, she was happy with him, and that’s all that mattered.

As he settled back on the bed, feeling his eyes grow heavy, a memory of floating over his body came to him.

‘Huh, that was some dream’, Peter thought.

Although, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had felt so real.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

 April 04, 2015

Peter sighed as he came into the apartment, his whole body feeling lethargic and heavy. He wanted to just get in bed and sleep, but he had been sleeping for two days already and he was tired of it. The teenager had thought they could spend some time together; just his aunt and himself.

“Get the door, May,” Christopher called, and the woman pulled open the door as the man entered carrying Peter’s bag and several bags of groceries in the other. They’d stopped to buy them on the way home, where Peter had been forced to stay in the car since he was still on oxygen and it would have been a hassle to carry the small tank inside the supermarket. So, Peter had stayed in the car and tried not to feel too bitter about it.

Now, it seemed like they wouldn’t have some time alone either, seeing as Chris started to help May unpack the groceries. Peter pulled off the mask, sick and tired of having to cart around the small oxygen tank. Besides, he needed to make sure not to use it all up before the end of the month, which still had two weeks left. “I can... help,” Peter said, wanting to feel useful.

“I got it, bud,” Christopher said as he grabbed up the bags Peter tried to get to help with. “Why don’t you go take a shower and I’ll come set up your nighttime treatment.”

Peter grimaced at that, since he didn’t want to have his nighttime treatment when it was barely 7:30 pm. He was not going to bed that early, no matter what anyone said. “It’s early still,” he argued, coughing a moment later.

God, he hated having these weak lungs.

“That decides it,” Chris said, motioning toward the bathroom. Peter might have been acting childish or immature, but he hated that the man acted like he had any right to order him around, like he was his uncle or his dad. He wasn’t.

“Alright, how about we watch a movie?” May said, stepping between the sullen teenager and her boyfriend. “Peter, you go take a shower while I make the popcorn and Chris sets up the movie. It can be a cheesy horror movie, like Sharknado.”

Peter nodded with a grin, his bad mood quickly vanishing. “You know, Sharknado isn’t too bad, as long as you don’t take it too seriously,” he said, rushing off. He wanted to hurry in taking his shower so he could get back and maybe sit next to May on the loveseat, their usual spot when watching movies before.

He considered it a win when he was able to plop onto the loveseat when coming back from his shower. May pulled him closer for a cuddle instead of telling him to let Chris have his seat. The teenager settled to watch the bad movie, sharing a bowl of popcorn with his aunt.

The movie was bad but entertaining, and he snuggled against his aunt as they watched. This was nice.

He didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep, until he was suddenly looking down at himself. It seemed May hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep either, until Chris pointed it out.

“Should I put him to bed?” the man asked May. Peter didn’t like the idea of being carried like a child by the man, and hoped May let him stay right there.

“Yes, that’s probably best,” she told him. Peter frowned as he watched the man lift him up like he weighed nothing, and since he couldn’t do sports to gain any muscle, he probably did weigh nothing.

Peter grumbled as he floated out of the man’s way, starting to get the hang of moving around. He wasn’t paying attention and realized too late that he was going to hit the wall, and his arms lifted to protect his head. Peter cried out instinctively, but he didn’t hit it... he went through the wall.

 ‘Holy shit!’

He flapped his arms around as he was suddenly in the hallway, and then passed through so he was in the apartment next door, where a young couple and their one year old daughter lived. They were gathered around the table, playing some board game as the little girl giggled. “Ally won!” the little girl cried. The man and woman cheered, lifting her up as she squealed happily.

“And now it’s time to get ready for bed,”  the woman declared.

Peter moved on when he was able to get the hang of moving through the air, glancing back a moment and thought he saw the little girl waving at him, but then he’d gone through the wall of the apartment next to them. He realized too late that it was the twin’s apartment, and he was suddenly in a bedroom.

There were posters of One Direction and other bands he wasn’t familiar with. He turned around as he heard a rustling and he squeaked when he saw that it was Hailey, the girl of the duo, and she was starting to change after having clearly taken a shower judging by the towel she started to pull off.

‘I’m so sorry!’ he cried even if she couldn’t seem to see or hear Peter, one hand lifting up to cover his eyes as he used that other to rush through the wall. He was in the hallway a moment before he passed through the opposite wall into the room there. That room turned out to be the bathroom, which was being used.

A head popped out of the shower, hair wet with water and Peter was dismayed to realize it was Riley, the male twin. And he was in the shower, naked and wet! “Hailey! You finished all the hot water, you asshole!”

“Deal with it!” Hailey’s muffled voice yelled back.

Riley grumbled about annoying sisters and his head disappeared back inside the shower. Peter figured it was a good idea to leave now, before he invaded Riley’s privacy like some pervert. Maybe it was time to go back to his own apartment. Besides, he felt a bit... sick? Which was strange, since he usually didn’t feel anything besides emotions. Then again, this was just a dream. Wasn’t it?

He found his body in the bed, mask for his nighttime treatment strapped to his face and he felt even sicker now. It was probably that he hated the feel of the medicine and that’s why he felt sick? Maybe next time he went exploring he’d leave the building, even if it felt scary. There was a fuzzy quality to everything, like everything was being seen through a filter, or perhaps a cloud. Also, everything not in his immediate area faded away into darkness. Almost like it ceased to exist.

For now, he floated over to his body as he closed his eyes. After feeling a sensation like falling and falling, everything went dark.    

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Peter moaned as he woke up, the taste of the medicine in his mouth, coating his throat and it was in his nose. He yanked the mask off his face, wincing since his face felt tender from where the straps had been digging into his skin. Peter felt shaky when he stood, feeling like gravity was weighing even heavier than usual on his body. He barely made it to the bathroom before he was heaving, throwing up the popcorn he’d had earlier. The teenager wasn’t even sure what time it was, but since his aunt didn’t come running to see what the matter was, she must have gone to work.

“Peter, is that you, bud?” he heard Christopher ask, realizing that May must have left him watching over him while she left for her shift. There was a light knock on the bathroom door. “Do you need help?”

He was feeling like crap and even if he knew it wasn’t the man’s fault, he didn’t want his help. “No, go away,” he croaked, his body heaving again but he’d already thrown up the little bit he’d eaten, so it was mostly stomach bile.

The door opened as he was washing out his mouth, and he would have scoffed at the man not listening to him if he’d had any strength left. His medicine had never caused him to get sick like this before, so he wasn’t in the best of moods.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” Chris said, voice almost gentle. He didn’t know why he didn’t like the man, but he... just couldn’t like him. There was something about him that Peter couldn’t put his finger on that made him dislike him. Maybe he was being unfair or childish, but he couldn’t help it.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, shrugging off his hand as he shuffled back to bed. He climbed back into his twin bed, the mattress already old and a bit too small. Peter just refused to ask for another, since it wasn’t a necessity. He was fine with this for now, and didn’t want to burden May asking for another, bigger bed.

“Maybe I should give you another treatment,” Chris said, glancing at the nighttime machine.

Peter grimaced at the thought of feeling the medicine coating his throat, mouth and inside his nose again and his stomach protested it. “No,” he said as he shook his head, “I’m fine.” Peter knew he wouldn’t get away with not having the treatment again tomorrow night, but at least for tonight, he wanted to be free of it.

Chris hesitated, before he nodded. “Until tomorrow then,” he said, that smile on his face he hated so much. Peter didn’t understand why he hated it, hated Christopher. Maybe he should give him a chance? After all, he’s the reason they had gotten this newer machine practically for free.

“Yeah... thanks, Chris,” he muttered, pulling his blankets up to his chin.

The man paused as he’d been about to leave and after a moment he turned with a smile. “It’s no problem. I want to help you and your aunt.” He pulled the door closed. “Sweet dreams, Peter.”

Peter’s room was plunged into darkness and he curled up under the blanket. He closed his eyes and hoped he was able to fly away again in his dreams. It was nice being able to get away from his weak body and the problems that brought him and his aunt.

So, he flew away in his dreams, that felt more real than they should be.-

[pastelwitchling]

This prompt request is courtesy of @arketson.

Hey! I’m happy to hear you’re taking prompts :) I had this idea for a while after Carina said that Michael used to work on a farm. What if Alex gets back to Roswell in between his deployments, and say he’s driving somewhere for whatever reason and his car breaks down. He tries to find help at the nearest farm which just so happens to be the one where Michael works :) angst/sexy times ensue. I hope you get inspired!

***

It was a dark and stormy night when Michael saw Alex again. Michael had seen the smoke rising in the distance, a sign of car trouble, long before he heard a knock at the door. He just never thought he would open it to Alex Manes on the other side, looking five years older than the last time he’d seen him, and a lot more agitated.

At the sight of Michael, Alex’s face fell, and his hand, which had been running through his windswept hair, fell to his side. For a moment, Michael thought he was imagining Alex, or that maybe he was dreaming, as he often did, that the Manes man had come back to him for good. But Alex blinked as if he himself wasn’t sure who he was staring at, and he said, “Guerin?”

Michael swallowed, reaching forward. Alex watched with curious eyes as Michael touched his shoulder and immediately pulled back, as if he’d just touched fire.

“You’re real,” he breathed. “Alex, you’re actually here.”

Alex huffed a chuckle, his brows furrowed. “I can’t believe this, it’s really you.”

“It’s really me,” Michael shook his head, not knowing what else to say. “Uh – thank you for your –”

“Please, don’t,” Alex held a hand up, “don’t thank me.” He smiled, though Michael noticed something similar to anger and discomfort flicker in his eyes.

               He stared, then said, “So I was right then, wasn’t I? Your dad forced you to enlist?”

               Alex looked startled, then shook his head. “Look, my car broke down,” he pointed at the tower of smoke, “just over there, and my phone’s dead. Would it be okay to use yours to call a tow truck?”

               Michael had stayed glued to the doorframe, not trusting himself to move any closer to Alex. When he had touched his shoulder, he’d nearly abandoned all sense of personal space then for the favor of hugging the airman closely to his chest. But as Alex raised a brow at him, Michael realized he was waiting for an answer, and without thinking, he stepped outside, his eyes on him.

               “You know, I’m actually kind of a mechanic, I could take a look at it for you, if you want?”

               Alex blinked. “Uh – really? Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”

               Michael nodded, and they made their way to the car, Michael looking over his shoulder every so often, making sure Alex was still there. It was stupid, to think he would vanish so suddenly, but he was still trying to process having him there with him at all.

               “So,” Michael cleared his throat, “Air Force, huh? I heard you’ve been rising in the ranks pretty quickly.”

               “I’m smart,” was all Alex said.

               “Air Force, though? Isn’t that what your dad’s doing?”

               “You been following up on me, Guerin?” he said, avoiding Michael’s gaze.

               “You really don’t like people talking about it, do you? Your job.”

               “Not while I’m off duty,” Alex sighed, finally catching Michael’s eyes. “I’d rather not think about it.”

               “Off duty,” Michael repeated. “So, what, they’ll be deploying you soon?”

               “Sometime tomorrow,” he said, and Michael stopped.

               “Seriously?”

               Alex’s expression softened. “I got here yesterday, Guerin, I swear. I was never going to have a lot of time.”

               Michael looked away. “Why do they want you back so soon?”

               Alex smirked humorlessly, shrugging a shoulder. “I told you. I’m smart.”

               “I didn’t know you were that smart,” Michael said, then shut his eyes. “Damn, I didn’t mean it like that.”

               “No, I know, it’s okay. I know I didn’t exactly look like a military captain in high school,” Alex chuckled, and Michael resisted the urge to step closer. It’d been so long since he’d heard Alex laugh, and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the sound until right now. He must’ve been staring though, because Alex’s smile soon died down, and he cleared his throat. “So, you have a farm now?”

               “No,” Michael said after a moment, continuing on to the car. “The owner needs someone to look after the place. He’s out of town a lot, so he lets me stay over while I work.”

               “Do you, like, chop firewood shirtless and stuff?”

               Michael smirked, looking over his shoulder. “You flirting with me, Private?”

               Alex smiled softly, and Michael felt a warmth blooming in his chest. “I thought you’d gotten a full ride to UNM.”

               Michael raised a brow. “I thought you’d wanted to make music.”

               He stared, then nodded. “Fair enough.”

               When they got close enough to the car, Michael held an arm out, keeping Alex at a distance. “Careful,” he said, “that smoke looks like it’ll burn your lungs.”

               “Guerin, I think I’ll be fine,” he said, amused, and before Michael could stop him, Alex pushed past his arm and opened the car hood. He hurried forward to help as more smoke rose out, but Alex had had the lower half of his face covered with his arm, his eyes narrowed, and Michael realized that the airman really hadn’t needed his help. He felt guilty for being upset about that.

               He snapped out of his thoughts when Alex called his name, and he came to his side, fanning the smoke out of their faces, at the same time using his powers.

               “Strong arm,” Alex said with surprise when the smoke before them suddenly cleared, and Michael shrugged.

               “I work out a lot,” he said, and tried to ignore the blush in his cheeks as his eyes caught Alex’s. He leaned down, examining the engine, and as he had suspected, Alex’s problem had a simple solution.

               “Is it serious?” Alex asked, his arms crossed. “I want to make it back before the storm hits.”

               Michael looked up at the sky, surprised at himself for having nearly forgotten the dark clouds. He was about to reassure Alex that there was no problem at all, that all he had to do was refill his radiator, and he would be good to go. But as he opened his mouth, he found that the words refused to leave his throat. He swallowed. What’s wrong with me?

               But he knew. The truth was, if Alex managed to get his car working, he would leave, and Michael had no idea when and if he would ever see him again after that. He tapped his fingers against the car a moment, deliberating what to say when he looked up and caught Alex’s expectant gaze.

               Before he could help it, Michael said, “Sorry, Private, looks like this job’s gonna take a lot of time, and there are a few things you’ll need replaced, which means a lot of money, too.”

               Alex’s shoulders slumped, his face fallen, and Guerin almost felt bad until the airman said, “I’m leaving soon, I can’t waste my time dealing with this.”

               “Well, hey,” Michael said, pretending to survey the car again, poking and prodding the engine for effect, “I think I might have exactly what you need in my truck. I could give them to you, if you want.”

               Alex blinked. “But… if the parts are so expensive –”

               “No, I said having them all replaced at an auto-shop would be expensive. I would do it for free.”

               “Why would you do that?”

Because I want you to stay with me longer, he thought. Because I still can’t believe you’re here, and I need more time with you. Because I’m terrified that if you leave now, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering where you are and what had happened to you.

But he refrained. Alex had spoken warily, watching Michael carefully as if expecting him to suddenly pull out a gun and start firing at him. Michael couldn’t help but think of that one instance in the tool shed, when it had been Michael wary of Alex’s kindness. Alex had seemed so sure that people could be good then, and while Michael himself never believed it, the fact that Alex did had always been a comfort to him.

               Part of him wanted to take Alex’s arms, his grip tight, and ask what Jesse had done to him, but the other part, the one that had lived through too much and been broken down too many times, said, “Call it payment for that guitar.”

               Alex’s frown deepened, glancing at Michael’s left hand. “I think you’ve paid enough for that.”

               Michael moved his hand behind his hip, hiding it from Alex’s view. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

               Alex blinked at Michael as if he’d just realized something, and he tilted his head. “You’re a miserable liar.”

               “Alex, I can fix your car,” he said instead, hoping that Alex would at least accept the truth in that, “but it’s gonna take some time, and there’s a storm starting soon, so whatever your decision is, better make it quick.”

               As if on cue, the sky thundered loudly. Michael and Alex barely had time to look up before fat drops of rain hit the earth, and Michael was leading Alex back inside. The storm strengthened very quickly, and by the time Michael had closed the farmhouse door behind him, they were both soaked, the rain hitting the porch loudly outside.

               Michael tossed off his shoes and was about to offer to light the fireplace when his eyes caught Alex, and he faltered. The airman had gained muscle, his soaked Air Force shirt revealing the outline of his chest, his abs, his sex line, and Michael nearly took a step towards him. He hadn’t felt such a strong desire to touch someone since he was a teenager, when Alex had first attempted to kiss him. He wanted more than anything now to kiss Alex again, to run his hands up his shirt, and feel every inch of his skin.

               “Guerin?” Alex suddenly said, and Michael was yanked out of his thoughts.

               “Hm?”

               Michael had a feeling Alex could read his mind because he suddenly looked away blushing. “Uh,” he cleared his throat, “I-I was just asking where the bathroom was. To dry off.”

               “Right, yeah,” he pointed to a corridor and said, “down that hall, last door on the right.” Alex nodded, and as he passed, Michael blurted. “Just start taking your clothes off.”

               Alex stopped, his brows furrowed. When Michael – too late – realized how the words had come out, he stammered, “I-I mean, I’m – I’m gonna, you know, get you something dry to wear.”

               The airman said nothing as he pursed his lips awkwardly and left the room. As soon as Michael heard the bathroom door close, his eyes fell shut and he silently cursed himself. “Start taking your clothes off…” he muttered, shaking his head.

               He hurried to his truck outside, grabbed some of his own clothes, sniffing them to make sure they were clean, and came back inside with the thought of Alex in his shirt, his pants – Alex smelling like him. He came to wait outside the bathroom door, careful not to make a sound, and he tried to remember what Alex smelled like. He leaned against the wall beside the door, his eyes falling shut, his cold, damp shirt sticking to his skin doing nothing to cool his heated thoughts.

               Five years ago. It seemed like a lifetime and no time at all since Michael last touched Alex, last held him close. Michael still remembered the feeling of Alex’s hot skin beneath his fingertips, his muscles compliant to Michael’s touch. He remembered the way Alex writhed and moaned underneath him, the way he giggled when Michael nuzzled against his neck, the way he’d smelled of… of…

               Michael’s eyes opened. He couldn’t remember, and he knew that once Alex left, he wouldn’t have the chance to.

               “Alex,” he said before he could help himself.

               The shuffling inside the bathroom stopped, and Alex said, “Yeah?”

               “You asked me if I was keeping tabs on you,” he swallowed. “I was.”

               There was a moment of silence, then, “I know, Guerin.”

               “I missed you.”

               “I missed you, too.”

               “Any idea where you’ll be going?”

               “Not yet.”

               Michael rested his forehead on the door. “You scared?”

               A pause. “Not anymore,” he said, as if it was supposed to be a kind of comfort to Michael. Don’t worry, he could almost hear him say. My entire life’s been a war. I’ve gone numb to it all.

               Michael’s hand tightened to a fist against the door. He didn’t want Alex to be numb. He didn’t want him to leave with the same nothing in his chest that he’d come with. He didn’t want him to leave at all.

               “Kiss me,” he said, and after a moment, Alex opened the door, confused.  He was wearing only his jeans, his chest bare, and as Michael raked his entire body, he found he felt no remorse at his words, no embarrassment – only the desire to whisper them again into Alex’s ear.

               “Guerin, did you just –”

               “You heard me, Private,” he closed the distance between then, holding Alex’s face in his hands. “Kiss me.”

               Before Alex could say anything, Michael took his lips in his. Alex made a startled noise in the back of his throat, but soon relaxed into Michael’s hold. His arms came around the cowboy’s waist, bringing their bodies flush against one another.

               Michael pushed them back, one hand coming around Alex’s head to protect him as they hit the wall. “Guerin,” Alex whispered before Michael was devouring his mouth again, reveling in the moans that escaped Alex’s lips.

               “Alex,” he breathed as their foreheads rested together, and Michael stepped back just enough to take his own shirt off. Alex’s eyes turned dark as he ran his hands down Michael’s chest.

               “You’ve gotten hairy,” he said, his voice deep and hoarse. Michael bit his lower lip as he leaned even closer to Alex, bringing the airman’s hands lower. He took Alex’s lower lip in his teeth, moaning breathily as Alex’s fingers scratched past his stomach, digging into his bellybutton, following the trail of hair down, down, down until they stopped at Michael’s belt.

               Michael couldn’t take it. He grinded into Alex, their clothed cocks rubbing against one another as Michael pushed his tongue into Alex’s mouth, kissing him hungrily. Alex’s hands came up to his jaw, holding their heads together, while Michael’s hands moved to Alex’s lower back as he slammed his hips into his.

               They moaned into each other’s mouths, and Michael stepped back, their lips making a beautifully wet sound as they separated. He pulled Alex with him out of the bathroom, into the living room, and before Alex could say his name, Michael pushed the airman down on the couch and climbed over him, kissing up his stomach and chest.

               Maple syrup and wood, Michael thought as he came up to Alex’s neck, inhaling his scent. That was what Alex smelled like. His hold on Alex’s waist tightened. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten.

               “Alex,” he breathed as he slowly grinded into the airman, pressing a kiss to his ear, then his cheek, then the corner of his lips. Alex raked his fingers through Michael’s curls, fitting their mouths together, wet and passionate and desperate. Desperate to touch each other, to hold each other, to mark each other so deeply that when they did have to separate, they would still feel each other after.

               Michael tried not to think of that moment, of Alex leaving his side, and he grinded down harder, their kisses open-mouthed as they groaned and panted. Eventually, Michael had enough strength to stop kissing Alex and work on removing his pants, Alex unbuckling his own.

               When Michael pushed himself into Alex, the two breathed heavily, their foreheads remained pressed together, their hold on each other tight and bruising. Michael’s thrusts were rough and quick, then they were slow and sensual, then they were desperate and pleading. He tried to save every moment to his memory – the way their sweaty bodies slid perfectly against one another, the way he fit against Alex’s hips, the sting of Alex’s nails as they scratched lines down his back, the sheer pleasure that came with every thrust, every touch, every kiss.

               The sky had gone pitch black outside on account of the storm, the rain still pouring down heavily as they lay together, Alex curled against Michael’s chest, Michael’s arm around Alex, keeping him warm and close.

               His other hand lightly brushed Alex’s hair from his forehead. “Your hair’s gotten longer.”

               Alex closed his eyes, leaning into Michael’s touch with a sigh. “Yeah, I was ordered to get it cut as soon as possible, but I keep putting it off.”

               Michael’s smile turned small. “I don’t like anybody ordering you to do anything.”

               Alex opened his eyes, and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Michael’s lips. “I’m okay, Guerin. Really.” He swallowed, seemingly hesitant before he said, “I should be asking if you’re okay.”

               “What do you mean?” he brushed his thumb against Alex’s jaw, and Alex’s expression softened as he took Michael’s hand in his – the hand that his own father had maimed, the hand that Michael – though he couldn’t tell Alex – could’ve had healed at any time, but chose to keep disfigured.

               “Alex –”

               “You don’t have to pretend that you’re okay with what happened,” Alex said. “I know you’re not.” He shook his head, and Michael felt Alex’s hold on his hand tighten slightly. “I’ve seen people fight, and I’ve seen them come back broken, parts of them missing. I’m not scared to die, Guerin. I… I’ve come close, and I’ve felt… nothing –”

               “Don’t talk like that –”

               “—It’s the truth,” Alex said, and something in Michael shattered because he knew, right then, that Alex meant it. “But I am scared that I’ll come back… different.” Alex huffed, his brows furrowed, “That’s a dumb thing to be afraid of. Everyone changes.”

               Michael inhaled a shaky breath, taking Alex’s face in his hands. “Don’t go back, Alex. Stay here, stay with me.”

               “Guerin, I can’t –”

               “I’ll figure things out. I’ll get another job, I’ll make enough money to take care of us both. I’ll keep you safe.”

               Alex’s brows furrowed, his eyes glistening even in the dark, though an amused smile played at his lips, as if he just realized something. “My car’s fine, isn’t it?”

               Michael swallowed. “Gallon of water in your radiator, and you’re good to go.” He moved them so that he was hovering over Alex, his leg thrown over both of Alex’s, keeping him in place. “Don’t go.”

               Alex searched his face, then tilted his head up, catching Michael’s lips in his. “Please, Guerin, please, just…” he breathed, bringing Michael’s hand to his chest, “just touch me.”

               Michael stared, Alex’s heart racing against his fingertips, though whether that was because of lust or fear or something else, Michael didn’t know. Still, just as when they were younger, Michael found it impossible to resist him. So he did as he was asked. He kissed him, held him, allowing himself to be swept away in Alex’s touch, his scent, his lips.

               Before he left the next morning, after an early phone call in which he responded in a way Michael never thought he would hear Alex Manes, the punk kid with the guitar, speak, Michael refused to see him. He turned around on the couch, his back to Alex as the airman got dressed in his own clothes, now dried, the sun shining through the windows. Alex had tried touching Michael’s shoulder, to get him to turn around, to look at him, but Michael couldn’t. Not this time.

               His heart sunk in his chest as he heard the door shut behind him, and when he heard Alex’s car drive by, he felt himself about to be sick. He gasped, jumping off the couch, and ran outside, calling Alex’s name, begging him to come back. He had been wrong, he wanted to see him, to tell him how he felt, to tell him that he’d stay in Roswell, that he’d wait for him… but when he got outside, Alex’s car was out of sight, and he was too late.

***

I’m so sorry this took so long! I’m super grateful for your prompt, but I’m going to be honest, I struggled with it. I’m fairly happy with the end result though, and I really hope it’s good compared to what you had in mind. I have one more prompt to work on, which I will probably have out today, but if anyone liked this piece, and would like to submit a prompt, I’m still taking! So please, do drop into my inbox, and let me know what you’d like to see me write.

I hope you enjoyed reading, and that you are having an awesome day/night/afternoon 💖