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topguncortez · 1 year

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The Professor | Chapter 7

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synopsis: You meet Bradley, who just so happens to be Jake's friend, while hiding from Jake. Jake decides to wave the white flag in the gift of Orange Roses.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: age gap, power imbalance, mentions of sex, Jake calls College girl a slut, mentions of parental death, feelings.

The blank doc that sat on your computer screen was mocking you. It was ridiculing you and your stupid brain for thinking it was ever a good idea to start sleeping with your professor. It was making fun of the fact that you couldn’t put a single thought towards this essay assignment that was due, the only thing running in your mind was the harsh words Jake had spoken to you. You groaned and pushed your laptop away, and drank down the whiskey that was sitting in front of you.

“Bad day?” The bartender asked, as he refilled your glass.

“Bad fucking semester,” You mumbled and took a sip of the brown liquid.

“What’s your major?”

“English,” You said and he nodded. He was rather cute, curly brown hair, honey brown eyes and a mustache on his face. His eyes looked you up and down, and a sudden surge of confidence filled your body. You sat up a bit in your seat, and closed your laptop, “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Bradley but everyone calls me Rooster,” He said and held his hand out to you, “Care to tell me why you’re sitting in my bar at 10 o’clock at night, doing homework on a monday drinking whiskey? Wait. . . let me guess. . . boy problems?”

“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner,” You smiled and raised your glass towards him. Bradley raised his arms in celebration which caused you to giggle.

“So, out with it. Tell Doctor Bradley what brings you in today.”

You chuckled again, and crossed your arms over your chest, “I read the situation wrong, and he made fun of me for it, now we aren’t talking.”

“What a dickhead,” Bradley said, and poured himself a drink, and then placed a glass of water in front of you. You nodded in thanks and took a sip, “Do you think it scared him? And that’s why he laughed?”

“I really don’t know,” You simply shrugged. And it was the truth, you really didn’t know what had happened in that hour or so you were asleep. The only conversation you have had with Jake since that night was strictly school related, and even then, it was short, strained answers.

“Well, I think he’s an absolute idiot for that,” Bradley leaned over the bar, getting closer to you. You licked your lips and looked at him. His eyes were a perfect mix of light and dark brown, the swirls in his orbs pulling you in closer, “I’m done in five. . . I can take you home?”

“I’d like that,” You said and Bradley smiled at you. You watched him walk away and go over to another bartender, telling her something. You gathered your laptop and put it in your backpack, and glanced down at your phone. You rolled your eyes seeing a message from Jake.

‘I need you tonight.’

You smirked as your fingers tapped on the characters on the screen: ‘Can’t.’

“You’re in luck, I can bounce early,” Bradley said, now on the other side of the bar. He held his arm out for you to take, and you wrapped your hand around his bicep, and walked out of the bar.

Jake’s green eyes were still locked on the message that you had sent him last night. Just one simple word ‘can’t’. It gave a clear answer, but it was unlike you. Usually, if you couldn’t come over you gave an explanation, never just a one word answer. But he guessed, it was what he deserved after the way he kicked you out the other night. Jake sighed and leaned back in his desk chair, the words he had said sat heavily on his mind.

After you had left in near tears, Jake retreated to his bathroom, and slammed the door shut. He didn’t even bother to watch to make sure you got to your car safely, or send his ‘text me when you get home’ message like he usually did. Instead, the words that his sister Nancy had said replayed over and over in his mind like a broken record. He had thought when he told them that family time was over, that his mother and sisters had left, but Nancy decided to stay. She poured herself a glass of wine and was waiting in the kitchen for Jake to come down.

“She’s an energetic little thing isn’t she,” Nancy said, causing Jake to jump.

“Jesus, Nance, what the hell are you still doing here?” Jake asked. He walked over to the fridge and got himself a bottle of water for you and himself.

“Just want to talk to my baby brother,” Nancy shrugged.

“I’m a year younger,” Jake shot back, “And haven’t you said enough tonight.”

“No, I don’t think I have. Jacob, I am worried about you,” Jake scoffed and Nancy continued, “She’s young, Jake, very young. She doesn’t have what it takes to-”

“To be what? A future stay at home mom like you?” Jake said and Nancy clenched her jaw, “I’m aware that she’s young.”

“Then what are you doing with her? Do you love her, Jake?” Jake paused for a moment and looked up at his sister, “Oh my god. . . you do. . . But you told Amelia that she’s just-”

“I know what I told Amelia and I’m starting to fucking regret it,” Jake ran a hand down his face, “Look, you guys were never supposed to meet her or find out about her. But Mom started talking about Allison and saying how happy she looked when she saw her the other day and I just. . . I didn’t know what to say.”

“My god, Jake,” Nancy shook her head, “You need to end this with her, now.”

“What?” Jake questioned, “I just told you I love her and-”

“You don’t love her, Jacob,” Nancy laughed, “You lust for her. There’s a difference. She’s too young for you to love. Too immature. You’re probably another name on a list for her. Do you think you’re the only man that she lies next to? I mean come on. . . Jake, you’re not dumb. Girls like her. . . with parental issues. . . they will look for anyone who has money to take care of them. It would be smart for you if you-”

“Get out.” Jake snapped, “Get the fuck out of my house! Or so help me God, Nancy, I’ll fucking do it myself.”

Nancy gapped at her younger brother, but had seen the ugly side of him before and knew how he could be when he was angry. She nodded, and finished her wine before getting up from her chair. She grabbed her purse and brushed past Jake.

“But Jacob. . . you know I’m right about her,” Nancy said as she opened the door, “You may say you love her. . . but it’s not going to end well for either one of you.”

Jake clenched his jaw as he threw his phone across the room, tired of looking at that one worded message from you. He hated that Nancy’s words also had an effect on him. He knew that he had never told you that you couldn’t go out and see other guys, but he didn’t think you were. But he knew that it was probably dumb of him to think that you were exclusively his. That he was the only man you were touching, kissing, making love with. But Nancy was right, you were young, and beautiful, and energetic and also immature. You needed someone who was going to be able to match that. Not someone like him, who was probably going to work until he had a heart attack from yelling about Jane Austen.

With a sigh, Jake got up from his desk, and walked over to where his phone lay on the ground. Surprisingly the screen wasn’t cracked, but there was a snapchat message from Rooster. Jake hated the app, he thought it was dumb. The only reason he had it was because Nancy, Liz and Kathelene liked to send snaps of their kids. And occasionally you would send him a snap throughout the day as well. Jake clicked on the message from Rooster and immediately regretted it.

He would recognize that thin cursive tattoo anywhere.

The tension in the office was thick, you could cut it with a knife. You sat on the far end, Jake on the other. He had gotten a desk delivered to the room so you had somewhere to properly sit instead of on the leather couch. You had even gone as far as to decorate it, adding some pictures of your friends, your parents, and even a small succulent. It was the first time since the night of meeting his mother that the two of you had sat in a room by yourselves. You had been to lecture, and Jake had tried to talk to you, but you were ignoring him, still angry about what he had done.

Jake, on the other hand, was thinking of different ways to try and start a conversation with you. The biggest thing he wanted to ask was what you had done with Bradley. The picture of your bareback had been etched into his eyelids since he had seen it. And the snaps of you didn’t stop there, he had gotten another one from Bradley the other morning, and it was of you putting on your shoes by his front door. Jake knew that he had no right to be mad, that there wasn’t any possible way that you knew that Bradley was his friend, but he still didn’t like the fact that you had slept with him.

You were typing away at your computer when your phone went off, a loud ding cutting through the tense air. Jake looked over at you, watching as you cracked a smile at the message and typed something back. You put your phone down for a second, only for it to go off again. And again you picked it up, read it and smiled, putting it back down and another ding.

“Can you put your phone on silent?” Jake finally said, breaking the tension.

“No,” You answered back, right as your phone went off yet again.

“It’s fucking distracting.”

“Okay.”

Jake groaned, “Are you going to be this fucking childish the whole time?” You didn’t say anything, which made Jake’s blood pressure rise. He swore he was going to be diagnosed with hypertension sometime soon, “I’m fucking talking to you!”

“No, you are yelling at me,” You said, “Talk to me like an adult, and I might answer.”

“God,” Jake rolled his eyes and ran a hand down his face.

The silence filled the room once again as you both returned to your projects before your phone went off. Jake couldn’t stand it, standing up and charging over to your desk, snatching the phone off before you could grab it.

“Give it back,” You demanded. Jake’s green eyes took in the sight of the message notifications from Rooster on your lockscreen. He clenched his jaw and handed your phone back, “You had no right to-”

“You’re fucking my best friend.”

“What the hell did you just say to me?”

“Rooster, the man you’re slutting it up with via text, is my best friend.”

“I’m not fucking him,” You shook your head, “And it’s none of your fucking business if I am! We aren’t dating, we aren’t together. I can fuck and see and date whoever the hell I want to fuck or see or date.”

“The hell you fucking can!” Jake yelled.

“And why not?” You took a step forward, standing toe to toe with him. He looked down at you, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Jake grabbed your waist, pulling you in and smashing his lips to yours. You pushed him away, and slapped him.

“What the fuck?” He asked, holding his red cheek.

“No, you what the fuck!” You yelled, “You don’t get to kiss me after the shit that you fucking pulled the other night.”

“You fucked my best-”

“I didn’t fuck him!” You screamed. Your chest heaved in anger as you started to pace the floor in front of your desk, “If you must fucking know, I didn’t fuck Bradley, okay, I literally slept next to him. I was at the bar, and he took me home and he invited me in for a drink. We watched a movie and fell asleep next to him.”

“You slept next to him?”

“Yes.” Jake suddenly felt like a dick, his anger somewhat subsiding, “And it shouldn’t fucking matter what I do. I am not yours.”

“I care about you.”

“But do you?” You asked. Jake felt like he had gotten punched in the gut by your words. Of course Jake cared for you, he considered you as a friend. He knew Bradley, and knew that you could do better than Bradley. Bradley didn’t have any big goals in life, other than running a bar. You had dreams, ambitions, things you wanted to see and do.

“I care about you, Y/N, and I want what's best for you.”

“Then you should be okay with me seeing Bradley.” Jake looked away from you, “Bradley is nice, and I want to get to know him.”

Jake knew that he should be okay with you wanting to get to know Bradley, but something deep within him was not okay with it. He knew that the words that left his mouth were harsh and he regretted them, but he didn’t know what else to say. He was too scared of his own feelings and wanted to push them away, to completely forget about the burning in his chest.

“My sister was right. . . You are just a slut with daddy issues.”

Jake watched as your face fell, and your eyes filled with tears. He wanted to move, to grab you and hold you and apologize profusely. But instead, he watched as you quickly grabbed your stuff. You brushed past him, purposely hitting your shoulder against his.

“Call me when you decide to stop acting like a little bitch.”

— — —

The day you met Lucy was one of those memories you looked back on often. You had done a random roommate assignment for your freshman year. Zeke had advised you to live in the dorms your first year, so you could meet some new friends. He loved you like a sister, and was ready to help you and watch out for you as you navigate your first year on your own, but he also wanted to see you prosper and meet new people. You hadn’t met Lucy prior to moving in, but when you knocked on your door, and a girl with bright red hair opened it, you knew right away you were going to be best friends.

Lucy knew everything about you, she could tell your mood from a mile away. So when you came home from class one day and went straight to your room, she knew something was wrong. She had let you have the night to yourself, letting you wallow in your sadness and listen to Taylor Swift at max volume. She gave you your space, making sure to keep an eye on you waiting for the moment when you needed her. Lucy was also privy to the emotional date that was fastly approaching.

You and Lucy didn’t talk about your parents’ deaths. It wasn’t necessarily a topic that came up in passing conversations. Lucy only knew because you had a panic attack during a bonfire one night freshman year. Zeke had been there and was able to help you through it, while Lucy watched with tears in her eyes. Zeke had told Lucy that night about the fire that claimed your parents' lives.

Currently, Lucy and Zeke were sitting on the couch, watching an episode of The Good Doctor, partially paying attention to the laughter and conversation that was flooding in from the kitchen. It was the third night in a row that you had Rooster over. Lucy didn’t mind it at first, kind of happy that your sour mood had started to improve. You didn’t tell her or Zeke what had transpired the night of Jake’s dinner fiasco, nor did you tell them about the fight that went down between him and you in his office. But Lucy also knew this mode of destruction. You got this way every single year.

“Luce? Can you get that?!” You called out as the doorbell rang.

“Yeah!” Lucy said, getting off the couch and walking towards the door. Zeke smirked and slapped her ass as she walked by, “Hey!” She scolded and Zeke held his hands up in defense.

Your laughter rang out again as Lucy opened the door. She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked at the bouquet of orange roses sitting on the doorstep with a card attached. Kneeling down, Lucy reached for the card which had your name scrawled across it. On the back of the card in fancy print were the initials ‘J. T. S’ and Lucy knew exactly who the flowers were from. She sighed, picking up the bouquet.

“Orange Roses,” Zeke said, standing up from the couch.

“Yep,” Lucy nodded and walked towards the kitchen, Zeke trailing behind her. They were met with the sight of Rooster standing in between your legs as you sat on the counter, kissing you. Lucy cleared her throat and Rooster pulled away from you.

“Flowers,” Lucy said, holding them up, “Orange Roses.”

“From who?” You asked.

“Secret admirer,” Zeke answered, as Lucy set them down on the counter near you. Your eyes locked on the bouquet and like always, Zeke knew what you were thinking, “Bradley, I uh. . . I think you should go.”

Bradley looked between you, Lucy and Zeke, before nodding. He leaned up and kissed your cheek, “I’ll call you tomorrow,” You nodded and Rooster squeezed your thigh. He grabbed his coat, swinging it over his shoulder as he walked past Lucy and Zeke, saying goodbye to them. Once the front door closed, Lucy spoke up.

“I don’t shame you, I really don’t,” Lucy started, “But whatever you are doing, you need to figure it out, cause the only person that’s going to get hurt is you. I’m not going to force you to tell me what happened between you and professor Seresin, but it’s not good to bottle it up. Especially with what’s coming up.”

“Do you think I’m fucked up? From losing my parents?”

“Did he fucking tell you that?” Zeke demanded, getting heated.

“No!” You exclaimed, “He didn’t say anything. . . his sisters did though.” You hopped off the counter and grabbed the bouquet, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Lucy sighed in defeat as you walked out of the kitchen, your footsteps retreating down the hall. Zeke walked over to his girlfriend, and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned against his chest and Zeke placed a kiss on the top of her head.

You were starting to think you had lost brain cells as you were sitting in your car outside of Jake’s house. Actually, no, you knew that you had lost some brain cells because of the fact that you were sitting outside of Jake’s house. But you couldn’t sleep, not with the large bouquet of Orange Roses sitting on your desk. You didn’t even read the card that came with it, you weren’t sure if you could bring yourself to do it. You had been sitting in your car on the street for nearly twenty minutes, talking yourself up for going up to the door.

“Alright, don’t be a bitch,” You took a deep breath, and opened your car door. You had prepared your speech on the way over, to thank him for the flowers and to make him actually talk to you. You were tired of the ignoring game between the two of you. It was like walking on glass around each other. You hadn’t even crossed over the sidewalk yet when the front door opened. You froze in your spot as Jake stood there, looking at you.

“Why are you-”

“Thank you,” You said, “For the roses.”

Jake nodded his head slowly, “Enthusiasm and Energy. You said in one of your papers that your mother only planted and kept orange roses around for that reason.” You smiled and looked down at your feet. It was silent as you stood on the sidewalk. Jake closed the door and stepped out on the front porch. It was dark, except for the warm glow of the street lights, “My mother also likes orange roses.”

“Smart woman,” You nodded, “I uh. . . I should be going.”

“Or. . . , you could come in,” Jake offered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “Only if you want to.”

You thought about just turning around and going home. It was probably what you should’ve done. But instead, you walked towards Jake, his green eyes watching you the whole time. Jake held his hand out to you, and you took it, interlacing your fingers as he opened the door. The two of you walked up the stairs in silence, Jake’s hand never leaving yours. He pushed the bedroom door open, and you took in the sight of the orange roses sitting on his bedside table. It made your heart flutter as he let go of your hand, shutting the door softly.

“Got some for yourself?” You asked.

“I did,” Jake walked over to you, and wrapped his arms around your middle. You tilted your head, giving him access to your neck as he kissed your skin. Your knees buckled as he kissed the spot behind your ear, “I needed some color in here. . . something energetic.”

You turned around in his arms and wrapped your own around his neck and brought him in for a kiss. Jake walked the two of you backward, until your knees hit the bed. He gently laid your body down on the mattress, caressing your skin. It felt like deja vu, his gently yet rough hands on your body as he hiked your leg over his hip, and grinded his already hard length into your pelvis.

Every touch he bestowed on your body was carefully executed, just how it was a few nights ago. Jake took his time as he plowed into you, slow thrusts that hit all the right angles. The sounds you made were like an angel’s chorus, as sinful words dripped from his lips. He held you close, as if he was scared you’d disappear. He came deep inside of you, you could feel the hot release coating your womb. Jake rolled off of you, laying next to you breathless.

The second you felt your heartbeat start to stabilize, you rolled over, only for a hand to be wrapped around your wrist.

“I’m finding-“

“Stay,” Jake said, and you furrowed his eyebrows, “Hall pass. You got one, only fair that I get one.”

You didn’t say anything, as you laid back down beside him, and let his strong arms pull you into his embrace.

taglist: @zetasaturno99 @tallrock35 @bioodforbiood @mak-32 @cherrycola27@drunkangels @fuckyeahhangman @the-winter-marvel33 @oldnatgwenaccount @cm27078 @xoxabs88xox @paige-alexandra-may @ereardon @marantha @inkysun @bradleybeachbabe @manunitedgotbruno @mulletmcghee @moonvr @nagygreta @cherryobx @callsign-joyride @blue-aconite @books-for-summer @violyn20 @lilylilyyyyyy @p1nkbarbi3 @princessofglitterland @hallway5 @thedroneranger @chaoticweirdogeek @abaker74 @auroraboreallisfine @materialgirl01 @fandom-princess-forevermore @averyhotchner @thedaredevilsgirl @shelbycillian @currentlybradshaw @mavesiceroo @emptyloverofmine @lovingjakeseresin @thegoddessc @techni-coloured @shawnsblue @captainmarvels-blog

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crowleyscleaninglady · 6 months

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Y’all I could use some motivation to write. I’m staring at a blank word doc and it’s mocking me at this point

#why did I do this to myself #I love writing but right now the words aren’t wording properly #how do I get the words to word #ughhhhh #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens fanfic #good omens ao3

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vaguelyprophetic · 1 year

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It was a “5 things you didn’t say at all (stewy/roman)” post! It could just be a fault on my end but each time I click on keep reading it shows a blank page. If you still have it somewhere and would be willing to share I’d love to read it <3

OHHHH YES!!! that was a mini fic from a prompt list I had reblogged agessss ago. idk what happened to the actual post but I still have the draft in my docs!! so here you go :-)

5) Things you didn’t say at all

His therapist had told him he should try keeping a journal. Roman is one hundred percent sure that that’s some bullshit. He can barely bring himself to talk about his feelings with a professional, much less write them down and be forced to confront them by himself.

“Just give it a shot,” Dr. Rossi had told him. “A couple of weeks. Doesn’t matter how often you do it or how much you write, just that you write something, alright?”

Roman had reluctantly agreed, so now he’s sitting in front of his laptop, glaring at the empty word document in front of him.

They had agreed that he could type instead of writing it out. Actually writing in a journal feels a bit too fucking teenage girl for Roman’s taste. He’s not going to scribble his crush’s name in the margins and draw little hearts around it. He’s a grown ass man. He types shit. And it’s easier to hide shit on a computer. He doesn’t know where in the apartment he would hide a notebook that wouldn’t be at risk of being found. He knows Stewy wouldn’t go snooping, but he doesn’t know what excuse he could come up with to explain it. If he’s being forced to keep a journal, he would much rather have it on his laptop, buried six folders deep, the way he used to hide porn when he was a teenager.

This is stupid, he types. He deletes the last few letters, then thinks better of it. He’s supposed to be writing down whatever he feels. And he feels that this is stupid. He finishes the word again.

“What the fuck am I supposed to write about?” he had asked Dr. Rossi.

She had considered him carefully for a moment, as if she was trying to figure out how to explain it in a way that wouldn’t piss him off. She spends a lot of time in their sessions figuring out ways to explain things in ways that won’t piss him off.

“About how you’re feeling. What you’re thinking. Hell, you could even write about what you had for lunch. It’s just about getting words out of your brain and onto paper. Trust me. I think that once you get yourself to start, you’ll find that it actually feels good.”

Roman had stopped himself from saying that he highly doubted it.

The word document is mocking him.

I’m not going to talk about my feelings. That’s stupid. It doesn’t make any difference if I write things down or if I just think them. This is a stupid assignment.

Dr. Rossi hadn’t told him that he had to bring in the journal as proof. He kind of wants to, anyway, just to show her how fucking stupid it is.

“Maybe you can write about Stewy,” she had suggested.

Roman had scoffed at that, but now when he thinks about it, he thinks that maybe it’s not such a terrible idea. As long as Stewy will never see it. As long as no one will ever see it.

Stewy is okay. I like him. He’s fine.

He lets out a long sigh.

He’s always been really good at lying to himself.

He deletes the line and starts over.

I think I’m in love with Stewy.

Which shouldn’t be a big deal. It really shouldn’t. It’s NOT a big deal. That is something that happens to normal people. They fall in love, usually. Some people don’t. I didn’t think I would. Maybe I’m more normal than I thought I was. (Haha).

Roman taps his fingers lightly on the keys before he types: He makes me feel safe.

It feels stupider to see it in words. He doesn’t delete it.

He makes me feel like a real person. He makes me feel normal, sometimes. I guess as normal as I can be. He treats me like I’m normal. He doesn’t treat me like I’m broken or fucked up (even though he knows I am). He treats me the way I think you’re supposed to treat people you care about.

And, okay, yeah, this journal has already spiraled into teenage girl bullshit territory. Here he is, sitting in their bed—Stewy’s bed, he corrects himself—writing about his feelings. He almost wants to write Roman Hosseini as a joke. He doesn’t.

Okay so maybe I love him.

He asks the journal So what?, as if it’s judging him for the words he’s putting into it. Maybe it is. He definitely feels judged, but maybe that’s just him.

Maybe I love him.

I love him.

Seeing the words in writing doesn’t make it feel any different than it already felt. So he was right—take that, Dr. Rossi. Writing them down doesn’t make a goddamn difference.

He stares at the screen for a little while longer. The cursor is still blinking, waiting just past the period on the end of him. Roman tries to think of something else to say. He doesn’t think there’s anything else to add.

So there it is, staring back at him.

He closes out the word document, saves it as Therapy bullshit, moves it as many folders deep as he can, and shuts his laptop. He doesn’t want to think about how it will still be waiting for him the next time he forces himself to open the document back up. That’s a problem for future him.

He doesn’t think he’ll say it. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever say it. But it’s there, and it will wait for him, as patient as can possibly be.

#ask #anonymous #stewyroman #my fics

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fanfic-scribbles · 1 year

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WiP Wednesday: Digestifs Chapter Three

Gonna come out and admit I have no idea where this came from. I had a blank Word doc staring at me, I went to type down a mildly funny idea for a Dinner Date chapter, then sex happened and it's maybe almost done?

So here's a bit of it to show I'm actually working on something. Digestifs is the side collection of explicit stories for Dinner Date and it gets updated on an 'as I feel like it' basis. Thankfully I finally really felt like it and I think (hope) this'll be done in a week or so. I don't post explicit stuff on Tumblr because their policies are more wonky than I care for so when it gets posted it will be with a snippet to entice you to click a link to AO3 who will do the age/consent check for me. For now, here's a tame excerpt of Steve Rogers and Girlfriend being Dorks.

“I hate,” Steve said seriously, in his dark apartment with the blinds drawn on the night and his arm over his eyes, “–Mad scientists.”

“I can’t imagine they’d have many fans,” I said as sympathetically as possible. Steve had gotten hit by some device in the fight, right before it broke (naturally) and he was currently suffering with abnormally enhanced eyesight. Like, way, way more than was healthy, apparently. “Does it damage your eyes to use them?”

“No. I could even use them fine after the fight, we did a debrief, it just…” He put his arm down and squinted at me. I didn’t see anything different about them, but he was frowning pretty deep. “It’s like an overload of information and light and…everything. It’s driving me crazy, even in the dark, everything feels so– so pronounced. Sharp,” he said. “And it’s surprisingly hard to remember to keep my eyes closed.”

I nodded. Bruce had said it would wear off, thank fuck, but it still sucked to see him in pain. “What about a blindfold?” I said. “Keeps it nice and dark and if you accidentally open your eyes it might not be so bad.”

He was quiet. He was quiet for…a while. “I thought of that, earlier,” he admitted. “But alone, even in my own apartment, I didn’t feel…safe.”

“Hm.” Alone. I wasn’t much for protection, but… “What if you’re not alone?”

He seemed to give it real thought. Though he smiled and said, “You almost walked in front of a truck last week.”

“I noticed eventually,” I said and mock swatted at him. I shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah I wouldn’t notice all that you can, but with the sensory overload, how much information are you really able to parse and focus on?”

“Point,” he admitted. “And we are safe here.” He squeezed my side. “And it does sound like a good idea.”

One that might bring him real relief. His squinting looked miserable, and he still winced every few seconds. “Do you want to try it for a few minutes?” I said. “Just to see if it helps; I’ll be right next to you and we can take it off if it makes you feel too uneasy.”

More silence. “Please,” he said at last and I was already on my feet when he added, “In my closet there are ties– will that work?”

I turned my head towards him before I got out of the living room. “I’ll find somethi–” –and slammed my shoulder into the doorway. “Ow!” I stumbled back and rubbed it.

Steve snorted. “You can turn on the–”

“Shut up and shut your eyes,” I grumbled and left him to his efforts not to laugh at me on the couch. They were very unsuccessful. “I can hear you just fine,” I said, using my hand to guide along the wall until I made it to the bedroom and could safely turn on a light in there, and then I went to his closet and picked through my options.

#WIP Wednesday #digestifs excerpt

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tetsvhoe · 3 years

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PILLOW TALK

character/s: terushima yuuji x f!reader

genre/s: fluff

warning/s: none

gwen’s notes 🤍: HELLO I COULDN’T FALL ASLEEP EARLIER AND CONJURED UP THIS WHOLE THING and decided i would base the teru smau i’ve been meaning to make off of this i was originally going to make it longer but i need to leave deets for the smau :))

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

you have trouble falling asleep at night and terushima has a terrible habit of staying up late. the two of you are worlds apart in all the ways that matter yet when the sun succumbs to the moon and the sky is engulfed in darkness, when the constant buzzing of every crowded corner dies down and the ruthless city comes to a standstill, you find that your realities warp into one.

it’s been a week since you last heard from your class partner, a whole week. you just had to run late that otherwise mundane tuesday morning, if only your professor hadn’t decided to start assigning pairs for a project worth half of the entire semester’s grade, you wouldn’t find yourself in this predicament.

you stare blankly at your laptop, the white negative space in the google document you’re supposed to be working on with terushima mocks you in a glaring light against the pitch-black darkness of your dorm. eyes flick to the bottom right-hand corner and the clock reads 3:47 am, you sigh before pushing yourself up the mattress into a sitting position.

you’re not going to fall asleep anytime soon, might as well start working on terushima’s part if you want to have at least somethingto present to your professor for initial consultation. a second cursor appears out of thin air and starts navigating through the document. you frown, blinking a few times to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. sure enough, a tiny flag pops above the cursor spelling out his name.

he moves his cursor right above yours, pausing briefly before it starts typing out “What are you doing still awake, pretty? >:)”. you scoff in disbelief at his childishness and weirdly enough at his correct use of commas even as he’s flirting. through google docs.

“What do you think, asshat. I was going to start your parts because you ghosted me,” you type away furiously, biting your lip as you watch him conjure up a reply.

“I wasn’t ghosting you! I drafted all my parts in the past week.”

“Yeah right, you liar.”

seconds pass and the little yellow cursor you’re talking to, like an avatar on some virtual game, disappears. you roll your eyes and chuckle bitterly almost too soon, confirming your own suspicions. but he pops back up and starts pasting all this parts on the blank spaces while your mouth falls agape.

“I think you owe me an apology for even doubting me in the first place,” he notes at the bottom.

“Whatever. A head’s up would have been nice, Terushima.”

“It’s not like I have your number or something ;)”

you close in on yourself, sinking deeper into the oversized hoodie you’re wearing. you frown at the screen but you’re all too self-aware of the ache and warmth that creeps up your cheeks the longer you stare at the message. you swear your heart leaps when you see his cursor start moving again before you could even reply.

“I remember your roommate, you’re in the west wing, right?”

“What, why?” you almost jump through the screen, heart beating rapidly.

“I’m coming over so we can talk about the project.”

“Like hell you are! Why do you even know where my dorm is?”

“I have my sources. Besides it’s more productive if we work on it together. :)”

you groan in frustration, falling back onto your bed. you gently toss your laptop to the side and reach for a pillow, stuffing your face and screaming into it. true to his word, there are three faint knocks at the door after a few minutes. you begrudgingly peep through the hole, hoping it’s just your roommate coming back from a hookup. you squeeze your eyes shut, forehead resting against the door with a dull thud when you see Terushima with his plain black shirt and grey sweats, unkempt blonde hair with streaks of a rich brown shade at the roots, one hand holding a bag of stuff, the other typing away at his phone.

you poke your head out through a small opening you make, whisper-yelling, “get out of here!”

he simply grins and pushes past you, sauntering into the dorm like he owns the place. he plops the bag of what you assumed to be convenience store junk food onto your desk and drags a chair from across the room, placing it next to your own seat. he sits and stretches his arms above his head while you stand dumbfounded at the doorway.

“oh your roomie’s not here. classic, she’s out with a bumble hookup i bet.”

you cautiously pad back into the dorm’s short and narrow hallway after you lock the door haphazardly, an incredulous frown directed at terushima but he ultimately ignores you as he and hauls a laptop out of his backpack, prying it open on top of his lap.

you eventually settle onto the chair beside him, working on your own parts of the project. more accurately, busying yourself by constantly revising, typing, and erasing sentences back and forth to avoid any awkward interactions. you almost jolt out of your own skin when you feel his fingers dance around the curve of your back as you’re hunched over your desk. you snap your head sideways, throwing him a sharp glare, but you find that he’s all too lost in the reading, eyes glued to his own screen with no hint of mischievousness or ulterior motives. your features soften as you notice the pout on his lips.

a shaky breath leaves past your lips. you decide against pointing it out in favor of not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how much he flusters you. your eyelids eventually start feeling heavy from the soothing feel of terushima’s fingers gently drawing circles on your back.

he turns to you as you stifle a yawn, quickly glancing at the time. “hey, you should probably get some sleep. i’ll finish up soon.”

“no, it’s fine. i can’t sleep anyway even if i tried,” you shake your head.

“are you not tired?”

“i am, but i can’t fall asleep. is that so hard to understand, terushima?”

he chuckles at your attitude but doesn’t say anything. instead, he straightens up his posture, pushes your head onto his shoulder in a languid motion and you find yourself freezing up upon his touch. you sneak a glance up at him through your lashes, still, he doesn’t look smug or all too proud of himself. he wears a casual expression and goes right back to shuffling through the tabs on his laptop.

maybe that’s the reason why you find yourself unconsciously snuggling up to his side. his steady breathing and his absentminded touches, quite surprisingly, ushers you to peaceful sleep. a thought crosses your mind right before you fall asleep; he makes you feel like you’ve known each other longand well enough to be acting like this. you try to tell yourself he just acts the same with everyone else.

when you find yourself safely tucked in your bed the next day, your stuff neatly put away on your desk, and feeling well rested for the first time in weeks, your heart fights to convince you otherwise.

@mirakeul @realityisabitch-blr @erinoikawa @haji-bby @seijohoe @szeonn @banananaa4 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @thezebra12 @iwaizumisunshine @stffychn @vvvselfindulgence @devilgirlcrybabiey @ebiharachan @coco96 @knmsapplepi @strawberryzos @iwasunshine @bidisaster1307 @jesssobs @asaitashi @duhsies @devilsbooksworld @littlemochi @mikeystomanjacket @noitsmrleorio @agasheeee @crystal-lilac @miyadarling @roanniee @lemonz-z @softsakusas @your-girl-mj @kuroomiya @ninjamomo @tsumomii @akarisroom @hello0i @crustycookiebestie @shanthesamurai @pelicanpizza @kuroosatoru @floweyy @singularly-gifted-witch

reblogs appreciated !

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phantomrose96 · 3 years

Note

"Sometimes I'll use my fanfiction draft documents as test documents for work" I did the same thing when I had to make a mock tutorial on how to use different Word track-change markup modes for a colleague at work 😂 no-one ever thinks to switch to 'no markup' mode and I lose so much time re-editing their edits to fix the busted grammar. Actual work text could be sensitive if shared, so surprise! They're getting an excerpt of niche superhero fanfic instead. (Also thank you for helping make comments more useable they get worked hard in my office).

eyyy I'm glad this is universal! I at least have the luxury of keysmashing in documents/comments if i want, but for your job you probably need coherent, grammatically sensible content to demonstrate on.

but man I have so many random throw-away documents. The main Word doc I work on is a mostly-blank doc with some ABoT fanart pasted into it. I once recreated PowerPoint Meltdown. Some of my coworkers just throw pictures of dogs into a document.

> Also thank you for helping make comments more useable they get worked hard in my office

nice!! this is making me want to chase clout by bragging about what... aspects of the commenting feature I made 😂 when you see the purple borders around the comments, think of me.

#ask

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red-riot-rat · 4 years

Text

ＲＥＱＵＥＳＴ: What if shiggi had a little sis (who’s like 14) that was staying with the doctor to learn how to make nomus and when the LOV goes to meet with the doctor for the first time she goes up to the league and just insults them, “wow you guys and smell like 💕🧚🏼‍♀️✨ass✨🧚🏼‍♀️💕” She’s probably extra rude to dabi because he’s cool and they have to same emo music taste 👁👄👁

HEY HEY!! HAHAHAH I LOVE THE IDEA OF JUST COLLECTIVLEY BULLYING THE OTHER MEMBERS OF THE LEAGUE HAHAHA ahjskjf i made it gender neutral because i literally forgot to make it she/her?? Shoutout to my brain for that

Ｇｅｎｒｅ：CHAOS

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: OKAY READER TELLS TOMURA HE SMELLS LIKE VOMIT, CURSING

𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘴: THEY/THEM (GENDER NEUTRAL)

WC: 976

AN: IM SO SORRY IF THE DOC IS OOC JSKJFDG AND IM PUTTING THIS IN MY QUEUE

ᴛɪᴍᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴍᴘ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ: WED. 10:31 PM

“Like this?” You asked the doctor, as you worked on a new Nomu for AFO to send for the League of Villains. Your music played behind you through an older radio and the doctor merely spared you a glance, nodding. But that's all you needed.

You proceeded to work on two Nomu’s at once, one a basic carbon copy of the one All Might destroyed long ago, and a new one specifically requested by AFO himself.

You were lost in papers, tools, and honest sweat when the doctor walked away from your station you didn't notice, and really couldn’t give half a shit. There were voices in another room, and then footsteps began to get louder and louder as you finished one of the Nomu’s.

There were multiple sets of footsteps, and maybe it was just a visitor, or maybe a fallen victim.

“We have guests.” The doctor’s voice rang slightly through the room, and you simply nodded. You didn’t mind having guests, or even someone watch you make Nomu’s since you’ve been making them for years. But, seeing your brother is always a surprise.

“Hey loser.” The lanky man staggered over to you, smirking.

“Oh ew.” You put on a disgusted face, as you glanced around the room, searching the few faces of the League.

A man you knew as Dabi, he was okay. He looked cool so you didn't mind him as much as the others. Although Himiko Toga wasn’t bad, she scared the shit out of you sometimes even though you had never met her before. Mr. Compress was too fancy for you, and you felt you had nothing in common. Spinner was okay, but you never saw yourself holding a conversation with him unless it was about video games. And last but not least, Twice. He was okay as well, but your vibes didn't seem to click.

The doctor waved you over to another Nomu, one another hero knocked down about a week ago. You walked over, flipping your gray haired brother off in the process.

“I’m going to get something for this. Something you can’t break. I’ll be back in a moment.” He scowled at you and you nodded again.

Shigaraki made his way over to you once again as you jumped up to sit onto an empty counter. He waltzed over to you, his hands stuffed in his pockets. The League hesitantly followed him to you, and you stared at them with a blank face.

Like your brother you had a few scars, but you were not, and in your words, As crusty as he is. In fact, you were not crusty at all, quite cute.

They stood about a foot away from you, and Dabi’s ears seemed to perk up as the song on your radio changed.

“Wow. All of you guys smell like….” You locked eye contact with Dabi, and he stared right back at you.

“💕🧚🏼‍♀️✨ass✨🧚🏼‍♀️💕” You snickered as Dabi’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly, and a few others scowled.

You pointed your finger, and your hand traveled across the room.

“Especially... You.” your pointed finger landed on your brother, who was slouching around like a slug. He raised his eyebrow in protest to your finger pointing.

“You smell especially like… uhm whats is called?” You snapped your fingers and acted like you were thinking before exclaiming.

“AH! I know! Vomit.” you scowled at him, as he mocked you.

“Shut up, fucking NPC.” He snarled at you, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“You’re nasty… And you fucking know it. WEIRDO.” You taunted him. You jumped to the floor and pranced around him, chanting.

“You smell like vomit! You smell like vomit!” Dabi slightly waved his hands around like he was conducting an orchestra, and Toga giggled. Kurogiri and the rest of the League just… stood there watching you dance around your brother, and taunt him. And live another day, while you’re doing it.

“OH MY GOD SHUT UP.” He reached his hand out to your face, and rested four fingers on it.

“You’re a literal fucking idiot.” He flicked your forehead, and smiled smugly at you.

“Hold up?” Toga questioned as you rubbed the spot on your forehead. You and your brother both looked at her with the same blank look, with one eyebrow raised.

“You’re his younger sibling?” She smiled wide, Dabi cocking his head slightly.

“Yeah, duh. Quick question for all of you, and you in particular.” You pushed Toga’s question off and stared at Dabi once again.

“Why do all of you smell so goddamn bad?” He groaned and Shigaraki rolled his eyes at your question.

“Listen kid I-” Dabi started, his eyes narrowed.

“Dude are you goth?” You interrupted him with a smug smile, knowing it might annoy him.

“No. Listen-”

“Are you sure? Like 100% sure?” Your smile was wide, your eyes narrowed. He grew more annoyed by the minute, your brother was right here and you just were gonna bully him instead?

“Yes i’m fucking sure. Can you listen to me-”

“No I’m quite busy at the moment.” You cut him off for one last time, and just sat there in silence.

He grew frustrated, and no longer responded or tried to ask more questions.

The man in the top hat, in an effort to break the odd silence, moved towards you.

“I go by Mr. Compress, what’s your name?” He reached his hand for you to shake, and you smiled wickedly at him.

Shigaraki chuckled, knowing your quirk was a close copy to his. Much to his dismay, and yours as well, he pulled his hand back. He’s not stupid, and knowing youre a relative of Tomura Shigaraki, shaking your hand was a stretch anyway.

“Aw ya don't wanna shake my hand?” You reached your hand out quick, and smiled ear to ear again.

“Don't ya wanna?”

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pickledpascal · 2 years

Text

‘tis the damn season

Chapter Eleven: Always Remember Us This Way

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Minor Violence, emotional breakdown

Summary: The final showdown with the White Nova and Spider-Man vs. Doc Ock happens in an unlikely place. And has an unlikely ending.

Song: Always Remember Us This Way by Lady Gaga

It was late when Ailani got a call from Peter, telling her they needed to go to Otto’s hiding place. It seemed he got the last piece to form his nuclear fusion reactor and he also kidnapped Peter’s crush, Mary Jane. Ailani let out a groan of frustration, she was working on the inhibitor chip but she was nowhere near done with it. So, she quickly got dressed in her suit and escaped to the docks from her window.

Ailani watched as Peter crawled around inside the water lab, trying his best to stealthily get Mary Jane out of the place. Which failed pretty miserably, Otto caught him almost right away. Ailani shook her head as she watched before she literally kicked the front door across the room, one of Otto’s actuators caught the door because it was coming straight for him.

“Hello again, Otto! I think it’s my turn to break into your house don’t you think?” Ailani asked with a sarcastic smile. She decided not to put her mask on, MJ didn’t know who she was anyways. “Maybe you’ll understand how I feel.” She winked as she walked over to the man.

Peter was currently being strangled by Otto’s extra arms, but quite frankly, all of the Doctor’s attention was on the woman coming towards him. Ailani acted like she was untouchable, but he knew she had weaknesses. In fact, Otto basically defeated her once–through dirty tactics but still.

Otto cocked his head at Ailani as a challenge. “What are you here to do? Seduce me into the good side?” He said with a sarcastic and mocking tone, the arm that held Peter pushed him against one of the metal pillars and held him there. It didn’t want to hurt him badly just yet.

“You tried that with me.” Ailani growled a little before she looked at Peter for a moment. “But the only way this is gonna end is with you getting hurt.” She was determined to have her Otto back, so if he had to get hurt in order to fulfill that, she didn’t mind.

Otto cocked his eyebrow at Ailani before Peter somehow escaped from his claws and swung over to MJ to try and help her out of there. The doctor’s claws were busy getting the reactor online and capturing Ailani as well. “Too late, hm?” He asked with a smirk. “No one can stop it once it starts.”

The woman closed her eyes for a moment, making Peter think she was about to pass out again with how tight those things were holding her. But when Ailani opened her eyes again, they were glowing a firecesom deep red as she pushed open the claws of the tentacle that held her. Otto’s head went blank as he watched, not even hearing the voices of the AI.

He was mesmerized by Ailani’s show of strength.

Ailani’s powers were very much tied to her emotions. Each time her eyes glowed, it was like she was plastering her emotions on a billboard. But this time she didn’t care if anyone knew she was mad. Hell, she was furious. Both at herself and the evil that captured Otto’s mind. She could’ve stopped this so much earlier if only she was there the night the first reactor started up.

The girl blasted Otto away from her and into the water, not caring that there was metal flying past her and feeding into the perpetual sun just a few feet away from her. Otto groaned from the pain, his glasses were knocked off his face and water was all over his face and in his hair. Flashes of memories played behind his eyes, like he was trying to remember what it was like without the AI in control.

Peter jumped in front of the Doctor, looking at Ailani for a moment before he took off his mask. “Doc, you gotta help us destroy this thing.” He pleaded softly, his eyes filled with sympathy.

“I won’t.” Otto growled, his actuator trying to get close to Peter before he caught sight of Ailani next to him and stopped. “I-It’s my dream, my life’s work.” He ground his teeth together, his eyes glazing over with sadness. Otto worked on even just the blueprints for the reactor for half of his life, he couldn’t take the fact that what he was doing was wrong.

“Sometimes you have to give up your dream.” Peter whispered sadly, glancing over at Ailani before he swallowed thickly.

Ailani shook her head gently and let out a small chuckle. “Or maybe you need to find a new one.” She said softly, holding out a hand for Otto to take.

The man narrowed his eyes at Ailani’s hand, his heart heavy with emotions. A new dream. Maybe that new dream is you. Otto gently set his hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. There were so many things going through his head at one time but the main thread that tied everything together was Ailani.

“How do we stop it?” Peter asked again, his voice more hurried. The reactor was quickly gaining more steam and was absorbing every piece of metal there was, that was starting to include the whole building.

“We can’t-”

“Think, Otto!” Ailani grunted, “There has to be something.” She looked over at the reactor, her eyes trailing to the city that layed almost a mile away with water separating them.

Suddenly, it clicked. For both Ailani and Otto. “The river! We can drown it.” They said at the same time, immediately looking at each other once they heard each other's voices. Peter rolled his eyes at the two of them, they were disgustingly cute together.

Otto stood up from the little pool he was standing in. “I’ll do it. I made this mess, I should fix it.” He said regretfully, shaking his head at himself. Even then, the voices of the actuators were hissing at him but he was resisting.

“Otto…..” Ailani sighed, shaking her head as the man gave her a gentle and shy smile. “I’m supposed to be saving you.” She knew what Otto was doing. His arms were way too heavy for him to be in deep water….

He cupped her cheeks and caressed them softly. “I have to do this, my little sun.” Otto whispered softly, “Think of me before this ever happened, please.” He pleaded before he pulled his hands away from Ailani’s face.

Ailani bit her lip then pulled Otto’s face towards her own, kissing him passionately. Fireworks went off in her head, but they came crashing down, setting everything aflame. This would be the first and last time she would be kissing Otto…. It scared her. Far worse than any physical trauma she’s been through in her life.

Otto let out a noise of surprise when Ailani kissed him, the actuators calming as his brain cleared yet again. All because of her. He wrapped his human arms around Ailani’s waist and deepened the kiss with a soft smile, just enjoying the last moment that they had with each other. But Otto pulled away, an almost proud smile on his face. “You’re gonna do great things, my little sun.” He whispered softly, walking to the reactor.

Ailani and Peter watched, though one of them felt more helpless than the other. Otto waved at them before he started to push the reactor down into the river, the pulling of metal actually even helped Otto since it tore open the building out to the river.

“C’mon, Ai…. We have to go.” Peter said, looking at his friend. He already swung MJ to safety but now he needed to make sure his friend was safe as well.

Ailani shook her head and gave her friend a weak smile, “It’s okay. You go to MJ.” She said softly, nudging Peter away.

She didn’t like feeling weak anymore. And, more importantly, she didn’t like when someone knew she felt weak. The weight Ailani put on herself was too much and even she knew that but she would find a way to feel okay again.

Peter sighed a little, giving Ailani a tight hug. “I love you, sis. I wanna see you tomorrow….” He whispered softly before he swung away to make sure MJ was alright.

Ailani practically broke down once Otto left, a power surge erupting from her body as she cried. Power waves of deep blue rocked the building and the surrounding water. Her eyes glowed a bright and strong blue as tears flowed down her cheeks and added to the river below her.

The love of her life was truly gone and there was nothing she could do about it….

#doctor otto octavius #otto octavius #otto octavius x oc #otto octavius x ailani tolar #alfred molina x oc #alfred molina #ailani tolar #tobey!peter parker #tobey maguire #peter parker #spiderman #raimi spider man #spiderman 2 #tis the damn season

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peeterparkr · 4 years

Text

perfidy;tom holland|8

chapter 8: the focus

enemies to lovers au/enemies with benefits

chapter summary: y/n’s fears and tom’s thoughts.

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: swearing, alcohol mention, drama

word count: 6.7k

here’s a playlist

social media before you read (IMPORTANT FOR THE CHAPTER) : Tweets & Instagram

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist

wanna be tagged?

Stay safe and here’s a doc where you can find out how to support BLM

How wonderful is it that life makes us coincide with people. How wonderful is it that two people with all of the odds of never seeing each other find each other. How amazing is it that two people can feel absolutely everything. How incredible is it that two people can fall in love?

How stupid was it that she had to make that person be Tom.

Y/N was currently debating to herself: did she really want to go there?

She stared at the blank document in front of her. She typed in some letters but there was something bothering her. She’d written a few pages already but this really wasn’t where she wanted to go with. She held her coffee in between her hands as she tried not to squint at the bright screen. She’d put on some big white t-shirt that was hanging around as some

shorts. She’d already taken a pill to help with the headache but there really wasn’t any pill that could soothe her morals. Or her heart for that matter.

And there was no pill that could calm down her thoughts. Because she had felt that spark in her eyes, that stupid smile and that gentle butterflying in her stomach. Sure, she could blame the alcohol but she really knew she couldn’t.

And it came back to that night, the yellow flowers.

She remembered how it felt. The heartbreak, the last one she’d experienced. How hard she’d fallen into that very dark place. How vocal she had been about it when being alone.

Having to pretend everything was okay because she was not supposed to be in love with him and how she was not supposed to care about him. How she had to swallow up her feelings but come home to tear herself apart.

How much her stomach hurt and how barely she could sleep. How she couldn’t talk. How she’d break down in random moments, in the shower, in the bus. and at school and pretend it was something else. Blame it on everything.

How disappointed she was. How nothing made sense. How she’d cry until she fell asleep, but she didn’t sleep at all. Waking up in the middle of the night to think about everything, to call herself a fool for even coming up with it. Losing her breath. How she would need to scream to her pillow. How somehow she’d lost a bit of herself with him.

How the days had turned grey, so grey and so long, nights seemed too short and if they ever came the moon would only get ever so brightly to wash her body to keep her awake. How she had cried so much she’d run out of tears.

How she’d changed her style. How she’d try to be more feminine. Or how she tried to comb her hair in a different way. Or her makeup. Change herself. How she had tried to change her personality. . How she couldn’t know why he couldn’t love her. What was wrong? her perfume? The lipstick? Was it her music taste?

What was wrong with her? Why did he hate her that much?

The thought would remain on her head for hours and hours. Days and nights. Weeks. Months. Years.

How she had isolated and found comfort in movies, and scenes and brightened up her day. But they didn’t make any sense, at all. Nothing did. Not even her favorite song or her favorite movie.

How nothing would make her smile. And how she’d listen to sad songs to make herself sadder and how she had to deal seeing him parade around and keep mocking her. How she had to keep on an act. Keep ok with a life when she had been so broken-hearted. How she had given so much and it hadn’t been enough.

How hard it had been because everything simply would bring it back. Like a random song on the radio, a movie scene or a book. And how hard it was seeing him everywhere, and how she had had to block his name from coming up. How she had to distance herself from his family, his friends. Her friends and her family.

How no one knew. And no one could know. What did she win by saying a man had screwed her over? What would she win by saying that man had been Tom?

She’d cried for a complete month, even more. Her tears had dried out. Not knowing if she was crying out of pain because he’d hurt her or she was crying out of self pity, because what a fool had she been.

Because she knew, she had warned herself. That he was a rock. That Tom would never love her, that he hated her. She was well aware that he had a stone cold soul, that his heart was not reachable. Not for her, at least.

She knew he was poison, she knew he was the devil in disguise, that he was no angel. That he’d break her.

And yet, she’d fallen in love with him. But that’s what she got for ignoring her own advice. She remembered the day she’d promised herself she would stop trying.

All because of yellow flowers.

She stared at the script she started and she thought about it: she couldn’t go through another heartbreak caused by Tom. She couldn’t go again through it, she couldn’t cry mid workouts, and she couldn’t shut her thoughts. How dumb she had felt, and how much it simply hurt. She needed to have her heart locked up, she couldn’t let herself feel anything.

And she didn’t. She really didn’t. She didn’t want to be hurt again. Because the last time he broke her heart, he broke her completely.

Maybe he didn’t know about it. No one did, really. Each heartbreak had been different. With Tom, there was a constant. She had to be quiet about her pain. Even when she wanted to scream and yell, she couldn’t let him know he’d won. No one could know that she was crying over him. No one could know about her frustration.

It made her nauseous thinking about it. She couldn’t go back to that place. But she needed him to go through it.

But even after the darkest storm, the sun comes out. She’d met Timmy. And he had saved her from drowning. Even after the drought. Even if it had been a crime.

Because Timmy showed her that she could be loved for being herself. Because Timmy loved every aspect that made her. From the way she liked to let the tears dry on their own or how she always had post-it’s hanging around for her notes. Because Timmy loved that y/n liked to watch the vinyl roll as it played, and because Timmy loved the way she’d run out of breath whenever she laughed.

With Timmy, she’d stare at windows and enjoy walks in the rain. It was calm. And she was breathing again. even underwater She didn’t have to worry about her makeup, or anything. Timmy had shown her how to love herself. Maybe that’s why he was still hanging on the Polaroids. Because he had learned to love her when she was down and he managed to pull her up.

Not that Tom had ever told her anything about herself but y/n with her complicated mind, only could wonder why he hated her. Why did the person she’d loved the most hated her so ardently? Why couldn’t he love her? Why wasn’t she enough?

Timmy had taught her something, loving is simple. Timmy had taught her she was enough.

She was more frustrated this time, not only would she get hurt if he didn’t fall in love with her but she’d have no script. Still, she was writing,

Eventually, he finally walked into the kitchen bare chested, he’d wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her shoulder, her neck and finally ended on her cheek. She’d been quick to close the document and then stared at him, and expected him to throw in something that would break her again. Hadn’t she met Timmy she’d probably already be crying. But maybe she’d built up a shield so high that she wouldn’t be bothered by him anymore. Even if she felt the pain on her chest.

“Morning,” he sheepishly said as he continued to pepper her neck with kisses.

“I made you coffee,” she whispered as she closed her MacBook.

“Sh, you’re being too loud,” he nuzzled into her neck. “I’m never drinking wine again.”

She chuckled. “Here ,” she pushed a box of aspirins towards him. “I wasn’t going to give you anything, thought it’d be a good way to attack my enemy. But I guess, having some pity is a benefit we should have.”

He grabbed the pill and then chuckled as he searched for his water, he downed two glasses before he took the pill.

“Your fans have made their way to my Instagram, by the way, haven't checked any of the notifications and I really don’t want to,” she admitted.

“Sorry.”

She didn’t say anything. She waited for him to speak, to destroy her and somehow make her insecure again. Even if the glance he was giving her could make anyone believe he liked her, she was just waiting to be stabbed.

“You have a lot of Polaroids,” he commented.

“Not all of them are actually Polaroids but I edited some and printed them out, they’re important,” she mentioned.

He raised his brows. “What is the importance of them?” As he sipped from the bitter coffee.

“Moments, memories, things that made me who I am,” she shrugged.

“And Timmy made you who you are today?” He chuckled.

She watched him. “In many ways, yes.”

He scrunched his nose. “So you’re not taking them off?”

“Why would I?” She questioned as she reached over to the cookies she’d baked the day before, pulling the plate towards her.

“You broke up,” Tom pushed. “You should hate him.”

“I don’t hate him, besides even if I did. Wouldn’t take him off. I hate you and you’re up there.”

“You have the worst pictures of me,” he pointed out.

“I know,” she smirked. “But you’re up there... even if I don’t like to admit it, Tom, you’re a very important part of my life.”

“Am I?”

She looked at him. “I grew up with you. Yes.”

“What would make you take a picture off?”

“I’ve taken some off for some time,”she admitted. “But it meant that I really, really didn’t want to see their face.”

“What’s your favorite picture there?”he grinned.

She smiled to herself. “I’ll show you,” she said as she headed back to her room. He followed her with curiosity. She looked up for the picture, one of Tim’s, the one with the raincoat as he’s looking up in the rain.

He rolled his eyes. “Why?”

“What?” She frowned.

“Why this one with Tim. I see all these pictures and some of them, I know you were the happiest.”

“It’s the moment I knew I was truly, madly deeply in love with him,” she explained as she sat down on her bed again. The moment she was finally breathing again.

“The moment you knew? Look, I… I think love is something gradual, there’s not a moment that you wake up one day and realize you’re in love.”

“No, but there is a moment you realize it,” she pointed out.

He frowned, sitting beside her. “When you realize it?”

“Yes, it’s like that climax point in a movie, it was that one with Tim,” she stared at the picture. The way he was smiling, the way the rain covered him down.

Tom leaned over to see it. “Really?”

“You know those scenes in movies when everything just… makes sense as they’re perfect?” She smiled. “How even though there is probably a lot going on, the lights are hitting the main character perfectly, the focus is only on them, and how the music is subtly playing just building up the emotion, and how their own feelings fade in, maybe a close up, and you know it as everything falls into place.”

He frowned comprehensively. “Right.”

“Well, that day…. I felt it, I saw it, and he was that focus and I knew it. I was so in love with him.”

“When was this?”

“It was autumn.”

He chuckled.

“Don’t laugh,” you wanted.

“No, I won’t, sorry. It’s cause I hardly believe you could feel something as inspiring… with Timothée,” he pronounced his name with such venom.

She ignored him. “We had been walking around, it was a date and I remember holding his arm, it was cold and it was raining just slightly, but we would go to this tea house…”

“Did you get pneumonia?”

She rolled her eyes. “and we were heading to this library first but it started to rain harder but...everything fell into place, we tried to run for a place to cover ourselves but then… something magical happened as if it was straight out of a movie,” she grinned. “a guy opened his balcony window and started to play the cello… You know that Bach song everyone knows?” She grinned.

Tom blinked.

“And I found cover under a perfume shop’s shade and I called for him but he was… too entranced by it, I remember he looked up to the guy in his balcony and he just smiled…and he called me out to go in the rain with him, and I had to take a picture because the look in his eyes and… the way he was the main character…I just knew it then. I was so in love with him.”

And even if she wasn’t raining, she had finally found a way out to breath.

Tom cleared his throat. “You’re too poetic sometimes.”

“Well haven’t you ever felt it? I know you’ve been in love,” she pointed out.

“Yes but it’s never worked out,” he clenched his jaw. “And it didn’t work out for you either.”

“A break up doesn’t necessarily mean it didn’t work out,” she debated.

“Well mine didn’t.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t… I… look, that conversation is definitely not included in our benefits,” he scowled as he stood up searching for his phone.

“Sorry I thought since I told you—“

“You thought wrong,” he grunted.

She closed her eyes. “Of course.”

The doorbell rang just in time to make this less awkward, she left her room as he plopped down back on the bed to stare at his phone.

There needed to be a way to know what had him falling in love, of course that would take a while. Maybe a little more wine, get him all turned on again and he’d be spilling it all.

But she walked to the door, it ran again, triggering her headache.

“Coming!”

She slightly opened the door to see who was there, and little did she expect… him. She almost fainted as she saw his pretty face, with his curls falling down his green perfect eyes, as his hands held pastel colored flowers.

“Oh my god,” were the only words that had come out. “Tom—I mean… TIMMY!”

“Y/N!” He started but y/n closed the door. “Y/N?” He called out again.

And she remembered, they had agreed on having brunch together. She cursed under her her breath every possible bad word she knew.

She opened the door again to see a confused Timothée.

He frowned, “y/n.”

Then she cleared her throat. “Give me a sec—“

“Y/N—“

But she’d closed the door again and rushed to pick up any trace of last night, then she ran to her room to see a half naked Tom with his cup of coffee, scrolling through his phone. She threw his clothes at him.

“Hey!” He complained.

“Shut up!”

“Who was it—“

“Sh!” She jumped slightly in frustration. “It’s Timmy.”

“Timmy.”

“Oh my god, he can’t know,” she chirped. “I—“

“What is he doing here?”

“I’m having brunch with him and then we’d go together to Harry’s…”

“He’s coming?” Tom frowned.

“Emma invited him,” she was so nervous.”but oh my god he can’t know about this so you’re going to stay quiet and hide.”

“C’mon y/n—“he laughed, “why can’t he know?”

“You want me to tell your brothers and friends too?”

“No—“

“Then?”

“Fine, I’ll stay here. I’ll be quiet.” He frowned. “But why are you going out with him?”

“It’s—my business, and I don’t think asking those kind of questions are included in our… benefits,” she searched in for some clothes, picking out a pretty dress. “now I’m gonna go let him in and I’m going to take a shower and I need you to—“

“Is that an invitation?” He asked with a smirk.

“No, you’re ugly,” she answered. “And I need you to stay here quietly.”

“C’mon babe,” he laughed.

She shot him a death glare and threw a pillow at him, “shut up!”

“What was that For?”

“Keep quiet.”

“Babe,” he grabbed her arm.

“Fellow associate,” she frowned as she watched him.

He only pulled her over to kiss her. She didn’t kiss him back.

He blinked as he pulled away. “Hey.”

“Keep quiet.”

He rolled his eyes, watching her leave the room, closing the door.

He then heard her: “Timmy! Hi, sorry I’m… you can come in, sorry, I uh… I’ll be quick alright?”

“Yeah, of course—Uh, These are for you.”

“They’re beautiful, Tim, thank you… now uh, I… you can hang around here in the kitchen if you want to—I’ll just take a shower“

“Yeah,’course—“

Tom rolled his eyes, as he mimicked Timmy. He was fumed. Disgusted.

Tom could hear the water running now from the shower. Y/n’s apartment was very small, that made it cute but it was very small that there was no wonder why she had asked him to stay quiet.

“So, y/n.” Tom heard Timmy say. “Busy night?”

Tom smirked to himself.

“Hm?” Y/N answered. “Not really! Very calm actually!”

Tom frowned.

”really?” Timmy pushed. “I saw Tom was here.”

Tom frowned. How did he know?

“How did you—Yeah he came for dinner, nothing special we went over his schedule.”

“With wine?” Timmy asked.

“You really think I would stand him without it?” Y/N yelled back with a laugh. “But he was long gone.”

“And then you got drunk by yourself—“

“I—what?” Y/N asked.

Tim laughed, “you posted a… very nice picture.”

“I—what?”

Tom frowned as he went straight to Instagram. And he saw it, the picture he had very well snapped of y/n. She posted it. Of course Tom was nowhere in sight but if people connected the dots… of course people would think stuff. Thankfully, Tom knew, Harry probably was at Emma’s, and he hadn’t noticed that Tom hadn’t slept home. But Harrison.

He’d have to deal with Harrison.

“Aaaah,” y/n said. “What did I post? I actually did get very drunk by myself…”

Tim didn’t answer.

Tom cursed under his breath. He had to leave now, because he didn’t really need to give an explanation to Harrison. Haz probably already was up. Did Harrison know he was not home yet?

Tom even stopped listening to the awkward banter between y/n and Tim. He didn't care anymore. He had his own reasons to freak out. And y/n and Timmy started a very dumb conversation. Even if it wasn’t, Tom was annoyed by Timothee.

Even if the guy had done nothing wrong. But Tom did have his reasons to hate him. Being bloody perfect for y/n was the biggest reason, of course. And that y/n was so smitten with him. If y/n ever looked at him the way she stared at Timothee, and if she listened the way she listened to Tim, Tom would never ever be able to say he hated her.

Tom didn’t even realize when y/n had walked into the room, also freaking out about the picture.

“We need some damage control,” that’s all she said before handing him the keys to her apartment so he’d close it up.

Before Tom knew it he was quietly walking into his place, with his t-shirt stained with wine, and probably stained with the infamous walk of shame. Tom was praying to himself that he wouldn’t see Harrison. And he thanked everything in existence that Harry had stayed at Emma’s and that the party would be at her place so there was no reason as to why Harry would know.

Tom quietly tiptoed his way in but little did he know he was expected.

“Good morning!” Harrison greeted him.

“I—went to my—car.”

“Are you gonna tell me you went to your car which clearly wasn’t here all night? And probably was at y/n’s just like you were.”

“No-uh.”

“Amazing walk of shame you’ve got going on there,” Harrison sassed. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on? Or are you gonna invent something like y/n did last time and claimed she watched porn? Did you watch porn at her place now?” Haz smirked as he took a sip of the tea he had in his hand.

Tom was screwed. He couldn’t lie to his best friend.

“I—“

“Nice t-shirt, is it designer?” Haz chuckled. “Is it by the same designer of y/n’s glass of wine in her last picture?”

“It’s nothing—“

“Is it really nothing?” Haz laughed. “Just like the fact that when I was on set I might have seen you sneak a kiss on her cheek?,” Haz smirked. “I didn’t mention it but I might as well do it right now before you come up with any stupid excuses.”

“I—“

“We ain’t got all day, Tom,”Haz insisted.

Tom squinted. “It’s nothing—“

“Nothing?”

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

Harrison frowned. “Sit down, Thomas. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

Tom had to sit down and deal with the pounding headache he was facing not only because of the alcohol he had had last night but now because he really had no excuse to give to Harrison.

“So?” Haz crossed his arms.

“I… well.”

“You slept with her, we both know that,” Haz sassed.

“I…. did.” Tom cleared his throat.

Haz expected him to elaborate.

“Twice,” Tom continued. “Yeah, once when… a few weeks ago, and… well last night.”

“How did it—“

“The first time?” Tom gulped. “I may have… hinted at it, I think it just… led to it. We made out in the car and we’d been flirting all night. And… we have… we have been having this whole game I dunno, when we were teasing each other, and I don’t know… we made out a few more times but… last night, we were talking about everything, we had had dinner, we had laughed, and then I just kissed her and it escalated and—I dunno it just happened.”

“Just happened.”

“And… well, I don’t know, we agreed on being enemies with benefits.”

“What even is that?”

“Means that we can continue hating each other but we get to fuck I guess,” Tom looked away. “Sounds stupid don’t even know why I accepted it.”

Haz raised his brows. “Well… why did you?”

“I just did.” Tom gulped.

Harrison frowned. “Your brother was bloody in love with her and you hate her,” he said condescendingly. “Tom this is—“

“What if I don’t?”

“You don’t—what?”

Tom stood up. “I’m very bloody aware he was in love with her but he’s with Emma now. And I’m spending time with y/n… and we are both single and so far the sex has been great.”

“I guess it’s not a crime Tom, but this is insane…You hate her.”

“I don’t alright?” Tom admitted, he was sweating. “I’ve been bloody in love with her my whole fucking life and now I… Harry moved on.”

Harrison watched him. “Well that’s… such a turn of events.”

“Yes I loved her okay? Is it that big of a crime?” Tom scoffed. “And I—I also do hate her because I wasn’t supposed to love her alright?” Tom rubbed his face. “I never wanted to hurt Harry and okay, had she been in love with Harry instead of me…”

“She loved you at some point, didn’t she?”

“When we were younger, just a crush,” Tom continued, well aware that y/n had told him only last night that he had been her first love. “But I hated her because I…”

“You hate her and you’re in love with her.”

“I hate her because I shouldn’t be in love with her, not when my brother loves her too and he deserves her, and she deserves someone like him. Someone who treated her right, who didn’t bother her to get her attention.”

Harrison watched him, curiously. He was slightly shocked but not really. “I’m… this isn’t.”

“And look, maybe it’s stupid but Harry moved on and now she’s not dating that stupid Timothee—and I thought hey this might be my chance, but the only problem is still Timothée, that dumb man.”

“You don’t have to come for Tim-“

“But look, she’s not over him, she literally woke up, and left to have breakfast with him—“

Haz watched him. “You’ve literally treated her so badly her entire life—“

“I know, I've been an asshole my whole life, I guess I tried to make her fall in love with Harry instead,” Tom sighed. “Look, I know she’ll never be able to—I noticed it, she doesn’t look at me the way she—God, just this morning when she saw a picture of Timothée, her eyes lit up, he’s her bloody everything.”

Harrison watched him. “But you’re in love with her.”

“Yes and I know I can’t—I know I can’t have her because I have fucked up so many times and if I did do anything, Harry would be devastated even if he’s over her…” I can at least have this, this whole enemies with benefits bullshit.”

Harrison watched him. “And would you try anything else?”

Tom sighed, “maybe,” he coughed. “But it’s—when I’ve kissed her, she—I know she doesn't feel anything.”

“Do you? Have you shown her?”

“I don’t know how, and this—this has only been full of lust and I know… this doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to feel like alright? It feels like we are in a place where we only want to hurt each other.”

“Hurt each other? Don’t you love her?”

“It’s a matter of habit, I guess…” Tom gulped. “Old habits that didn’t wear out. It’s in my nature I guess.”

His friend stayed quiet, trying to process the information he was just given.

“Well change,” Haz said. “If you love her—“

“I won’t. I’m okay with this,” Tom lied. He cleared his throat. “But look Harry can’t know because even if he doesn’t know I love her he’ll think I’m just using her and if he knew I loved her he’d encourage me to try something and in any way that’ll break his heart…”

Harrison rolled his eyes. “I won’t tell anyone,” Haz sighed. “But Tom you’re just playing with something that—I don’t know man, maybe try something?”

“Why?”

“Harry wouldn’t mind if he knew you dated her, he’d mind if he knew you were doing this,” Haz pushed.

“But she won’t—give in,” Tom sighed. “I know.” Tom paused. “I know but… maybe I’ll just… I’m just scared that all my life I’ve told her that she’s always found a way to make every wrong decision and I know I’m just another one, alright? I’m another mistake she’s making.”

Harrison raised a brow.

“Gee, I’ve been talking too much with her. I'll be getting all poetic like her but—I know that Timmy or Harry would be right for her but I really don’t want her to see that. I want her to choose the wrong option. I am the wrong option here.”

Harrison watched her. “I don’t know man, just be careful because you might end up hurting several people in here… now go get dressed and presentable, we need to head to Harry’s party.”

Somehow telling Harrison had not soothed any of his thoughts. Because Tom knew this was a wrong turn and that anything that would lean on from this. He was incredibly confused.

Tom knew that he’d hurt y/n in very many ways, sometimes he’d meant it, some others, mostly he hadn’t. But we can understand that love is so complicated. He had never seen her cry in front of him, not really. Sure he knew that she was hurt but she always looked back like saying; you'll get my revenge. Maybe she had been incredibly good at hiding it or maybe she’d never been hurt at all.

Just as they continued to grow up y/n would show less and less importance to Tom. Even this morning when she’d refused to kiss him back, as if saying you’re not going to win this one.

And Tom wanted to prove her wrong. He wanted to show her how a real kiss should taste like, and he wanted her to choose a different path. Because he saw y/n had always been struggling while climbing up the same tree. The same songs. Stuck in a place where she wouldn’t get out of.

But that made her. All the small details. when you’ve been in love with someone you notice the little details that make a person.

Maybe Tom wanted to show her a different part. And maybe he had just by last night having genuine fun with her. Not meaning about sex of course, but everything else.

The way he had heard her run out of breath from laughter or the way she had offered him a spoonful of the cookie dough. So simple. So real.

Love is strange. Because what Tom hadn’t told Harrison was that Tom was also waiting to be stabbed. He was also waiting y/n to betray him. And y/n could hurt him more, because she had also been so good at hurting him.

Because y/n had hurt him too. Not in the ways one would expect it. But also in the same way that he couldn’t really look at yellow flowers anymore. Because he’d regretted it and she had shut him out. And… he couldn’t be thinking about that.

Not when she was standing right in front of him, with her hair flowing as she laughed so melodically. The light was hitting her just in the spot. Everyone in the party was moving but she was the only focus. Her floral dress matched her pink lipsticks. Pink lips. Everything around her had stopped. She was the only spotlight needed, even if Timothee, Emma and Harry were laughing with her. They went silent to Tom

They were laughing at the cookies y/n had made, with the flower petals she’d put on. The aesthetic had been more important.

And Tom had to look away because he was staring too long. And he’d been transported back to a few months ago, when Tim and Y/N were still a thing. And just seeing them made Tom realize that they probably still were. Not dating but this…

It hurt. It hurt knowing he wasn’t the right choice. Yet… y/n looked up just once and gave him that stare. The kind where she basically undressed him with a glance.

He wondered how she was feeling because she had been, even if she was laughing, she had been extremely weird.

Though Tom had only had one same thought the whole day. He needed to buy a Polaroid. But that was the least he should care about. Because his brother had ignored him, all day long.

And y/n had arrived with Timothée, and she had been laughing all this time. And Tim had given him a weird look, but Timothee had been so cocky this evening as if he knew a secret that Tom didn’t.

But y/n and Tom were normal, mocking each other, rolling their eyes at each other and acting like usual. Nothing to suspect there. But y/n had kept on a little game, if she ever walked behind Tom she’d brush a hand on his lower back, or the way she’d sometimes stop and look at him, biting her lip slightly.

She was driving him crazy.

Sam had asked Tom about y/n’s night, and Haz had stepped in.

“Yeah, y/n must have been so tired of Tom that she probably had to black out to forget them, Tom came home pretty early.”

And everyone was around Harry and Emma couldn’t take her eyes off of him. They would miss him.

But Harry had been quiet. Harry hadn’t looked at Tom. He had talked to anyone else but Tom. Was he angry?

Tom walked over to Harry, Emma, and Tuwaine.

Tim, Haz and Y/N were talking to some other friends of them.

“I thought they had broken up,” Tom commented with poison as he eyed them.

“They’re still friends,” Emma commented, “and if we are honest they’re gonna get back together any time soon.”

“Wouldn't say that,” Tom insisted.

“You wouldn’t?” Harry wondered. “Did she say that at your dinner last night?”

Tuwaine laughed. “I’m impressed you guys haven’t killed each other by now.”

Emma laughed, “I don’t know how y/n is dealing with it, my girl, she is so strong, having her ex and her worst enemy in the same room…”

Tuwaine scrunched his nose. “Poor y/n.”

Harry chuckled. “Yes.”

“But they…” Tuwaine watched them. “They seem like they’re alright.”

“I don’t really understand why they broke up. They’re so perfect together,” Harry agreed, watching them.

Emma shrugged. “Dunno, and besides this whole best friends dating each other best friends was amazing.”

Tom coughed. “Right.”

“But no, I’m sad to tell you,”Harry chuckled. “I know y/n, and she’s…”Harry gulped. “Let’s say they’re not at the same place you and I are,” Harry grinned as he kissed Emma. “God, I love you.”

Tuwaine and Tom gave each other a glance and decided to walk away. They truly didn’t want to be in their way.

Tom wondered if Harry was so in love with Emma why had it bothered him that he had had dinner with y/n? What bothered him? Emma was so in love with him. And Harry was so in love with her. Emma was like… anything Harry had wished for.

But the party continued.

And Tom and Tuwaine ended up talking about the movie, about Tuwaines life and about everything that was going on.

But Tom kept looking at how Timothee hadn’t left y/n’s side.

“It’s not me, right? Tim is extremely annoying,” Tom pointed out.

Tuwaine laughed. “What? The guy’s a sweetheart.”

“He’s not, he’s boring, and—“Tom rolled his eyes as he saw everyone laughing exactly at something Timothee had said. “And he's really not handsome.”

Tuwaine frowned. “I dunno about that, I just know he’s too… what was the word y/n used? Dreamy.”

“He wouldn’t appear in dreams, he’s a nightmare,” Tom scoffed. “What did he see in him?”

“I don’t know,” Tuwaine chuckled. “I—why are you asking me this?”

Harrison approached them. “What are we talking about?”

“Why Tim is so dreamy,” Tuwaine laughed. “Look at his eyes,” Tuwaine chanted laughing.

Haz glanced behind him and then raised his brows at Tom. “Really?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Probably because he treated her like he was the only girl in the room and he looks at her so nicely and he hasn’t broken her heart multiple times and he’s not an asshole, and doesn’t constantly mock her,” Haz sassed.

“What?” Tuwaine laughed. “That sounds so specific.”

Haz laughed. “I know.”

Tom rolled his eyes as he turned to y/n again and she locked her sight with him and then slightly motioned away. She excused herself from her friends and headed to the restroom, Tom waited for a decent amount of time before heading after her.

He knocked on the door, “it’s me.”

Y/n opened it and before checking it was cleared she dragged him inside, locking the door.

“How’s that damage control going?” She asked him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him. “Hi.”

“Thomas, not the time,” she rolled her eyes, but her hands landed on his chest anyway. “What did you do with Haz?”

He scrunched his nose. “He didn’t notice,” he lied.

“Good, Tommy—I mean,” she blinked, “Timmy did ask but I told him a lie.”

“Don’t you ever dare confuse me with him again,” Tom threatened.

She smirked. “Or what?”

Tom pushed her up against the wall, “or else…” his lips connected with her neck. She instantly closed her eyes.

But someone knocked on the door and y/n instantly pushed him away.

“Uh… coming!” Tom said.

“What?” Y/n mouthed.

“Oh okay, sorry!” It was Harry. Tom and y/n panicked. “Hey Tom, did you see y/n?”

“No I didn't, why would I? I’m in the bathroom man, and I’m definitely not up for a conversation,” Tom snapped.

“Right, sorry, I’ll… should I call her?” Harry asked.

“No, no man…”

And y/n quickly pulled out her phone and silenced it before anything else could go wrong.

“I—Tom, actually can you come out already? I need to talk to you.”

“Man. I’m kind of… busy,” Tom said again. Tom licked his lips, as he then pointed to the shower.

“What?” Y/N mouthed again.

“Hide there,” Tom whispered.

Y/N frowned but got into the shower and hid behind the curtains.

Tom washed his hands and walked out to face his brother, closing the door.

“What?” Tom wondered.

“What happened last night?” Harry asked.

Tom cleared his throat. “I went to y/n’s place, had dinner, we discussed the schedule and that’s it.”

“Tom, don’t play with her,” Harry begged him.

“What?” Tom frowned.

Harry took a deep breath. “Look… I… we both know you guys have your relationship but I really don’t want you hurting her anymore, okay?”

“I’m not—doing anything.”

“Tom but you know how she used to feel about you,” Harry pushed. “I don’t want you messing her up anymore because okay, if you make her cry once again I’m not gonna be there and—“

“Harry, Harry, Harry, I genuinely am not going to do anything to hurt her, things have changed okay, we are… kind of friends.”

Harry sighed. “Fine—I am just worried okay?”

“Yes okay.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Well I’m—“he pointed to the bathroom.

“Aaa—-ahhh, hey good luck there Harry! Going into the bathroom! Good for you! What are you—what are you doing there?”

“Peeing, thanks for asking.” Harry scowled.

“GOOD LUCK IN THE RESTROOM WHILE YOU PEE!” Tom yelled again.

Harry frowned and punched Tom in the shoulder, but got there anyway.

Tom chuckled to himself, before taking out to text y/n, warning her.

But before he knew it y/n had come back to the living room and glared at him.

They gathered up to say their goodbyes, and good luck to Harry. It really wasn’t sentimental, maybe only coming from Sam and Tom, wishing their brother their best good and congratulating him. It was just people happily giving their advice and nice words.

“Thanks to everyone I—this is very nice coming from all of you,” Harry chuckled as he was looking at Emma. “Uh—well, tomorrow it’s completing a dream one and—I… but my dream wouldn’t be complete without Emma here, my love.”

Emma grinned as she stood up, taking Harry’s hand.

“Well we have another announcement,” Harry said nervously. “Well uh—“

“We’re engaged!” Emma announced showing her hand up as a big ring was adorning her hand.

“What?” Was the only word that was spreading around the room.

And suddenly the focus was only on that ring.

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erin-bo-berin · 4 years

Text

Jealousy

MASTERLIST

I wrote this fic AGES ago back when I first watched the season 14 finale, but for some reason its been sitting on the back burner as I wasn’t quite happy with it. But anyway, now it’s finally seeing the light of day and was heavily inspired by the poker game at the beginning of the episode, as you can probably tell by tge gif. I hope you enjoy some more Spencer feels.

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: Mature (smut)

Word Count: 2,913

“Pair of kings, pair of sevens. Oh I’m sorry, three sevens.”

Everyone groaned, throwing down their cards as they surrendered to the normality of Dr. Spencer Reid winning another hand of poker.

It was after hours at the BAU and a few of you decided to unwind in the briefing room by playing poker. So far, Spencer had won every round. But the night was early and you all were only a few hands in.

“I wanna know how Y/N was taught by you, yet still can’t beat you.” Luke shook his head.

“Sorry, but the brains also helps with the wins,” Spencer chuckled.

You mock scowled, before laughing yourself. Not long ago you’d asked Dr. Reid to teach you how to play poker since he was the best and you had zero knowledge of the game. That and it was a good excuse to spend time with him since you’d been harboring a crush on him.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I am determined to beat Spence,” JJ grinned.

“Oh, I'd love to see the lady try,” he smirked at her.

You felt a twinge of jealousy, probably irrationally so since it was obvious to you that he’d had a crush on JJ forever. You couldn’t blame him exactly; even if your best friend was married, she was still stunning.

“Let’s go then,” Luke said, dispersing new cards around the table.

•

“I’m all in,” Spencer said, pushing his candy towards the pile in the middle of the table.

You had to resist the urge to groan. Your hand of cards were absolute shit.

“I fold.” You put your cards down, thankful that you didn’t have anything to lose this hand.

“Same here,” Luke said, tossing his hand, “Hey Y/N maybe we should start the worst poker players club. You in?”

You laughed, pushing your hair back over your shoulder, “As long as I’m the president.”

“Deal.”

Across the table, you noticed Spencer’s eyes squint—like he did when he was analyzing something—as he watched the two of you. You weren’t exactly sure what that was about.

You watched as JJ pushed her pile of change and candy towards the pot.

“I’m all in.”

Spencer’s focus turned back to her as he made a tsking sound, while JJ flashed an innocent smile.

“Okay show us your cards,” Luke waved his hand, anxious to see who would win. You had to admit the suspense was killing you as well.

“Four of a kind!” Spencer beamed when his cards touched the table, showing his four 5’s.

Your and Luke’s head immediately swiveled the opposite direction as JJ set her cards down with a flourish. It was a straight flush.

Luke whooped and your jaw dropped. Spencer was speechless.

“No. Way.” You said, in awe, watching JJ pull all her earnings towards herself.

“It finally happened!” Luke grinned, high fiving you, “I owe you 20 bucks Y/N.”

“You guys bet on me losing?!”

“It had to happen sometime Spencer,” you said.

“Come on, it’s my turn to beat the doc,” Luke said, reaching for the cards to shuffle again.

“Okay one more hand and I gotta go. I promised Garcia I’d be home before it got too late. Hopefully the boys aren’t driving her crazy,” JJ said reaching for her new cards.

“Oh please, you know she loves them,” you grin.

You pick up your cards, pretending to sneak a peek at Luke’s cards.

“Hey, no peeping!” he laughed, trying to move them out of your sight, making you try to lean further over to see.

“I’m just trying to see if the Vice President of the Worst Poker Players club has a chance,” you smirked at him.

“You madam President are too nosy for your own good,” Luke grins.

“Can we just get on with the game?” Spencer retorted, his voice unnaturally harsh.

Your gaze shot to Spencer, shocked to hear the sharp tone in his voice. You very rarely ever saw him mad or even irritable for that matter.

“Uh, sure,” you said, going first, placing your bet.

A few minutes after everyone else placed their starting bets, Spencer challenges you, raising your bet, his glare fixed on you. You make yourself resist physically flinching. You have no idea why his mood had darkened so suddenly and only at you.

You glance at JJ to see if she’s noticed and she gives you a small shrug, just as baffled as you are. As your best friend, she of course knew about your feelings for him. She gives you a questioning look as if assessing if you’re okay. You give a quick nod and return to your cards, trying not to feel hurt. Tuning back into the game you notice Luke has folded, JJ soon follows. Before you know it, it’s just you against Spencer.

“Ah, teacher against student. The tension is real.” Luke drums his fingers against the table.

You set your hand down. It wasn’t the best, but you were hoping somehow Spencer would have a worse hand. No such luck. Once again, your jaw drops when you see his own straight flush spread out in front of him.

“Damnit,” you mumble.

“You’re never gonna beat me Y/N. I’d stop trying if I were you.”

This time you did flinch. Your brows furrow, irritated, both at him and the fact you can’t beat him.

“Hey, I did,” JJ pointed out as she stood to pull on her jacket, “I gotta run guys.”

“Yeah, me too,” Luke says, standing up and stretching, “Spence? Y/N?”

“No, I think I’m gonna stay a bit longer. I’m determined to beat him.”

“Good luck,” Luke said heading to the door.

See you guys Monday and hopefully not sooner!” He calls as he walks out of the room.

“Tell me how it turns out,” JJ says, giving you a look only another woman could decipher, clearing meaning she meant more than just the game.

After giving both of you hugs and saying goodbye once again, you and Spencer are settled back at the round table, ready for another game.

“Sure you’re up to this?” he smirked, looking you up and down.

“Yes.” Your tone is clipped, determined, “I was taught well you know.”

“It’s going to get boring winning hand after hand you know.”

“Fine. Then let’s make it interesting why don’t we?”

“I’m listening.” He sits back, clasping his hands behind his head, watching you.

“Strip poker. You know the rules. Losing hand removes an article of clothing.”

“You’re on.”

Half an hour later you’re sitting next to a pile of your belongings. Deciding to count accessories since you had on a lot less layers than he did, you had managed to already have removed your hair clip, watch, necklace and shoes. Spencer had only lost his watch. At least that was a small victory, your one win.

“One win out of five games. I’d say I’m impressed, but that’s a measly 5% of your wins in our total of games so far.”

Your eyes blazed and you glared at him.

“What’s your problem?”

He looked up at you, clearly taken aback. You stifle a snort, annoyed at the fact that he had the audacity to look surprised.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not.” You look up from your cards to say something else, but he goes back to the game before you can ask any further questions.

“Damn,” he mutters, putting down his hand of random assorted cards.

Your face lights up and you slam down your three of a kind.

“Pay up. Something comes off.”

He shakes his head, pulling his tie off. Unfortunately for you, the next game isn’t in your favor and your shirt comes off, leaving you in just your bra and pants. You look up and deal to begin the next game, noticing his eyes suddenly are intensely focused on the tabletop.

You lay your head in your hand as you look at your cards before reaching from one for the deck, not noticing how the movement makes your breasts even more visible to him. What you do notice though is his slight shift in stance.

“So uh, you and Alvez huh?”

Now it was your turn to look startled.

“What about me and Luke?”

“I don’t- I just- I mean,” he cleared his throat trying to stop his stammering, “You guys just seem really friendly all of a sudden.”

“Yeah, we get along great. He’s a good friend.”

“Oh, I see.”

Suddenly it clicked.

“Why? Are you jealous?”

He doesn’t answer, just drops his hand on the table, the cards splayed out.

“Well, shit.”

“Another four of a kind.”

You sigh, standing up, unbuttoning your pants.

“This isn’t fair, you know,” you say, unzipping them.

You look over at him when you realize he hasn’t answered you and find his eyes on you, his tongue moving over his lips. Your stomach tightened, a sight you would never get over seeing. He did that single motion more times during a single case alone, than you could count.

You dropped your pants on the pile of your belongings, not exactly caring where it landed or the fact that you just happened to be half naked. It was like a magnetic force pulling you closer towards him. You drag your hand across the table as you approach him, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. His eyes don’t leave you as you approach him, the game long forgotten.

“You were jealous. Weren’t you?” Your voice is barely a whisper as if you’re afraid that if you spoke the words too loud they wouldn’t be true.

Smoother than you thought he could be, he’d reached out for you and pulled you into his lap.

“Yes.”

Next thing you knew his hands are in your hair and his lips are on yours and you’re kissing him back with such intensity that you had to pull away after a moment, just to get air back to your lungs and clarity to your mind.

“But I thought you-”

“Liked JJ?”

“I, uh-” you momentarily blank on what you were saying as his hand moves up your arm and pulls one bra strap down, slowly.

“Yeah,” you finish.

“I did.” His lips met your shoulder, kissing it, “Until the day you walked through those doors.”

You felt your jaw slacken a bit as his lips traveled up your neck, stopping every few moments to suck on one spot or another. The realization had dawned on you that that specific event was more than six years ago.

“Oh,” you breathed, both in response to his confession and his gentle suckling.

His hands reached behind you and unfastened your bra in one swift movement.

“Why Dr. Reid aren’t you suave?”

He groaned, low in his throat. Whether it was because of the sight of your bare breasts or you calling him doctor, you weren’t sure. Your arousal was obvious, your nipples already pinched.

You lifted your head to kiss him again, loving the way his scruff was slightly scratchy against your face and the feeling of his lips moving simultaneously with yours.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been kissing when you felt his hands glide up your thighs, fingers brushing against the side of your underwear. Just the feeling of him touching you through the thin fabric of your underwear was enough to make you shiver. Your lips were traveling along his jaw when you felt him lift you.

“What are you-”

He placed you on the table as easily as he could before pulling your last article of clothing off. His arms hooked under your thighs, lifting you up and pulling you to the edge of the table, sending the deck of cards flying.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, feeling his mouth on you. Never in a million years would you have imagined his mouth to be this impactful.

You couldn’t see his expression, but somehow you knew Spencer was smirking. His tongue moved agonizingly slow over your slit, just barely brushing your clit.

“Spencer for God’s sake,” you whined already feeling tension building throughout every inch of your body, his touch sending your entire being into overload.

Your head fell backwards when his tongue flicked your clit repeatedly before flattening his tongue against it. Your breathing was heavy as you managed to sit up on your elbows, looking down at him. The sight of Dr. Spencer Reid, the resident genius, with his head between your legs, doing magical things with his mouth was almost enough to send you spiralling out of control.

When you felt his touch completely disappear you opened your mouth to protest until you felt his fingers on you again. One finger slid in as he watched your expression, his eyes squinted again, his tongue moistening his lips.

“I swear to God if you don’t stop licking your lips I’m gonna cum right this second,” you practically growled at him.

His only response was a chuckle before he added a second finger to the mix and his mouth was back on you again. His tongue moved against you before finally sucking on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Oh fuck, oh yes. Speeeence,” you moaned, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You couldn’t tell if it was just your thighs or your entire body that was shaking, but you were pretty sure it was both at this rate. You gripped the edge of the table hard, the mound of tension in the pit of your stomach unraveling faster and faster.

“Please don’t stop,” you begged breathlessly, desperate for the sweet release that was so close you could almost reach.

Like a balloon bursting after being filled with too much air, your body feels the same as your orgasm coursed through it, rendering you breathless mid-moan.

You’re pretty sure you hadn’t cursed as much as you did in the seconds following.

“Holy shit Spencer,” you groaned, trying to gain some control in your body again.

He pulled you toward the edge of the table, helping you down so you were leaning against it. Your legs were shaking too much to be able to stand on your own anyway. His hand cupped your face as he kissed you again, this time a lot softer than the previous kisses you’d shared. It was then when you had an idea.

“Sit back.” You took his hand off your face, lightly pushing his shoulders for him to sit back in the chair.

“Why?”

“Just do it.” You kissed the base of his throat, fingers fumbling over the buttons of his shirt.

With each button released, your lips moved lower over his skin.

Finally getting the gist of your movements, his hand caught your wrist when your fingers reached the waist of his pants.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. But I’m a lady and I always return a good deed,” you grinned slyly.

He bit his lip as if trying to assess your face just to be sure.

“I want to.”

He released his grip and you continued your task, wasting no time until he was in his boxers. Your lips moved in line above his waistband your palm pressing against the noticeable bulge.

A grunt came above you encouraging you. You pulled the fabric enough out of the way, your hand wrapping around his cock. He inhaled sharply, watching you intently. Your hand moved slowly back and forth making him suffer just as much as he did to you.

“Y/N I think I’m wound up enough. Cut out the fucking teasing,” came through gritted teeth.

“My apologies, Doctor.”

You flashed a quick smirk up at him then leaned down, tongue swirling around his head. His hips jerked slightly when you took him in your mouth, your tongue swirling before settling on sucking.

“Fuck!” Spencer groaned loudly.

You peeked upwards to see his head fall back and his eyes close. You couldn’t help but feel the satisfaction at knowing you’re the one causing him to react like this.

You feel his hand in your hair, his grip tightening the longer you’re on your knees.

“After listening to you Y/N, I’m not gonna last long,” he groans as you hum your response.

Using one hand to pump him, you suck on his head long enough for him to give you the warning of his impending release. Seconds later it hit him, hot liquid filling your mouth. You sat back swallowing like a champ and wiping your mouth. You looked up at the wrecked Dr. Reid, panting above you. It was a good look on him.

“Did you let me win?”

“What?”

“Earlier. During the game; that last hand I won. Did you let me win?” You asked as you grabbed your own clothes, both of you trying to look presentable again.

“Y/N, you can win all the poker games you want as long as we can do that again.”

“You got a deal.”

“There’s only one problem now,” he groaned.

“You mean besides the deck of cards scattered on the floor?”

“Yes. Cause now when we have a new case I’m going to have to resist the urge to imagine bending you over this table.”

You swallowed hard, the image in your mind doing things to you as well. You looked him in the eye before responding, earnestly.

“Guess that’s gonna have to wait until the next poker game.”

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid gifs #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid gifs #dr spencer reid smut #Criminal Minds #criminal minds gifs #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut

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heartofsnark · 3 years

Text

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Four): Leave My Head Among The Stars

Notes: Okayyyyyy, so here’s the thing, I started to write this chapter and what I planned to have in it and then I suddenly had 66 pages of content. So, I had to split it up. So I have three chapters, including this one, written up. So, these next couple updates for this will be fairly quick. I’m trying to get to johnny quick, but act 1 is a doozy, I hope you’re still enjoying the content though.

Word Count: 9268

Chapter Warnings: Mild violence, weird sexual tension,

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

Fingernails scratch at V’s back, the merc whining as she’s gently stirred awake. Her eyes are still blurry with sleep and the sun is just beginning to filters in through her window when she looks up at the older woman. Sunlight illuminates Cecelia, makes her freckles stand out on her tanned skin and turns her eyes molten gold. Her lips move and V has to refocus, not just stare at the far too out of her league woman, and focus on reading her lips.

“….work….”

That’s all she can read across Cecelia’s lips and she grumbles, rolling off of the older woman. V wraps her blankets tightly around herself, forming a cocoon as her fuckbuddy leaves the bed. She watches for a minute, before it hits her; she makes a vague disgruntled noises as she grabs the hem of Cecelia’s shirt, stopping her from leaving. The older woman looks at her for a moment, like a deer caught in headlights as she looks at the sleepy curled up merc tugging at her clothes.

“Pancakes…” Is all V says, assuming her voice sounds as heavy with sleep as it feels, she grabs some eurodollars off her bedside table. The merc pushes the money into Cecelia’s hands, paying her for the food she brought in last night. Cecelia’s face drops, though V’s sleep laden brain can’t begin to understand why.

“Well...kinda...feel...prostitute,” V’s unfocused eyes struggles to read Cecelia’s lips, but she can fill in the blanks. That this exchange of money, even if meant for pancakes, has made Cecelia feel like a prostitute.

“Don’t worry,” V yawns, signing a little sloppy from exhaustion, “I don’t pay for sex, so you’re fine.”

Then V’s passed back out against her pillow.

V wakes up, an hour or so later, rolling out of her sheets, Cecelia already long gone. She rubs at her sleep laden eyes and shoots a quick text to Jackie, letting him know she’s ready to meet up whenever he is, so she can see his big news. He texts back almost immediately, proclaiming he’s on his way. V decides to use her time to quickly clean up the mess of last night; cleaning her toy and changing out her sheets. She’ll have to do laundry soon, but that’s an issue for later tonight… or later this week...or month. V will figure it out, at some point. She grabs a quick shower and changes her clothes.

Despite the heat, she opts for a cropped hoodie, jeans, and her old slightly ratty backpack. Her mask, air hypos, max docs, bounce backs and extra weapons packed inside along with ammo. Night City necessities. It may seem like a bit much but, her mask can’t fit in her pocket and Jackie likes to spring gigs on her. She slides her optic contact case in her pocket, alongside her phone, turns on her translator choker, then puts in her hearing aids. Her ears twinge, still a little raw, she was more focused on sleeping than doctoring them last night.

She tucks her favorite knife into a thigh holster and her preferred gun in a hidden holster in her waistband. Armed to the teeth, V ties her boots and heads out the door, letting it lock behind her, nose twinging again at the smell as soon as steps out. V starts out through the big walkway that goes into balconied steps, though the view is just more apartments, the elevator that leads to the front is a floor down across from one of the clusters of shops that sit on that floor. Every couple of floors there's a services level. In this one megabuilding alone there are probably twenty restaurants and forty gun shops. Hell, her vending machine in her apartment has the option to order a joytoy or sex droid from the brothel eight floors up.

Her holophone buzzes, bleeps, and lights up inside of her pocket as she walks past the cluster of vending machines. She checks, expecting a text from Jackie, that he’s already waiting on her. And instead groans.

REMINDER, TAKE YOUR MEDICATION!!!!!!! :3

Her phone notification screams at her and she groans under her breath. She stomps back up the stairs and back into her apartment, grabbing a flat Nicola Sakura and using it to swallow down her immunosuppressants, then she leaves her apartment, again. V’s mentally cursing her own forgetfulness, she can remember to keep twenty different weapons on her, but her medication manages to slip her mind routinely.

The chatter of strangers fills the services floor as she walks through, past the initial pocket of vending machines, then restaurant stands, and then as if to mock her when she eats that garbage; a gym section of the floor. All of which is followed by a gun shop. It's all a weird medley of sounds and smells that her sensitive self struggles with.

Theres the clinging of sodas from the vending machines, the searing sound of cooking dishes, the talk of strangers, the grunts of people working out, the thwacking of people hitting punching bags, the clanging of weights, advertisements screaming at her to buy something, the muffled sound of gunfire from the Second Amendement’s shooting range, and robotic whirrs of Coach Fred’s punching bag robot.

And the smells, dear lord the smells. Gunpowder, sweat, and cooking food; all mingled with people’s own body odor or perfumes with just a sprinkle of hot trash.

She considers turning her hearing aids off and grabbing her chapstick, as she passes by Coach Fred’s section of the floor where he offers boxing training, a raised platform to box on. He punches and trains against his training droid.

“Hey, V!” The older man calls out, before she can mute the world, padded robot stopping next to him, “How you like my new Punchin' Bag? Just gave me a nextgen ass-whoopin', he did. Be curious to see how he handles the likes of V... Heh. So how 'bout it?”

“Pff,” V can’t help but scoff just a little, Coach Fred is easy a foot or more taller than her and more muscular, but he wants to see her take the damn thing on, “sure.”

“Light on your feet. Keep that head movin'!” The boxer tells her as she steps up into the crude boxing area and he steps out.

V cracks her knuckles as the automated training bot stands in front of her, the small merc raises her fists, all the only sign the droid needs to initiate combat mode. It swings a right hook at her and she dodges. A left hook next and she blocks, countering with her own punch, knuckles connected with it’s padded head. That first strike knocks it off balance enough to land two more, the bot stopping in defeat. Easy enough, maybe Coach Fred put it in easy mode?

“You got one helluva punch there, champ. Ever thought of monetizing it? I can arrange a fight or two. Whaddaya say?” The former coach asks her, sitting down on a bench.

She’s not so sure, most of her combat skills being focused on killing opponents and getting the drop stealthily. She can hold her own, but fighting a gangoon on the street where only one of them is going to walk away from it is different from a controlled fight with rules. Sparring with Jackie and the odd training session with Fred or Vik her only experience in boxing. But… money is money. She can give it a shot, go low stakes on the first one, she does well keep going. If she blunders it, no big loss.

“You arrange fights still?”

“Mmhmm and I think you got a knack for this, You've got sharp instinct, good edge. You can go far, especially if you get chipped. These fights… let's just say they aren't legal. Buuut… very lucrative.”

“And you get a cut, I assume.”

“I get a small percentage of the total winnings, you know, as your agent. You get the rest.”

“Of course, I’ll consider it, zip me the details of the first fight.”

“Like I said, good instinct.”

V rolls her eyes and continues through the service floor with a wave bye, passing by a Fuyutsuki and someone spray painting a cement wall. The bright neon red of the Second Amendment gun shop sign bathes the end of the services floor, just across from the elevator.

“V!” Wilson calls out and by god, why’d she turn on her hearing aids, “got some sweet new .45’s in, come take a look!”

“Can’t right now, in a rush, when I get back, promise!” She signs quickly, uses her elbow to jam the call elevator button.

It thankfully reaches her floor fairly quickly, allowing her to wave a quick bye to the older man, and stepping inside. There’s a slight relief as the doors close and she hits the floor she needs, the elevator carriage rocking into movement. While the screens still play advertisements, it's one sound, instead of a hundred. She uses some more lip balm, vanilla flavor on her lips and the sweet smell hitting her nose.

She adjusts the volume slightly on her hearing aids, lowering it just a bit more as the elevator comes to a stop. While not technically a services floor, the front entrance of the building is nearly as bad. There are at least ten or more restaurant stands in that area, V walking past everyone trying to sell her a burger or hot dog.

The sunlight hits her as she walks down the stairs that lead to her building and she spots Jackie, well his back. He’s sitting at a food stand that’s a very short walk from the building, because there certainly is not enough inside of the building. He’s got his face buried in a takeout box of synth-beef chow mein, not even noticing as V creeps up on him.

V’s nearly at his back and the street vendor raises an eyebrow, no doubt wondering if his customer is about to be robbed. Then she’s jumping to throw her arms around Jackie’s neck in a mock headlock, more so just hanging off the giant’s back.

“And its V with the headlock~” She jokes, voice low in his ear and he laughs. His chuckle making his chest vibrate and she can feel it.

“Someone’s feeling better,” he comments as she detangles from his back, “you, get your beauty sleep or…?”

He waggles his eyebrows at her as she climbs up onto the seat next to him, swinging a foot out to kick him. Her boot just bouncing back off his shin.

“I don’t kiss and tell, Jackie, you know that,” she signs and rolls her eyes, red flushing up her cheeks at the thought of giving details.

“Yeah, I just like seeing your face go that shade of pink, hehe.”

“I swear to god if your big news was just an excuse to give me shit.”

“Nah nah, got something to show you, first, chica.” Jackie grins ear to ear, like the cat that ate the canary. He tosses his trash into a bin and smacks her shoulder to follow him, bouncing like a kid on their way to the christmas tree.

“I’m already terrified,” she taunts as she hops down and follows him to a curb, a motorcycle parked there.

It's an Arch Nazare, slightly older model but not ancient by any stretch. From the sideview, the detailing is slick. Black with red branding and detailing, the exhaust and some pipework a bright gold color. The gold’s a little gaudy for her liking, But, she sideyes Jackie. His favorite red and black jacket, heavy gold jewelry bouncing on his chest. Gonk probably sunk more into the paint job then he did the actual bike. She can’t help but chuckle and when he proudly leans against the bike, his grin ear to ear, megawatt and shining brighter than the sun. When she peeks at the top detailing she can see a Calavara style skull decal on the dash. It screams Jackie.

“What’cha think, jaina?”

“It's beautiful and very you; how’d you manage to score a ride like that? Custom paint job too, I presume. Must have cost a pretty penny.”

“Muy peque, took out a loan , but ah, totally worth it. Got her on the cheap actually, Dorsett job dividend.”

“You already blew your cash from that job?”

“Someday you’re gonna have to actually spend your money and live a little, V, you know that?”

“Nothing wrong with saving back for something nicer down the road,” she retorts, thinking of her little jar of cash in the storage space beneath her bed. She’s been trying to take so much from every payday aside to save.

“And uh, what are you saving for again?”

“....a Kusanagi...or a Projectile Launcher...or a bigger apartment...or…”

“You’re stockpiling cash and you don’t even know what for, chica,” he laughs at her indecision, her ultimate splurge item she’s saving for changes weekly, “look, check this out.”

He straddles the motorcycle and turns the ignition, the Arch roaring to life and it’s… loud and rumbly, not even remotely subtle. She can picture it now, him showing up to a gig on it and getting blasted to pieces immediately.

“No, V, don’t,” he cuts the engine, pointing a finger at her from where he sits on the motorcycle.

“What?”

“Don’t make that face at me!”

“What face?”

“The face you make when you’re about to piss all over my parade.”

“I do not piss on your parade.”

“You do and you’re about to do it right now, I know you V, you got a billion thoughts rattling around that skull of yours and not one of them is good.”

“All I was going to say…”

“Mmhmm.”

“Is, you should maybe consider swapping out the tailpipe.”

“It’s got a rumble, the chicas love that.”

“It’s got a rumble that tells every gangoon within a twenty mile radius that you’re coming their way.”

“Fair enough.”

“And… you should probably tinker with the fuel injection too, upload a new map, and slap on some thermal tape until you fix the exhaust.”

“V!”

She folds her hands on his shoulder, then balances her chin on top of them, giving him puppy dog eyes. He’s huffy, not meeting her gaze. V knows damn well her tendency to be a buzzkill, especially in comparison to Jackie. Its a bad habit that always leaves her feeling guilty, but also an impulse, because...if she isn’t prepared for worst case scenarios...that’s death.

“But I am really happy for you, it's a gorgeous ride and you look like a total badass on it.” She whispers, close enough that only Jackie can hear, hoping the honey sweet words will make him feel better. And she can see the smile pulling at his lips, that soon becomes that big grin she loves as he finally meets her gaze.

“Okay, okay, your buzzkilling is forgiven. You can stop blowing wind up my ass.”

“Hehe,” her face drops with realization, “Jackie, where’s my car?”

“Oh, uh, I dropped it off to my guy, Miguel. Fixed it up like new, you can call it whenever you want. But I figured, you’d rather grab a ride on this baby.”

“Ooooh, hell yeah.”

“C’mon, was planning on stopping by Misty’s, lets go.”

That’s all the provocation V needs, hopping onto the back of the Arch. The backseat space is limited, Jackie taking up the vast majority of the seat. But she slips behind him easily, wrapping her arms around his stomach. Her hands can’t quite fully meet around him, having to just tangle her fingers in the front of his jacket. Then the engine comes roaring to life, Jackie taking off from the curb.

She can’t help but laugh, Jackie not holding back as they go speeding down the city roads. He blasts the radio, blaring a song she doesn't know from the bike's speaker, mingling with Jackie's laughter and the wind whipping around them.

But it's not overwhelming, not too much, never could be with Jackie.

They weave through traffic, riding on the middle lane and not letting anything stop them as they pick up more and more speed. She’s pressed tight against his back, leeching off his warmth as the wind manages to send a little chill up her spine. Her cheeks ache from grinning as they cruise over a hill in the highway, catching air for a moment, her entire body bouncing when the bike hits the road again. If not for her tight hold on his jacket, she might have gone flying which only makes her laugh harder.

He doesn't slow down until they start to reach the stretch of city where Misty's store and Vik's clinic are, Jackie slowly pulling up onto a curb to park. Their bodies shifting forward at the stop, V’s chest pressing even closer into Jackie’s back for a moment.

"Joyrides over, jaina," he says, playfully tapping her hand where it sits on his stomach.

She lets go, allowing her friend to pull away and get off the motorcycle. His body language starts to shift, as he stands in front of her, looking off somewhere else. He takes a deep enough breath that she can see his chest move with it, then he crosses his arms and kicks at the pavement.

"She's a smooth ride," V signs to him, swinging her legs over the side of the bike so she can face him directly. Is he second guessing his decision? She didn't mean to make him feel bad about the choice.

"Uh," Jackie scratches at the back of his neck, "remember what I said, about having big news?"

"Is..the Arch not the big news?" She asks, pulling a leg up onto the motorcycle and resting an elbow on her knee.

"Ah nah, I'm proud of it, but this...chica, is so much bigger than that.”

"Okay...you wanna tell me or…?"

"Got a sweet ass j-o-b lined up for us; you, me, and Bug."

"I get the feeling this is different from our usual gig.”

“I mean, maybe it's not as big as that,” he puts his hands on his hips and shrugs, trying to play coy with his news, “Just that it's fronted by a little-known someone named Dexter DeShawn.”

“What!?”

“Only the top fixer in Night-fuckin'-City! Fat-assed Black Jesus of the Afterlife. Three hundred pounds of partly gold-plated cool.”

Dex Deshawn is one of Night City’s best, a fixer known for working in the Afterlife club, where the best jobs and contracts are done. Two baby mercs like her and Jackie couldn’t dream to set foot in the place, still cutting their teeth and making their name. Hell, Dex hasn’t even been active in NC for two years and V’s still heard of him, leaving that much of a mark on the city. But, she chews the inside of her cheek.

“He’s back in the city?” She asks first, wanting as much detail as possible.

“Yeah, gang wars two years back. Somehow Dex got caught up in the craziness. Lotta bodies lyin' in the streets by the time the shootin' stopped. Eh, Dex got lucky, though. Managed to slip under the radar tir tempers cooled. Took a while… but he's made one hell of a comeback.”

“Two years is a hell of a break, the fuck was he doing?”

“Ah, guessin' he shoved pizzas in his mouth while jerkin' off to hardcore virtus. Important thing is he's back, needs a fresh crew and he found us.”

If he’s made such a comeback and is still that high up in the underground world, why would Dex come to them? They’ve been steadily building themselves up over the past six months sure, a solid network of fixers who work with them and a reputation for clean work. But, they still aren’t legends, not major league players. V isn’t even chipped much beyond the basics. People like Dex have a black book of borged out solos with corp money funding them, that can do basically anything they can do but better and quicker.

Only difference is, they’d be cheaper. So, unless he’s looking to exploit them for some rinky dink shit job…

“Okay,” she signs, deciding to just ask, “but why the hell would he be scouting us? You and me ain’t exactly major leagues yet.”

“You, me - nah. But T-Bug, she's the one that hooked us up, got us talkin’ knew it was a done deal the moment he laid eyes on me. 'Cause, c'mon - ain't nobody who can resist this. Am I right?”

“Wait, when? Where the fuck was I?”

“Uhhh, probably in the sheets with Cece, if I had to guess.”

“You said you had a date with Misty last night!?”

“I did, didn’t I.”

“What the fuck, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Dex is big on meeting his crew members one on one. Wanted to get a read on me, without anyone else around. No point in getting you excited until he was sold on me."

“Okay, fine,” she rolls her eyes, she would have appreciated a heads up, but there’s worse tragedies, “So, what’s the gig? He give you the specs?”

“Well, that's the thing, you see. Our lord and savior wants to tell you everything himself. Face to face, have your turn in the hot seat.”

“Oh, okay… how’d it go with you and Bug?” She can’t help the nerves suddenly bubbling up inside of her. V has to meet one of Night City’s top fixers, convince him she’s worth hiring. That’s only vaguely terrifying.

“Eh, not that bad, but… T-Bug and Dex go way back. And my face is yesterday's news, you’re the wild card here. Dex says he needs to check you, talk to you No pressure, but the whole thing is riding on you at this point.”

“Yeah, no pressure.”

“Ain’t as bad as you think, okay? Trust me. Dex is the real deal when it comes to fixers. Don't get me wrong, don't got nothin' against the Padre or Wakako, but… Dex is in a league of his own You know what I'm sayin'?”

“Still a fixer, may just be roping in the cheapest gonks he can find, so he can drop our corpses in the landfill once everything is said and done.”

“Hey now,” his tone dipping a little lower than usual, “didn’t pull you out of the trash just to see someone to throw you back in, mija.”

She doesn’t miss the softness in his eyes, the hazel green looking at her so affectionately, then his large warm hand ruffles through her hair, bringing that tinge of red back to her cheeks. Mija is a rare term of endearment from him, just that bit more familiar and sweet than his usual chica or jaina. As much as she worries, she knows if anything does go sideways, Jackie will be there to help her.

“I know that, Jackie,” she signs, then jabs his stomach, trying to dispel the tender mood, she searches for a topic switch,“so, when's the meet with Dex?”

"Uhh...now."

"What?"

"Just around the corner, next to Gramsci Burgers, he's waiting on you."

"What!?" She blinks, in disbelief. V has to meet him, today, now. Completely unprepared. Has Jackie lost his goddamn mind?

"Time sensitive stuff, V, we gotta get this ball rolling, and quick.”

“And you couldn’t have said any of this before?”

“No worries, you’ll be fine, I’m gonna go pop in to see Misty,” he points his thumb back over his shoulder, “while you talk us up and seal the deal, alright?”

“Not alright, none of this is alright.”

“You got this, chica, just make us look good.” With a heavy clap on her shoulder, he starts to walk away. Fucker.

“I’ll key your fucking bike!” She signs, upping the volume on her translator.

“Love you too, jaina, text me when you’re done!~” He yells back, knowing her threat is an empty one.

Then he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd around the storefronts. V groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. Why on earth does she let him do this shit? A heads up, that’s all she asks for. Now, she has a meeting with one of the most influential fixers in Night City, with no idea of what to say or how to handle it. Make them look good, how the hell does she do that? He’s a loud mouth and she’s deaf, they sound more like a sitcom duo than a competent pair of mercs.

V shuts off her choker translator and gets her mask from her bag, sliding it onto her face and putting her hood up.�� The young merc climbs down from Jackie’s bike, leaving the dusty boot print on the seat, a little bit of petty rearing its head. She wrings and twists her hands together as she walks towards Gramsci’s Burgers, boots stomping across trash strewn pavement. She passes by hot pink tinted windows in buildings with strippers dancing to entice passerbys, a large open alleyway where a few groups of homeless people cluster in together.

The merc keeps her head down as she passes a skirmish between a group of Tyger Claws and the NCPD, a blood bath beneath an overpass. Between pigs or tigers; she has no preference. Not her fight. The sound of an emp grenade being thrown, pushes the merc to change the side of the street she walks on, she’s gotten used to the violence of Night City before the smell.

Shaded beneath a cement overpass is a sleek black limousine; Chevillion Thrax 388 Jefferson. An expensive well armored vehicle, one that certainly suits a man of Dex’s status. If the car itself was not enough protection the six foot seven bodyguard standing outside the rear doors tops it off. A portion of his face silver plated and his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. She takes a few steps closer when the large stoic mass of a man sees her. He says nothing, only opening the rear door.

V swallows the lump in her throat and adjusts her mask; nerves pit in her stomach, a chilled sweat on her skin that doesn’t come from the August heat.

The smoke hits her first when she starts to climb inside the car, despite the open windows and door, choking her through her mask. If it were anyone other than Night City’s top fixer, she’d already be gone. Instead she sits in the leather seats, sitting next to Dex. While crude, Jackie’s description was apt.

Dex Deshawn is a large man; dark dreadlocks and a rounded belly. He puffs away on a cigar, his right arm gold from the elbow down. The fixer and Jackie have similar tastes in colors it seems; red, black, and gold. Gold cyberware, a gold watch, and gold chains all adorn the fixer. Red leather vest over a black shirt and red tinted sunglasses hiding his eyes. The guard shuts the car door.

“Miss V, masked merc herself. A pleasure,” he greets her, his voice deep and smooth. His bodyguard is moving to get into the driver's seat.

“Happy to meet you,” she signs and she can see a little twitch in his eyebrow, as her tech translates. Its unorthodox.

“Weren’t joking ‘bout you; no face, no name, and no voice,” he chuckles, seemingly amused at her quirks before speaking to the driver, “let's roll.”

A beat of silence, V’s mind already spinning at those words. Jackie is incredibly excited for this gig, she’d hate to be the reason it tanks, not to mention it’s a great chance for her too. A chance into the major leagues, to really prove herself and make bank doing it. But if Dex is… put off by her secretive tendencies and unorthodox presentation, that could spell disaster.

“Mind if I ask you something right off the bangle?” Dex’s voice pulls her back from her thoughts, the car moving as the fixer switches his cigar from gold fingers to flesh ones.

“Go for it.”

“Would you rather live in peace as Miss Nobody, die ripe, old and smelling slightly of urine? Or go down for all times in a blaze of glory, smellin' near like posies, 'thout seeing your thirtieth?”

The question takes her aback for a moment and the gears in her head start to turn. Honestly, she never even thought she’d make it to twenty. Felt like she’s been living on borrowed time ever since she was a kid; the first press of iron against her skull from her own father at nine. There are corpos pushing two-hundred and she can’t comprehend living beyond thirty. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t want a long, happy life. But, it’s never seemed like an option. She doesn’t necessarily want to die young, it just seems inevitable, but she can’t say she truly cares if she dies old either.

“Quiet life was never on the table for me. But, truth is, no matter the lifestyle you live, we’re all one stroke of bad luck away from death.”

“That so?”

“Look, I’ve been dodging death all my life. Been shot, beat, stabbed, hacked, strangled; you name it, someone’s done it to me. More close calls than I can count. And I’m still sitting here. This girl used to live with her sister, just a few floors above mine. Then she caught a stray bullet coming home from the gas station. Went to buy a snack and a gang fight broke out. She wasn’t in a gang, wasn’t a merc, just a nineteen year old kid who’d chat my ear off about how she wanted to have her own bakery one day. So, why did I make it to twenty and she didn’t? “

Death doesn’t discriminate and it doesn’t care what kind of life you’re trying to live. Its nipped at her heel all of her life, but hasn’t taken her and won’t until it’s damn ready. What’s the point in hypothesizing whether her life will kill her sooner or if she’d live longer if she settled down; neither are a guarantee of anything. She might as well live her life how she sees fit, hit the major leagues, and death will strike her whenever it sees fit. V has watched and heard so many tales of those in her megabuilding, good people, better than her… losing their lives for no good reason. Because there is none; no logic to suffering, no rhyme nor reason to why or when death takes us.

“Jackie did say you think too much,” Dex laughs, “though maybe he just doesn’t think enough.”

“Not the answer you wanted?”

“No right answer, just a pet topic of mine, helps get a read on people. T-Bug voted for the quiet life, been planning her retirement for years. Jackster went blaze of glory, no shock there. And then there’s you, throwing the whole damn question out.”

“Someone’s got to keep you on your toes.”

“Maybe so.”

There’s something in his slight grin, his tone, and smooth voice that tells her this is going well. That somehow, she hasn’t fucked this entire thing up, yet, emphasis on yet. Her hands itch to fiddle with her shirt, no longer signing and needing to keep busy. But she stifles that instinct, forces her leg to not bounce with nerves.

“A’ight,” Dex speaks up after a moment, “listen close. Scannin' a serious job, now. Plain gargantuan compared to smashin' up a scav haunt.”

So, she’s gotten the gig? Don’t act excited, she tells herself, exited puppy merc is not a good look.

“What’s the job?” Moments like this she’s so glad she’s nonverbal, her throat feels like sandpaper. Her palms sweaty as she signs.

“There's this… prototype tech - a biochip, to be precise. Job’s to grab it. Simple.”

“Simple, sure… Assuming the tech belongs to a corp?” It has to be something big for Dex to be scouting for it.

“Mhm - Arasaka. Surely that's no problem?” His brow raises above his glasses.

“Course not, corps fuck us over everyday, be a crying shame not to return the favor every now and again.”

“Shit, you ain’t playing around. Got a feelin' this could be a start of a beautiful friendship built on heaps of eddies.”

“One step at a time, you got some sort of plan for grabbing this chip?”

“Two things,” he holds up two gold plated fingers, “First's a conundrum with the Maelstrom boys. Needs active resolvin', that. Second's a rendezvous. Simple. Client who brought us the job's anxious. She wants to parley with one o' the team.”

V’s face scrunches; why would the client need to meet? Its unusual to say the least, clients don’t usually meet the mercs directly. That’s the entire point of a fixer, a middle man to get them in touch and keep the deal fair. They’ve already got in touch with the fixer and arranged the gig. The hell else do they need?

“What’s the client’s deal? Why she need to meet?”

“Woman's name's Evelyn Parker. Vettin' her wasn't easy. Put the word out was lookin' for any kinda intel…”

The merc rolls her fingers, when Dex’s words drop off, encouraging him to explain further.

“Some brothers from Pacifica got back to me. Tol' me to stop lookin', end of convo, heheh. Anyway, our lil client insisted on meetin' someone with skin in the game - you know, who'll be there for it all. Yours truly'll be remote, T-Bug ain't no people person, and Jackie's only good at some things - I know you know what I mean. Pretty much leaves you.”

“Because I’m sure being unable to see my face or hear my voice will put her right at ease, I’m sure.”

“Ain’t there to give her the warm fuzzies, Miss V. She needs to know I sent a solid merc who does solid work.”

She both gets it and doesn’t. Jackie is the most sociable of their little motley crew, but he can be hard to take seriously, coming across as a bit more goofy. Its not a dig, she loves that about him. But, if you’re trying to convince a client you’ve gotten the best mercs for a job it can be a detriment. T-Bug tends to make people, especially strangers, feel downright insulted. So, V supposes she presents as a middle ground. Serious, yet vaguely off putting in her presentation, but competent and she won’t call the client an idiot even if they are.

“Understood, whats the deal with Maelstrom?”

“Slot in the shard,” he explains, getting a shard from the door compartment, holding it out to her. She takes it and slots into her mask, the interface suddenly clouded with a map and UI interface.

“Got a classic tale for ya. Psychogang, doin' its thing two weeks back jumped a Militech convoy, got away with the gear. Corp don't even know Maelstrom's involved. Now see, convoy was carryin' the Flathead - a little combat bot, a prototype. And I need me that bit o' high-grade military tech. 'Cause if we don't get that bot, we don't get no 'Saka chip. An' we sure as hell don't get no happily ever after. But don't get excited, it's a single-use toy.”

The images shift to show her the bot and its details, it reminds her of a spider. A flat metal base with spindly legs from its sides. The serial coding of the tech comes up.

“Now, I flat out purchased the damn thing from Maelstrom. Problem is, I did so from a gent went by the name of Brick. I say "went" 'cause Brick was the leader. Three days after we'd sealed our deal, his friend and gangmate, one Simon Randall, AKA Royce, plain dropped his ass. Royce is in charge now.”

The interface shows Brick; his actual name Declan Griffin. He has the pretty standard Maelstrom look, more metal than flesh. Glowing red optics implanted into his face, sandy hair shaved on the sides. Then it switches to Royce; no less decked out, but bigger and wider built. His head completely shaved with a thick dark beard; his red eye optics seeming to go further back, like his entire frontal lobe might be gone. Standard Maelstrom attitude; scrap out the flesh that matters, switch it out with chrome and damned the consequences.

“ And I got no way of knowin' if he aims to honor his predecessor's word. To add to this ‘shitstrom,’ one Meredith Stout of Millitech has developed an interest in said convoy.”

A woman pulls onto the screen, long blonde hair slicked back off of her face, icy colored eyes and dressed in tight black corp clothes. Sharp facial features and cyberware around her left eye. Standard corp look. The shard deactivates, nothing more to show, the world comes back to her view.

“New leader, what’s his deal?”

“Straight psychopath- chrome-lovin' kind.”

“And the skirt?”

“Corpo agent, internal affairs, Been skittin' 'round town askin' after the convoy as if her life depended on findin' it. The one lead she got's zip-tied in her trunk. Stick up her ass ain't growin' any shorter, so she must be gettin' desperate. Be wise to think how you could use that,” he smirks, “ ‘Course, to do so you'll need that frazzled cat's info. Sendin’ it now.”

V’s holophone lights up, as Dex’s optics glow beyond his glasses, him sending her the contact information. She’s not entirely sure if and how she’d use the Militech angle.

“Okay, think I got everything I need to get to work.”

“Why that's just music to my ears. I'll set up the meet with Miss Parker at Lizzie's Bar. Flathead, though, is gonna be all you.”

They both go quiet for a moment, V thinking as Dex continues to puff away on his cigar. Dex seems to approve of her, going ahead and giving her the prep work, but this opportunity could still be lost. If the client doesn’t approve or the Maelstrom debacle goes sour. This isn't a done deal, not yet. But she got through step one, which feels herculean. But something is still nagging at her.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Something I wasn’t clear on?”

“Why us, me and Jackie? T-Bug I get, but why me and him?”

“Think I’d be better off looking elsewhere?”

“No, no, I ju-”

“Chill, I’m just teasing, Miss V. I get it, really, not even a year in the city, right?”

“Yeah…”

“As far you’re concerned you’ve barely cut your teeth, right? Wondering why I’m scouting someone out who’s still in merc diaper?”

“About sums it up.”

He’s laughing again, seeming to find her confusion funny, or maybe there’s a joke she’s missing. But that doesn’t make the knot in her stomach go down any easier.

“Talent don’t always recognize itself, I suppose,” he laughs, “thing is I took a break from the city for a good two years and its left me with… a bit of appetite. Wanted to scout a fresh team. New Bug from before and I heard Jackie name around before I took my leave, just in passing not a merc you’d look twice at. Heywood boy with some messy work.”

“Hmm,” she hums behind her mask, hoping this isn’t going to be Dex shit talking Jackie.

“Nothing against the cat, I know you’re chooms, but when I get back to NC and start looking for talent; well turns out Bug is working with Jackie on the regular. Ask her what’s changed, tells me he got himself a new partner. Skilled merc who’s helping him out; stealthy, effective, and damned good at what she does. Bug don’t give out compliments like candy. Ask around a little more, well, damn near every fixer’s got something to say about Jackie and his newest partner Miss V. Six months and she’s more talked about than some mercs who’ve been doing this for years.”

“I don’t know about all that.”

“Believe it or not, I got a couple years on you, Miss V,” he jokes, “so trust me, I know talent when I see it.”

“Thanks.”

Silence falls back over the car ride, V taking in what he’s said. He’s blowing smoke, he has to be, she’s not anything special or talented. She just does a job like anyone else. Maybe Bug’s word does mean a lot, but V still can’t say she’s doing anything more than anyone else.

“One more thing, Miss. V,” Dex says as the car takes a turn, “Quiet life or blaze o' glory?”

She can’t say she has a more concrete answer, still not confident she prefers one to the other. V can’t imagine herself doing anything else, she’s not cut out for it. But, doesn’t mean there aren’t parts of that life she doesn’t crave. Stability, security, and eventually settling down; doesn’t sound too bad. She finds herself thinking of Jackie and Misty. Despite Jackie wanting the blaze of glory, she knows he talks about marrying Misty and having kids one day. His life no more quiet than hers, but he still has plans of becoming a husband and father…

The car starts to slow, pulling up to the curb around Kabuki Market, construction work scaffolding lining a space between two buildings.

“Later, now,” Dex gives a short farewell as the car stops and V gets out of the limo, scuffing her boots across the pavement. The limousine pulls away, leaving V alone on the sidewalk. An empt

She tugs her holophone from her pocket, pulling up Jackie’s contact. The first ring barely starts before he’s answering; his face in a video call panel in her mask’s optics. There’s no doubt in her mind that he’s been messed up with anticipation.

“Just got done chatting with our new fixer.”

“Heheh. Gordito's a big deal - literally and not, yeah?”

“Intense, but guess I faired alright, wants us to klep some tech, but we got prepwork first.There's this combat bot, military prototype. Maelstrom grabbed it. He paid to take it off their hands and then they had a switch in management.”

“Right, right, heard about that. Royce versus Brick - hostile takeover.” Jackie’s tone is terse, uneasy. Valentinos and Maelstrom have a history, while Jackie might have left the Heywood gang, it doesn’t mean that history is suddenly gone.

“Yeah, we got to talk to the new guy, Also gave some details of a Militech agent, in case we could use her to get what we want.”

“Ehhh, I don’t know about that, chica. Militech’s more likely to cut you throat than cut you a deal.”

“Not a fan of getting the corp involved either, but I sincerely doubt they’ll just hand it over. And I really don’t want to have to spend eddies on a tech he already bought.”

“It’s your call V, but I say keep the corpos sidelined.”

“Well, then there’s the other thing. Client who puts the job on the job wants to meet with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Apparently, she’s intent on meeting someone who will be there directly, I got the go ahead.”

“The fuck is Dex gonna do? Ride around in his limo, chat chicks up on the holo?”

“Hey, said it yourself, his job means his rules.”

“Must know what he's doin'… So, how you wanna play this? Maelstrom or Client, what's first?

“Client, she’s the one putting the job on the table. If she doesn’t give us the nod, then there’s no point in risking our neck with Maelstrom.”

“Orale, In that case, I'll head to All Foods, put my nose to the ground, sniff around. Hasta luego.”

Jackie hangs up and V sucks in a heavy breath; checking the time on her holophone. It’s five, an hour until six which is when Lizzie’s opens up. That alone seems like, an interesting choice on the client’s behalf. A braindance club run by the Mox, one of the only gangs V can say she genuinely likes. It’s made up of mostly sex workers who defend other sex workers. The club is mostly used for people to get braindances of the sex workers; but there’s a bar and dancefloor as well. V and Jackie have been there on gigs before. Not a bad little joint, but she has to wonder if this means the client is a Mox, a joytoy trying to rob Arasaka blind?

Speculation will get her nowhere, she decides, rubbing her face under her mask. She has some time and she’s not far from where T-Bug said she should pick up her little gift. A layered roof store on the top of two floored structure across the street, a bridge over the road leading her to it. Having to find a stairway outside the marketplace that loops around to the bridge.

T-Bug sent her to a dark little netrunning shop where a girl wearing dark glasses works at the desk. The exchange doesn’t take long, T-Bug had the clerk save back a Ping quickhack. A fairly basic little daemon that works with V’s mask, contacts, and internal cyberdeck. The clerk lets her play with it, pinging their security camera. Then V’s finding herself leaving the store with barely five minutes killed.

She fiddles with her phone, considering the Militech woman’s contact. Jackie’s right, not that she needed the reminder that corps are a fucking nightmare. But, the truth is she doesn’t truly know what the hell to do about Maelstrom. They need the bot; Dex made that clear. But the chrome loving gangoons don't really like to honor their deals, they’d sooner carve out V’s tongue and replace it with a cyber one just to see what happens. They’re going to expect Jackie and V to pay again. Or they’ll expect a war. And starting a war with a gang, on their turf, while they’re fresh off robbing a Militech convoy… Its a death sentence.

Fuck it, won’t hurt just to meet with the corpo, see if it gives her any ideas. V’s smart enough to handle herself against any corpo bullshit, she decides. Sorry Jackie. She presses the contact and rings Meredith Stout. In a short moment, the corpo woman’s image is in the video call panel. She looks just as she did in the shard, black formal clothes, slicked blonde hair; though the video panel has a layer of smoke as she puffs away on a cigarette.

“Stout here. Start by telling me how you got this number,” she says, a cold sharp tone and it sounds like there's a man groaning, struggling somewhere out of view.

“Little birdy told me you lost a convoy,” V teases, and can see Stout’s expression draw tight, brows furrowed. Then theres another groan, louder and sharper.

“You! Shut him up!” a smack rings out, “Spill what you know. Don't make me wait.”

“Not over the phone, meet me in person and we’ll cut a deal.”

“A deal… Fine. First exit off Skyline driving towards the NID. Storm channel under the overpass - meet you there.”

It’s still not that far away, roughly a five minute drive through China Town and up to Northside. Balls deep in Maelstrom territory; meaning Militech must already have an idea of who’s stole their shit. Not that they truly need the tech back, the militarized corp could lose a few hundred tanks and not see a dent in their bottom line. But pride or something.

She calls her car from her holophone when she reaches the road, her car pulling next to her in just a few moments. V climbs into her car and cringes when the radio turns on as soon as she starts the engine, Jackie’s station of choice coming on. She flips it off and drives, watching as Night City somehow manages to get worse as she gets closer to the meeting spot. Northside, use to be a hub of jobs and opportunity, now its just abandoned buildings covered in Maelstrom graffiti. V would call it the bad part of Night City, if not for every other part of Night City. But it is the biggest eyesore. Hell, Pacifica is a crime infested mess, but at least your mugging will have an ocean view.

V doesn’t go all the way down below the overpass, choosing not to meet them directly and immediately by going through the tunnel. Instead, she takes a left near Charter Street, going up towards the top of the overpass. She stops as the road is cut off by rickety metal gating, a homeless man passing through. V parks and walks through, there’s a bridge that crosses over the storm channel and she drops to a crouch as she walks over it. Getting a look at what waits for her below.

A Chevillion Ragnar Militech van; painted sleek black and armored beyond comprehension. Three people; two muscular guards and Meredith. The guards are chipped to hell and back; intensive cyberware. Something to be expected of any Militech employees, especially ones hired for muscle. There’s a small, childish, urge to hop down and surprise them. But that very well could end with her being shot. Instead, she behaves, makes sure her gun is loaded, and takes the stairs down; ill maintained metal steps with chipping yellow paint.

“Look lively!” Meredith calls out to her men as she catches sight of V, her expression nearly wrinkled with disgust at the sight of the masked merc, but extends her hand, “Meredith Stout. Take it you were the one to call.”

“That’s me,” V starts to sign with one hand and goes to shake the corpos hand with her other.

Then a fist collides the side of her head, quick, heavy it shoots pain through her skull. She’s knocked to the side, falling to the ground, stars dance in her vision. She fumbles to get her knife and stand up, but the guard is quicker, grabbing her wrists and yanking her up to her feet, just to wrench her hands behind her back. He’s easily over a foot taller, able to pull the small merc around and hold both wrists in one hand. Holding V back as Meredith draws closer, gloved hands reaching out and ripping the merc’s mask off, revealing the glowering blonde behind it.

“Thought you could blackmail me, bitch!” Meredith pushes her fingers into V’s hair, then yanking and tugging the merc’s head to the side as the guard shoves a jack into her neural port, “Set conditions?! Got any more for me?!”

V spits in Meredith’s face, her skull is white hot with pain between the yank of her hair and the punch. She can’t help but grin, watching her spit stick to to the corpo’s skin. Meredith lets go of V’s hair; reeling her hand back then smacking her across the face, sharp and strong enough to make the merc’s head move. Meanwhile the guard does god knows what, without her mask or contacts, V has no optic interface to tell her what’s being done; what the Militech goon could be doing.

The van doors open for a second behind Meredith, the other guard yanking a man out of it at gunpoint. A small, weasley guy in a suit with a face bruised black and blue.

“Christ Meredith!” He yells out.

“Shut your trap!” she looks at the guard holding V, “That fucking thing ready?

“All set.”

Leather clad fingers dig into V’s chin, Meredith forcing her head up, no doubt leaving bruises across the merc’s face, “Now answer my questions. Honestly. Forthrightly. Are you here alone?”

“I use ASL,” V forces herself to growl out, blood boiling. Who the fuck does this cunt think she is? Not only has V’s comfort of anonymity been ripped away, but her preferred form of communication is too.

“Sounds like you speak English just fine to me, now answer my fucking question, are you here alone!?”

“Yes. You crazy fuckin’ cunt, I’m here alone!”

“Its the truth,” the guard says, a fucking lie detector, of course.

“Do a sweep, now,” Meredith commands and a silver drone leaves the back of the van.

“Now listen close. This piece of shit,” she looks at her other captive, “Anthony Gilchrist is he your contact? Is he the one who leaked intel on the convoy?”

“Get your fucking hands off of me!”

“You answer to me bitch, Anthony Gilchrist!”

“Got no fuckin’ clue who he is or why I’m suppose to give a shit!”

“Checks out,” the guard tells Meredith.

“Came here cause I know who jacked the convoy, where the tech is.”

“Hmmm,” Meredith hums.

“I told you, I fucking told you, I’m not the mole!” Anthony screams out.

“Shut him up!”

“Unhand me now before I-- ungh!” Without another word Anthony is shoved back into the van.

“Her, you can let go. I wanna hear what she has to say.”

The guard rips the jack out from her neuroport and lets go of her wrists. The skin is bruises she notices as she grabs her mask off the ground, the snaps thankfully not broken as she slides it back on, tension in her shoulders easily only slightly with her face covered and arms free.

“We’re a little beyond that now, don’t you think,” Meredith remarks snidely, rolling her eyes.

“Fuck you,” V signs first thing.

“Stop wasting my god damn time, what do you want?”

“Gang has your tech, given where we are, I assume you know which one. All I want is one combat bot from it, thought we could help each out, but I’m not so sure.”

“Hmm, you have a plan of how to deal with them?”

“They’re expecting payment, but I don’t have the eddies laying around.”

“Course you don’t,” Meredith quips and V rolls her eyes.

“So, without cash, the option is to take it by force.”

“You’ll pay, but with our money.”

Meredith holds out a credchip shard, little chips that hold a certain amount of cash on them. V chews the inside of her cheek, looking at the green shard held in a gloved hand, it seems too good to be true. Because it certainly is. But, she takes the credchip.

“You pay with that chip, and that's all you gotta worry about. Try to fuck me in any way, and I'll be seeing you real soon,” Meredith delivers a final threat before climbing into the van, her last guard clambering into the drivers seat.

“You're making a mistake,” Anthony screams from inside the van as it takes off “This cunt's already good as dead! And she'll take you down with her!”

And then they’re gone; V left with a bruised face, a tender scalp, and a credchip in her hands. Jackie was right, she’s sure, god knows aligning with corps isn’t her way of doing things. There’s no way in hell, a Militech rep is just going to hand off ten grand without a plan.

V takes quick and steady steps back up the stairs and she sees it as she gets above the storm channel. The Militech drone, still hovering. Following her, tracking her. Her hands on her pistol in the next second, promptly shooting the drone down in sputtering sparks. Meredith can fuck off if she thinks V is just going to lead them to the Maelstrom hideout.

The assault and interaction bit up a chunk of time, so she climbs back into her car, time to meet the client. Anxiety pitted tight in her gut as she drives back down the Night City roads.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #jackie welles #meredith stout #johnny silverhand #silverv #eventually #aidan becker #aidan v becker #female v #can you feel the sun?

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rowanwhitethornisbae · 3 years

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Faking It Chapter 4

A/N: This Chapter takes place in like an hour which was not my intention when I started but here it is anyway. I really like this one and I think it leads perfectly into the rest of the story. Enjoy! CW: Swearing

Faking It Masterlist

“Get up right now!” Aelin yelled at her cousin, her body hovering above his sleeping form. “Aedion I have a math test first period that I'm going to miss.”

She grabbed the pillow out from under his head and smacked him with it. Her moron of a cousin just groaned and rolled over, muttering something indecipherable under her breath.

“Pleaseee Aedion.” Aelin whined, fully aware of how desperate she sounded. Aelin wasn't exactly a natural at math, and really needed to do well on this test if she was even going to pass.

“Fuck off.” He grumbled, and turned back over in bed. He had spare first period, and didn't need to be at school for another hour and a half. Still, he’d promised her over dinner last night that he’d take her in. Aelin had woken up about ten minutes ago and got ready quickly, fully prepared to be driven by her cousin.

She called Lysandra’s phone, only for it to go straight to voicemail. Without wasting anymore time, Aelin chugged the remaining half cup of coffee, needing the energy boost, and left the house. She knew Aedion would feel guilty later, but it was too late now for his future apologies to matter.

Aelin had gotten all of half a block, when she realized that she was still wearing Doc Martens. There was no fucking way she was going to be able to walk the five miles to school in these platforms without dropping dead. Just then, as Aelin fully prepared herself to collapse on the ground and fake an illness, a car pulled up. Aelin recognized the beat black vehicle, and the small dent in the front from days prior.

Rowan Whitethorn rolled down his window slowly, as if he was still deciding whether or not to drive away. “Want a drive?”

She looked him up and down, than glanced down the road at the miles stretching out before her. Was getting mocked and condescended to really worth a math grade? Aelin continued to walk down the street in answer.

Rowan groaned and rolled the car forward, keeping pace with her easily. “Just get in the car.”

Aelin had heard those words from him before, in an ironically similar situation. Against her own wishes, a memory surfaced. She tried in vain to push it out, but it was no use.

18 Months prior, Aelin Galathynius had been walking down this same street, a bottle of vodka in hand and her cheeks stained with tears. It had been a month since the car crash that claimed both her parents lives. In all honestly, Aelin was less of a wreck than she would've expected. She knew who she owed that fact too, but Rowan Whitethorn was currently across town at a football game with his friends. He didn't care. No one cared.

So here she was, drunk and sobbing as she walked unsteadily down this empty suburban road. Every once in a while she’d trip and her momentum would spin her around, sending her back in the same direction she’d come.

Aelin didn't know how long she'd been walking back and forth for, but it must have been a while. The sunset that had torn the sky into strips of different colours was gone, replaced by the blackness of night and a tiny sliver of a crescent moon.

The alcohol must've numbed her body because when she looked down, Aelin was shocked to find that her feet were bleeding. She wasn't wearing shoes, and pieces of rock and dirt had scratched away at her skin. Aelin found it so funny that she’s forgotten shoes, that she leaned over and started laughing. Deep, wrenching sounds that had her leaning over her knees for support. When she was done laughing at nothing, Aelin continued her stroll down the road, still ignoring the raw and bloody skin of her feet. If she could handle losing both her parents, she could handle some blisters.

Thats how Rowan found her. Silent tears rolling down her face, an empty bottle of vodka in her hand, bloody feet, and a terrifyingly empty smirk etched onto her pale face.

She didn't notice him pull up this time, too consumed by her own grief. She did however, hear his voice. Like an anchor in the sea, she felt the tug deep in her soul.

“Aelin.” He had said, pain lingering behind his every word. She had found it funny at the time that he was in pain. Both his parents were alive. What he could possible have to be upset about. She only realized it days later, after the breakup that had destroyed what was left of her.

He had been in pain because he loved her.

She hadn't answered the man in the car. Just kept on walking blindly down the street, bloody footprints on the stone behind her.

“Let me help you Aelin.” He paused. “Just get in the car.”

When she hadn't, he’d pulled up right there in the middle of the road and gotten out. He’d pried the alcohol out of her hands and held her against his chest until she had no tears left to cry. Then, so gently that it snapped something in her chest, he’d picked her up and taken her to his car. She was nearly passed out when they arrived at the hospital. The doctors had patched up her feet, removed a small piece of glass that had gotten in her heel. Rowan had stayed overnight with her, and when she awoke in that hospital bed, hungover and in pain, the sight of him sleeping in a tiny chair beside her bed had begun to heal her.

“Come on Aelin. You’re going to be late for math class.” He insisted, and she snapped out of the unwelcome memory. His voice conveyed that this was her last chance to accept his offer.

Finally, she stopped. Although a late slip was better than being ridiculed, another failed math mark was not. She sighed and walked around to the other side of his car. Something like surprise flashed on Rowan’s face, but it was gone in an instant.

“Thanks.” She said as swung the passenger door shut.

Rowan simply nodded and pushed down on the gas. They sat in silence for a brief moment and Aelin crossed one leg over the other.

“So,” Rowan began, clearly trying to break the tension. She supposed it was a good idea if they were going to do this whole fake dating thing. “Are you ready for the test.”

Math was their only class together, luckily, and the only thing they really had in common. It wasn't a shock to her that Rowan would use that for small talk.

“Um I studied a lot but I don't really understand any of it.” Aelin shrugged, suddenly wishing she was better at math. “I guess I'll just try my best again.”

“What’d you get last time you tried your best?” He asked.

Aelin winced. “58 percent”

Rowan gave her a look without turning his head from the road. “What’s your current average.”

“I’d rather not.” She started fiddling with her hands. She really, really, did not want to give Rowan another reason to make fun of her.

“Come on.” He pried further.

Aelin was fully prepared to lie, so it surprised even her when the truth escaped her lips. “47,″ she paused, “point five.”

Rowan shot her an incredulous look, finally turning his head fully. “How is that even possible, your marks were high eighties in sophomore year.”

“You tutored me.” She admitted without really thinking. “It made sense when you explained it.”

She knew it was the wrong thing to say when he stiffened, his fingers tightening on the wheel. A few seconds later, they pulled into the parking lot.

“We’re here.” He told her, opening the door.

Aelin waited until Rowan was halfway to the school to say, “I can see that.”

Groaning, she started making her way to class. Luckily, Aelin didn't see anyone she knew. She used the few extra minutes that Rowan’s drive had saved her to run over formulas in her head. She knew that she’d completely forget how to apply them as soon as she picked up the test, but it didn't hurt to know.

The classroom was full when she got there, and Aelin took her normal seat at the back. In all the commotion with Rowan, Aelin had completely forgotten that she also had this class with Chaol. Her first with him since the breakup.

She tried not to look in his direction, a feat that was made impossible when he stood up and walked over to her desk.

“Hey Aelin.” He said, his hands braced on her desk. She didn't like how short this arrangement made her feel.

“Chaol.” She said, nodding her head.

“How are you doing?” He asked.

Aelin groaned internally and dared a glance over at Rowan. He sat two seats to her left, and was watching her and Chaol with a blank face. Swallowing, Aelin smiled up at her ex-boyfriend. “Fine.” She purposely didn't reciprocate the question.

“Cool cool.” Chaol chewed on his cheek in a way that had never bothered her before, but she now found infuriating. “I was just wondering if you’re planning on going to Dorian’s party this Friday.”

Ahhh. So that’s what this torturously awkward conversation was about. She gave him a shallow nod. “I think so. Why?” She added the last word as an afterthought.

“No reason.” Then he took a long sigh. “I just think it might be awkward if I end up hooking up with someone and you’re there.”

Aelin’s mouth fell open. That could not have been something he actually just said. She nearly laughed at the absurdity of his comment. “Don’t worry about me.” She said sarcastically. “Hook up with all the girls you want, I know I will.”

He went slightly pale, but still spoke in a teasing voice. “You’re going to hook up with girls?”

Aelin couldn't help but laugh and Chaol smiled with relief at her response. Out of the corner of her vision, she noticed Rowan’s eyes darken. Chaol was just about to turn away, when she stopped him.

“Chaol,” He stiffened slightly, as if expecting her to yell at him. “I have a question about the politics of the football team.”

He looked confused, but relieved all the same. Chaol leaned on her desk again, bringing their faces uncomfortably close.

“Would an assistant captain be able to pick someone to try out for the team.” Her voice was quiet enough that she knew Rowan couldn't hear.

“Yeah,” Chaol answered, “If an assistant captain finds someone that they think would be a good fit then they are allowed to set up a tryout without needing permission from the captain.”

“Thanks.” She said, pulling her pencil case out of her bag in a sign of dismissal.

Chaol gave her a curt nod, and deciding not to ask further about her questions, went back to his chair.

Minutes later, the teacher handed out the tests, set the timer and told them to begin.

-------------------------

Rowan could tell Aelin was struggling. It was obvious from the frustrated look in her eyes and the slumped posture of her shoulders. She was chewing on her lip and looked quite honestly on the verge of tears. Rowan knew she wouldn't cry in class, she’d always preferred to wait and suffer alone. But the odds were that Lysandra would find her in the bathroom during lunch, locked inside a stall.

The thought of her in pain had never really bothered him before. He’d been too consumed in his hatred of Aelin Galathynius to really mind. But now, after she’d thawed through a little bit of the ice he regarded her with, the thought was nearly unbearable.

Rowan Whitethorn had never cheated on a test in his entire life. There was really no need to when he possessed a natural knack for academics. Shit just made sense to him, it had always been like that. So now, as he ever so slowly reached for his phone from his jacket pocket, his heart was positively racing.

The teacher was at the front of the class with his head down, grading papers. Still, Rowan felt like the man had to be able to hear the sound of Rowan’s heart beating against his chest. Once he had a solid grip around his phone, he slipped it silently out of his pocket.

His hands were sweaty, and Rowan silently begged the gods not to let him drop it. He carefully grabbed his test and propped it up as a shield, making it look like he was just reviewing it. Sitting in the back row meant there was no one behind to him to snitch, and he trusted the four people that sat to his right enough. With his phone on silent, Rowan quickly took three pictures of the test pages and sent them to Aelin.

He lingered for a moment on the chat, their last texts being from 18 months ago.

Aelin: Im really fucking sorry Rowan. Can we still be friends?

He’d left her on read and five minutes later, she’d text again.

Aelin: I need you in my life still.

There were typos in his next message, his eyes too blurry with tears to see straight.

Rowan: You should've thouht of that first. Don't call me. Don't text me. I fucking hate you Aelin. I nver ever want to speak to you again.

She’d never responded, but true to his word, they hadn't spoken since then. Until three days ago.

Pushing that from his mind, Rowan hit send on the pictures. Already done with his test, he used this time to watch Aelin.

Her hair was down, and she kept tucking it behind her ears every few moments. Browa furrowed, she bit on her lower lip in a way that had his hand tightening around his pencil. With his eyes on her, Rowan saw the exact moment that her phone vibrated in her pocket. She looked left and right, and he turned away before she could make eye contact with him, and then turned back to her test.

She did almost the exact same thing he had, using her test as a shield and pulling out her phone. She clicked a few things and then her mouth fell open. There were too many emotions on he face for him to pick out. Relief, shock, joy, surprise.

Her head jerked in his direction and this time he was too late to turn away. Their eyes met and the way she looked at him had the rest of the class fading away. His heart rate sped up yet again, and there was nothing between them but wasteful space. He couldn't look away from her if he tried.

Luckily, she looked away first, making him feel quite foolish. She began to copy his answers down, clearly making sure to get a few wrong as to not get caught. Although it seemed an eternity, it took Aelin all of two minutes to change 90% of her answers and pocket the phone once again.

Rowan released a long breath and felt himself relax again. They’d actually done it. He felt a strange sense of pride, uncomfortably similar to the way he’d felt when him and Aelin were dating. When they broke into an abandoned beach house to jump off the balcony and into the ocean.

The bell dismissed them and Rowan jumped up from his desk, eager to get out of class before Aelin tried to talk to him. Still, he should've known that evading Aelin Galathynius was utterly useless.

He had barely gotten to his locker when she caught up to him. He was pulling books out and didn't look her way.

She leaned on the locker beside his - Lorcan’s - and stared at him. “Why’d you do that?”

He just kept picking out books. “I don't know what you’re talking about.”

She snorted and Rowan felt a blush rise on his cheeks. “Don't play dumb with me. Why’d you help me cheat.”

Rowan was quickly running out of books in his locker. “No thank you?”

She gave him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

He just nodded and finally turned to face her, slamming his locker shut with more force than was necessary.

He was fully prepared to leave when she spoke again. “Shall we go to lunch?”

For the second time in who knows how long, Aelin Galathynius snapped the last bit of his sanity. He flipped them around, so her back was pressed up against the lockers and he was hovering above her. He braced both arms on each side of her head and brought his face close to hers. He could feel her rapid breathing on his cheek and see the way that gold ring in her eyes swelled with fear. He watched as her nostrils flared as she took in his heaving chest. He considered himself lucky that she didn't turn her head to peek at his shaking hands.

“Aelin.” He said, his voice laced with venom. It was then that he realized this was the first time he’d spoken her name in nearly a year and a half. For a second, he lost the ability to speak. But then she made the smallest movement as if to escape his hold, and he regained it.

“I don't want to walk to lunch with you. I don't want to trade answers with you. I don't want to speak to you. I don't even want to look at you. I am doing this for me and only me. We talk when it is completely necessary. Other than that please, just leave me the fuck alone. You are nothing to me and I do not care.”

She didn't even flinch as he spoke. Almost like she knew exactly what he was going to say. There was no sign of hurt in her eyes, just ice cold emptiness.

“Why?” She asked. The word was so quiet that he nearly missed it.

“You cheated on me Aelin.”

There it was. The truth that neither of them had been willing to discuss. He had loved her so much that he was completely consumed by it. But she’d slept with Chaol anyway. He never understood why and she never bothered to explain.

She opened her mouth to say something when someone cleared their voice beside them.

“What's going on?” Lorcan asked, Fenrys beside him with his eyes wide.

Rowan stepped back from Aelin as if he’d been burned. She didn't move though. She stayed there against the lockers looking up at him with a crestfallen expression on her face.

“Nothing.” Rowan said harshly, looking right at Aelin. “Nothing’s going on at all.”

She nodded her head, murmured an apology, and disappeared down the hall.

He watched her go for a moment and then slammed his head against the locker, trying to drown out the mindless sounds of a high school hallway and fight the growing urge to cry.

------------

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if you changed your username please let me know so that I can change your tag!! send an ask to be added

#rowaelin #rowaelin au #faking it #rowaelin angst #throne of glass

57 notes · View notes

pocket-void · 4 years

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Table for Two

A/N: Hi! This the first fanfic I’ve written for literally anything! (I’m an on and off writer in general tho) I’m hoping to write a collection of unconnected short stories currently called Smaller Sides to Life, that focuses on small/short moments in time during specific events. I’d be so grateful for any comment or feedback, but honestly I just hope you enjoy it first and foremost! >///<

Pairing: Logicality Words: 2468 Content: Human AU? A lot of descriptions of anxious waiting, so I guess it’s got a lil angst. Happy ending! (Please tell me if I need to mention anything I am very unfamiliar with how this works ;///;) Summary: Logan grows ever more anxious as he waits for his date, who, at this point, he isn’t even sure is coming.

If you wanna read my google doc for this instead you’re free to. (I like Cambria font u///u) I have an Ao3 but I am currently not using it.

Logan was alone, sitting comfortably at a table for two in the back of a halfway decent food establishment, silently watching as the ice cubes in his water shifted and tapped against the glass while they melted with each passing second. Well, “comfortably” was a lie, of course. There was absolutely nothing comforting about being in such a place on his own, with only the dim flickering candles on the table to keep him company. He didn’t really know what the worst part of the whole thing even was. Was it the ever encroaching chatter that surrounded him? The sickeningly sweet music that played in the background? The blank, unflinching cold stone wall in front of him? Or perhaps, it was the still empty seat that sat mockingly at the other side of the table.

Indeed, Logan was unhappy, uncomfortable, and alone.

The nervous tapping of his foot was practically synonymous with the pattering rain against the windows. The typically majestic city view now nothing more than an amorphous glob of glowing lights amidst the water droplets and fog. He couldn’t help but repeatedly switch between checking his watch and frantically clicking his pen, occasionally scribbling down a loose nonsensical thought or two onto his little notepad. The action barely made a difference in soothing his racing mind, but he had to do something to distract himself. He’d do practically anything to ease the agony that was continuously settling in his heart with each passing minute. The absolute dread hanging over him like an impending guillotine.

This was foolish. Logan sighed. Surely he was overreacting. There must’ve been a reason. He thought to himself, but it was no use. Not a single thing he told himself could possibly make the immensely slow sinking weight forming at the pit of his stomach go away. Not. A single. Thing. For someone who typically prided himself on being able to, and rather efficiently mind you, keep his calm in the most stressful of situations, this was quite distressing to say the least.

He’s simply running late. He reasons to himself. It happens. You know that. Well, of course he did. There were practically an infinite amount of possibilities that could’ve delayed the arrival of the person he was waiting for, and most of them were not inherently related to Logan’s personal character. That was the most logical conclusion, anyway. Did that thought comfort him any though? No.

It’s been an hour, Logan. You must be joking if you still think he’s coming. Another thought tore through his mind. Well, he may not have been joking, but he was well aware of how ridiculous it must’ve seemed. Just him, sitting alone at a table for two, growing ever more and more desperate by the second. To hold on to even a sliver of hope must’ve seemed utterly utterly foolish. Every pitying glance by the passing waiter refilling his cup only served to make him feel even more miserable. He wished desperately, in that moment, that he could just disappear; he hoped he could shrink down in size so small that he wouldn’t have to be seen anymore. He wanted to completely collapse in on himself and crumple up like the pathetic scraps of paper he’d been unconsciously tearing out of his notes. He wanted the world to just fade to black, and for him to simply drift away into an endless void, away from everything. Away from this. Maybe then he’d be free from the dreaded weight that sat heavily upon his shoulders. He didn’t think his heart could even beat this fast, but there it was, hammering in his chest like a hyperactive hummingbird.

He hated it.

He’s not coming, Logan. That thought instantly sank itself into the depths of his soul. He felt a lump begin to form in the back of his throat; it was almost nauseating. He’s not coming because he doesn’t want to see you. Another thought that dug itself into his mind. He felt his teeth harshly grind against each other as his jaws clenched, begging himself to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He didn’t even give you a call. The world suddenly seemed to freeze. A quiet realization sent an absolutely disparaging chill down his spine. You didn’t even get the courtesy of knowing you’ve been rejected. He let out a weak shaky breath before finally lowering his face into his hands, completely defeated. This was beyond pathetic, honestly. How unbecoming of him to be this way. He wasn’t coming. He already fully knew how illogical it was to remain in his seat. Yet, a part of himself still refused to let him throw what remained of that practically shattered hope away.

And so, the clock kept ticking still...

Logan wasn’t really sure how long it’s been at this point. Everything had begun to slowly meld together in his mind. Beyond the disappointment and despair was just the dull aching pain of rejection in his chest, not to mention the utterly dry and bitter taste in his mouth. He berated himself for being this pathetic about the whole thing, and a coward who couldn’t even muster up enough courage to stand up and go home. It was frustrating, because he knew better than this. It was both impractical and nonsensical to keep waiting. But he felt weak, and his two feet remained firmly stuck to the floor as if they were made of solid, immovable lead. The waiters have collectively decided to leave him alone at this point, which he had considered a small blessing. He didn’t want to bother pretending to smile or claim that everything was ok anymore; the energy was long depleted by now.

Logan let out yet another shaky breath, wrapping his arms around him and hugging himself tight, trying as he might to figuratively and literally “get a grip” on reality. What was he even waiting for? Why had he been so eagerly anticipating sitting at this table just a few hours before leaving work? What was the point? What was he doing? He still had tasks to do! There were still piles upon piles of work that had to be done at his desk but no, he was here. He was here, sitting alone, and doing nothing. Logan glanced down at his watch yet again, but its face was unreadable. His eyes blurry and unclear even as he rubbed the tears away, adjusted his glasses, and squinted. The only message it managed to send was just how much time he was wasting away by remaining where he currently was. Nobody was coming. His grip tightened, nails practically clawing at the sleeves of his suit. Never in his life had he felt so betrayed by something that originally had a perfect and fitting place within his schedule. What had he done wrong? Where did he make a mistake?

The gentle laughter and casual chattering of the surrounding atmosphere were like needles in his back as he felt himself curl inwards. The sweet and decidedly romantic music that served as the loving backdrop for what was to be a pleasant evening for patrons was now mocking and decadent. It sounded almost like a distant echo, far far away. Something that he was always in the vicinity of, but will never truly be able to enjoy; a happiness he cannot obtain. He was trapped. He was trapped here, in a dim corner of a restaurant, with a lukewarm cup of water, weakly flickering candles, a cold unflinching wall, the pitter patter of rain, the incessant (and mildly imaginary) ticking of his watch, crumpled up scraps of note paper, sickening chatter, unappealing music, a dry bitter taste in his mouth, an unnerving feeling of cold sweat, a dizzying headache, a fast racing heart, a barely registering breath, a lump in his throat, and clearly watering eyes.

All at a half empty table for two.

He hated it.

He ended up sitting there for so long that he felt drained, empty. His eyes now only slightly stung when opened, but he kept them closed while he leaned against one arm against the table. By now he had, at the very least, managed to catch his breath. He felt so tired. Logan took a deep breath and glanced down at his watch yet again. It had only honestly been an hour and a half, not that much time at all in the grand scheme of things. And yet here he was, feeling like he had been stationary for several years. Perhaps it was finally time to go. He shifted his aching body to finally attempt to escape from this prison, but a hurried rush of footsteps instantly made him freeze up yet again.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

“Oh my goodness god, you’re still here!”

Logan jolted at the sound of the sweet, silvery voice that rang out, very obviously filled with concern. He turned towards the person who hastily ran up to him, the cold hands cupped around his face immediately snapping him awake from his previous haze.

“I can’t believe you waited for me for this long!! Have you been here the whole time?? I’m- Oh my god I’m so so sorry Logan I-”

He honestly couldn’t even process what he was seeing, much less feeling. A man stood in front of him now, frantically gesturing and apologizing, and absolutely soaked to the core. Logan could very much feel the gazes of dozens of patrons on them now, but it didn’t matter. All he could do was stare with wide eyes at his date, whose suit was completely muddied and shoes absolutely ruined by the rain. He blinked a few times as he tried to understand what the man was even saying as he kept pausing and stuttering while constantly sweeping his matted and wet light brown hair out of his eyes. Seeing him there, standing in front of him, was enough to make Logan feel his heart slowly begin to beat once again.

“God, Logan, I know you must be mad at me, I’m- How could I possibly ever make this up to you? Oh god, oh dear, I can’t believe I did this to you! I’m just so sor-”

“Patton…” Logan finally managed, taking one of Patton’s cold hands into his and finally stopping his rambling. He took a silent moment to just quietly immerse himself into the other’s sparkling and visibly apologetic blue eyes. A beautiful and comforting sight for his literally sore ones. He felt something start to bubble up inside of him, and it began to slowly rise in his chest. A warm, fluttering feeling that rose, higher and higher, until a soft laugh finally slips from his lips. Patton’s expression instantly lightens at the sound, and Logan could feel the once soul crushing weight that surrounded him finally melt away. He gives Patton’s hand a light squeeze, an absolutely relieved smile now upon his face. “Patton. It’s ok.”

There wasn’t a single moment’s hesitation when Patton sprang forwards to wrap Logan in the tightest hug he could possibly manage. Despite the water that slowly seeped into Logan’s own clothes, and the hug being admittedly cold on account of Patton being completely drenched, he had never felt his heart swell with so much warmth in his entire life. They stayed locked in each other's embrace until Patton remembered his current condition and quickly backed off with yet another series of apologetic bows.

“Dear lord, now look what I’ve done. I went ahead and ruined your clothes too!” He giggled, trying his best to wipe away the water with a napkin to barely any success.

Logan just couldn’t help but smile at the clumsy yet adorable gesture. “Don’t worry about it. It’s clearly not as bad as whatever happened to you.” He pointed out. “Say, whatever did happen to you anyways? You weren’t answering any of my calls and I...I thought you weren’t going to…” He paused for a moment before opting to take a long sip out of his cup instead before shrugging. “You know.” He murmured, his body unintentionally stiffening at the insinuation.

Patton looked crushed at the thought, which he was unfortunately terribly aware of. He embarrassingly rubbed at the back of his neck and lowered his head. “I-I know, and I really am so sorry Logan. I...I didn’t expect you to still be here either. And I couldn’t even tell you! Oh geez… After making you wait so long, you probably honestly should have just-”

“It’s ok, Patton.” Logan reassured with a nod, voice barely a whisper. He gently lifted one of Patton’s hands and brushed his lips against the man’s knuckles. “What’s important is that you’re here. That’s enough.” He felt a small bit of pride as he watched Patton’s face flush at the unexpected gesture.

The man quickly took the hand back with a laugh before settling down in the seat across from Logan. At last, filling the space that completed the whole picture.

“Still, the fact that I made you wait that long is terribly unreasonable. So just please let me-”

Logan chuckled, gesturing towards a leaf that was still stuck in his date’s hair, to which the other quickly pulled out with a flustered huff.

“Logan, I’m trying to apologize here!”

“You already have.” He stated, quickly dismissing the concern with a smile. The other clearly had no defense against him doing that, to which Logan was fully aware of. The smile then curled into a satisfied smirk upon his silence. “So, are you going to tell me?”

Patton blinked in response. “O-Oh! Right! You aren’t going to believe this, but-”

And as Patton energetically attempted to recall his unfortunate run-in with the storm while trying to rescue a cat from a tree, forgetting he’s allergic to them, slipping up and falling out of said tree, missing the bus, and losing his phone in the entire process, Logan simply sat comfortably across from him, fully content to listen to his story. It was ridiculous, it was nonsensical, and it was of course, entirely hilarious, but he enjoyed every word that came out of the mouth of the sweet and adorable man that now accompanied him. Patton’s rain stained glasses, half dried and now puffing up hair, and his freckled smile, completely lit up the once dim and lifeless corner of the restaurant they sat in. Nothing could have detracted from that moment in time. Not the rain, not the stares, and certainly not how the time just seemed to fly by, even during the comfortable silence that sat between them while they both enjoyed their meals. Logan wouldn’t have missed any of it for the world.

Here at this table for two.

#I did it!#I'm lowkey much more nervous about posting writing than I am posting art #But this was nice to write so I'm glad I finished it #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #mock writes #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton #logicality #Smaller Sides to Life

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