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drakenology · 3 years

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My Other Half. - Bokuto Kōtarō

warnings: smut, soft, passionate love making, fluff, angst?, best friends to lovers, maaaybe overstim?, praise, fem!reader, cunnilingus (a fancy word for pussy eating). just bokuto going all out to make you feel good.

Summary: Two childhood friends reunite after years of being separated to find old memories and new feelings of love.

Author’s Note: this is my first ever like fluffy piece. all my other work I feel has just been raunchy and I wanted to show yall my soft side. enjoy! <3

Bokuto Kotoro. A name you knew well. A name you knew since you were both kids playing in dirt together, running around and screaming without a care in the world. Two peas in a pod; like Peter Pan and Tinker Bell. It was a sad day when he moved away. Your only friend packed up and left for Tokyo, tears in his eyes as he sat in the backseat of his parents’ car. He waved goodbye through the glass window as the car drove away, a trail of his tears seeming to follow the car as it went. That was the last time you saw him.

When you turned twenty one, your birthday present was a small house in Japan. Some place rural and quiet to do your writing, a small creek flowing in your back yard. You packed up and left home, kissing your mother and father goodbye as you walked out the door. Maybe you’ll run into Bokuto? Hell, he probably won’t even recognize you. It’s been years after all.

You still hoped some how some way fate would bring you together again. You missed him like crazy. His laugh, his stupid jokes. That sparkle in his eyes when he saw you at school. The bear hugs he used to give when you scraped your knee playing with him at the park. It was crazy to assume he’d be waiting for you in Tokyo as if you were the only girl he’d ever meet or care to talk to.

He’s grown now, just about a year older than you. He could have a significant other by now. Your heart ached at the thought. Even though it was selfish to call dibs on a childhood crush who hasn’t seen you in over 10 years, you still hoped; prayed that he was waiting for you or at least remembered you.

When you arrive in your new home and settle in you decide to take the town. Surely you can make some friends, maybe even meet a guy while you’re out? You don’t bother to get all gussied up, walking outside your front door and walking to the nearest bar you can drink your inhibitions away in. The bar you found was small and smelled a bit like sweaty athletes and sake.

The atmosphere was lively despite the off putting smell, everyone was laughing and chatting aloud. The sounds of glasses clinking in celebration and jovial cheering filled the space. You smile softly at the sight of everyone having a great time and find a spot in a nice booth by the window.

The guys behind you must be where the sweaty smell was coming from, their clammering laughter pounding at your head. You try ignoring it until you hear a different yet familiar voice; boisterous and proud like a boy you once knew.

“Yo, Akaashi! Pass the ketchup man, I’m hungry!” He whined childishly, same as always. You turn around swiftly to see if the face matched the voice. Surely enough there he was sitting there, tall as a tree even when sitting in his seat.

God he got so handsome, his face definitely grew into his looks. Bokuto wasn’t a little boy anymore for sure. You stammer, looking between Bokuto and his messy haired friend sitting next to him and a few others. You go to say something only for your own anxiety to stop you, your heart fluttering in your chest in a new way you haven’t felt before.

Finally Bokuto’s eyes meet yours and you both sit there for a while just staring, as if each of you couldn’t believe you were seeing each other again after all this time in forever. Bokuto’s face crept into a smile; a familiar smile that melted your heart.

“Y/n-chan? Tell me you’re joking! I can’t believe it’s you!” Bokuto shouts over everyone’s conversation, leaping from his seat and running towards your booth. You’re still stuck there turned around looking like an owl gawking at the table behind you to realize what’s going on.

Bokuto practically lifts you from your seat and wraps you in one of his famous bear hugs, the ones that made you cry into his chest. As tradition called, you start sobbing into his shirt. Your arms wrap around his neck and pull him in tight almost to tell him not to let you go ever again.

“Hey hey hey.. why are you crying? Shit you’re gonna make me cry. Stop it.” Bokuto says into your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into your back with his big hand.

“I-I’m sorry I just.. it’s been so long.” You admit, sniffling as he pulled away to wipe your face. You can’t help but get emotional at the sight of him.

“Geez, Y/N if you missed me just say that.” Bokuto teased, erupting into furious laughter at your flustered face.

“Oh shut up Bokuto!” You squeak, punching him in his side like the old days. Your usual banter made you two look at each other and laugh as if you two were the only ones in the bar, his friends staring at the the two of you as if you were insane.

“Uh Bokuto.. who is this woman?” The messy haired friend asked, looking about the most confused out of everyone.

“Huh? Oh! Sorry guys. This is Y/N Y/L/N. Other than Akaashi, she’s one my closest friends. Our moms were close so we were raised kinda like siblings.” Bokuto explained, nudging you to say hello.

You wave and introduce yourself, the everyone ooing and ahhing at you. Not to toot your horn but you were gorgeous. Even Bokuto couldn’t take his eyes off you.

He was thinking of how well you grew up, so stunning and so you. Bokuto remembers the little scar you had just above your eyebrow from tripping over and rock and smiles when he sees it, almost wanting to reach out and poke it like when he did when he was 10. He wonders if you remember that day.

You were playing pretend by the trees in the park, you were good and he was evil. You were chasing him and you tripped and fell, causing the evil doer act to shed away to make sure you were alright. You both made up a crazy story about your scar to your mother; which she never believed. Good times.

The rest of the night was spent catching up and talking like he wasn’t even with others originally. Everyone else eventually had gone home, Akaashi the last to go. He waved goodbye to you and Bokuto and drove home, you and Bokuto still sitting at the bar basking in each other’s company.

“Wow! So your parents got you a place here so you can work? Nice. And you live nearby too. So I can come and visit you and- sorry I’m rambling.” Bokuto says sheepishly, running his hands along the nape of his neck. You giggle, taking a sip of your drink.

“No no, you’re fine Bokuto. Of course you can visit. My house is your house.” You smile, Bokuto’s cheeks heating up as he blushed. You check the time and notice it was far too late and stand from your seat.

“It’s late, Kō, we should call it a night.” You say, grabbing your things. Bokuto smiles and stands up with a stretch of his limbs; relishing in his old nickname.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

You two talk and talk all the way home, years of catching up to do feeling long over due. When you get to your home you almost feel sad that you’re about to depart from each other. It felt like you weren’t going to see him again. Bokuto pulls you into a hug, spinning you around a little. He laughs when you squeal and yell at him to put you down.

“Hey. I’ll come by tomorrow night so we can watch movies.” He declares, standing you on your feet.

“Hah. How do you know I won’t have plans, hm?” You teased, poking Bokuto’s forehead. It was a lot easier when you were younger since he was shorter than you back then. Boy sprouted like a palm tree.

“You just moved here. Besides. You know I’m your favorite.” Bokuto smirks, taking your hand and spinning you. You giggle and punch his shoulder lightly.

“As if, Kō. See ya tomorrow.”

A month goes by swiftly. Bokuto had been over to your house more often than you thought he’d be. You loved the time you spent together just goofing off and being big kids.

Your schedules worked perfectly together, his volleyball is usually done by the evening and your work is over just after him. Bokuto would pick you up from work with fast food waiting in the car for you both to eat together. Today was no different, the smell of fries greeting your hungry nose as you climb inside his car.

“Yo! How was your day, nerd?” Bokuto asks, fisting his fries into his mouth as you dig for yours.

“It was okay. I’m starving though.” You say, stuffing your face with your food.

You both sit in the car and eat for a while, Bokuto’s phone breaking your shared silence. You look down at where it rested in the cup holder and read the caller id. It was a girl. Bokuto answers the phone, sounding as if he didn’t want her to call him right at this moment.

“I’ll call you back. Bye.” He said, hanging up his phone and sitting it back in the cup holder. You couldn’t help but feel a little jealous, your heart sinking as your head makes up several sceanarios about who she was, what she meant to him.

You eat in silence, answering Bokuto’s yammering with no ambition. Bokuto’s so dumb he doesn’t even notice the difference in attitude as the call wasn’t as scandalous as you seemed. It was just some girl who was trying to get with Akaashi but was too afraid to say anything herself so she had asked Bokuto to set them up.

“My place or yours today?” He asked, sing songy and happy.

“Mine.” You say monotonously. Bokuto looks over at you and sees you’re not even facing him, your face stuck to the window as he drove off.

“Hey, what’s wrong? I smell?” Bokuto said, playfully smelling his armpits. You shake your head and insist it’s nothing and that you’ll get over it. But it wasn’t nothing, and you were pretty certain you weren’t going to get over it. Was that his girlfriend? Some random hook up looking for another round? It made you sick to your stomach thinking about it. You got out of the car when Bokuto parked, walking to your front door to unlock it as Bokuto followed behind you.

“I pick the movie out this time. I’ll be damned if you pick another chick flick out.” Bokuto says plopping on your couch and turning on the tv, making himself at home.

You sigh and walk into your room to change into something more comfortable, rolling your eyes as you hear Kōtarō yell about the movie starting. You walk out in shorts and a tank top since it was pretty hot inside and sit next to him, folding your arms.

Bokuto’s eating his snacks and talking through the whole movie since he’s seen it before. He always picks a movie he’s seen before so he can tell you the whole plot, forgetting that you could just watch the movie for that. You half laugh and sigh at all his mannerisms, your guard completely blocking him out from getting any closer to you.

“Is something wrong, Y/N? Seriously you’re being a little stand offish.” Bokuto says, a serious tone taking place. You scoffed, rolling your eyes to hide that you’re obviously upset by something.

“Nothing.” You snide.

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me. Somethin’s wrong. Don’t make me start guessing.” Bokuto says. You sigh.

“It’s so stupid.” You admit.

“How you feel isn’t stupid. Tell me what’s up.” He persisted, pausing the movie.

“I just- well.. I-How do I say this? I’m.. jealous?” You finally admit. Bokuto raises an eyebrow.

“Jealous? About what?”

“Well. I saw a girl call you and I-I just assumed it was your girlfriend so..”

“Wait what? I don’t have a girlfriend. And besides why would you care?” Bokuto further questions, his face nearing yours with a perplexed look on his face. You flush, turning your face away from his.

“I-I don’t know I just-“

“You’re in love with me, aren’t you Y/N?” Bokuto smirks, turning your head to face him with your chin. You blink up at him, embarrassed and flustered.

“I-um-I...” You stutter. You loved the idiot sitting next to you with all your heart. But to say it was a different story.

“Because I love you too. So say it back.” Bokuto declares. You freeze for a moment, almost unsure you heard what you just heard.

“R-Really?”

“I love you, Y/N. The moment I saw you again felt like...fate. It was like everything made sense again. I never realized how much tou meant to me until I left that day. You’re my other half.” He says to you so sweetly, his words stirring up emotions inside you that were aching to be let out. Your eyes sting as you choke back tears, clutching onto Bokuto’s hands.

“Kōtarō... I-I love you too. All those years felt so empty without you. And God I just wanted to kiss you that day at the bar and I-“

Bokuto stops you midsentence to pull his face into yours and kiss you hard, your heads bumping into each other a bit from the sudden movement. Passion flowed through the kiss, your mouths exploring each others for the very first time. You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck as you go to straddle him.

Bokuto welcomes you onto his lap with ready hands, palms feeling every curve and divot of your body. Your need for each other grew with each kiss, mindlessly grinding against each other to feel closer. Every touch of his big hands made you feel alive, setting your body on fire. Bokuto starts to whine softly, his pants growing a tad bit tight at all the raw kissing. He pulled away, lips swollen and breathing uneven.

“I want you so badly. Can I-“ Bokuto goes to ask for consent, his nervousness making him struggle to find the words he’s looking for.

You shut him up with another kiss, already knowing what he wants to say as he lifts you up and carries you away. Starting in the kitchen he sits you on the counter as he takes off your top, your bare breasts popping out when the garment flies over your head and onto the floor. He’s never seen such gorgeous breasts before, he swore. Seeing you this way only made him long for you more, standing there dumb founded at the sight of your chest.

“W-Wow.” Bokuto gasps, taking both your breasts into his hands and oogling at them with love in his eyes. “So perfect.”

He takes one into his warm mouth, your body arching at the feeling and letting out a small whine. Music to his ears.

“Kō..” you sigh, closing your eyes as he suckled on your nipples.

His tongue slid over each hardened bud and looked up at you, studying your body language to learn it well. Without a word he slides off your shorts and pick you up again, hoisting you away to your bedroom after asking where it is.

Frantic kisses and breathless moans trail down the hall with a reach of the doorknob. You’re laid carefully onto the bed, Bokuto crawling on top of you without daring to pull his lips from yours just yet.

He could kiss you for hours. He could die right now and be completely content all because of this moment. Bokuto takes his hands and slides them down to the waist band of your panties, tugging them down to reveal your dripping core.

Bokuto teased his fingers along your slick folds, savoring the feeling of your wetness on his skin.

You let out the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard, urging him to draw more music from your lips. He crawls downwards towards your pussy, laying on his stomach and pulling your hips forward.

You gasp at the sudden feeling of his tongue parting your folds, mewling as you arch your back. His tongue worked its magic on you, sliding up to your clit to pay special attention to it. Breathless calls of his name fill the air, your hands grabbing fist fulls of the sheets as he fucked you with his tongue.

Your eyes roll back with every swipe of his tongue, relishing in the toe curling pleasure he gave you. That familiar knot started forming in the pit of your stomach, your moans increasing in volume as you near your orgasm. Bokuto must have sensed this and wrapped his plush lips around your throbbing clit, prodding his fingers at your weeping hole to fill you.

“Kō! I-I’m gonna cum!” You whine, your hands finding home in his hair and tugging lightly. Bokuto responded with a groan against your clit and a hook in his fingers, causing you to boil over without hesitation. Your thighs shake around his head, one hand covering your mouth to spare your neighbors the noise. Bokuto comes back up to kiss you, your slick coating his lips and chin. You taste your sweetness and kiss him with tongue, both of you sighing into each other.

“Wanna... be inside you.” Bokuto says breathlessly into the kiss, his dick aching to be let out of his pants.

You pull away and unbutton his jeans, Bokuto kicking them off onto the floor and pulling down his boxers. Your pussy throbbed at the sight of his dick, its sheer size enough to make you salivate. The way it swung a little when he took off his boxers, the prominent veins running along the shaft, its head blushing and leaking with precum. Bokuto had a gorgeous dick. You almost wanted to put it in your mouth but the heat of the moment called for a different hole to be filled.

Bokuto prods himself at your entrance and slowly slides inside you, inhaling sharply at the contact. You gasp at the dull stretch, feeling so full as you mewl uncontrollably. His hips roll slowly, thrusting deep inside your gummy walls as he rested his forehead onto yours. Your legs wrap around his waist, nails digging into the skin of his back as he picked up the pace.

“You feel so good, baby.” He spoke, kissing you gently to soothe you. You can feel him so deeply it almost brought a tear to your eye, his plunging movements sending your mind into a stupor.

He mummbled sweet praise against your neck, kissing the soft skin as he took you. A part of him wanted to go harder; really ruin that sweet face of yours and turn you into a lewd mess, but you mean more than that to him. This moment is nothing but pure love between two people who have known each other all their lives. You shriek as his hips start slamming into yours, back arching off the bed as your nipples pebbled against his chest.

“I-I love you, Bokuto.” You whine. Your eyes flash white, your vision becoming foggy as the mind boggling pleasure ripples through your body. You chant his name like a mantra, Bokuto mumbling how much he loves you as his hips do more of the talking. You feel him throb inside you, it becoming obvious he’s holding back so you can cum first. He’s rubbing circles into your clit as he pins your legs above your head. It all became so much so fast, your mewls spewing from your lips no longer caring who hears what.

“Let go for me, baby. C’mon..” He hums, nibbling on your neck. You scream, your tight cunny clenching down on his length as you cum for a second time that night. Bokuto rides out your orgasm, watching your body shake and shiver at the feeling of him sliding in and out of your weeping hole.

Bokuto doesn’t have time to think of where to cum, your walks sucking him in so well he loses all sense of control. He cums hot inside you, your pussy milking him for everything he had as he pants into your neck. You both stay in position for a while, looking at each other with love sick eyes. Bokuto rests himself on top of you, still nuzzled inside you as his cum leaks onto the sheets. You’re both out of breath, sitting in the high you both came to as you rub lazy circles into his back.

Nothing but pure love circulated the air as you rest together in bed, naked and vulnerable. You don’t say anything but soft I love yous to each other, gentle kisses on each others lips as you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smut #haikyuu bokuto #haikyuu headcanons #queue made me do it 🥴

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 18

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 7.6k

Abu Dhabi holds a special place in Pierre's heart. The food is great, the views are spectacular, and there is always plenty to do to keep him busy. Night races are some of the more exciting races too and Pierre appreciated the variety.

Coming into the final race of the season, Pierre holds on to seventh in the championship by a few points. Perez sensed the usurper creeping up on his seat and had cranked it up to eleven.

Exams had kept you in London for the race in Brazil, where Pierre had finished sixth and Checo DNF'd. You had managed to fly out for the weekend in Saudi Arabia, where Perez had finished fifth and closed the gap to Pierre to only four points behind.

If Pierre didn't finish ahead of Perez this weekend, he was fucked. And he was at the distinct disadvantage of his good luck charm being absent, stuck in London finishing up your final few exams of the semester. Two weeks without seeing you coupled with barely hearing from you had worn on him. It wasn't purposeful on your part but Pierre's stress was already compressed like the suspension on his car. Stray an inch too far over the racing line, hit a curb too hard and it was liable to snap, sending bits and pieces flying.

Pierre checks his phone for the millionth time as he waits to check in to the hotel. Wednesday was late for this many crew members to be arriving. His main concern though was that you hadn't responded to the text he'd sent you upon landing.

"Look lively, will you?" Max claps Pierre on the shoulder and he slides his phone into his pocket. "It's the last race of the season. We get to go balls to the wall and leave it all out in the track. And here you are looking like a kicked puppy."

"Easy for you to say," Pierre starts, grinning at his friend. "You clinched the title weeks ago. You don't even have to race this weekend if you don't want to and you'd still win."

"Doesn't mean I won't be shooting for a podium."

Pierre rolls his eyes. "Yeah well we can't all be so lucky, can we?"

"Next year you'll be playing with the big dogs." Max hands the receptionist his ID, says a few words and turns back to Pierre. "Looking forward to having you as a teammate again. It was fun for those couple races and I'm sure you'll be a challenge now that you've found your groove."

"You're gonna jinx it if you keep talking." Pierre laughs, praying that it covers up the old wound Max's statement picked open. Pierre hated the idea of moving back to Red Bull but he didn't have much choice. He was still contracted to one of four Red Bull branded seats for next season. A promotion, at the very least, would help him showcase his talent and further cement his value. If he had to spend any longer than that with the team, ripping out his hair was a real possibility.

"Wasn't someone supposed to be with you this weekend?" Max quirks a brow. "Where is she?"

"In London." Max bringing you up doesn't help the pit forming in Pierre's stomach. Win or lose, seventh or eighth, Red Bull or Alpha Tauri, come Sunday Pierre wanted you at his side. Interview requests were bound to roll in either way and Pierre would need someone to ground him, a task much easier to accomplish if you were physically at his side.

"Too bad." Max clicks his tongue and takes his room keys from the receptionist. "It's gonna be a fun weekend."

"I don't think-"

Pierre's vision goes dark at the same time someone whispers, "Guess who?"

Pierre sucks in a breath, spins on his heel and wraps you in a hug in one smooth motion. You laugh as he lifts you off your feet and presses kisses to your cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" He grabs both suitcases and tugs you aside. His room can wait.

"Tost asked me to come." Your grin is contagious, its twin appearing on Pierre's own cheeks. "He said that since you were flying out from Milan on your own there was an extra seat on the jet, so if I got myself to Nice I could fly out with the Red Bull boys."

"Seven hours trapped in a tin can with Max, Yuki and Checo?" Pierre rubs his chest. "I've got heartburn just thinking about that."

"It wasn't so bad," you say, finally giving him a proper kiss. "Yuki and I just played games on our phones the whole time. And I beat Max at Scrabble."

"How many Dutch words did he try to use?"

"Mmm, about half the words he tried were definitely not English."

"Yep, sounds about right." Pierre throws an arm around your shoulders and leads you back to the reception desk. He pays for an upgraded room when you aren't looking- though when you're assigned a suite there's not much higher you can go- and slips the woman behind the counter an extra bill for good measure.

"I could use a nap," you note, leaning against Pierre like you'd otherwise fall over. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Pierre checks his watch. "We've got time for a nap."

"We?" Your raised eyebrow is question enough. Pierre smiles and swipes his key card once you're in the elevator with him. He hadn't looked at the price of the room but he was positive it was more than he'd spent on a single night in his entire career, considering it occupies an entire floor of the swanky hotel.

"It's date night," Pierre says simply. Initially his plan had been to invite Charles over for a game of Fifa but the Monegasque wouldn’t fault him for cancelling at the last minute. "We're in one of the most luxurious cities in the world and I'm going to show you off every chance I get. The restaurant down stairs is to die for."

Your attempt at nodding along with what he says is thwarted by a yawn. "Sleep first, eat later." Seeing as it was impossible to deny you, Pierre simply drops a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Wait until you see our room." The way your eyes light up when he says our room makes him want to say it again and again just to see you sparkle.

"I know you upgraded it, Mr. I-think-I'm-sneaky." You uncurl yourself from against his arm when the elevator chimes. "How much did it cost?"

"A few extra pennies."

The stainless steel doors open directly into the suite. The living space is dominated by a curving crescent of full length windows overlooking the cerulean harbor and the jagged steel of the city skyline beyond. Suitcase forgotten, your jaw drags along the floor as you toe off your shoes in favor of sinking onto one of the half moon couches situated around a low coffee table.

"Did you get some sort of bonus you didn't tell me about?" Pierre sees your inner engineer cataloging the chandelier dripping crystals over the carved dining table and the pattern of the black veined marble flooring. "This cost more than a few pennies."

"I didn't really look at the price so it's possible," he admits. In the end it was worth it to see you like this, happy as a pig in mud. Pierre was in his element at the track you were in yours in beautiful buildings. For all Pierre cared you could be sharing a dingy room at a motel; it would still be five star worthy with you there.

Every once in a while though, you deserve a bit of pampering for all you put up with. Late nights and months apart wasn’t easy on either of you, but you stuck by him. And when the day comes that Pierre retires or loses his seat, you would be the one there to comfort him. Spending frivolous amounts of money to see you smile was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

In Pierre’s world, money is temporary, you are forever.

"Well I have half a mind to tear into you for spending so much on a room we won't spend all that much time in," you start, your star-speckled gaze landing on Pierre, "the view is too pretty to be upset about."

"Mine isn't half bad either." You laugh, tucking an errant hair behind your ear. You both know he isn’t referring to the glittering bay or the expensive furnishings.

"Up," Pierre demands softly, holding out his hand. Your hand is warm and dwarfed by his long fingers but you barely seem to notice. The heart in his chest pounds for no discernable reason as he leads you down the narrow hall past doors leading to what he can only assume are bedrooms and bathrooms, to the one at the end of the hall. Based on his mental floor plan this one has the best view, if he's guessed correctly.

Your breezy oh confirms his hunch. You stutter at the threshold, coming up short behind him to bathe in the beauty of the sea, dotted through with white sails. Sunlight twinkles off the waves and if he breathes deep enough, he can almost smell the salt.

"Come on," Pierre says with a chuckle, urging you to fall into the fluffy down of the bed with him. You follow reluctantly, too enamored by the sights to pay any real attention to how Pierre arranges your limbs to his liking, your head resting on his chest and your joined hands laying atop his stomach.

"How about that nap?" He murmurs, running the fingers of his free hand through your unbound hair.

You sigh and snuggle in closer. It was rare that Pierre had the opportunity to steal moments like this during a race week, when he had nothing better to do than tangle himself in you.

"I'll tell you a story."

Just as he expected, you leap at the offer. "Can you tell me the one about the time you and Charles got in trouble when you were karting?"

Normally he opts for something fictional that allows him to embellish the details to fit his narrative. Pierre loved spinning tales rife with laughter and intrigue but he also didn't mind indulging your curiosity.

"Yeah, I can tell that one. Let me set the scene. It's midnight on a Friday at a little track outside Rouen. Two gangly teenage boys, one French and one definitely, positively not French, have nothing better to do than get themselves in trouble…"

**********

Fans began whispering when Pierre set foot in the lobby. The price of stardom was high and had taken years to get used to. Some days the bombardment of people asking for photos and autographs overwhelmed him to the point he was desperate for an out. Most people respected his boundaries and when they sensed it was too much, they backed off. Other days it was simply too much and he would mumble excuses and book it out the door.

The pressure increases tenfold when he steps into the lobby with you on his arm, the pair of you dressed to the nines. He clocks a group of women- clearly tourists based on their body language- perched on a sofa the minute their low murmurs turn into excited squeals.

Pierre mentally braces for you to stiffen or stop altogether but you do neither. You carry on unaffected, either ignoring them or completely oblivious to the women who do nothing to hide their pointed stares.

"Table for two please." You smile at the restaurant host and then at Pierre. You must not have noticed the fans then. You were getting better at coping with the photos and whispers, although your smile usually became forced the longer it dragged on, the polar opposite of you currently beaming at him.

Pierre's shoulders sag a bit when you're led to a secluded table towards the rear of the dining space. Privacy wasn't a luxury he was often afforded. With his back to a wall of windows, there were fewer angles for people to approach from which was a small comfort.

Apparently you find sitting across from Pierre unacceptable because you shuffle your chair to his side of the table before plopping down in it. Pierre shoots you a questioning look but keeps his mouth shut. Inquiring after your motives didn't tend to end well for him.

Instead he leans over to kiss your cheek, relishing the blush his lips coax to the surface.

“It all sounds good,” you say, scanning the menu. “You’ve been here before, I take it?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I have. It’s all wonderful.”

The fans from the lobby remain in the blurred fringes of his vision. Pierre does his best to focus on the waitress explaining the specials. He tunes in automatically to the fan’s heavily accented English as they argue with the host, vying for a table as close to Pierre as possible.

Their phones remain out as an annoyed waiter tries and fails to coax the gaggle of girls into ordering something. Pierre drags a hand through his hair.

Being the center of attention usually doesn't bother him. Coping with the spotlight and the scrutiny that accompanies it is second nature; if the press conferences at Spa in 2019 had taught him anything, it was the importance of a solid poker face. Fame is new to you though and interactions with polite fans make you nervous. Having your picture taken without permission and splashed on social media? Forget about it. Pierre didn't care to find out how you'd react.

"Don't be nervous." You lay a hand on Pierre's thigh. The touch is enough to temporarily pause his bouncing leg. "You're going to do amazing this weekend. All you have to do is finish in front of Checo and you're golden."

How you haven't noticed the girls giggling mere yards away is beyond him. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this perfect, beautiful moment of bliss. You look gorgeous with your painted lips and that sinful black dress that he doubts can be comfortable based on how it hugs your curves like water. To top it off, the pride in your gaze is something to behold, making it impossible to doubt himself when you so clearly and openly believe he can conquer the world.

But it's better to tell you now versus you finding out on social media later. "That's not what's bothering me."

"Oh?" You sit straighter and set the menu down. "What is it then? Because if it's Horner, I have no problem marching in there and chewing him out. Birdy will back me up."

Despite himself, Pierre can't hold back his smile. "Where did all this confidence come from, hmm?"

"I'm learning," you insist, nodding your head firmly. "I'm growing as a person and you should be proud."

"I never said I wasn't." Maybe you'd spent the last month at university interacting with racing fans on campus. Perhaps being exposed to endless questions in a setting you controlled was the key. "Did you take a course in confidence at university?"

You scrunch up your nose and laugh in the most adorable way. Pierre's heart lurches at the sight, regardless if it was him you were laughing at.

"No, but I did make a few new friends that have a habit of pestering me about you." You jab a finger in his side for good measure. "It helped, I think. I don't look for cameras as much anymore. You're my focus now, not paps that may or may not be lurking in bushes."

"I knew it." Pierre is slightly impressed that he'd hit the nail squarely on the head. "I figured there had to be someone at uni responsible for helping you out."

You shrug and purse your lips. "I guess we'll have to see how I handle this weekend. I mean, there's bound to be press trying to corner me, what with the stakes and all. But I think I can take them." You raise your fists in front of your face and Pierre has to laugh.

“Throw a punch like that and you’ll break a finger.” He takes one of your clenched fists in his and untucks your thumb from under your fingers. “That’s how you make a proper fist. And you hit with these knuckles here- make sure you distribute the blow across all four, or you’ll be hurting.”

“Regardless,” you say, jabbing the air a few times, “The shock factor of having little old me in their face ought to be enough to earn me an advantage.”

Pierre finishes the lap to circle back to the topic at hand. "How about we test your confidence?”

"Okay," you say, dragging out the 'a' until it hangs in the air between you like a spider's web.

Pierre rakes a hand through his hair and nods to the girls a few tables away. "They've been taking pictures since we sat down. I'm sure they'll be all over Instagram in an hour, if they aren't already."

You steal a glance at the table in question under the guise of grabbing something from your purse. You hum, contemplating how to go about responding. Pierre is almost certain you'll ask to head back upstairs where it's just the two of you, no cameras or outside influence to ruin your night. His wallet is already out under the table, ready to leave a hefty tip for putting up with your drink-and-dash.

“We aren’t doing anything interesting,” you point out, swirling the knuckle’s worth of whiskey in your glass. “Why do they feel the need to document every passing second?”

Pierre lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just what some people do. If you’re uncomfortable we can go.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” You scoff, the corners of your lips turned up in a teasing smile. “I figure the best course of action is to give them something worth photographing.”

“What do you-”

Pierre’s yelp is decidedly unsexy when you yank him forward by his tie and attach your lips to his. Caught entirely off guard, he flounders for a moment before he catches himself and sinks into you. One hand on your cheek and the other creeping up your thigh, Pierre slides his tongue over the seam of your lips. You don't hesitate to obey the silent command.

He should be embarrassed. He should be contemplating the consequences of this kiss being splashed across tabloids the world over. He can’t bring himself to care, not when you’re the only release he needs and something as simple as a kiss sets his skin alight and causes any sane thoughts to trickle from his head.

Nothing matters. You're kissing him and your hand is a few inches below his hip on his right thigh, burning a brand that he prays leaves a puckered pink scar. Your scent and your mouth and your unmistakable hiss of pleasure saps the worry from his limbs. He's floating up off his chair, lungs filling with helium as you steal every last molecule of oxygen from the room.

Just like that, Pierre is the one that's roaring to leave for an entirely different reason.

Your hand on his jaw keeps your lips a hair's breadth apart as you whisper, "Are they staring?"

A blissed out nod is all he manages. Thoughts evade him and speaking is utterly out of the question when your lips are within striking distance. He surges forward for another kiss, heavier on teeth than on tongue. He makes sure to hold your lower lip between his teeth longer than necessary, putting on a show now that you've given him permission.

"Pierre," you murmur, using the hand splayed on his chest to push him away. The whine that escapes him is wholly unintentional. Thankfully it's low enough that only you hear, pressing a finger to your sinful lips.

"Down, boy." You extricate his hand from the dimpled flesh of your hip and place it chastely in his own lap. "We've accomplished what I wanted to."

Saying you tossing a wink over your shoulder at the intrusive fans isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen would be a lie. Pierre needed to be sure to thank Daniel's girlfriend the next time he saw her for whatever the hell she said to finally bestow you with a healthy serving of self-assurance because this new you is an entirely different entity, one Pierre intends to explore at the next opportunity.

"Problem solved." You brush your hands together and Pierre half expects to see dust clouds in the air like you'd just finished a woodshop project.

Pierre's brain is operating on a ten second delay. So really, normal operating procedure when he was in your vicinity. "I don't think we've accomplished everything I'd like to get done."

"We have a dinner to finish first." You pick up your menu and resume browsing like you hadn't just forcibly ripped his appetite for anything other than you right out of him. "The salmon sounds good, don't you think?"

"You sound good," Pierre mumbles under his breath and picks up his own menu. God, he'd love to let his fingers drift to the apex of your thighs. You’re always cute when you squirm. It was so simple to do too, all you needed was a brush of his knuckle to your center and you'd be gasping.

"Are you ready to order?"

The soft-spoken waitress bursts Pierre's bubble. She brings fresh drinks and jots down an order of two salmon fillets and leaves with a smile.

How Pierre has managed to make it this long without fucking you is beyond him. From the moment you surprised him in the lobby, his limbs have been thrumming with energy. And now your surprise kiss had been the pebble that preceded an avalanche of feverish longing. Those red painted lips would look better wrapped around his-

The pointed toe of your shoe digs into his calf. "Quit staring."

"Either you let me daydream or you let me take you upstairs,” Pierre quips back, licking his lips before he can catch himself.

"Can we get through one date without you mentally undressing me?"

Pierre dips his grin in a vat of lust, his words dripping with waxy promise. "No. Not when I know that as soon as we're alone, you'll let me do what I want."

"And what about what I want?" Your pouted lip does absolutely nothing but push his mind further in the gutter.

"Your wish is my command." His hand floats under the hem of your dress to graze along your core. And there it is, that sound he would swim across oceans to hear, your chastizing gasp of surprise.

The cross way you whisper his name is a thing of dreams. No one else's name sounded like that on your tongue, that honor is reserved solely for Pierre. The two breathless syllables are more exhilarating than standing on the top step. The rush of adrenaline that accompanies them is ten times what he is rewarded with when passing a world champion on track. He'll give it all up to hear you repeat it when you're pissed or lonely or tired- he just wants your voice echoing in his ears like a broken record.

You move his hand a safe distance down your thigh, nearly at your knee. Pierre gives your leg a sharp squeeze. "Can we please get our dinner to go?"

"Not tonight. You can wait, mon amour."

The French rolls off your tongue awkwardly but Pierre will be the last to complain. Your encyclopedic knowledge of which buttons to press when had come back to bite him in the ass.

"That's not fair." His pout is a mirror image of the one you turned on him earlier. "You can't use my own language against me."

You pat your pockets as if searching for something and shrug when you come up empty. "I don't see a rulebook anywhere."

Reminding you what happens when you tease him shoots to the top of his to do list. "I'll play if you wanna play, ma chérie. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"I think you're forgetting who usually wins off track."

Pierre can't help it. He takes advantage of his superior reflexes and surges forward to claim another searing kiss. You did normally win and it wasn't for lack of trying on his end. No matter the tactic he employed, you generally got the better of him. Not that he minded.

"Why don't you come here?" He purposely grazes his lips to your ear as he speaks and grins when a shiver runs down your spine.

"Because we are in public," you hiss back, though the way your head tips to the side betrays you. Pierre's nose touches the underside of your jaw and you struggle to find your breath.

"We should eat." A self satisfied smile splits his face when he notices your heaving chest and wild eyes.

"When did our food get here?" Pierre did that. He got you so worked up that you blocked out your surroundings so thoroughly that you hadn't heard the clink of plates. Pierre wears that fact like a badge of honor.

"A minute or so ago. Remind me again who's winning?"

"We may be even," you relent, adjusting the skirt of your dress. Yeah, even isn't the word he would pick, considering how flustered you are. It's a good thing Pierre has learned to eat with one hand because he doesn't plan on moving the arm currently slung over the back of your chair anytime soon. His finger traces the letters of his name on the bare skin of your shoulder. Whether you realize what he's writing or not you lean into him as you eat, falling in closer with each lemon-scented bite.

"Excuse me?"

You don't bother to look up but Pierre does. Disappointment washes over him when he is met by one of the fans, apparently deeming now to be the appropriate time to approach him, while clearly on a date, in the middle of a meal.

"I'll be happy to take a photo once I'm done." Sometimes passive aggressiveness works best with people like this, who have no regard for personal space. "Right now I would prefer to be alone, thanks."

"Oh, right." The blonde giggles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You two make a… cute couple?" The end of her sentence turns up and your fork falls to your plate.

Pierre tucks you a little closer to his side, both possessive and reassuring. "We know."

Your discomfort is plain, the way you curl in on yourself making his heart hurt. But you surprise him by taking a deep breath and turning to the woman with a smile.

"If you'd let us finish our meal, I would appreciate it. We can stop by on our way out and chat with you." Sylvie would be proud of that answer. Diplomatically phrased and said with a smile that negates any negative connotations.

"Of course." The blonde's smile is sickly sweet. To Pierre she adds, "Good luck on Sunday."

Pierre nods. The woman's rude behavior didn't warrant a verbal response. She mumbles a feeble goodbye before slinking back to her friends. If nothing else at least their whispers died down, put out by his behavior.

Pierre loves his fans. Without them he wouldn't have a sport to compete in, and of course he appreciated their endless support. Stopping for photos or autographs had gotten him in trouble with Marko multiple times for being late to meetings that usually turned out to be pointless anyway. As a whole, their enthusiasm gives him an extra boost on Sundays and lifts his spirits after a bad weekend.

And then sometimes there were people like the blonde woman that had interrupted his dinner. Those people he has far less tolerance for. Basic manners were imperative to Pierre giving someone the light of day, otherwise he saw no need to waste time and energy on them.

"All good, ma chérie?" Pierre rubs your shoulder, hoping it'll stave off any anxiety.

"I'm good," you confirm with a nod of your head. "Let's finish up and go to our room."

Pierre presses a kiss to your temple and scarfs down the remainder of his meal in record time. He flags down the waitress and hands her his card, leaving a substantial tip when she returns with the check.

“Can you distract that table?” Pierre asks, aware of how unusual the request likely is. “I’d like to get out of here without making a scene.”

“Of course,” the waitress says with a warm, sincere smile. Pierre waits until she loudly announces, “Excuse me? Your card has been declined, do you have another method of payment?”

Neither of you can contain your laughter as you stumble through the lobby. In the sanctity of the elevator, Pierre wraps his arms around your middle and molds himself against you. "You look especially gorgeous tonight."

"You're not too bad yourself." One of your hands finds the nape of his neck, guiding his face to the crook of your shoulder. Pierre takes the invitation at face value and nips at the sensitive skin. Your hum goes straight to his cock, twitching against the swell of your ass.

"I win," you purr, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging.

For once Pierre is glad to be in the world's slowest elevator. Since he's already lost, he might as well lose in style. He spins you to face the mirrored wall. And because he knows it'll make you tremble, he trails his hand lazily over your throat to grip your jaw.

A low moan leaves your parted lips. Pierre studies your reflection, from your hands gripping the railing to the skin dimpling beneath his fingers.

"Fine, you win this time. But I think you and I both know, I'll come out ahead in the end."

**********

Waking up to soft kisses will never get old. Thirty years from now when Pierre was retired and you fell asleep each night with his arms around you, you'd still yearn for the brush of his lips to your cheeks, neck, and shoulders to rouse you from the violet shores of sleep.

"Good morning," you mumble, a sentiment which Pierre echoes with his gruff, sleep tinged voice. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've ever gotten. You tired me out last night." You both grin at the reminder. Fueled by a slight tinge of jealousy after the women at the restaurant made eyes at him, you had refused to let him tumble into bed until well past midnight, when you both were well and truly exhausted. Thursday is press day, nothing strenuous that he couldn't afford to be a little sore for.

Pierre rolls to straddle your hips, lips capturing yours for a proper kiss. The taste of freshly brushed mint makes your skin tingle when he tugs your lip between his teeth.

"It's too early for that." You throw your arms around his neck and urge him to bend his elbows until he falls atop you. It takes him a moment to snuggle in, his head on your chest and his arms sliding under your middle.

You're convinced that ten minutes in this position can cure any ailments, physical or mental. The weight of your soulmate pressing into you, forcing you to focus on breathing instead of whatever might be bothering you. It's easy to forget about the outside world when everything you require to be happy is wrapped around you like a blanket.

You stroke a hand over Pierre's hair until his breathing evens out, only rousing him when the sun peeks over the harbor. Amiable silence fills the space as hues of orange and pink paint Pierre in swaths of color. Suddenly you're seeing him for the first time, completely enamored by the angles of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw. The golden hour of dawn shines on it's golden boy, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he turns towards the warmth calling him home.

"Pyry and I are going for a run soon if you'd like to come with us."

You cringe. Running used to be fun when you were in school, but seeing as you hadn't properly trained in years you doubted you could keep up with a pair of professionals. "How about you text me when you're back and I'll come to the gym with you? It looks fancy, if George's snaps are anything to go by."

Pierre trails kisses up your sternum, over your neck and only speaks once he's reached your lips. "Looking at other men, are you?"

"Shut up," you laugh, shoving him off you. "I'll have you know it was a rare shirt on picture, thank you very much. I don't need to see George shirtless ever again."

A satisfied, "Good," rumbles from Pierre's chest and he stands to stretch the lingering sleep from his limbs. Clad in nothing but a pair of white four inch inseam shorts and with his back to you, you grin as an idea forms. You scramble forward before he can process you moving and smack his ass so hard he yelps.

"Gotcha!" You devolve into a fit of giggles as he rubs the spot you hit, whining about you taking advantage of his distraction.

"You like it," you tease, and Pierre remains strictly pouty for two whole seconds before he breaks into a grin and nods. "Now put on a shirt and get downstairs before Pyry calls you and you get reamed for being late again."

Pierre leans down for one last kiss before rushing off to the lobby. Waking up before the sun leaves you plenty of time to laze about if you choose to. Kicking your butt into gear seems like the better option so you drag yourself out of the relative warmth of the sheets and shuffle to the kitchen in search of coffee.

Apparently the suite came fully stocked with a handful of different freshly ground blends, and much to your delight you recognize one of your favorites. You scroll through the room service menu on your phone while it brews. Without a doubt Pyry would rope you in to whatever workout he had planned for Pierre, albeit giving you a watered down version of what he gave the driver. Regardless, it would still be grueling and you needed to fuel up.

A hearty breakfast of fresh fruit and cinnamon sugar oatmeal shows up at your door ten minutes later. You're just finishing up when Pierre's snapchat comes through and you nearly choke.

Come on down baby

The sweaty, shirtless selfie that accompanies the caption is wholly unnecessary. Pierre's stupid tongue sticks out and the fingers of one hand are tangled in his hair. The muscle of his bicep is perfectly flexed, an obvious but appreciated attempt to rile you up. You shamelessly screenshot the photo before it disappears to save it for later.

You change into a simple set of leggings and a loose t-shirt and head to the elevator, curating your music queue on the way down.

The outdoor gym overlooks a pool of the same crystalline blue as the sea not far beyond. A few Alpha Tauri and Red Bull team members you recognize occupy a handful of machines. You wave at the ones you recognize, including Alana- she was a sight for sore eyes. You make a mental note to catch up with her at some point today, as you're sure to cross paths again.

Pyry spots you before Pierre does and waves you over. "Start stretching," the fin orders, "I'm glad you dressed for the occasion this time."

"I've learned my lesson." You plop down next to Pierre and lean into a stretch to stage whisper, "He drives you this hard?"

"Get used to it." Pierre shoots you a grin that sets you on fire. He's got a shirt on now, which means he only took it off earlier to send you that snap. Tease.

Any other time you'd chide him for his behavior but this weekend you let it slide. Tension has been brewing since the moment you spotted him across the lobby; simple things tip you off to the stress winding up in him. If flirting could offer him a small amount of release, then so be it, even if it was torturous for you to see him like this and be unable to do anything about it.

"If you two can't get through this without making heart eyes at each other I'll separate you," Pyry warns, pushing at your shoulders and helping you stretch a few more inches. You hide your wince and laugh, leaning into the slight burn.

"Sorry coach," Pierre chimes in, "I'll keep my hands to myself, don't worry." He accepts Pyry's hand to be pulled to his feet. Bouncing on his toes he throws a few punches at the air and catches your gaze over his trainer's shoulder.

"Definitely not you I'm worried about."

As Pyry says it, you blow Pierre a kiss. You quickly tuck your hands behind your back when Pyry's head whips around. Your cheshire grin gets you off the hook and Pyry just points to the stationary bike in silent command. At least he was going easy on you.

Headphones pumping a Pierre curated playlist, you lose track of time as you cycle mile after mile. Pierre sparring on the fringes of your vision helps distract you from burning muscles. Sweat soaks his black tee and is absorbed by the waistband of his oddly patterned orange and white shorts. No matter how incessantly you tease him for his fashion choices, he never fails to amaze you for how well he pulls it all off.

Lost in the music and the incredible view, it takes you a moment to realize Pierre's lips aren't just moving silently. You yank out an ear bud and blubber, "What did you say?"

Pierre's breathless laugh is accompanied by a shake of his head. He half curls in on himself, hands on his hips and mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath. The image stirs memories of the last night, when he was panting just like that but with nothing obscuring you from drinking in his godlike muscled body.

"I said," Pierre starts, walking over to kiss your cheek, "I need a shower before press. I'm going upstairs. You can stay here and Pyry can take you through some more-"

"No thanks!" Pyry shrugs off your immediate refusal. Training top tier athletes and training you sat at polar opposite ends of the spectrum and often times the Fin pushed you farther than you thought capable. You'd like to be able to function tomorrow, thank you very much.

The elevator ride to the suite is filled with salted kisses and wet touches. A breadcrumb trail of clothing leads from the stainless steel doors to the glass encased shower. There's not enough time to worship Pierre like you'd wanted to but he sighs when you run a soapy cloth over his body. Your lips follow the suds, leaving light kisses to the tender muscles. By the time you pour shampoo in your palm and lightly scratch at his scalp to work it into a lather, he's practically purring.

Media appearances are a necessary part of being a driver. Pierre usually handled them well enough on his own and occasionally with Sylvie's help when she could be bothered to get off her phone for a few minutes, but having you with him is different. You pride yourself on reading him well enough to know exactly what he needs. Some days, when the press isn't a pack of rabid animals, he returns to his driver's room and needs nothing more than a quick kiss to have him righted. On days when the pack of piranhas descend to feast on the bones of a bad session or the whispering of drama, a delicate touch is required.

If your suspicion proves right, today would be the latter. Being ahead of the frenzy might take the edge off when Pierre got in the thick of it.

When the tap cuts off, you step out and wrap Pierre in a fluffy towel. His smile communicates how grateful he is- and that he knows what you're doing.

You hand him a stack of Alpha Tauri branded clothes and sit on the foot of the bed. "Do you want me to come to the paddock with you?"

Pierre pauses with his shirt half on. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind." You pluck a few of his rings from the nightstand and hold out your hand. "You have to complete the look."

"What would I do without you," he murmurs, slipping one on his pinky and one on the thumb of his opposite hand.

"Probably be ridiculed for your lack of fashion sense."

**********

As a driver's girlfriend, you had come to grips with being relegated to a background role when it came to team events. You have to ask Sylvie to repeat herself twice before her words sink in.

"Come with me to the media pen," the woman grits out. Apparently Tost intended to have some fun torturing the woman before he fired her at the end of the season. Hopefully whoever Pierre got stuck with next was a bit more personable than Sylvie.

"Pierre told me to wait here," you say, gesturing to the garage buzzing around you. You were a rock and the mechanics were the stream, parting around you without a care in the world. You were barely a blip on their radar, everyone too honed in on their tasks to pay you any mind.

"And now I'm telling you to come with me. The other wives and girlfriends are in attendance and it'll look odd if you're not there too." Clearly, Sylvie didn't like the idea. And any idea that pissed Sylvie off sounded like a good one.

"I know the way," you say and breeze past her. Your feet follow the familiar path to the cluster of reporters crowded around metal gates, keeping the drivers in like caged animals. It was fitting, considering how often people referred to the sport as a traveling circus.

Pierre is already knee deep in an interview with one of the more popular journalists in the bunch, Will Buxton. Careful to stay out of the lens, you lean against the guardrail to listen in. So far it seems to be going well, Pierre's laugh brings a smile to your face.

"So, Pierre." Will shifts on his feet, pausing to create a sense of drama. "Your seat for next year. We know you'll be in Alpha Tauri or at Red Bull. Only a few points separate you from being demoted right back to eighth in the championship, which would officially relegate you to keep your seat at Alpha for the upcoming season. Are you worried about a mechanical problem or an accident stripping you of your chance to prove yourself and leaving you stuck where you are?"

Your stomach sinks. Buxton knew how to phrase a question, you had to give him that. Each word had been carefully chosen to elicit an emotional response from Pierre. You hate seeing him backed into a corner, forced to answer the same questions again and again, helpless to prevent it.

"Well first of all I'd like to stay that I'm not stuck at Alpha." Pierre shifts his weight and you exhale. Buxton's poisoned dart had missed its mark.

"Given a few years of development I know we could have a really competitive car. But it's more so that I'm ready to move up, fight with the leaders now instead of waiting. I'm in my prime and I don't want to let that pass me by.

"So no, I'm not worried about things that are out of my control. My team has given me an amazing car this year and I'm not concerned about mechanical problems. Things out of my control aren't worth my energy. There's nothing I can do about it so I don't even give it thought. I'll focus on my driving and pushing my limit- if an accident happens, I'm just a passenger."

"Well said." Buxton nods and turns away, effectively dismissing Pierre. As soon as he's out of the camera's view he's reaching for you and you meet him halfway. Sylvie trails after you as Pierre leads you through to the Alpha garage.

"Five minutes until your briefing," Alana says the second you enter. "And hey girl. Don't think I've forgotten about that sweater I loaned you. I still want it back!"

Your friend doesn't leave any room for rebuttal before heading for the conference room, presumably to set up whatever presentation she had created. Sylvie had disappeared too, leaving you as the only one for Pierre to focus on.

"You think I can do it?" He asks quietly, playing with your interlaced fingers.

"I don't think." You tilt his chin up so he's looking at you. "I know. And I'll be right here when you cross that line on Sunday and bring home points. You've got this, baby. Don't doubt yourself now."

"Pierre!"

Your grip on his chin prevents him from following the voice, not that he would if he could. You shoot him a raucous grin, "Red Bull colors would look pretty good on me, huh?"

Pierre's smile is brighter than all the stars in the sky. "Anything with my name on it will do.”

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amee-racle-ofmyown · 3 years

Text

Things you said when you thought I was asleep

Request from a friend on IG | V/Jihyun Kim x gender neutral reader | Words: 1095 | prompt list

The cabin was quiet, Seven and Vanderwood were in another room, leaving you with the man currently asleep in the bed before you. Perhaps it was just the lighting but it felt to you as if the life had been drained out of him; his mint hair appeared more like a cool shade of blue than its usual semi-cyan. It almost matched the splashes you'd seen covering his clothes and the cell floor when Rika had taken you down to her castle's basement, save for the eerie glow that set it starkly apart from the "elixir" Ray had offered you.

Thanks to Vanderwood, the toxins had mostly left V's body, but he still needed rest. He constantly drifted in between consciousness and sleep, and you hadn't wanted to leave him alone, dreading the thought of him waking up with no one around to reassure him. So you sat by his side, refusing to leave even as he slept. Occasionally you would take his hand in yours, in hope that it might ease his subconscious mind.

Nursing him during the day, it was easier to take your mind off the events that had taken place over the past several days. It was in moments like this when you waited silently that thoughts caused your head to spin and reel, straining to process everything that had happened in such a short space of time. Ray had been right in that it truly felt like forever ago when you first followed a stranger's words to that mysterious and undoubtedly dangerous yet hauntingly beautiful place and began chatting to V and the rest of RFA.

Images and feelings burned your memory like a silent wildfire. Rika's agonised, tear-streaked face as you snuck away. The feeling of V's hand desperately tugging your own, Ray's panicked shrieks and cries. You felt like you were being torn apart in different directions and it was getting difficult to handle but you did your best to stay patient.

You wanted nothing more than for all this to be over peacefully. For no one else to get hurt. You felt a dull ache in your head.

You could attempt to distract yourself, maybe by checking the chatroom… but Ray might notice and you didn't have the energy to talk to him right now. Not when your mind was swimming like this.

It wasn't that you didn't care for him at all, you still worried for him and the fact that it was evident that he was being manipulated. But there was no doubt that whatever he'd done to V had been with intent to cause harm. Intentionally or not, Ray had guilted you into feeling bad for leaving suddenly, but frankly you were far more concerned with ensuring V's recovery.

You felt your eyes sting slightly. What could he possibly have done to make them both resent him so much? Even Seven, who had previously seemed to trust him whole-heartedly, sounded doubtful and implied he had a lot of explaining to do.

The V you know was kind and gentle, you could hear the smile in his voice when he greeted you over the phone, the slightly flustered tone when you complimented him. His voice was even and soothing and wrapped around your heart like a comforting blanket. He spoke to you with warmth even when you called in the dead of night. And you'd inevitably learned just how hard he was trying to assure your safety. You could tell that he cared deeply for his friends and wanted them to be healthy and happy. And he'd made you feel so welcome, like you were one of them. Like you would always have a home with RFA.

Thinking of that brought a small smile to your lips, and the churning in your mind subsided a bit.

The man shifted in his sleep, likely consumed by another fever nightmare.

'Mm…. Sun.. Rika….. Sae... nnh… sorry…'

You frowned a little and extended a gentle hand toward his face, brushing a few blue strands aside and placing the back of it against his forehead. His skin didn't burn as fiercely as it had before, but he was almost certainly feverish nonetheless. You were tempted, so tempted, to press your lips tenderly against the warm skin as you removed your hand, but you held back, instead taking a small face cloth from the bedside table. You briefly left to soak it in cold water, squeezing it out and returning to place it on his forehead.

You opened a window to let in a gentle breeze, hoping his fever would come down somewhat. It was a hot spring evening and you could hear the low buzz of crickets outside.

Settling again at the man's side, you gazed at his face, tracing his features with your tired eyes. You couldn't help but note how handsome he looked, even in such a fragile state.

'You're going to be fine,' you said calmly but firmly, aware that he couldn't acknowledge your words, which may have been to reassure yourself more than anything.

'We're going to be fine. You're going to get better and when you do, we'll work through this whole mess, step by step, together. And you won't sacrifice yourself or have to keep secrets anymore and everyone will be okay and we'll live happy lives and I'll tell you everything I feel and-'

The crack in your voice caught your attention before the tears burning your eyes, blurring your vision and threatening to topple out. You quickly rubbed them away and took a deep breath.

'You did all you could to protect me. Now it's my turn to take care of you.'

You continued speaking words of comfort, eventually talking about all manner of trivial things, even if you believed no one was listening but you.

Little did you know your words reached him, just barely, like sunlight piercing thick fog at the bottom of a deep chasm where he wandered through the murky depths of the hazy plane between waking and dreams. He could scarcely grasp your voice but he wanted to latch onto it, to cling to it like a lifeline as his body fought the lasting effects of the poison substances he'd been forced to consume. A part of him wanted to give in, to throw himself further into the abyss. But your presence pleaded with him to stay.

Your voice, though at times distorted, and constantly slipping in and out of his subconscious, was enough for him to hold on as he let you pull him through.

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peachsayshi · 3 years

Text

Chapter 7 - Games

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Teasing and a little bit of Fluff.

Summary: Trying to make sure the two of you stay out of the bedroom, you suggest playing a game of Twister and Gojo's mind starts to wander.

A/N: Sorry if there are mistakes! I don't have a beta and get tired rereading the chapters over and over again. This is a little short but we have some fluff and feels and we get a little insight on how Gojo has been feeling. I'm building up to something, I promise!

- - -

“Okay, left foot on green…”

With his right foot remaining on the red circle, Gojo spread his legs wide to place his left foot on the green circle towards the end of the mat. Things were easing up on his end when it came to work and he decided to take advantage of that by spending his free time with you tonight. What he didn’t expect was for the two of you to be in the middle of your living room playing board games instead of the usual physical activity that you both have grown accustomed to partaking in.

“Is this really how you want to spend our evening together?” he asked, taking the spinner from your hand as he proceeded to flick the arrow with his thumb and index finger.

You nodded your head, “We need to keep ourselves out of the bedroom. Otherwise, we will never leave...”

Gojo rotated his neck from side to side before replying, stretching to prepare himself for the awkward positions he was about to hold, “you’re making it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

“Listen, game night is going to make up for movie night which never happened because we wound up doing it on your couch instead...”

A smug grin spread across Gojo’s face, thinking of your failed plan to have a scary movie marathon with him. You were hoping to catch the sorcerer squirm but what you didn’t expect was him teasing you thirty minutes into the film that inevitably resulted in you being fucked senseless on his couch.

“You’re really going to put the blame on me for that? If you were paying attention you wouldn’t have succumbed to my advances so easily,” he retorted defensively.

“You had your hand up my skirt!”

“Now, I told you what that skirt does to me,” he jokingly snapped, pointing his finger at you sternly before shrugging his shoulders. “I couldn’t help myself…”

“Okay, well how about the night we were supposed to go out for dinner but missed our reservation because you decided to rip up my dress on the car ride over…”

“Let’s not get too dramatic, I merely broke the zipper and I did buy you another dress.”

“Okay, how about last night?”

Gojo parted his lips, pausing to think how the two of you wound up naked in the shower instead of going to the karaoke bar with Rina and her friends.

“Last night... wasn't my fault,” he pointed out, arching his brow at you as he recalled the way you teased him into submission.

“Oh, yeah. That’s right…” you shyly replied, biting your bottom lip as you scratched the back of your head. “So, uh, what’s my next move?”

“Quick to change the subject, I see?” Gojo answered with an easy smile, “Put your left hand on the blue circle…”

With your feet on the green and yellow circles, you leaned your body forward to put your left hand on the blue sphere. Meanwhile, Gojo dropped the spinner on the ground beside you, suppressing a laugh as he watched you struggle to spin the arrow and call out his next round.

“The point here is...” you grumbled as you tried to adjust yourself back into a comfortable position, “...the two of us are getting carried away. I just think this little break might do us some good.”

“I don’t think working up a sweat is a bad thing,” Gojo insisted.

“Well, we can burn calories after I kick your butt,” you added on, waiting for the arrow to land. “Right hand on green...”

“For someone trying to make sure we keep our distance, you sure picked an interesting game tonight,” Gojo teased, finding his new posture which brought his face close to yours.

“I know for a fact that you can’t cheat playing Twister,” you reminded, before glancing up at him from under your lashes and inching forward to peck him on the tip of his nose. “Besides, I never said I wanted space, I just thought I’d change things up for the evening.”

Gojo’s smiled into your lips as he gave you a soft kiss in return, “if you think you can distract me by being cute, you are absolutely wrong .”

“We both know how much of a sore loser you can be,” you answered back, “I just hope you’re ready to throw yourself a pity party by the end of this because I am definitely winning.”

“Mhmm, whatever you say. Right hand, blue…” he continued, trying to pay attention to the game and observing you reach your arm slightly underneath him to place your hand on the circle.

He couldn’t explain when things became this comfortable with you. If he had known that hooking up with you would bring you both closer together as friends, he wouldn’t have rejected your offer that easily.

You’ve both already broken one of your rules. However, Gojo didn’t mind forgoing the “drinking” rule to decide whether or not the two of you wanted to hook up. You both no longer needed the excuse anyway, after a while it became painfully clear that regardless of what the plans were, things always resulted in the two of you tangled up in someone’s bed sheets.

The sorcerer spent a majority of his spare time alone, unaware of how much it bothered him until you came along. He thought about the way you described yourself when you were in a relationship with your ex-boyfriend, and wondered if this felt similar in any way. Not that he considered you as anything other than a friend...but he was curious .

You both were different in many ways but often clashed when it came to your perspectives on love. You believed that there was a person out there for everbody, that there was nothing like falling in love with somebody who looked at you as if you were their whole world.

Granted, those were your opinions when you were in a happy and loving relationship but Gojo always disagreed with you because he was convinced that relationships were messy and only brought unnecessary drama to the table. That’s why he had his own personal rule that was standard practice when it came to his “love” life.

He never hooked up with somebody more than once.

Rumors about his womanising ways only stemmed from the fact that he did actually have plenty of lovers. However, he could barely recall their faces and didn’t even remember their names. Sometimes they recognized him on the street, and foolishly attempted to strike up a conversation with the handsome, rich stranger who paid for their company.

Gojo would politely brush them off every time. His stone cold reaction broke the hearts of those who were lucky enough to even be in his presence. He surely didn’t need to pay for the escorts or call girls but the act itself was easier and he had the money to spend anyway. These acquaintances never asked him any questions about his personal life, which benefited him greatly because it left very little room for anything other than small talk. Once both parties were satisfied, Gojo would leave every encounter without ever looking back. Sex was a routine way for him to blow off steam or merely take care of his natural urges. However, you didn’t know that you were the first person who he consistently kept as company in the bedroom.

Up until this moment, he had been suppressing his desire for you. Now that he has you, the sorcerer could tell he was getting greedy. He respected your wishes when you asked him not to see anyone else on the side but surprised himself when he realised that he had no interest in seeking out the strangers that used to keep him company at night.

Even though you both insisted that this new partnership had no influence on friendship, Gojo was observant enough to see that it was not the case. Little things were starting to change here and there, and he was carefully making note of it every time it happened.

For example, whenever he was off fighting curses, you started habitually checking up on him to make sure he was okay. One night when he was unable to answer his phone, he received a string of unusual text messages from you to find out what happened. He remembered calling you right after, teasing you to ask if you were worried about him. You surprised him with your fear, how you easily believed that something was powerful enough to harm him despite him repeatedly telling you that nothing could touch him. When you responded to his question with a sincere yes, an unexpected sensation spread across his chest. If he wasn’t paying attention to how much you cared about him before, he was more aware of it now.

To ease your worries, he made it a point to shoot you a text whenever he could just to let you know that he was alright. Although, he did sometimes forget which resulted in you panicking on the phone with him. Only this time, Gojo never made fun of your concerns.

In turn, he realised how fiercely protective he became of you and it killed him whenever he had to deflect your questions when you asked about his life. There was so much you wanted to know and so much that he wished he could tell you. However, he had every intention of maintaining this invisible boundary. The last thing he wants is for you to get caught up in something that you couldn’t understand. If he were to invite you into his whole world, that would only lead to you facing dangerous threats that loved to lurk in the shadows.

He would never forgive himself if something were to happen to you.

A few more rounds passed, and the two of you were intertwined in the most precarious situation. You were in a reverse tabletop position, looking like a crab with two hands and feet on the blue and yellow circles. Meanwhile, Gojo was in a plank position above you, his palms pressed on the red and green circle by your side, with one foot next to yours on a blue circle and another on a yellow circle.

You were shaking underneath him, desperately trying to maintain your awkward stance while Gojo appeared bored holding his own position with ease.

“Okay, I didn’t take your strength or height into consideration…” you groaned with a pout.

A chuckle escaped his lips, “give up, yet?”

“No…” you groaned, eyeing the spinner by your side as you reached for it with your right hand. You lifted your head slightly, your neck straining as you tried to call out the next move. “Left foot, green…”

Gojo picked up his leg but as he stretched himself out he realised that he couldn’t bend himself properly in that particular way.

Your eyes widened, watching him shake as he tried to rotate his body without lifting himself completely up off the mat.

“Or maybe your height is actually a disadvantage?” you questioned, ignoring the way your arms burned from holding yourself up as your heart raced with anticipation.

“Shhh, I’m concentrating...”

Gojo kicked his leg out one way and then the other, the comical image of his tall body in motion only made you laugh at his reaction. He tried his best to ignore the sound of your voice but knew that he could barely maintain his balance as he tried to find the green circle. However, he miscalculated the gravity of his own weight when he shifted to the left side of his body, his elbow buckling underneath and causing him to collapse.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, raising your arms up in victory, paying no attention to his body pressed on top of yours.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, breathing in deep to inhale the scent of your soap. He felt your hand pat the back of his head lightly, indicating that you wanted him to get off from on top of you. He slowly unraveled himself, irritated by his own misfortune as he rolled onto his back to lay down beside you. He tilted his head to look at you, noticing you turn so you both were making direct eye contact with each other.

Gojo always knew you were beautiful. Nothing in this world could convince him otherwise but he never paid attention to the details of how pretty you actually were. Little things about you that made the gears in his head turn, from the gorgeous mane that sprouted on the top of your head, to the way your eyes sparkled whenever you were excited or how the curve of your lips was your secret tell to let him know exactly what you were feeling when you couldn’t find the words to explain yourself.

Why me? He thought to himself, if you wanted to fuck around with somebody then why did you ask me?

A kiss on his lips snapped him out of his drawn out thoughts, he felt the pads of your fingers along his cheek, slipping lightly underneath his blindfold to reveal just one of those blue eyes.

“Ready for another round?” you questioned.

Gojo softly smiled, thankful that you haven’t grown bored of him just yet. He lifted himself up, bringing one of his hands to cup your face as he pulled you in for another kiss. His tongue parted your lips and he allowed himself this one indulgence as he trailed his hand to the back of your neck.

Whatever thoughts that were running through his mind, he chose to ignore. There was no reason for him to consider such trivial things anyway. You were spoiling him with your body, playing out the fantasies that plagued his mind. He was aware that his greed fueled his lust for you and honestly did not know what he would do if you were to ask him to stop.

He deepened the kiss, allowing the frustrating thought to play out in passion instead. You shifted your position, your hand falling to his chest as you gripped onto the collar of his tee. Still holding onto the kiss, Gojo lifted himself upright so he was seated and as much as he would love to take advantage of this current situation, he chose to pull himself away instead.

“Best of three?”

“That sounds good to me!” you replied as you circled your arm around his neck, before returning to kiss him again.

Gojo gave in for only a second, before cheekily breaking away and tapping you gently on the forehead with his index finger.

“Oh no, you aren’t doing this to me again...” he said, his hands moving to your waistline as he gently pushed you away from him. “You wanted to have a game night and we are going to see it through.”

He leaned across from you to pick up the spinner, before settling back down and holding it in between the tiny space that separated you both.

“Winner goes first.”

- CHAPTER 8: HEAT -

#Gojo Satoru x reader #Gojo Satoru x you #Gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fan fiction #Gojo Satoru fan fiction #Gojo Satoru smut #Gojo smut #Gojo Satoru fluff #Gojo fluff #gojo headcanons #gojo x oc #Gojo x ofc #Gojo x reader insert

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bright-molina · 3 years

Text

Everything I Didn’t Say (Part One)

synopsis: You knew Sunset Curve would make it big. What you didn’t expect, though, was losing the people that mattered most to you. Now you’re left to navigate all the regrets you were left with. Turns out you’re not the only one with regrets though.

word count: 4.8k

pairing: Luke Patterson x reader

warnings: mentions of the guys dying, mentions of grief, there’s also a bit where reader goes to therapy if that counts as a warning

a/n: For @jatpx5sos Week Day Two: Parallels! The parallel I used is Everything I Didn’t Say and Unsaid Emily. This is also part one of about nine of the Everything I Didn’t Say series which I’m so freakin excited about not gonna lie. The second part will be up in a couple days!

Also real quick, the bold italics are the lyrics just as a note.

“You can’t be sneaking in here, you know.”

“I know. But I wanted to see you.”

Luke smiled as he slid into the seat beside you, not hesitating at all to take your hand, press his lips to the back of it, then lean his head on your shoulder. Each action a silent acknowledgment that he really had missed you quite a bit in the last few hours since you’d seen him.

The moment was broken up quickly by Bobby taking a seat right on the opposite side of Luke. He set his head on the palm of his hand and looked up with wide eyes and a smirk. “What about me? Did you want to see me too?”

“Oh always.” Luke answered just as easily with his own smirk, shooting a wink in his direction. Your laugh and Reggie’s mingled together as he and Alex approached the table just in time to hear the last of their quips. Meanwhile Alex only smiled in amusement while he dug out the item he was looking for from his backpack.

You took the notebook back from him and he took his usual seat across from you. As you waited for his feedback you noticed Luke’s attention narrow at the item and you wordlessly handed it over to him. Almost immediately he sat up to eagerly search for the page that held the newest song you were working on.

Your attention remained focused on Alex. “What do you think, will it work?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Alex nodded, glancing at where Luke was now looking through the most recent lyrics you had added, he and Bobby quickly jumping into a conversation about possible rhythms and melodies.

“Well I know so,” Reggie nudged his shoulder and grinned as he turned to face you. “The song screams drum heavy and if anyone can do it it’s our Alex. We were gonna stop by the music rooms during free period to work some stuff out. You should come with!”

Just as you were about to argue that you couldn’t Luke looked away from the notebook, his pencil leaving a half finished word behind. “Forget that, let’s just head back to Bobby’s. We’ll work on it and have the chorus nailed by the end of the day.”

It took very little convincing for the three boys to agree to Luke’s proposition, each of them stuffing what was left of their lunches in their bags. You, on the other hand, stayed silent. A fact which they noted.

It was a place you had found yourself in dozens of times before. Reggie, Alex, and Bobby said their goodbyes to you and moved just far away enough to pretend they couldn’t hear you and Luke talking.

This time was different though. It wasn’t just another harmless practice session to mess around in. In exactly four days time Sunset Curve would be playing The Orpheum. This was one of their last practices before then and they were determined to get everything as close to perfect as they could. Including the most recent song they wanted to debut just for the occasion.

“I -” You wanted to join them more than anything. But the argument you’d had with your parents just that morning rang loud in your head. It’d been prompted by a failed test, a less than ideal summer school progress report, and another full song book they’d found. “I can’t.”

“We need you,” Luke turned in his seat to face you and reached forward, interlocking your hands together once more. “We’re almost there, just a few more days until the show and then we’re solid. Then I promise you can focus on these fancy prep classes, I’ll even help you.”

It was tempting, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t. Writing those songs beside Luke was quite possibly the best thing you had. It couldn’t be the only thing anymore though and that was a fact you hated admitting to yourself.

“I can’t,” You gave a sigh and tapped the cover of the notebook quickly. “I’ll work on the song a bit in my free time and meet you there later alright?”

As much as Luke wanted to argue, he didn’t. Not at the time being. He could understand well enough the pressure you were under. So he only nodded, gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and squeezed your hands once before standing. “Yeah. Later.”

“So what do you think?” Luke asked excitedly as the notes they’d been playing faded away softly. All of them were looking at you eagerly and you tried your best to match their excitement. And you really did love what they’d done with the song. It was just hard to be as enthusiastic when the rest of your afternoon had been less than ideal.

You finally answered him, trying to push your other worries and the pile of work you knew you had waiting for you to the back of your mind. “It’s amazing.”

“I’m glad you think so cause we have news,” Luke stepped forward after cheering at your approval along with the others. “We wanna make it our closer for Saturday.”

You didn’t try to hide your disbelief that time, though you did wonder for a second if you’d heard him right. “It’s not gonna be ready on time.”

“So we’ll put extra work into it,” Luke frowned a bit but stepped towards you anyway. “I’ve already got ideas for the verses, just tell me when and we’ll work on it.”

“I can’t.” You repeated the words as you tried to push away the echoes of an argument you knew you couldn’t ignore anymore.

“You can’t?” The rest of the room had grown quiet and tense but Luke kept going. “Y/N this is huge for all of us, you included.”

“And I get that, I do,” You finally looked away from the words in the songbook and up at him. “But as much as you want me to, I can’t put all my focus on this. Not right now.”

“Why not?”

And there it was.

There were so many ways in which you and Luke were the same. The two of you could spend hours side by side doing what you both loved. Writing and creating music together in a way that was special. In a way that you didn’t have with anyone else.

This was where you were different though. Luke was braver than you were, you could admit that much. He was ready to drop everything to pursue a future in music with the band and he had. You couldn’t do that though, not with parents who had never wanted you to start this journey in the first place.

And though you had expected it you still didn’t believe it. You were very aware of Bobby, Alex, and Reggie avoiding all eye contact with either of you. Sure conversations similar to this one had happened before but never had you looked as angry as you did now.

Without another word you stood, shoving the songbook in your bag along with the text books that had sat unused. It was better to get out of there. You didn’t want to but you had to.

“Y/N -”

“I have more going on then you care to know, alright?” It was all you said before storming out of the garage.

Luke followed you, though, determined to figure out whatever was happening. He needed you and that was a fact he wasn’t afraid to admit. “Tell me.”

“What?”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

For a second you weren’t too sure what to think. The rational part of your brain knew he did care. Of course he did, he’d helped you as many times as you’d helped him. But you weren’t listening to that part. It was easier to listen to the part of you that didn’t require too much thought when your mind was already a storm of second guesses.

“Why? You only want to know so we can finish this song.”

Luke tried reaching for you like he always did but stopped when you took a step back. “That’s not the only reason.”

“So it is part of the reason.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?” You didn’t mean for the words to start coming out. There wasn’t a single filter in place at the moment and every thought, no matter how little you meant them, came out. “That what I have going on isn’t as important? I can’t afford to put all my energy into this, Luke. I’ve told you before and you always say you understand but I don’t think you really do.”

“I do understand.”

“Do you?” With a sigh you took the songbook out of your bag, one with both your names scribbled on the front cover in his handwriting, and shoved it into his hands. “Do whatever you want with them, they’re all yours now.”

You were positive the clock on your wall was mocking you. The ticking seemed louder than ever, as if it knew all you wanted to do was ignore it.

You hadn’t talked to Luke at all in the last four days. Both Reggie and Bobby had stopped by a couple times and Alex, who lived right next door, checked in with you every morning and every night. You were sure he was put up to it, despite telling you otherwise.

With an annoyed groan you backed your chair away from the desk and started spinning in slow circles. Their soundcheck would be starting soon and you were trying to push the thought out of your head and focus on the homework you were supposed to be working on.

Then the wheels of the chair slipped back in the middle of a spin and the textbook on your desk toppled to the floor. A single sheet of notebook paper was left on the floor after you picked it up. When you reached for the paper you were met with the sight of a dozen creases and a mix of different handwriting.

The memory connected to it was as vivid as ever. It was one of the first songs you’d written with Luke forever ago. It had gotten confiscated from the two of you after you’d been caught passing it back and forth during class. Then you’d both been given detention after a little too much begging to have it back.

Without another thought you stood and reached for the badge with the Orpheum logo and the letters ‘VIP’ printed underneath it. Luke had given it to you proudly weeks ago while declaring ‘You really don’t think we’d do this without you, right?’

You practically sprinted out of the house, ignoring the calls of your mom asking what you were doing, and left. You were certain now that there was only one place you had to be.

It took two buses and sprinting as fast as you could a few blocks before you finally reached the building, frantically showing the person at the door your badge. The looks you received from various employees did nothing to stop you from running through the halls until you reached the stage area.

Almost immediately you zeroed in on the sound of a familiar voice and called his name. You watched as Bobby looked around for a few seconds before finding the place where you stood. His grin matched your own and he met you halfway, excusing himself from the girl he’d been talking to.

“I knew you’d make it,” He nodded towards the badge and laughed a bit. “You’re too stubborn not to.”

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes at him before smiling at the girl who had joined the two of you. She held a Sunset Curve shirt in her hands along with a demo and you knew without having to ask what had happened there.

“Rose, this is Y/N,” Bobby’s smile turned more genuine and less teasing. “The brain behind about half our songs.”

“Half is too generous.”

“And you’re too modest.”

“You’re a songwriter?” Rose practically beamed and you couldn’t help but take after her as you nodded. “Remind me to get some input from you on a few things I’m working on.”

“I’m happy to help,” You told her and waited as she scribbled down her number on a napkin. You thought your glance around the room had been subtle but Bobby had noticed almost right away.

“Luke’s not here,” Of course he knew what you were thinking and who you were looking for. “He went to get some food with Reg and Alex.”

“Did they say where they were going?”

“Not really. Said they were getting hot dogs and you know how they are with street food.” He noticed the way your shoulders sank and you started twisting the lanyard of the badge around your hands and reached forward to stop you. “Hey, they’ll be back soon. You can talk to Luke then alright?”

You tried to nod but all you could think of was the argument. It was days later and you’d thought much too long about it. “Is he mad at me?”

“Are you kidding? He could never be.” Bobby gave you the most reassuring smile he could and to his relief it worked a little.

“Hey, why don’t you tell me about one of your songs,” Rose caught on easily to how anxious you were getting and started pulling you towards one of the tables after shouting behind her shoulder that she was taking her break. “Then I’ll tell you about one of mine. Deal?”

“Yeah,” You nodded as the three of you sat down. “Yeah, alright.”

Rose’s distraction worked. You lost track of time and very quickly grew invested in the conversation. So much so that you didn’t really notice what was going on around you.

You didn’t notice the sound of sirens passing by the building. You didn’t notice the way the chatter outside became louder as a crowd grew. You didn’t notice the sudden silence of the room as a single police officer stepped in, speaking briefly to the manager before walking towards the table.

“Are you -” The officer paused for a second, glancing around at the three of you before giving a soft sigh and focusing on the person he was looking for. “Are you Bobby?”

“Yeah.” The easy going smile Bobby had been wearing faded quickly. You knew yours did too. “I am. Why?”

Then this overwhelming, sinking feeling filled every part of your body. Something was wrong. You knew just by the look on the officer's face. The words he spoke next only confirmed it. Reggie. Alex. Luke. Accident. Tragic. Gone. I’m sorry.

Everything around you went blurry, all the sounds muffled as those words echoed through your head until they finally sunk in. You weren’t too sure when it was that the tears started streaming down your face or when the officer left.

Eventually though, you looked up to find Bobby in the same state you were sure you were in. You didn’t really process your movements either as the two of you moved closer together. What came next was the shocking realization that you were all each other had left. That was it. Alex and Reggie and Luke, your boys, were gone. And there was no changing that.

“I feel like I’ve been wearing this for years now.” Bobby muttered as he picked at the black fabric of his suit. It was the third time now that the two of you found yourselves in this position. Sitting on the floor outside the garage, the door shut tight, in black clothes.

The instruments inside sat untouched now. The space that had been filled with music and laughter and unbelievable amounts of joy just a short while back was silent now, something that at one point you didn’t think was possible.

“I hate it.”

It wasn’t clear whether you meant the black clothes or how things had turned out or just the feeling of something missing that seemed like it would never go away. Maybe it was a terrible concoction of all of three.

“Yeah,” Bobby nodded and let his head fall back against the garage door, trying his hardest to stop silently crying for what felt like the thousandth time that day. “Me too.”

Two months later you sat with Bobby at a café that had opened not too long ago. The songbook you and Luke had once shared sat unopened in front of you. It was the first time you’d actually accepted it from him.

He had found it with Luke’s things after finally working up the courage to go back into the garage two weeks after he started seeing his therapist. The last time he tried giving it to you you’d given it back with tears and shaking hands insisting you couldn’t take it. You’d made progress though, no matter how small, and that was a huge thing.

“You should come with me next week.” Bobby finally broke the silence, looking up from where he’d been staring at the table but still tapping his feet on the floor.

“To see your therapist?” You were grateful for the interruption, thoughts already running rampant in your head at the sight of the songbook.

“Yeah. I told her about you, how we were -” He paused then as the memory flashed in his head for a second. He breathed in deeply then exhaled slowly as he reached for his cup of tea. “How we found out about Reggie, Luke, and Alex together. How close we all were, how the two of us still are. She said you were free to join for a session if you wanted.”

“I’ll think about it.” You told him honestly as you nodded, folding your arms in front of you so the songbook was out of sight.

“Good.” Bobby leaned forward then, turning his gaze back to the top of the table once more as he debated whether or not to say anything. Ultimately he did. “Thanks.”

You looked at him then, head tipping to the side as you studied him for a moment. “For what?”

“For being here. Through everything.”

You were positive then that no matter what happened from that moment on Bobby was always going to be someone who you knew would be there for you, just as you were always going to be there for him.

The smile you gave him was gentle, reassuring in a way you knew he needed at the moment. “Of course.”

“You bring that with you every time you come see me.”

“I take it with me everywhere, honestly,” You admitted, noticing the way Dr. Crystal nodded a bit before leaning forward.

“Can I?” She asked as she motioned towards the songbook just barely peeking out of your bag. You nodded and handed it to her, watching closely as she flipped through it carefully. She noticed. “Why do you think you carry it with you?”

“I think -” You gave a sigh as you started fiddling with the hem of your shirt. There was no doubt that she already knew the answer, and she knew that you probably did too. The couple of sessions you had attended with Bobby helped a lot and you’d been seeing her on your own for almost three months now. “Cause it was Luke’s. It was ours and -”

When you didn’t continue she shut the songbook and set it on the table between the two of you, gently sliding it in your direction once more. “It’s what still connects you to him.”

“It’s just - If I open it and - and look at everything in there it just reminds me that that’s all I have left of him and Alex and Reggie. If I open it and read those songs it feels like when I close it they’ll be gone.” You surprised yourself with your own words. One of the things you had yet to decipher in the last couple of months was if Dr. Crystal’s silence was a good thing or not.

“That’s not true, though. You have your memories of them. They’re still there in you and in Bobby. You may have lost Luke and Reggie and Alex but you still have him and Rose.” She spoke honestly as she glanced at her watch. You knew what that meant and so you reached for the book and returned it to its usual place in your bag. “I think it's a good idea to try and look through the songbook, Y/N. It might make it easier if you had someone there with you.”

“I’ll -” You sighed as you stood from your seat and then finally nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

Three days later you once again sat with Bobby, this time in the living room of your otherwise silent and empty house. It was usually that way now. Your parents still walked on eggshells around you, not too sure when it would be acceptable to stop.

“Did you ever look through it?” You asked as you turned on the couch, the still closed songbook now on your lap. He had promised to be there with you when you opened it and he was.

“I did,” Bobby admitted, turning just as you had. “When I first found it an-and before I gave it to you.”

You nodded once before looking down at the cover of the songbook. Then quickly before you could change your mind you opened it.

The first sight you were met with was your name in Luke’s handwriting on the front cover, his own name right underneath it. You’d been expecting it but it still caught you off guard. Then you saw the song lyrics on the first page and broke down completely.

It was a page full of scribbles and smudges and crossed out words. Your handwriting and his mixed together in a way that didn’t quite make sense but that held memories only you had shared with him. A tear fell onto the page and you quickly dabbed it away when you saw the ink start to run, leaving behind a spot of paper crinkling in on itself.

You only made it through a couple pages before you stopped paying attention to the words, soft cries bouncing against the walls. Bobby took the notebook from your hands carefully, sniffling once and wiping the tears out of his own eyes.

“He, uh,” He flipped open to the last dogeared page, one near the very back. That one, like the others, was covered in smudges of lines that had been erased and written several times over. Lines that were erased and never finished. “Luke was writing this for you. Started it the night you guys-”

Bobby stopped the moment he noticed you shut your eyes tightly and he knew you were remembering that day. He quickly shook his head, his own thoughts going back to that day.

He’d walked into the garage late that night and had found Luke hunched over the notebook just as he had dozens of times before. Unlike the other times, though, his face was twisted into deep concentration as he stopped every few seconds to think. When he finally let him read what he had been working on he wasn’t at all surprised by what he found on the pages.

“You have to know he wasn’t mad at you,” Bobby shut the songbook once more after reading through that same list and looked at you once more. There was a different sort of heartache painted on your face and it pained him to look at it. He did it anyway though, you deserved as much.

“How do you know that though?”

“Because he never was. He never got angry at you ever but especially not that night. He wanted to stop by your place the night of the sh- of the show. But we -” He sighed then and his head fell, eyes shutting tight as he once again recalled every single event the night of the Orpheum show. He’d replayed it dozens of times over, wishing more than anything that he could go back and change it all.

Then Bobby caught sight of the tears streaming down your face once more and without thinking he wrapped you in as comforting a hug as he could muster. It took a few moments before he realized it was the first time since before the show that he was doing so. Even the simple action reminded him too much of the friends, brothers really, that he’d lost.

But they were gone. They were gone and you were here. You were right there beside him and you needed him. “We ran out of time.”

The silence hung heavy between the two of you. The feeling you felt, though, was anything but. It was a strange one that almost made you feel that despite everything you’d gone through the last few months you’d be okay as long as you had more moments like these.

You thought of the boys then. Of messing around with Reggie and late night talks with Alex. And of Luke. Your Luke who you wanted to say so many things to but couldn’t anymore.

“We did, didn’t we?”

It was the day before your next appointment with Dr. Crystal that you sat alone in your room. This time though, you were surrounded by old sheets covered in lyrics and notes written on various scraps of paper. Some of them were in your handwriting, sure, but it also included some in Luke’s. His and Reggie’s and Alex’s and Bobby’s.

The last few days had been spent reading all those old notes and the songs filling the majority of the songbook. You’d been trying to work up the courage to finally look at the one Luke had been working on. The one supposedly meant for you.

With a deep sigh you finally opened the cover and flipped to the page you’d been avoiding until that moment.

The first thing you saw was a single line at the top of the left page.

I hope you know for you I'd sacrifice to make this right

What quickly drew your attention though was the letters bigger than anything else on the page. You’d spent ages mastering the art of reading Luke’s handwriting and you could immediately tell he’d written and rewritten it until it was as neat as he could manage.

I wish I could've made you stay and I'm the only one to blame. I know that it's a little too late. This is everything I didn't say.

The last phrase had been written over a couple times and underlined. Right underneath it though was a list paired with bits and pieces of lyrics.

All the songs that we wrote

1. We’ve written so many things together and I can’t imagine doing this without you. You always let me ramble on, help me gather it all together in a way I can’t on my own.

All the wrongs that I hoped would erase from your memory.

2. For some reason you always forgive me. Whether it was making you late or getting us in trouble or some stupid fight we had. This is different and I don’t know what’s going to happen but you have to know I’m sorry.

Holding onto a broken and empty heart.

3. I could’ve done better. I know that. All I can think of is all the times you talked to me. All the times you trusted me. And I hate that I told you I’d be there for you and I wasn’t always. I’m so sorry, Y/N.

Flowers I should’ve bought, all the hours I lost. Wish I could bring it back to the start.

4. I needed to say all of this sooner. I know that. I took what we have for granted and god I just want you here with me again.

The amount of time that passed was unclear. All you did was read the words over and over again until you practically had them memorized, burned into even the deepest parts of your brain. At some point you registered the stiff feeling of dry tears on your cheeks and it was then that you reached for a pencil.

Your hands shook as you brought the songbook onto your lap and leaned over the page. The letters came out wobbly, just barely legible, as your breathing picked up faster than you would’ve liked.

The moment the words were on the page, though, it felt like a weight was finally being lifted off of your shoulders. Written in your handwriting right on the opposite side of Luke’s were the same words he’d written months before you.

Everything I Didn’t Say

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pretty-face-breaker · 3 years

Text

WIJ Prompt: Sleep

CW. creepy whumper, pet names, implied murder, blood stains, forced to get rid of evidence for a killer, past consensual torture, coercive relationship

@whumpmasinjuly

Timeline: A few months before Hayko escapes

— At its corner, the desk clock read 2:00 am.

The light of the lamp fell on his hand as he wrote, eyes skipping the document before he turned the page to give the pen a healthy shake. Then, it was from the top again with the court file number, judicial centre, applicant. Down until his hand hung off of the desk. He seemed to only breathe once a page.

He had been dealing with paperwork for the past few hours but for Hayko, filling in blanks was like second nature as riding a bike might be for someone. Just as they would know when to lift their hips for an oncoming bump, he knew where to push the nib hard enough that the ink wouldn’t swipe and smear the space. By muscle memory, he crossed every t and dotted each i but ensured, as each page filled up, to go back and check.

Two empty fruit bar wrappers sat near him beside an empty mug - all he had eaten since the single boiled egg and tea in the morning - which wasn’t his proudest meal plan but there was work to be done for next week. Crisis had struck. One of the cartel’s major benefactors was on trial for embezzlement.

He wanted to laugh.

Hayko sighed, letting the fountain pen click down before stretching up to the ceiling and then back. The exercise was useful when he needed a reminder that he had bones that weren’t made for crouching over a desk for hours at a time.

“Good morning.”

The seat almost toppled back as Hayko flinched and darted his eyes to the doorway of the other man’s room. “Jesus, you scared me, Nick.” He stood up quickly, fingers leaning on the desk for support when his head suddenly began to spin and his vision blacked out for a moment.

Looking at his figure in the doorway, they suddenly felt colder.

“Working late again, busy bee? You should be asleep.” Nick wasn’t moving from the doorway, just leaning on one shoulder and just out of the perimeter that the light would allow him to be seen. It was all too dark to tell, but Hayko felt like he was smiling.

He smiled nervously in response, dragging his hands closer to him. “Always.” They held a long look under the benevolent layer of darkness before Nick ripped it away by stepping forward, then again until the yellow light of the desk lamp crawled up to his face. When Hayko saw his face, he was silently surprised at having guessed correctly that he was smiling.

Then, he saw his shirt.

Nick must have noticed the immobile terror in his face because he chuckled. It rumbled in his ear, signalling a little involuntary shiver up the man’s back. “Don’t worry, doll. It’s not mine.”

His fingertips were chilled against the desk now as Hayko kept his eyes locked on the bloodstains, of which there were plenty, clotting near the buttons at the waist, splattered across his sleeves, and painting a grimly neat stripe up to his collar. The glaring light of the bulb brought out their faint redness but mostly, it looked like Nick had painted the shirt black.

“Th-... then whose?” He’d been meaning to ask. Hayko breaths mellowed as Nick began sliding off his watch and walking over. When it was off, he dropped it behind him with a thunk that made him blink. Right on the court order, too, he thought.

He should have been asleep by now. He should have gone to bed before he got home because then, he wouldn’t have to be dealing with him in the late hours. Nick was different at night, less human, and not in his humanity but his general appearance.

Nick’s hands travelled to his waistband and plucked the dress shirt from his pants, not hesitating to start immediately unbuttoning. For courtesy, he turned at an angle to the bed next to the desk, facing the headboard as he took off the stained shirt. His chest was splattered with fainter spots of blood. Those would be easier missed and Hayko was glad they were.

He finally found enough courage to bring his hands fully to his sides but not enough to look at him as he undressed, not out of disgust of the bloodstains but out of awkwardness. Never really figuring out where to look any time Nick undressed in front of him - although he probably would prefer it to be at him - Hayko let his eyes wander to the floor.

“Is that all you ate today?” Nick was looking at the empty wrappers and mug, skipping the pile of paperwork entirely in a way that made Hayko redden a little for the mess.

He anxiously scraped the tiny crack in the floorboard made by his chair. “Yeah, um... ‘didn’t have much time for much else.” While technically not true, he thought, it wasn’t that he had the appetite for anything more either. With the recent heat-wave that had overwhelmed the city, he could hardly remember to eat without Nick being the one to remind him. Like they were god damn married.

The man pulled his tie loose then swooped both off, tsking in disapproval as he hung them over his arm and faced Hayko. “You need to seriously take care of yourself, love,” he chided with a hint of warmth. “You have work, sure, but not eating?”

He found it harder to stare at the floor with Nick looking directly at him now. “Wasn’t hungry,” he mumbled, frustrated with the nagging while he stood there covered in a litre of fucking blood.

It seemed strange to him, even this far into this veil of a romantic relationship, that Nick insisted on playing concerned spouse and talking down to him in that voice thick with adoration. He hated it. But mostly, he hated how it tricked him every time, for a few moments, to believing that the concern was genuine.

That if Nick wanted to, he wouldn’t just break him in two for a quick, sadistic fix.

“What if I hire a chef, hm?” Hayko’s eyes travelled uneasily up to his, avoiding the body not out of embarrassment or modesty but the light bruising, the little scratches at his shoulders that indicated there had been a struggle.

He swallowed down the image of his victim clawing from below so he wouldn’t accidentally imagine his own face to fill in the blank.

“A nice one, family friend even, so you don’t starve yourself cooped up in my bedroom all day with your papers.”

“Your papers,” Hayko reminded him carefully. It was annoying when he couldn’t at least pretend to remember that he was his employer. But Nick just chuckled before handing him the shirt, tie draped over. His fingernails were black with blood.

“Do me a favour?”

The dried, metallic smell overwhelmed him and he swallowed as the scent lingered, reminding him of the uncharacteristically pleasant evening a few nights ago, how the stench had replaced the man’s sage cologne as he had looked over Hayko’s bare back. Looked over the cuts there and decided to open a few up again as he shivered and bit back whimpers.

He closed his eyes a moment, reliving the painful buzz his mind had been in, too clouded by chanting of more, more, more to say anything coherent until Nick had finished and planted a kiss on his neck and woken him up. Memories like those and how close they happened to each other sometimes made Hayko forget the nature of how he even got here but if he was honest in the moment, that one evening had...almost made it count.

Hayko gasped back to reality, snatching the shirt before Nick could snap at him. “Sure, yeah, I-I’ll throw it away.”

“Don’t throw it away, silly,” Nick interrupted as he turned to his bathroom. “Clean it. I like that shirt a lot, you know, you’ve seen me wear it to lots of those end-of-the-month parties Don Miguel likes to organize for us.”

Hayko seemed at a loss for just what to do with the bloodstained clothing in his hand when he noticed that it wasn’t just stained but bathed in life. The combination seemed heavier in his hand than any of his shirt’s ever had. He thought, with a stirring and morbid curiosity, just which of his fucked up methods Nick had used to squeeze the breath out of the-

“Did you hear me?”

He should have been asleep, and then he wouldn’t have to deal with this tonight.

“Nick-... I don’t think-” He stammered and motioned to the red cluster. “There’s too much… I don’t think I can, um, actually clean it with the amount of blood.” Waiting in silence for a response, Hayko unfolded the shirt by the shoulders, as if he hadn’t already seen the wreck. “Plus, a lot of it is dried. How long ago did you?...”

Sighing, Nick stopped and tilted his head. “You know I’ve got a couple of those enzyme detergents in the left cabinet of the other washroom. Multiple, actually, so fill up the sink and leave it.”

And with that, Nick nodded at him which was cue that it was time to stop asking questions.

When he stumbled through the living room, he noticed it was pitch black where Nick hadn’t even spared the bar lights to make his way to the bedroom. Only further proof that the man was a born predator, Hayko thought grimly.

He searched blindly for the light and squinted upon flicking it on. Nick may not have convinced him with the criticism of his diet but Hayko was starting to pay attention to the poor lighting he usually worked under.

The left cabinet revealed the detergents. Hayko took them out, one by one, and stacked them on the sink before opening the faucet. He took note to plug it before it filled up and shut the warm dial. The colder the better Nick had mentioned off-hand once on a night similar to this one, where Hayko had watched him scrubbing a shirt in the sink from the hallway, pretending the water wasn’t turning pink between his fingers.

He breathed once, the sharp smell of chemical piercing his nose, and sprinkled it in. The shirt went in next and then the tie and all he could do was stare at it, infatuated. He had watched a man come home from killing someone, taken his clothes, and stuck the evidence in heavy-duty detergent.

He was a fucking lawyer.

He didn’t sign up for this.

Where had the time gone for it to have gone this far, to be involved like this with a psychopath? Going from tied up in his god damn basement to playing boyfriend?

Sure, it had been a stupid mistake on his part but it was a mistake, all he had wanted was to live, and one verbal contract later, now watched blood merge with water.

The blood stained dress shirt stared back up at him disapprovingly. It probably thought he deserved it, Hayko thought faintly and the sudden rush of nausea almost made him double over and wretch into the sink.

The clock ate the time with ticks, and all Hayko did was stare at the shirt in the sink. Until he heard a rustle from behind. The man had probably finished washing up and just in time, too. “You should’ve been asleep.”

Nick was right, always right.

Tagging: @doveotions @heathenville @thewhumpstuff @thatsthewhump @adamantem-rose @lonesome–hunter @whumpsorbet @whumpasaurus101 @lektricfergus @downrivergirl914 @burtlederp

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theoverly · 3 years

Text

I dare you

Pairing: Johnny/Kerry

Rating: E for explicit

“Who you calling little?”

“Your dick, dick.”

“Fuck you. If it’s so little, then you won’t have any trouble swallowing it down.”

“Is that a dare?”

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Inspired by OGAmy on the cyberpunks discord server

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On ao3; https://archiveofourown.org/works/31758226

Or press “Keep reading”

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Another night, another gig - you know how it goes…

The members of Samurai are drinking heavily, bottles and cans piling up on the table in the seating area in the hotel room. The night has turned into a game of truth or dare, but since it is Samurai we’re talking about, it’s mostly dares... It’s started really simple - kiss him, run naked - etcetera - and they all do, because they are a band and that’s what happens. If anyone told them that they are prudish, then obviously they don’t understand Samurai…

Denny and Nancy are the first to bail and go to bed, Henry eventually passing out because - well, he is Henry…

This leaves Kerry and Johnny the only two (awake) people left in the room, both having lost their tops somewhere along the night - though if that was before or after the gig, who can say?

The thing with these two; they both like to take things so much further than anyone else. After all, neither of them can risk being outdone by the other…

“Dare you to take your pants off.” Silverhand looks at Kerry with a toothy grin, aviators riding down his nose a bit, but not enough to allow Eurodyne to see his eyes.

Kerry takes a swig of his beer - now warm - before putting it down on the table, standing up from his chair. It’s not the first time he’s gonna be going pants-less tonight; Denny dared him to run out and get more booze in only his shoes and shirt, wanting to see if he could still get service - which he couldn’t. Still, at least he made it back to the hotel without being arrested, where he did pull his pants back on - he wasn’t gonna sit around the band drinking with his balls out…

Now, Eurodyne is a performer, and a massive show off - he looks good, and he knows it - which is why he starts moving his hips from side to side a little, dancing to the shitty pop that is playing in the background - Henry had fallen asleep atop the radio, somehow changing the channel. At least his lifeless body is good for blocking some of the sound out…

Johnny snorts at the sight, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth to try and muffle his chuckle, leaning back in his chair and stomping a foot to try and beat down his own amusement when Kerry flicks the button on his pants open whilst looking straight into his friends aviators, pulling the zipper down slowly. He teases his thumbs inside the waistline of his pants, hips swaying seductively - or drunkenly, depending on who you ask - whilst biting his bottom lip to contain his own grin. He goes for a slow spin, hips rolling as he slides his fingertips up his naked torso before holding his arms up around his head, showing off his back to the other, making sure to give an extra shake of his ass. He has to hold back a laugh when he remembers that one time a fan came up to them and slapped a juicy sticker on his ass, and a flat sticker on Johnny’s, before they ran away cackling like a maniac, tripping over their own shoes and face-planted against the pavement…

He turns his head to throw a sultry look over his shoulder, finding Johnny has leaned forward in his seat, forearms resting on his knees as he regards his friend from behind his aviators, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Kerry curls his arms tighter over his head, hiding his face - and his moan - against his tattooed bicep, feeling his breathing pick up in genuine arousal. He stays like that for a moment longer, rolling his hips, until he catches himself enough to know that he won’t look flustered when he turns back around, a confident grin curling his lips instead.

Running his hands back down his torso and over the slight - but noticeable - bulge in his pants, he keeps looking straight into Johnny’s aviators, the man keeping his face as neutral as possible - though his pants are looking tight in the crotch.

With a wink, Kerry begins shimmying his pants down his hips - before thinking better of himself and spinning back around so when he bends down to get them all the way off, his ass is on display for Silverhand. When he pulls back up, he does so in a full body roll, making sure to arch his back before turning back around, cocking his hip to the side and resting a hand on it. “How’s that?” the grins.

“Eh,” Johnny starts. “Seen better.” He takes a swig of his beer, Kerry pressing his lips together tightly.

“Yeah, well-“ he cuts himself, wetting his lips. “How about you get your pants and underwear off then?” Johnny cocks an eyebrow at him. “And that’s a dare.” He clarifies.

He’s note sure what he was expecting, but Silverhand just shooting to his feet and pushing his leathers and underwear off in one swift motion before holding his arms out to the sides is certainly on brand. “There.” He grins in triumph.

“Dude, that sucked.” Kerry laughs, eyes drawn down to his friend's hardon. “See little Johnny enjoyed the show.”

“Who you calling little?”

“Your dick, dick.”

“Fuck you. If it’s so little, then you won’t have any trouble swallowing it down.” Johnny growls.

“Is that a dare?”

“You know what? Fuck it, yeah! I dare you to suck my cock.” Johnny huffs, pointing to his crotch with both hands.

Kerry pauses for a second, surprised that his friend hadn’t just laughed it off. Still, he’s not about to lose this game of chicken - not that he wouldn’t suck Johnny’s cock even if it wasn’t a dare, to be honest.

He grins and steps forward to close the distance between them, getting right up in Johnny’s face - his slightly shorter stature forcing him to look up, seeing his own grinning face in Johnny’s aviators. He snatches the signature aviators off Silverhand’s face, shutting down his protest with a cheeky wink as he puts them atop his head, which means he’s now only wearing Johnny’s shades, his bandana, and his underwear whilst Johnny is stood there completely naked, save for his leathers and underwear stuck around his ankles, his boots keeping him from stepping out of them.

Eurodyne doesn’t care if he seems eager as he almost collapses on his knees, the shitty carpet rubbing against his skin coarsely - but he pays that no mind - grasping the base of Johnny’s cock and swallowing about half of it down in one go. Johnny bites back a curse, and Kerry moans around him to encourage him to let it out as he pulls back until his lips catch on the rim of the head, tongue circling the tip before he sinks back down, a steady buildup of saliva easing the slide as he begins bobbing his head slowly, hand warming the bottom half of his friend’s cock.

Johnny scoffs, looking down at him. “That all you got? I’ve gotten better head from virgins.” He chuckles when this earns him a venomous glare from Eurodyne, the effect lessened somewhat by the way his lips are stretched around Silverhand’s cock, cheeks bulging.

Johnny’s shout of alarm when Kerry suddenly pushes forward and takes him into his throat turns into a moan as he almost doubles over, organic hand flying up to grasp a fistful of the soft black hair atop his friend’s head, chrome hand cradling the back of his neck. Kerry pulls back a bit and moans in return, before sinking back down until his nose is nestled in Johnny’s pubic hair. “Oh fuck…” the rockerboy moans, bucking his hips when Kerry moves to pull back, gagging him on his cock.

Kerry yanks himself off the length, gasping and sucking in a hurried breath, swallowing some of the excess saliva before it can dribble from his lips, strings of it connecting him to Johnny’s cock still. “Watch it…” he growls in annoyance, baring his teeth at his friend.

“Fuck you.” Johnny growls right back, reaching down to grab the base of his cock and smacking it against Kerry’s face wetly before using the hand in his hair to pull him back onto it, the rockerboy’s lips parting willingly.

Kerry’s eyes flutter shut the moment the cock is back between his lips, a purring moan rumbling from his chest as he returns to bobbing his head along the shaft, urged on by Johnny’s hand in his hair. His own hand meanwhile begins palming at his own erection, still contained in his underwear, a wet spot of precum blossoming on the fabric.

Johnny’s hand goes loose against Kerry’s head, fingers rubbing against his scalp as he begins to lose himself in the sensation of his friend working his lips up and down his shaft, the occasional lewd slurping noise escaping despite Kerry’s attempt to keep his lips sealed tight.

Silverhand starts bucking his hips, forcing his cock back down Eurodyne’s throat, the rockerboy accommodating the intrusion with little reaction, able to keep his gag reflex in check as he puts his tongue over his bottom teeth and lips, allowing for an easier slide, but also making the excess saliva that he’s steadily building up to dribble freely and pool on the shitty carpet between his knees. The wet noises his throat makes as Johnny fucks it is obscene, and he lifts his own cock over the elastic of his underwear to pump the shaft. He glances upwards through his lashes, waterline wet from the abuse his throat is taking - even if he’s still yet to fully gag. Johnny’s eyes have shut, his jaw slack as he uses Eurodyne as a toy to chase his own release with every roll of his hips. Kerry purrs at the sight, eyes fluttering shut again, hand pumping his own cock steadily as he revels in the feeling of being used, fulfilling a purpose - a warmth blossoming in his chest when he considers the fingers massaging his scalp and metal hand cradling the back of his neck, almost tenderly in relation to Silverhand’s abrasive personality.

When Johnny’s hips begin bucking a little more wildly compared to the slow but powerful thrusts he’d been maintaining, Kerry’s eyes snap back open. He can feel his friend throbbing in his mouth, immediately yanking his head back to prevent him from reaching climax, not wanting this encounter to end just yet. Johnny’s eyes fly open and he lets out a growl at the loss of Kerry’s tight lips and throat around his cock, fist tightening in his hair as he glares down at him. Eurodyne looks absolutely wrecked, face flushed, saliva hanging from his chin and lip - thick strings connecting him to Johnny’s cock still as he pants openly, looking up at Silverhand with heavily lidded eyes, pupils blown wide. “Dare you to cum in my ass…” he breathes, hand still pumping his cock slowly, a dribble of precum coming out to stain the carpet further.

He yelps a little when Johnny’s hand tightens in his hair and pulls, forcing him back up onto his feet. Johnny spins them around and pushes Kerry forward so his knees bump against the chair that Silverhand had previously occupied, forcing Kerry to grab onto the back of the chair and lift one knee onto the seat to not trip over it. Johnny’s hands are already yanking his underwear off, only to get stuck around his knees. The animalistic growl that he emits at the obstacle has Kerry shiver in anticipation, and he gasps loudly when his underwear are swiftly ripped at both side seams and thrown to the side by Johnny, almost hitting Henry’s sleeping form. Neither of them pay their passed out friend any mind - Kerry being pushed further over the chair until he’s got both knees on seat, the surface agitating the rug-burned skin of his knees - whilst Johnny thrust his hip upward, sliding his cock up between his friends ass cheeks, hands gripping each cheek and pushing them together as he frots between.

Kerry lets out a curse, resting his forearms against the back of the chair and letting his head fall limp between his shoulders, thrusting his hips back insistently and wiggling his ass to try and incite Silverhand to get on with it. He moans when Johnny’s hips pull back, spitting on his fingers and prodding at Kerry’s hole. He grits out a curse when he finds the ring of muscles seem to part with no effort, the way already slick. “… the fuck?” he groans, thrusting two fingers into Kerry.

Eurodyne for his part simply pushes his hips back, meeting Johnny’s thrusts. “Fan I was going for earlier chickened out at the last possible second.” He explains, hearing his friend let out a loud snort as he pulls his fingers back, only to replace them with the tip of his own cock and begins to push in. Kerry silently thanks the fan he’d fingered himself open for earlier for ditching him - Johnny’s cock stretches him so much better than that loser ever could have. The lube he’d used earlier and the thick coating of saliva on Johnny’s cock is just enough to keep the slide smooth as Johnny pushes into him in one drawn out fluid thrust, going until his hips are pressing against the swell of Kerry’s ass.

Johnny tilts his hips back and grinds forward again, both men joining in a moan, prompting Silverhand to do it again - and again, each time pulling out just a bit further before pushing back in, Kerry’s hips rolling along with the movement as they decide on the pace, which quickens with each thrust until they’ve built up a near furious pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin starts to ring out in the room, much louder than the muffled sound of the radio laying under Henry’s limp body - the unconscious bassist unaware of his bandmates tryst.

Johnny’s hands are leaving bruises on Kerry’s hips with how hard he’s grasping them, pulling the other man back onto his cock on each thrust. Not that Kerry needs any encouragement, bucking his hips back enthusiastically, craving the stretch of Johnny’s cock filling him, grazing against his prostate on every thrust. When a particularly enthusiastic roll of Kerry’s hips causes Johnny’s cock to pop out they both let out sounds of protest, Kerry starting to push off the chair, having every intention on switching places with Johnny and ride him to allow him better control.

Silverhand has another idea, chrome hand pushing down over the small of Eurodyne’s back whilst his organic hand slide around to cradle the front of his throat, forcing him to stretch his arms as straight as they go where he’s got his hands braced against the back of the chair as he’s forced into a harsh arch. “Stay.” Silverhand growls, a weak whimper the only sound Kerry dares make as he holds the arch even when Johnny’s hand leaves his back to grasp his cock and help guide it back inside Kerry. Johnny’s chrome hand returns to grasp at the same marks they’d previously left on Eurodyne’s hip, grinding his hips into the tight heat as he leans over him, fingers applying just a bit of pressure over the pulse points on either side of Kerry’s throat whilst cradling his windpipe in the palm of his hand. “Whore.” He grits out meanly when Kerry moans at a particularly mean grind, sinking his teeth into his shoulder.

“Slut.” Kerry manages to grit out in retaliation, starting to go a bit lightheaded as he struggles to breathe with Silverhand choking him. He sucks in a great lungful of air when his throat is freed, Johnny’s hand instead sliding up to grip a handful of hair harshly as he straightens back up, forcing Kerry to remain in the arch as he begins to buck his hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin once again echoing through the room as Silverhand fucks into Eurodyne at a furious pace. Kerry clenches his jaw and bears his teeth to keep from screaming out in pure ecstasy, wanting so badly to buck his hips back, but the arch of his back and Johnny’s bruising grip on his hip renders him more or less unable to move, only able to hold onto the back of the chair - hand clenched so tightly he’s certain he can hear the wood creek - as he’s fucked by Silverhand at his most animalistic, prostate assaulted with each thrust and cock dribbling precum where it bobs between his legs.

Kerry lets out a whimper when Johnny releases the grip on his hair, prompting him to collapse forward until he’s leaning over the back of the chair. He has about two seconds to wonder what Johnny intends with his free hand until he feels the other man drape himself over his back, organic hand sliding around to begin jerking Kerry’s cock.

Eurodyne shouts out a string of curses as Johnny’s organic hand works his cock in a pace matching the bucks of his hips, which has started to grow more erratic. Where Silverhand had been keeping his sounds of pleasure muted, he now begins to growl and groan as he draws near his climax, cock milked by the tight heat of Kerry’s hole fluttering and squeezing around his length.

Still, Kerry is louder. “F-fuuuuuck-“ he chokes momentarily, sputtering and letting out a mixture of a groan and a growl.

“Gonna breed you like a bitch…” Johnny pants against Kerry’s shoulder as he bucks his hips wildly, a loud and enthusiastic sound of agreement coming from his friend who’s begun to tremble, trying to buck his hips back against Johnny’s cock whilst also fuck forward into his fist. “Yeah-“ Johnny cuts himself off with a groan as his hips stutter, his orgasm hitting him with full force. “Fucking take it!” he roars as he jerks his hips forward in a particularly mean thrust, feeling his balls draw tight and cock pulse as he begins to spill on spurts, filling Eurodyne with his seed.

Kerry hits his peak not a moment later, cock twitching as Johnny keeps pumping it, shooting thick white streaks - some hitting the back of the chair and some shooting between the cracks, staining the shitty carpet. Johnny lets out an almost wounded sound when Kerry’s muscles clamp down around him, instincts making him jerk his hips back before thinking better of it and pushing back inside, the movement pulling and pushing some of his cum out to overflow where Kerry’s rim is fluttering around him.

Johnny rests his forehead against Kerry’s shoulder, both men panting as they catch their breath, taking a moment to come down from the high of their respective orgasms. Johnny is the first to recover, peeling himself away from Kerry’s back and grasping his hips, holding him steady as he pulls out, groaning a curse when his cum immediately begins to dribble out of Eurodyne’s ruined rim. The feeling makes Kerry let out a sound of discomfort - thought it might also partially be a whine of loss at no longer having Johnny’s cock filling him so perfectly...

He throws a glance over his shoulder when he hears the soft footfalls of Johnny moving away, watching him head into the bathroom, the faucet turning on a moment later. He turns back around, scooting his knees forward on the seat and winching at the pain on his rug-burned skin, sitting down on his knees and folding his arms over the top of the backrest to rest his head against as he takes a moment longer to collect himself.

He hears Johnny come back a moment later, prepared for some snide remark and greatly surprised when a wet warm towel smacks against and clings to his back. He throws a look over his shoulder to see his friend poking around their clothes, though he seems to be searching for something rather than trying to get dressed. Eurodyne peels the towel from his back and reaches behind himself to clean up the mess left as thoroughly as possible - knowing he should better hit the showers before they head out - before whipping his dick clean of some of his cum which Johnny’s hand had rubbed all over his shaft. For good measure he wipes the obvious white streaks and little pool of the chair before pushing himself to his knees and stepping back down onto the shitty carpet - which he has no intention of even trying to clean up - throwing the towel on the chair and lifting his arms over his head to stretch.

He hears the flick of a lighter and Johnny drawing a breath as he lights a cigarette, turning around to try and bum one from the other man, only for Silverhand to pull the cig from his lips and offer it to him. Despite the surprise, Kerry doesn’t question it, just accepts the lit cigarette and puts it between his lips, pulling a long drag as Johnny lights a second one for himself with a long drag of his own.

“Call it a draw.”

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #kerry eurodyne #silverdyne #johnny x kerry #kerry x johnny

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theartist666-official · 4 years

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~ Heroic Halloween || MHA Boys x GN! Reader || SFW Halloween HCs ~

(A/N: I’m kinda bored so here are some headcanons for if you and one of the mha boys decided to both wear costumes that paired cuz that couple shit is cute uwu)

edit: just so y’all know, i’m making more headcanons similar to this with other characters. so please check them out. if you want to that is idk

Izuku Midoriya

• He’s probably spending a lot of time considering what he wanted to wear this year for Halloween (other than an All Might costume lol)

• Then here you come suggesting that this year you two could get couple’s costumes so you can pair with each other

• When you say this, he’s a little surprised. He’s definitely thought of it before ever since he started crushing on you, but he didn’t think it would ever actually happen.

• “You want us to go as paired characters?” His face definitely turning a bright shade of red.

• So of course, he says yes and is very ecstatic. He then goes into his mutter-mutter mode while trying to think of all the pairings you two could possibly go as.

• Eventually you two end up going as Sherlock and Watson

Katsuki Bakugou

• From the outside, he doesn’t look like he really cares about what to go as for Halloween, and he doesn’t. But he wonders what you’re wanting to go as.

• When you go suggest getting couple’s costumes, he immediately says, “No. I don’t even care about stupid shit like that.” He scoffed.

• As much as he denies your suggestion, you don’t stop persisting. Eventually he caves in and complies to the idea, not that he actually minded it in the first place. Tsundere much ō3ō

• Though he was very adamant about shooting down the suggestion, he’s actually looked online in his free time for some couple’s costume ideas and has helped with the decision making.

• His argument: “If we’re going as a pair, we’re gonna have to be the best damn pair that’ll make everyone jealous and writhe at that fact that we’re better than them.” Katsuki what the fu—

• The pairing you two go as is a devil and an angel

Shoto Todoroki

• This boy doesn’t really care too much about Halloween, but he still wants to find some sort of costume to wear because he’s still learning to engage in activities he wasn’t really able to as a kid

• At first he decides to himself without too much thought, “I guess I’ll go as a ghost.” But when you suggest going as a coupled pair for Halloween, he immediately disregards being whatever the heck he thought about.

• He’s definitely a bit surprised by the suggestion, but he’s intrigued. Plus he’ll do it because he kinda wants to please you.

• He’s not exactly an expert when it comes to planning these kinds of things, so he’ll listen to some of your suggestions and even go to the other classmates for help.

• In the end you two go as a knight and a prince/princess

Eijiro Kirishima

• This precious boy will be thinking, “What’s something super manly or cool that’ll impress my friends?” when trying to decide what to go as for Halloween.

• Y’know, because he cares about what people think of him 🙂

• Anyways, when you come up to him and suggest going as a coupled pair this year for Halloween, he’ll smile so wide and be very ecstatic. He’ll probably pick you up and spin you around praising you for the idea.

• Now with a new found determination, he’s going through many ideas online and even goes around the mall or some sort of Halloween store for ideas.

• “You’re really excited for Halloween this year, aren’t you?” You’d chuckle. “How can I not? I get to do something fun that only my love and I can share!”

• So for Halloween, you two go as a pirate and a mermaid/merman

Hanta Sero

• He wants to do something impressive this year for Halloween, but he doesn’t really know what. He could go as a mummy or a ninja or maybe even try to pull off the vampire look this year.

• While looking through magazines for ideas, you catch him off guard when you tell him you’d like for the two of you to pair up this year and wear couple’s costumes.

• “Really? That’s such a good idea! Why didn’t I think of that? Nothing less from mi amor~” (a/n side note: i’m such a simp for latino sero)

• He often brags to the others that he gets to do something as fun as this with his s/o every time they’re around him while he’s looking through pinterest boards of costume ideas

• For Halloween, you two go as a matador and a bull

Denki Kaminari

• He’s the one suggesting it before you even get the chance to

• Ever since you two became a thing, he’s fantasized many of the future events you two will celebrate together including Halloween.

• As the months drew closer to the month of spooks, he’s compiled a list of costume ideas while adding and taking some away out of consideration

• Some of his pairing ideas don’t even actually pair well or accurately together. “What do you mean? A sexy nurse and a swordsman totally go together!”

• Reluctantly, he crosses those ones off the list but always keeps them in mind and still has some of those costumes in his Amazon shopping cart.

• However, the both of you end up going as a witch doctor and a voodoo doll

Tenya Iida

• Tenya’s probably considered going as Frankenstein’s monster or a zombie or something, but he decides to go to you for ideas and to ask what you’ll be this year.

• Jokingly you tell him you wanna wear some kind of promiscuous costume like a succubus/incubus and he’ll scold you and tell you to throw that idea out the window immediately.

• You then tell him you actually wanted to go as a pairing together for Halloween and he’s a bit surprised, maybe a little flustered. But smiling sweetly at you, he agrees.

• When trying to decide what the two of you should go as, he wants it to be something that symbolizes/represents you both well.

• He’ll ask his classmates for help but will mostly rely on the internet or magazines for costume ideas.

• For Halloween you two decide to go steampunk

Fumikage Tokoyami

• You know this boy’s already thinking about what to wear for Halloween considering it’s the day after his birthday (and because he edgy boy)

• While deciding his costume, he wonders about what you’ll be wearing on that day.

• So when he asks you, and you tell him you actually wanna go as something paired together, he’s caught by surprise.

• “Well, I suppose I don’t mind. That would make decision-making on costumes much easier.”

• He’s honestly really happy you wanted that because it also gives him more reason to strengthen the bonds in your relationship and be more intimate with you.

• So eventually you two decide to go as a grim reaper and a ghost

#bnha x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #hanta sero x reader #denki kaminari x reader #tenya iida x reader #fumikage tokoyami x reader

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anothertimdrakestan · 3 years

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Damijon Christmas Present!

FOR THE DAMIJON SECRET SANTA I HAD... @nymph-patt

dear nymph:

hi love! i haven’t written in a fat minute and i’m a little rusty so bear with me hehehe. i hope you have a wonderful holiday season! all my love -elle!

I’ve got a fluff christmas fic and a lil headcanon for ya!

Merry Stress-mas

“You can’t plan Christmas like a battle strategy Dami,” Jon groaned as Damian wheeled a whiteboard into their living room. “Actually, I’ve found it to be quite similar. Pay attention Kent, I know sticking to the plan has never been your strong suit.” Damian’s foot was tapping like crazy, Jon noted his clear anxiousness- needless to say Damian wasn’t the holiday type. Makes it a million times harder when it’s your first Christmas together as a couple.

*super-couple.

Jon gasped as Damian flipped the whiteboard like a school teacher, revealing meticulously drawn out plans mapped in expo-marker. “We start with my family, we stay until Jason is ten shots in, after that Christmas always becomes a nightmare so we head out. With your super speed it’ll be only an 14 minutes 37 second trip to your family where we stay for the majority of the night. At the end you rush us back to Gotham to console Dick after Bat-Christmas fails as always. Our emergency word is tyrannosaurus should anything go wrong at the drop we flee. Any questions?” Damian was flying through the plans, pointing at bulleted lists and analyzing possible flaws.

Jon took a deep breath, a smile creeping over his face. “I didn’t think you’d care so much about our first Christmas together with our families, it’s kind of sweet.” Lazily he reached for Damian, clinging to his back while Dami shook his head, mumbling as he edited the board. “Not really our first Christmas Kent and I definitely do not care about family tt,” Jon didn’t reply, he just smiled into the crook of Damian’s neck.

“Our suits bring down our aerodynamic potential so I’ve taken the liberty of adjusting our arrival time to 15 minutes 43 seconds. Does that sound accurate?” Jon hummed in response as he straightened Damian’s tie, it was already perfect but he’d take any excuse to get closer to Dami. “Ready my love?” Jon glanced at Damian who was checking his watch. “Yes.” Damian responded, absent mindedly clasping Jon’s hand as they made their way to the mansion.

“DAMI’S HERE!” Steph’s screech announced. She was hanging off the banister as she stole popcorn pieces from the massive tree. “Wonderful- Miss Brown I must ask you don’t eat the decorations tonight, have some festivity,” Alfred shook his head as he made his way to Jon. “Magnificent of you to join us Master Kent, I assume you will also be heading to your family’s festivities as well?” Jon opened his mouth but Damian answered first. “Yes Pennyworth, we plan on just saying for hors devours,” his curt reply brought a knowing smile to Alfred’s lips. “Always planned with you Master Damian,” his accent was playful making Jon chuckle.

Dick descended the stairs, Damian groaned at his bright green and red striped suit, Jon couldn’t help but laugh either. “Hellllooo super boyfriends! Are-You-Readyyyy-For-Tonight!” Dick practically skipped towards the two, pulling them into a tight hug before Damian could slip away. “We won’t be long Grayson we must attend the Kent family Christmas too,” Damian nodded curtly, shifting closer to Jon who got the message and moved forward into the living room.

“Actually, where are all the bat-siblings? And where did Steph run off to?” Jon noticed no one was around but Alfred who was preparing something delicious in the kitchen. Dick began chuckling, a devilish smile spreading across his face. “Oh, everyone is down in the batcave. C’mon.” Damian looked taken-aback but Jon was never to shocked by batfamily-antics.

The two followed Dick to the secret door. “Now, we heard from a little super birdy [Dick winked at Jon who was now openly grinning] that you were a little nervous about having to deal with two Christmas’ this year, so we felt it’d be easier for everyone if we just-” Dick popped open the door to a winter wonderland of a batcave. A large table was put out, filled with their family members. “Merry Christmas!” A chorus of laughter broke out as Damian’s jaw dropped.

At the table were the batfam, Kents, and even a couple speedsters littered around. All were laughing and smiling at one another. It was the biggest family gathering Jon has seen ever. “No need for crazy plans my love, just enjoy tonight with everyone,” Jon whispered to Damian as he scanned the room. “I- How did you- Thank you,” Damian settled on the last words of praise for the wonderful man who made every single day better. “No need for thanks, I’d get you the world if you wanted it, but for now let’s have a very Merry Christmas!” Jon took off towards his family and Damian would help but feel the corners of his lips betray him with a smile. Heart full he made his way down to his family.

“JASON DO NOT FLIRT WITH KARA SHE’S OFF LIMITS!”

“WALLY DID YOU EAT ALL THE COOKIES ALREADY?”

“BRUCE, CLARK, STOP FIGHTING OVER WHO GOT THE OTHER THE BETTER GIFT. YOU’RE BOTH RICH!”

very merry indeed.

Okay so I haven’t absorbed much batfam content at all for weeks so hopefully my spin on the HC is still cute : )

I don’t think Jon gets enough credit for how observant he is.

Too often Jon is forgotten, the second super boy, the sidekick, the boyfriend, the man who left everyone for space.

It’s true, technically. But Jon is so keen at reading those around him, especially the un-readable Damian Wayne that I would argue it’s a super skill in of itself.

He gets it from his mother you know, Superman was always a little dense, but, though no one believes it, he always had Lois to help him out. Too often the quieter, smarter, more analytical side gets forgotten and that’s no different with Jon. His friends don’t see the way he checks up on them, taking in their facial expressions and reading them to know the right thing to say at the right time to help them out. They don’t realize he spent whole days memorizing their heart beats and their breaths to know if they’re ever in peril. And they don’t see the way he looks at them so fondly, beyond grateful they’re in his life.

Lois sees it.

She saw it when Jon met Damian.

A young boy mesmerized by the wittiness and strength in the human boy. The greatest irony, the Superboy more human than the murder weapon now called “Robin”. But the two hit it off almost instantly- though Damian may not agree to that last bit.

Lois knew Jon adored Damian, every deep red was “Robin Red” every Wayne Ent. building they walked past brought up stories of his adventures with the youngest Wayne, every Justice League trip meant begging for his dad to send him to Gotham for the weekend while he was out. He was young, but Lois knew a pair of soulmates when she saw them.

There were these nights when they were teens. Jon would burst out of bed and rush to his mother. He never needed to say anything. There was this look in his eyes, Damian needs me. “Go” she’d always whisper, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead thinking back to when Clark would do the same for her.

She remembers the frantic December weeks Jon spent toiling on Damian’s Christmas gift. “What do I give a trillionaire who has the world?” Jon would whine and mope around the house for any semblance of inspiration.

Your heart Jon, all he wants is your love. Lois always thought to herself, she was quite aware of the two boy’s growing infatuation with each other, her husband was always slower in the “feelings” department and if he was slow she imagined Bruce was a damn sloth. So, she let the boys feel safe in her presence. Damian slowly spent more time at her home when Clark was out, she grew to have a sort of friendship with Damian. He’d comment on whatever news article she recently wrote, endure a three second reply and be on his way. She was always astounded at how up to date he was on all her pieces.

Lois was always proud of the love Jon showed Damian. She’d be the first to tell Bruce he needed to hug his damn kids, but there was a special kind of caring Jon held only for Damian. A love woven only for the two of them. Like an invisible string linking them no matter where in the universe the other was at, there was a friendship, a kindness, a passion, a love.

Overtime, Jon’s analysis of Damian led him to his own feelings. And over an even longer period of time Damian discovered his own. Jon never stopped caring, he never stopped worrying, and he never stopped loving.

Those, are the parts of Superman that Damian, and the world, need most.

Merry Christmas! <3

#damijon #jondami #shoutout whelm for putting this together u rock #damian wayne #jon kent #damian wayne x jon #damian x jon #damian wayne x jon kent #batfam #batfam christmas #batboys #batboys christmas #lois lane #superboy #superboy headcanon #damijon headcanon #jon kent headcanon

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hockeylvr59 · 3 years

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Honest Love Part 5 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: It only took me two months to write this next part but I think maybe just maybe I’m starting to get some muse back. Let me know what you think about this part.

Warnings: smut, cursing

Word Count: 3,345

~~~~~~~

Looking over at the clock beside the bed you watched as the numbers flipped from 11:59 to 12:00, your brain thinking about everything that meant. Not only were you now officially 7 weeks pregnant but it was arguably the most special day of the year. It was so special because 22 years ago Laura Makar had given birth to your best friend, the love of your life, and now the father of the little bundle of cells growing inside of you.

Watching Cale sleep, you smiled thinking about everything you had planned for his birthday. He had a hockey game to play but you were still determined to celebrate and you had a few tricks up your sleeve of things he’d enjoy. Starting now.

Folding the covers back a bit, you slid down the bed so that you were level with your boyfriend’s hips. Then you carefully tugged his boxers down just enough to free his soft length, peeking up to check for any sign that he was starting to stir. Satisfied that he hadn’t started to wake just yet, you licked your lips to wet them before leaning forward to press kisses all along his dick feeling at least this part of his anatomy start to respond to the stimuli. Using your fingers, you continued to stroke him to full hardness before finally wrapping your lips around the pink head of him.

It was at that action that you felt him jump a little and you watched as his eyes slowly fluttered open. He groaned seeing you using kitten licks against his tip and you smirked before taking him fully into your mouth for just a moment.

“Happy birthday.” You whispered softly when you pulled back to breathe. Hearing Cale groan again, you took him back into your mouth, taking him as deeply as possible. Your nails traced teasingly down his thighs and you continued to blow him until he breathed your name, his voice strangled. “Just relax handsome. Let me take care of you.” You assured him. “Birthday boys deserve birthday blow jobs.” You added, feeling empowered by his reactions. As you took him back into your mouth you felt his hands tangle in your hair and you hummed around him in response letting him know that you liked it.

Your blowjob wasn’t rushed but it wasn’t really slow and lazy either. You knew that you needed to get him off and then let him go back to sleep so that he was well rested for his birthday game. Focused on your goal, you went through the series of things you know he likes until he was a mess beneath you, squirming and cursing softly with his eyes blown.

“That’s it handsome. Cum for me.” You murmured pressing kisses along his length while you caught your breath. Sinking down on him again you rolled his balls between your fingers until you felt him twitch and groan, his semen spilling in ropes into your mouth. Swallowing, you licked him clean before tucking him back into his boxers and sliding back up the bed to kiss him. It was clear his brain was foggy and you smirked to yourself before settling back against his side. “Get some sleep hun. Busy birthday ahead.” You assured him, smiling when he mumbled something resembling a thank you before crashing hard, his hand settling back against your stomach.

______

Cale had already left for morning skate by the time you woke up again and you smiled when you realized he had left you breakfast. It was his birthday and you were supposed to be taking care of him but that was still hard when your fatigue levels were still much higher than you would like them to be. Eating the food, you looked around your living room thinking about all the things you needed to do for Cale’s birthday. You had planned to run the errands this morning while he was out and then once he left for the game you were going to put it all together, decorating, laying out his presents, and making dinner for his post-game meal before heading to the arena yourself.

Sliding into some oversized clothes after finishing breakfast, you headed out to pick up the semi-healthy cake you had ordered for your boyfriend along with the array of balloons. Thankfully it was all easy enough to hide and you were back just relaxing on the couch when he came home to take his pregame nap.

“There’s the birthday boy!” You greeted with a smile, laughing as his cheeks flushed in response. “Did you eat at the rink or should I make lunch?” You questioned, nodding when he replied that he hadn’t eaten yet.

“You don’t have to make me anything, I’ve got it.” He insists but you roll your eyes and move to the kitchen anyway. “Go pick out your suit and stuff for later. I can make up a quick lunch.” You declare, not willing to take no for an answer. Cale knows better than to argue by now over little things like this and so he heads into the bedroom, the sound of drawers and the closet door echoing through the apartment as he gathered his things for later. By the time he had returned you had made up a protein rich salad for him and yourself and you settled in beside him at the table to eat, Cale checking in on how you’re feeling.

“Good. Definitely tired enough to nap with you if you don’t mind, but I slept in and have just been chilling all morning so baby and I are doing just fine I promise. We’re excited about daddy’s birthday.” You finish your explanation teasing. You know that Cale isn’t expecting anything for his birthday but that’s just no fun.

“My birthday isn’t that big of a deal.” He insists, modest as ever, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Your birthday is a huge deal.” You counter, sliding your hand across the table to lace with his own. “It’s the day the universe gave me my best friend and soulmate. And this year is extra special because it’s the last birthday before this little one arrives.” Cale just grins softly, his expression conceding defeat.

The rest of lunch was quiet and when you both finished, Cale quickly moved to clean up the dishes before offering you a hand to join him for his pregame nap. Cuddling close, you settled in, your body immediately sinking into the mattress in relief. You’d had no idea that pregnancy could be this exhausting and you were grateful to have a boyfriend whose job included naptime because it was so much easier to fall asleep beside him, tucked in his arms.

_____

Watching Cale leave for the rink, you were immediately filled with excitement giving you energy like you hadn’t had in days. You started in the kitchen, working to prep one of Cale’s favorite meals but in a crockpot version so that you could leave it while you went to the game and it would be ready to eat when you came home.

From there you used a helium pump to blow up all of the balloons until the area around your dining table was full of bunches of regular silver,navy, and white balloons; letter balloons reading ‘FEELIN 22’ were floating above the table; and glow in the dark balloons stretched from the front door into the kitchen and living room to surprise him when you both walked through the door later.

Wrapping Cale’s presents, you placed those on the table alongside his cake. Deeming everything done, you finally grabbed yourself a snack satisfied with your work and looking forward to seeing Cale’s reaction to it all.

A glance over at the kitchen clock revealed that it was only an hour and a half before game time and you still had to shower and get ready. Quickly getting clean and shaving, you slid Cale’s last present carefully onto your body before you pulled on some jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt, grabbing Cale’s jersey to throw on when you got to the rink. A quick little bit of makeup and a brush through your hair and you were ready to head out, turning on all of the LED balloons as you headed out the door.

By the time you got out the door and through Denver traffic you had missed pregame warmups. Greeting the girls in your section you smiled and settled into your seat ready to go.

Cale on the other hand, did not seem so ready to go. Throughout the first period you could just tell that something was off about his game and it wasn’t until he took a stupid penalty in the corner of the rink closest to you that you realized he had probably looked for you during warmups and when you weren’t there it sent his mind spinning. Shooting him a quick text of a picture of him sitting in the box teasing him about how that wasn’t a good birthday present, you hoped he checked his phone during intermission to calm himself.

When the second period started it was clear that something had changed, whether one of his teammates said something or he had indeed seen your message. With the Avs on a power play, Cale fired a puck on net which was beautifully tipped in front to put the Avs on the board. Just over five minutes later he danced into the offensive zone drawing defenders and leaving them in his dust before slamming the puck into the back of the net past the screened goalie.

With another assist on the empty netter to cap off the game you smiled at his sudden three point night cheering how that was your birthday boy. The girls just laughed and smiled asking if you had anything planned for Cale’s birthday as you made your way down to the locker rooms.

“Made his favorite dinner, a few presents, a semi healthy cake.” You shrugged. “Nothing too crazy or Cale would probably kill me but I have to spoil him a little.” You stated, a mischievous smile crossing your lips. The girls just laughed, reminding you to keep the marks hidden or else you’d be hearing it from them tomorrow with the team’s halloween plans. You flushed and rolled your eyes at them but couldn’t deny the assumptions they had made.

With it being Cale’s birthday and him having a three point night you knew that it would be a little while before he finished with media and made his way out to you. Though you were starting to get hungry you waited patiently, greeting the guys that came out before him. When Cale finally appeared, you let him scoop you up kissing his lips with a light peck.

“Look at you scoring a beauty of a goal on your birthday.” You grinned, your face going soft as he shared a bashful expression, his cheeks flush. “You ready to go home, birthday boy?” You asked, sliding your hand along his back as he agreed, leading you out to his car to head home.

On the ride home you prayed the LED balloons were still lit and that Cale would enjoy everything you had planned for him. When you were about halfway there he asked about food and you assured him that you’d find something at home to throw together trying to hide the fact that food was already piping hot and ready. Cale just nodded and continued on the way back to your apartment, some fatigue showing on his features after tonight’s game.

As you rode the elevator upstairs, you kissed him again softly, murmuring about how great he was tonight and how much you and baby love him. When he opened the door you stepped inside, moving to kick your shoes off and smiling to yourself at the glowing balloons lighting the room dimly.

Cale clearly didn’t notice them until after he had closed and locked the door, kicked his shoes off, and dropped his keys and wallet onto the side table in the entryway.

“Why don’t I...woah.” Cale murmured seeing the glowing orbs floating the entire way to the kitchen. “Yn….” He breathed. “What did you do?” He asked as he let you take his hands, walking backward as you guided him into the kitchen and living room. There you flipped on a light after just a minute, lighting up the rest of your work.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” You exclaimed softly, smiling up at him. Cale’s cheeks flushed and he ducked his head.

“I told you you didn’t have to do anything.” He mumbled, leaning down to kiss you softly. “But thank you.” He adds, his hands sliding around your waist. “You’ve already outdone yourself and yet I feel like there’s more.” He chuckles shaking his head softly. You cocked your head in a ‘maybe’ expression before kissing him softly again.

“Why don’t you go change out of this suit while I serve up dinner?” You suggested sliding your hands down his chest. Cale eyed you for a moment before complying, heading into the bedroom. Shedding your Makar jersey onto a chair, you moved to grab dishes, serving up the meal you’d made earlier as Cale came back, his eyes going wide at the familiar smell.

“You didn’t?” He accused softly.

“I did.” You confirmed, a bright grin on your face. “It might be a little different but it should taste very similar.” You assured him carrying two plates to the kitchen table before moving to grab the bottle of non-alcoholic wine you’d picked up since it was a special occasion.

“You’re something else.” Cale mumbles kissing you again as he sits down across from you taking in his presents and cake as well.

“I told you it was a special day.” You remind him, shrugging. “Plus the presents are from baby so I didn’t really do that much.” You winked, opening the wine and pouring it into two glasses. “To 22. To my handsome man and baby daddy. May this year bring you lots of happiness and blessings.” You toast.

Cale’s cheeks continued to be rosy red as he accepted your toast, clinking his glass with yours before taking a sip and nodding in approval, looking over at the label as you took your own sip. Satisfied that though it tasted like the real thing there was zero alcohol, he dove into his meal, his eyes going wide in delight as he tasted it. Knowing that you had done well, you dug into your own plate as well enjoying the meal you had made for him.

When plates were cleared you complied and let Cale move to do the dishes and clean up the little bit of leftovers in the crockpot. While he did that you grabbed candles for his cake and a small trash bag for the wrapping paper bringing both over to the table so that you could finish celebrating his birthday after getting a couple pictures of your handsome man.

Cale’s first present was just a new pair of dress socks, something fun for him to add into the rotation. The second was concert tickets for a band he likes when they come to Denver in a few months. His third and seemingly final present was the one really from the baby, a mug saying ‘daddy, est. 2021’ on it. Cale’s eyes went soft at the sight and he leaned to kiss you softly thanking you for all of his gifts. After kissing him back for a moment you insisted that he needed to blow out the candles on his cake and then you cut each of you a small piece as you curled up on the couch to cuddle for a bit and wind down from the excitement.

You could tell Cale was getting tired but there was still one more thing left and you slid his hand under your shirt along your hip teasing to him that there was something different and special under your clothes. It took him a minute to catch on, but then his eyes went wide.

“Want to unwrap your last present?” You whispered teasingly in his ear, your breath ghosting along his skin. When Cale nodded you moved to get up, pulling him back to the bedroom before settling his hands back against the edge of your clothes. As he carefully stripped you from them you watched as his eyes grew wide and dark and his tongue swept out against his bottom lip. Slowly he revealed the strappy black satin, which carefully framed your still flat stomach, and his hands lingered at your waist, his thumbs swiping along your exposed belly.

“Holy fuck sweetheart.” Cale breathed, his voice strained. “You look...wow.” There was nothing like leaving your boyfriend mostly speechless to boost your confidence.

“I know.” You grinned. “Now what are you going to do with me birthday boy?” You teased softly, your fingers trailing down his abs to the waistband of his joggers. Cale groaned before lifting you and carefully tossing you up onto the bed, his body crawling over yours as you settled back against the pillows. You felt his eyes rake over every inch of your body before he just kissed you, communicating everything he was struggling to find the words to say.

You knew this was the best birthday present you could have given him and you just relaxed beneath him waiting to see what he was going to do next. Slowly his mouth kissed down along your body, worshipping every inch of exposed skin. As he kissed over your belly, he started searching for how to take the fabric off of you and you guided his hands to the tiny hooks along the curve of your spine. With that he was pulling the top piece off leaving you in just the strappy panties.

More exposed for him, you reached up to slide your palms under his shirt wanting to even the playing field and with a careful tug he complied, pulling it over his head as he settled more firmly on top of you.

“Fuck...look at you.” Cale breathed. “How is it somehow hotter seeing you in lingerie knowing that you’re showing off where our baby is growing?” He mumbled, kissing down along your neck as he worked the panties off of you as well leaving you nude under him. Smiling, you carded your fingers through his hair with one hand while the other cupped his ass.

“Hmm...just wanted to give my man something special for his birthday.” You whispered.

“Best birthday.” Cale agreed before kissing you again.

From there it was a series of gentle caresses, no words needing to be spoken as Cale slid his joggers off before settling himself between your thighs and sliding inside you slowly. Sighing his name, you pressed your nails into his back urging him to move until he found a pace that felt perfect. Arching up into him you moaned softly, basking in the drag of his cock along your inner walls. Everything felt so much more sensitive and you found it hard to stay quiet as he made love to you slowly and lazily.

It was clear by his movements that he was exhausted from the long day so neither of you pushed to extend this any longer than was necessary. As you fluttered around him with your orgasm, Cale spilled inside of you before collapsing off to the side, both of you sticky with mixed fluids.

After a few minutes, Cale moved to help you up to pee and clean up and then you settled back into bed, your head on his chest. As you drifted off, you whispered to Cale one more ‘happy birthday’ and a smile slid across your face as he replied that it was perfect, his lips pressing against the top of your head.

Perfect was exactly what you had wanted to give him because perfect was what he deserved.

Birthday Decorations & Presents:

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl smut #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey smut #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #cale makar nws #nws #lemon #039

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 5

First

Pretending to be perfect would be so much easier if she was actually perfect.

Now, Ladybug absolutely knew that she didn’t need to pretend anymore. In fact, there was no way in hell that she would be able to keep up the act…

And so she’d told herself that this was fine, that she was okay with the fact that she was going to be incorporating her life as ‘Ladybug’ more into her actual life.

She’d tried. She really had. She’d worn her normal clothes for the first few days while she was unpacking…

And then she’d sat down next to Carapace on that couch to talk to him like normal humans do… only to find herself falling right back into her persona the moment she’d laid eyes on him. She’d pulled her ‘scared civilian smile’ to her face and lied about her progress on her room for seemingly no reason.

That night she went to the store to buy herself red and black dresses to match her usual Ladybug aesthetic.

They’d believe that she was just wearing the casual clothes as temps while she was settling in, probably, it wouldn’t take much to convince them that she actually acted like Ladybug at all times.

Now, she knew that this would only work for a limited amount of time. No one could be perfect forever, and the resident human disaster would have an even harder time keeping up the charade…

But she could keep it up for a while, and ‘a while’ was all she needed.

After all, she suddenly had a proper motivation to find out who Hawkmoth was (she hadn’t really cared before, things were always fixed at the end so she wasn’t all that concerned about it), and Ladybug was never one to do things half-ass.

She had to change everything about herself, though, because she couldn’t concentrate on Hawkmoth if she was constantly worrying about maintaining her facade.

She considered ‘Ladybug’s’ general traits and how to convince everyone of it:

Probably a narc, has her life together, perfect…

Yeah, that would probably be enough for now.

She started by learning the law. She found some cheap copies of law textbooks online.

(And promptly found out by reading them that many of the sites she’d used to buy them were technically illegal. She wrote out an apology in Google to the DGSI agent that might be watching her computer. Did they care? Probably not, but she figured there was no harm in being safe.)

Next was getting her life together…

Difficult, but she figured she’d be able to do it. People did it all the time, right?

… not right.

She stared at the article she found on getting your life together in a few simple steps. She was not at all fond of being called out for all her bad habits and coping mechanisms so bluntly...

Still, it was worth a shot.

She searched through her boxes and pulled out a whiteboard. She pushed a couple pictures of her civilian friends off of it, there were more important things to be doing (also the whole ‘secret identities’ thing…), and started making a schedule for herself.

Ladybug blocked out time for work, working out, and cooking/eating healthy food. It left… very little time to find Hawkmoth…

Unless…

Coffee! The ultimate ‘I have my life together’ drink AND it added a few hours to her day! It was perfect!

Speaking of perfect, she was now going to have to be perfect pretty much all day.

She wouldn’t get a break as a civilian because she worked with models and fashion designers and kwami knows that even perfect isn’t enough for them most of the time.

Even her room wasn’t safe, Chat had proved that by walking in and watching her faceplant (it was a good thing he was stupid or else that might have actually ended up being a problem).

No, the only times she could be herself was when she was 1) texting her civilian friends or 2) walking to and from work.

She was beginning to think this was a lot more trouble than it was worth…

Whatever. She was doing it anyways. Nothing, not even logic, was going to stop her from maintaining her ‘Ladybug’ persona.

She nearly dropped her coffee (which was mostly sugar and milk, let’s be honest) when she heard a knock on her trapdoor.

“Come in!” She said, pulling an earbud out of her ear.

Chloe poked her head through. “The akuma can fly.”

Ladybug fought the urge to groan. She looked down at the empty page in her sketchbook. Gabriel Agreste, the bastard, wanted a design by the next day and he didn’t grant extensions for akumas.

But she supposed saving Paris was slightly more important than her work --.

Wait, if she didn’t save Paris then she wouldn’t have to turn in her assignment…

She saw Tikki giving her a disapproving look, no doubt aware of where her thoughts were currently heading, and rolled her eyes.

She took out her other earbud and got up. “Alright. Tikki, spots on. Is it really a two person job?”

“Master Fu says so.”

“And Chloe says…?”

“Chlo -- I say that it’s a man made of sand. Guess how hard it’ll be.”

“Mr. Sandman, man me a sand…” mumbled Ladybug absently.

Chloe frowned a little bit. “Did you say something?”

She blinked a few times and then smiled. “Just that Master Fu needs to relax a bit more. We’re very obviously overcompensating.”

“True.”

Ladybug pushed open the attic window and they both flew out into the night --.

Wait, night? Wow, it was a lot later than she thought it was. She was soooo screwed on this deadline.

But there were bigger problems: there was a guy floating around on a pillow.

“The Sandboy just checked in! Now nightmares can begin!”

She rolled her eyes under her mask and looked at Chloe. “What does he do?”

“Creates nightmares. Obviously.”

They came to a stop a few buildings away and watched as sand slowly sprinkled down from the pillow that Sandboy was currently riding. The houses that he passed over erupted with screams.

Wow, the sand was really pretty, actually. Ladybug took note of the colors and the way it shone in the night. Maybe she could model the dress after it… she could do those colors, a bit of glitter…

Chloe nudged her shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, just thinking about what to do…” … for her assignment, but Chloe didn’t need to know that.

“Got any ideas?”

She forced herself to focus on Sandboy. “His cloud is shaped like a pillow, that’s probably the akuma. It also looks like the glitt -- sand -- the SAND is what causes the nightmares, so we should avoid that.”

Chloe nodded a little bit. “Obviously. What should we do?”

“Knock him off.”

“You’re so smart, I wonder how I’d never thought of that,” she said sarcastically.

“You ASKED me what we should do! I answered --!”

“Hello, ladies!” Said Sandboy as he came around the side of the roof.

Chloe scoffed. “Go back to saying your lame rhyme, will you? We’re in the middle of something!”

Sandboy frowned, his expression a combination of shocked and offended. His voice was much higher when he spoke next: “You think my rhyme is lame?”

“Yes.”

Sandboy looked at Ladybug for confirmation, and Ladybug just shrugged and nodded.

“Ouch,” said Sandboy. He cleared his throat and when he spoke again he’d deepened his voice: “We’ll see how lame you think I am when you’re fighting your worst nightmare!”

Ladybug and Chloe immediately jumped away, because usually people say that when they’re about to attack, and the sand nailed the roof right where they’d just been.

The two women met eyes briefly and an understanding passed between them.

“Still lame!” Taunted Chloe.

Sandboy gasped indignantly and floated after her. Chloe smiled and started flying away.

“I mean, honestly, who thought of that? What’re you ‘checking in’ to? Work?”

Sand barely missed Chloe and she took out her spinning top to get away faster.

A piece of sand hit her spinning top. Ladybug and Chloe gave pause. Would that count? Well, it didn’t matter, at least. The solution would be the same: keep running.

Chloe must have come to the same conclusion, because she shook her head and continued…

Except her strides were much slower now.

Ah. So it did matter.

Chloe whimpered a little bit.

Ladybug winced. Great. So it had taken away her powers, probably, or at least her speed. She needed to wrap this up…

She forced herself to fly faster and she launched herself at Sandboy’s back. He happened to glance back and see her, which wasn’t great as he ascended sharply.

Her hands managed to catch the pillow, and she held tight even when she got a facefull of sand.

She felt flames lap at her ankles and a strangled scream escaped her lips. Ladybug didn’t care how she went out for the most part, but it was not going to be through burning to death. She forced herself to not pay attention to the fact that the fire was travelling up and catching on the hem of her dress and it was creeping along her --!

Nope! Not paying attention!

She swung her legs back and forth a few times to wobble the pillow underneath him until he inevitably lost his balance and fell over the side.

That was the good thing.

The bad thing was that the pillow was apparently Sandboy powered and now Sandboy and Ladybug were both plummeting towards the flames far below. Ladybug flapped her currently burning wings and couldn’t help but mumble a curse when she realized that they definitely didn’t work as well when they were on fire.

As it was, she managed to slow her fall and miss the bulk of the flames by inches.

Still hurt like hell when she hit the ground, though.

She rolled around on the concrete streets to smother the flames and didn’t relax until she knew for sure that they were gone.

That done, she allowed herself to relax with a still smoldering pillow. She probably would have rested her head on it if she wasn’t somewhat worried that some leftover sand would touch her face and she’d have to deal with more fire.

Still, it was over… that was nice…

A foot nudged her side.

She blinked the pain from her eyes and looked up at Chloe…

Chloe pulled the pillow from her weak grip and tore the case.

The akuma fluttered out of the pillow.

Ladybug forced herself to her feet before she was ready.

“Can you hit the akuma or do you need me?”

Chloe scoffed a little, and then paused. She considered for a minute before saying, “Yeah, it’s not like I just faced one of my worst nightmares...”

“Losing your powers is one of your worst -- know what? Doesn’t matter. You can’t even hit it without your powers,” said Ladybug.

Chloe frowned.

Ladybug ignored this. She pulled her yoyo from her waist and tossed it at the butterfly. The akuma gave a pitiful squeak as it was sniped out of the air.

Instantly, her pain melted away. She breathed a sigh of relief. Much better.

She slowly walked over to Sandboy, who was apparently just a kid.

Annoyance flared in her. Hawkmoth was going after kids? This one looked like a toddler!

She forced herself to relax and brought a smile to her face. “Hey, what happened?”

“I watched a scary movie and had a nightmare…” explained the kid.

She nodded a tiny bit and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Would you like one of us to take you home? We can read you a bedtime story and keep the akumas away…”

PleasesaynoIhaveworktodopleasesaynosaynosay --.

“Yes please!” The kid sniffled and wrapped his arms around her.

Noooooooo...

Chloe spoke up after a second’s hesitation, her expression thoughtful: “You were working on something before we left, right, ‘bug?”

Ladybug blinked behind her mask. “Yeah…?” Was Chloe really going to offer to help?

“Ha! Sucks! See you tomorrow!” Chloe smiled and stuck her tongue out at Ladybug, then took off.

Yeah, she should have expected that.

She rolled her eyes and looked back down at the kid. Whatever. She could go read him a story and get him to bed, it shouldn’t take long…

“Where do you live?”

“I don’t know.”

Fuck.

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @mialuvscats @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen

#a miraculous tiktok account #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #adrien agreste #chat noir #nino lahiffe #carapace #alya cesaire #rena rouge #miraculous team #miraculous fic #ml fic #chloenette #chlonette #adrino

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nctsworld · 4 years

Text

sweeter than ice cream

✩ mark x reader (ft. jaehyun + johnny) | fluff | 2k

→ summary: mark’s got a crush on the new local ice cream vendor. when he finally musters up the courage to order ice cream for himself, he messes up and doesn’t grab it by the cone. → warnings: dripping with fluff, one swear word, mark’s a (loveable) dork/dumbass and talks to himself → prompt: You’re an employee and I have a crush on you so when you hand me the soft serve ice cream I accidentally grab it by the ice cream instead of the cone

→ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Mark, Jaehyun, and Johnny opt to grab ice cream after dinner, like they often did on hot days after busy schedules. All is well as the three boys laugh down the street without a care in the world, until Mark notices the new ice cream vendor attending the usual stand.

He can only see the side of your face and a glimpse of your smile that you flash at the departing customer leaving the cart.

And that’s all it takes for him to stop in his tracks.

Jaehyun and Johnny are practically at the cart when they take heed at the awestruck one left behind.

“Dude, what do you want?” Johnny calls down the street, unfazed by Mark’s bizarre behaviour.

His eyes are still fixated on you. It takes a moment for him to realize he isn’t breathing; he gasps sharply in response.

“I’ll, uh,” Mark quickly glances over at Johnny before turning back to you, but now he realizes you’re staring at him. In your head, you casually label him as the boy down the block, who is technically holding the line because the two guys at the front of the line are waiting for him.

“I’m good actually! I’ll see you guys at home!” he waves and turns around faster than he can even think, leaving the boys to get ice cream by themselves. Johnny and Jaehyun face each other with furrowed eyebrows.

“Sorry about that. Our friend is a little… weird,” Jaehyun apologizes to you and you shake your head with giggle.

“No worries,” you brush it off as if nothing happened, give them their orders, and resume your shift for the night.

But you can’t help but be a little curious about their weird, yet endearing, friend.

The next time the trio visits you, your stand is on the other end of the block and your shift is in the middle of the day.

The boys have come back earlier from their schedules than expected and are on their way back to their dorm when Mark freezes again in your presence, especially since you are right in front of him this time. He smiles unknowingly to himself, noting how you shine even more in daylight.

All the noise surrounding him disappears; his heart’s pounding is deafening in his ears.

This time, since he’s in front of them, Jaehyun and Johnny catch on fast when Mark stops walking because they crash into him. The latter of the two grunts in pain.

“Why did you stop-” the tallest of the three glances up and sees you directly ahead. The lightbulb goes off, thus Johnny spins Mark around and huddles with him and Jaehyun.

Wary of how close you are, Johnny spits in a hush, “Mark, do you have a crush on the new ice cream girl?”

“No, I do not have a crush on the new ice cream girl!” the youngest replies between gritted teeth, fearful that you can hear everything that is happening.

“Then why did you stop?!” Johnny mocks his body language, rebutting with gritted teeth.

“Because I…” Pausing for a moment, he rolls his eyes to ponder a good excuse.

“Because you think the new ice cream girl is cute?” Jaehyun interrupts with the truth.

Mark inhales for a moment, ready to refute, but then sighs heavily, defeated. He grumbles, “Okay, maybe I think she’s sorta cute...”

“Then talk to her! You get to have ice cream and get to talk to a cute girl. Your two favourite things in the world.”

“They are not my two-”

“Excuse me.”

All three of them look at each other with wide eyes prior to turning to face the sweet voice that belongs to you as you call them from a few steps away.

“Sorry to interrupt, boys, but are you guys going to order anything? There’s a small line forming behind you,” you gesture shyly with your index finger.

Guiltily, they see how everyone behind them is gawking at them. Without thought, they decide to step closer to the front of your cart, with Mark hovering behind the two taller figures.

He tries to scan the menu to decide on a flavour, but also wants to steal a glance at you. At the same time, he doesn’t want to steal a glance at you because he knows that he’s going to end up a sadder mess worse than fallen ice cream if you two make eye contact.

“Is there pistachio today by any chance?” Jaehyun asks.

“No, sorry. We only have green tea again.”

“Ah, no worries. I’ll get that.”

“I’ll have-”

“Green tea, like last time?” you finish Johnny’s sentence, remembering what he ordered last time, and he grins with an impressed nod.

Then, all parties face Mark, who simply has his eyes open like a deer in the headlights. Once again, he peers at the menu, but nothing is computing in his brain because he feels your eyes on him.

“I’ll have, uh…”

His filler drags on in awkward silence. You pucker your lips to the side of your face, mentally confirming how he truly is indeed endearing and cuter than you expected. Although you want to give him all the time in the world, you, along with his friends, sense those waiting in line boring holes into all of your heads, especially at the droning boy still staring mindlessly at the menu.

“Uh…”

Saving the day, Johnny chimes in, “Do you guys happen to have cookies and cream? That’s his favourite flavour.”

You shake your head with a sad smile, “I’m sorry, we just ran out. Is vanilla okay?”

Even though his friend is the one speaking for him, you deliberately look at Mark for an answer. It is his order after all.

Then, he doesn’t think much of it, but he glimpses into your stare and, like he fears, Mark gets lost beyond the stars and galaxies of your eyes. Completely unaware of what is happening, yet all he knows is he’s putty around you.

You’re unsure if it’s just the weather or the way the boy’s looking at you, but you feel yourself getting a little warmer with each passing second.

Despite how your question doesn’t register into his brain and he completely has no idea what you said, he still manages to nod. One chuckle from you and a dopey smile forms on Mark’s face as you begin to scoop out the orders. He’s unsure of why, but he’s a little proud of himself that he was able to make you laugh.

After you hand out the cones to them all and Jaehyun pays for the ice cream, the boys say their thank you’s (well, Mark’s thank you was an inaudible one, but you could tell he was grateful) as the people in line sigh with alleviation.

During the next order, you peer back and forth between the new customer and the three boys walking down the street. You see the taller boys ruffling the endearing boy’s hair and patting him on the back while they all seem to lick their ice creams in content.

Hopefully, when, and if, the cute boy comes around again on one of your shifts, you’d hope to have the cookies and cream flavour ready and in stock just for him.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Mark tries to check out the stand whenever he’s free to see if you’re on duty. For once, he wants to be able to order ice cream from you (and maybe finally talk to you) without the pressure from the others. Unfortunately, you weren’t working the shifts when he came by in previous weeks. Fortunately, he struck gold one Saturday night.

As always, the line is long, but because it’s the weekend, it looks like it would never end. Regardless, Mark would wait forever if it meant he could be in your presence again. Waiting in line, he runs through the script in his head over on replay.

Is there cookies and cream? No? Okay, I’ll get vanilla. Oh, there is? Cool, cool…

No, don’t say cool. Awesome? Awesome!

The line moves a little ahead and Mark treads along as he bounces on the balls of his feet with his hands in his pockets.

Okay, awesome is worse than cool. Cool is fine. Cool is cool. Cool is good.

I’m cool. So cool. So good. I’m good. I’m goooood. We’re good. Stop saying good.

God, I wonder what she thinks of me?

He runs a hand through his hair, knowing that he’s about to be up in front with you. The customer in front of him drifts away from the cart and he drags his feet to make his way towards you. You greet him with your signatory honey smile and he’s already a goner.

“Hi.”

A beat.

Two beaming faces.

Wasn’t the third time supposed to be easier?

“Hi,” Mark squeaks.

Another beat.

“What can I get you today?”

Just like I practiced—

“Is there vanilla?”

Shit.

“Oh, did you not want-”

“I mean, is there cookies and cream?”

Both of you talk over one another and giggle in unison. Mark rubs the back of his head. Similarly, you tug a little at your apron. The awkward ice between you two starts to melt.

You nod, reaching into the freezer and scooping him out almost the last bit of the flavour. It’s not like you’ve been deliberately keeping a bit of cookies and cream ready in case he’d come by during your shifts.

Handing him the cone, you meet each other once again with deep looks. He’s attractive, way too attractive for his own good, and he has eyes that are calm, yet have an underlying flicker of fierceness too.

Eyes still fixed on you too, entranced by your soft, gentle gaze, Mark grabs the ice cream cone.

Or so he thinks.

Nope, that isn’t the cone. That is the sticky, dripping ice cream between his fingers, which is now dripping onto the cone and your fingers.

Perhaps he should’ve brought Johnny and Jaehyun around in case things like this happened.

“Oh, my god! I’m so sorry!” Mark bursts in apologies, frantically looking for tissues around to aid in wiping the mess up. He instinctively backs up a bit, then drops the ice cream scoop on his hand down to the sidewalk.

“Don’t worry,” you drop the cone and manage to find a wet towel behind your counter to wipe yourself up, before you naturally lightly grasp onto his raised wrist to wipe him as well. It’s happening all too fast, but tingles rise in both of your cheeks. “Happens all the time.”

You almost finish getting in between the crooks of his fingers when he croaks, “Really?”

Shaking your head with a friendly pout, you reply, “No, not really.”

As you finish cleaning his hand, you let go of him and rescoop up another cone for him. Thankfully, you have enough for two scoops.

You raise an eyebrow distrustfully, “Promise not to drop it?”

Your question may be laced with sarcasm, but you honestly did not have enough cookies and cream for another scoop if he dropped it again. And you didn’t want to see what disappointment looked like on him.

He chuckles, causing your heart to flare everywhere in adoration, “I promise.”

With extra effort and careful attention this time, he successfully holds onto the cone and begins to fetch money from his pocket.

You interject before he fishes any money out, “Don’t worry about it; it’s on the house.”

A puzzled expression falls over him and he stutters, “What, no, it’s okay. I feel bad-”

At this point, you couldn’t care less about the line of people huffing and groaning behind him. You’ve been waiting for this guy to show up on your shift again for weeks and something had to give.

Leaning a little closer to him on the counter, you whisper, “You just gotta promise me one other thing.”

He mirrors you, leans a little closer to be almost cheek against cheek with you, as if you were about to tell him the biggest secret in the world, and tilts his head, genuinely unsure of what you’re about to say.

“What is it?”

“Next time you come here, and feel free to bring your friends for moral support, but…” he winces at the mention, but you persist, “...You gotta ask me out on a date.”

Mark breaks away for a second, enough for you to see him nodding to himself. With a lick of his lips, he pierces your gaze, that flicker of fierceness hinted previously burning intensely now, and he whispers—

“I think I can manage that.”

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #nct 127 fanfic #nct fanfic #nct fluff #mywritings #myfanfics #it's almost 5 am and this is prob shit but I AM DONe

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meltwonu · 4 years

Text

s n a k e | e y e s [chapter 8]

pairing; snakehybrid!woozi x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; minor angst, major fluff 🥺 the smut(fingering) in this is lite but it’ll all make sense🥺🥺🥺 a bit of a cuter chapter, and lots of storyline 💕💕💕💕💕 this chapter focuses more on Jihoon and friends(tm) hehehe~💕💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - x - x

Jihoon wakes up the next morning feeling almost completely fine; just a tad cold despite being in bed with you. He snuggles closer into you from behind, arm wrapped around you in a vice grip.

“Ugh… Jihoon…”

“Mmm?”

“S’hot…” He pouts against your shoulder; he knew that it’d be difficult for you to sleep with the heaters and humidifiers on but you’d done it for his sake. Sacrificed your comfort for his. “I’m sorry…” You attempt to turn in his grip, instead giving up and just reaching an arm behind you to pat at his hair.

“Don’t apologize~ You’re sick and you needed them. I’ll live with being hot and sweaty. But are you feeling any better?” Jihoon loosens his grip a little, letting you resituate yourself in his hold. You turn around, facing him as you take in his features. His blonde hair was slightly matted down to his forehead and his eyes were still laced with sleep, but he already visibly looked a lot better than the previous day.

“I’m feeling better, still a ‘lil cold but I feel like I’ll probably be fine by tomorrow. I think… last night really helped.” He smiles widely, eyes turning to crescents when he laughs a little.

“Oh, I bet. I’m surprised that it didn't completely heal you, to be honest. Who needed Wonwoo as your doctor when I'm here.” Now it’s you turn to laugh, snuggling closer into his chest as you do. “But really, I’m glad you’re feeling better. We--I was really worried, y’know? I mean, did you get sick often before you went to Seungcheol’s?”

“Um… Kind of? I mean in the winter it was kinda inevitable. The overpass only really shielded the rain and snow but I couldn’t do much about the temperature. I think I mentioned it before but there were times some of the diners near-by would let some of us stay overnight when the weather was really bad. Otherwise… some of us just huddled up under the overpass.”

Your heart breaks listening to Jihoon; no matter how many times you’d hear it, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to hearing about his past. You were just glad you could provide him with a safer future. “Were there other snake hybrids with you?”

“Nah, it was just me. I think some of the other runaways just felt bad for me since I was the only cold-blooded hybrid out there.”

Jihoon can practically feel the sadness radiating off of you, tightening his embrace as his kisses your forehead.

“You don’t have to be sad, y’know. It’s in the past now. And I’m happy here.”

By midday, Jihoon feels good enough to come sit with you in the living room, watching a movie while you get some work done. Your phone pings next to you, text messages from Minghao.

“Hmm, Minghao says he can drop Chan off next Friday. I guess I should ask Seungcheol if that’s okay but is that okay with you too?” Jihoon turns his attention from the TV to you, nodding. “Does Chan have a phone? Can you ask Minghao if I can get his number just for future reference.” You text Minghao to ask, setting your phone back down afterwards.

“Huh… I just realized something, Ji.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve never asked if Mingyu’s got a phone or something. Isn’t he one of your closest friends?” He pouts, hiding his face in the turtleneck he was currently wearing. “That’s only because he doesn’t know I have a phone and the second he finds out, he’ll text and call me every second of the day.”

“Aww, but that’s cute! He really likes you!”

Jihoon pokes his head out, cheeks flushes as he stares at you from across the sofa.

“He’s clingy and followed me around like a lost puppy and always tried to sleep in my bed.”

“Jihoon… isn’t that… isn’t that what y-you do.” You hold back a laugh, his eyes widening like saucers as he begins tripping over his own words. “I--n-no! It’s not the same! I just--he--I--” You can’t help but think his flustered expression is cute, watching as the pout on his face grows.

“It’s different when I do it!”

“Ngh… Ji…”

Jihoon lazily kisses the nape of your neck, the pads of his fingers pressing harder into your clit as he spoons you from behind. He’d pinned you down onto the sofa, hands snaking underneath your shirt and down between your legs with ease as he worked you up. He knew you were sensitive to his touch; your body relaxing into his hold almost instantly.

He smiles against your skin, delicate fingers sliding between your folds until he slowly eases in his middle finger into your entrance. Your soft breaths and cute whines are music to his ears as he continues to tease you; body warming up under his skillful caress.

Jihoon leans into your warmth, sighing contentedly. Being intimate with you and touching you wasn’t always a daily occurrence; he knew your body needed to rest. And even though he knew you’d never turn him down, he always knew his own limits as well, never pushing you or himself for more.

But the times the two of you were intimate, he cherished like no other, loving the way you were always so welcoming and ready for him.

“Jihoon…”

The pitch in your voice rising lets Jihoon know you’re close, snuggling into you more as he abandons fucking you with his finger in favour of rubbing your clit to make you cum.

“It’s okay, cum when you want.”

You whimper his name over and over, back pressing into his chest hard when you finally cum. Jihoon nuzzles into the crook of your neck, kissing your cheek as he works you through it.

“I told you, it’s different when I do it.”

Friday comes sooner than the two of you think; making sure Jihoon has everything he needs before he takes off for the day. Minghao had offered to drive Jihoon and Chan to Seungcheol’s to make it easier on them, to which they both agreed.

“You sound like a mom.”

You roll your eyes at Jihoon’s comment, watching as he layers a jacket over his sweater. “In fairness, you’re taking Chan with you and he is a baby.”

“He’s, like, 21 in human years!” His phone rings in his pocket, a message from Chan on the other end. Despite Jihoon complaining abt Mingyu potentially ringing him up all hours of the day, he surely was doing the exact thing to Chan from what you’d seen.

“Yeah, but he’s also my boss’ hybrid so be careful okay? I’m not just worried about him, but you too.”

“Chan says they’re almost here. But yeah, I promise we’ll be okay. I won’t take your precious bunny anywhere unnecessary.” He snorts.

“Don’t you think he’s cute?”

“You’re asking me if I think Chan is cute?” You nod, watching as he checks to make sure his keyboard is ready to go. “He’s a bunny hybrid. Everyone sees those bunny ears and they lose their minds.” He mimics hysteric screaming, chuckling afterwards.

“Some hybrids have it easy.”

The adoption home is in complete chaos as soon as Jihoon and Chan walk in. Mingyu and Seokmin meet them at the door, excited faces welcoming them in. And there’s only a second after Jihoon leans his keyboard up against the wall before Mingyu wraps his arms around Jihoon, lifting him up into the air.

“It’s Jihoon-hyung!! I missed you so much!!”

The tall puppy hybrid spins him around in his grasp, Jihoon beating on his back to let him down. Chan watches with amazed fascination at the exchange, eyes slowly glancing at the smiling male behind the two. He slowly sidesteps the two currently locked in an odd embrace, heading straight for the other with determination.

“Hi! I’m Chan! I’m Jihoon-hyung’s friend!” Seokmin’s mouth opens in a surprised ‘o’, grasping Chan’s hands in his own in a handshake. “I’m Seokmin! Wow, when did Jihoon-hyung have time to make a new friend?” There’s a grumble and a whimper behind the two, both turning to see Jihoon blushing and Mingyu holding a section of his head.

“Jihoon-hyung pulled my hair… and then bit my ear!!”

“I told you to put me down!”

Seokmin and Chan share a laugh, both shaking their heads at them bickering. “To be fair, they’ve always been like that.” The bunny hybrid raises a brow, meeting Seokmin’s stare. “Really? Jihoon-hyung seemed so calm when I met him the first time.” Seokmin watches with fondness as Mingyu picks up Jihoon’s keyboard for him, the two walking in unison towards the sunroom.

“That’s generally him.”

The four hybrids spend the next hour or two getting to know each other, laughs and giggles filling up the space as they share stories. Jihoon was glad that they welcomed Chan in easily; Mingyu immediately fond of the younger boy.

“I can’t believe Jihoon-hyung didn’t come around sooner! And with a new friend!” Jihoon spreads out onto the floor, soaking up the sun’s rays after days of rain. “I just wanted to get used to my new place, is all. And I only met Chan once, we just kept in touch by calling and--”

“Wait, calling? You have a phone?”

The only thing running through Jihoon’s head as he watches Mingyu petting at Chan’s ears is ‘oh shit’. “Uh, I mean--”

“Yeah! Jihoon-hyung talks to me every day! Sometimes we even facetime when he’s got a new idea for a song!” The snake hybrid bites his lip, watching the pout sit on Mingyu’s face when he realizes.

“Jihoon-hyung… doesn’t like me…” Mingyu pets at Chan’s ears sadly, nuzzling into the younger male for comfort. Seokmin holds back a laugh, watching the panic fill Jihoon’s features as the smaller male sits up from his position. “No! Damn it, it’s not like that! I like you okay!?” Mingyu’s bottom lip shakes as he meets Jihoon’s flustered expression, puppy eyes on full display.

“Really? You like me?”

“Y-yes. I just didn’t say anything ‘cause I knew you’d call at like 4AM when I’m sleeping.”

“No, I wouldn’t!” Seokmin and Jihoon give the tall male a pointed look, both raising a brow in disbelief. “I mean I’d try to keep it… to a minimum.” Jihoon sighs in defeat, reaching into his pants pocket for his phone to pass to Mingyu.

“Here, put in your details. You’re only allowed 13 text messages, 3 attempted calls, and 1 facetime call, okay? And no calling after 10PM. Seokmin, you can add your contact info in, too.” Mingyu nods happily, tail wagging behind him as he reaches for the phone. “Wow, Jihoon-hyung sure is strict. Does that mean the 3 facetime calls we had the other day were too much? Should we stop?” Jihoon wishes the bunny hybrid didn’t have such loose lips; his own eyes sliding shut as he exhales harshly through his nose.

“Three!?”

Seokmin breaks out into a boisterous laugh, falling onto his back as the tears well up in his eyes. “Oh my god!”

“Chan’s a baby, he’s got different rules!”

“I’m not a baby! I’m, like, 21 in human years!” This time it’s Chan’s turn to pout. “And anyway, hyung was the one to call me!”

Jihoon groans, dragging himself closer to his keyboard. “I just wanted to run a song idea by Chan, okay? I promise if it happens again, I’ll try to call the two of you.”

Mingyu brings out a late lunch after a while, the four of them taking a break from listening to Jihoon play melodies and writing lyrics.

“Oh! By the way Jihoon-hyung, Mingyu and I had an idea!” The snake hybrid turns his attention to Seokmin, who was currently sitting with Chan across the room. Seokmin and Chan were thankful to have similar diets, finally able to share lunch with another person. “Mm?”

“There’s this cafe down the street called ‘An Ode’. Seungcheol-hyung took Mingyu and I there the other day and they do this thing on Fridays where music artists can come perform! Mingyu and I were kinda thinkin’...”

“...That we should perform!” Mingyu finishes Seokmin’s sentence, tail wagging excitedly as he peers at Jihoon.

“Oooh, that sounds like an awesome idea!” Chan chimes in.

Jihoon bites the inside of his cheek, unsure. He used to busk for money and it’s not that he wasn’t comfortable with it but it’d been quite a bit of time since he’d performed, much less in front of a crowd. Those times, he’d only covered songs too. Now that he was capable of writing his own, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to perform them. “Um, I mean… what are the… requirements?” Seokmin ponders for a moment, shoveling a forkful of his salad into his mouth.

“Mm, I fink we jus’ hab to apply.”

“Seokmin, don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s gross.”

“Mingyu, you literally sneeze into your hand.”

The puppy hybrid pouts, taking a bite of his own food. “Anyway, I’m not… opposed to the idea. I just… I don’t know if I’m comfortable with any of my songs right now.”

“But they’re really good, hyung!” Chan gives him a proud smile from across the room, finishing up his food before he scoots closer to the shorter male. “I think it’d be an awesome goal for all of us to break out of our comfort zones. I’m so used to hanging around Minghao-hyung’s apartment and all but it’s nice... having new friends. And getting to try new things with you guys.” A cute blush coats Chan’s cheeks, shy smile on his face.

Jihoon recognizes Chan’s right. Now that you’d given him a safe space and a loving home, he felt more at peace and ready to tackle new things. He slowly meets all of their stares one by one, seeing the determination swimming in their eyes.

“Okay... Let’s do it!”

That night when Jihoon gets back, it’s a race to get his key into the doorknob, adrenaline pulsing through his veins when he all but tears the door open.

He haphazardly sets his things down, giddy smile on his face when he sprints into the living room. You stand in the middle of the open space, confused eyes meeting his eager ones as you set your cup down onto the coffee table.

“Ji, wha--”

Jihoon tugs you into his arms, excitedly kissing you on the lips. You melt into his arms immediately, kissing him back with just as much excitement as you wrap your arms around his neck. He smiles into the kiss; his grip on you tightening.

When he pulls away, he stares at you lovingly, lips still tilted up in a serene smile. “I take it you had a good day?”

“Mmhmm~” The two of you stay in each other’s embrace for a while longer, eyes locked onto each other. “Wanna tell me why you’re so excited?” He nods animatedly, guiding you to the sofa.

Once the two of you are seated, he takes your hand in his, interlocking his fingertips with yours. Jihoon smiles shyly, a faint pink across his cheeks.

“I--I want... I want to be a musician.”

#snakehybrid!woozi #woozi smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #woozi fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #svt fluff

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heartofsnark · 3 years

Text

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Eight): Icarus Falls

Notes: Why, yes, I am posting these relatively quickly. This is the last of a backlog since I’m actively still working on the next chapter, This is a doozy of a chapter, both emotionally and length wise, but I’m rather proud of it, if I’m being honest. I recommend settling in a snack and maybe...just maybe some tissues....

Word Count: 15327

Chapter Warnings: Multiple deaths, violence, gore, grief, angst.

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

V and Jackie get into the backseat of the Delamain taxi. White and tan leather interior, despite looking the nicest she ever has in twenty years she still feels like she might stain the white leather. No driver, instead there’s screens and consoles in the back of the seats in front of them. An avatar of a bald man with stark unnaturally white skin and blue lips

“Welcome on board this Delamain service. With Delamain, you leave your problems at the door,” the AI avatar greets them in a robotic voice.

“Son of a bitch! Better fuckin' believe I will!” Jackie yells out, still grinning. V lets out a breath of air meant to sound like a laugh, but the lump in her throat isn’t making it any easier.

“I see no reason why you should be using expletives.”

“Sorry, he gets… excited.” Her voice is tighter than she wants it to be, her leg bouncing now.

“Damn right, I’m excited. Hey, Del, what about that time I wanted to hire you for my cousin's bachelor party, huh?”

“Unfortunately, we do not take on such contracts.”

“Three months I'd been savin' up scratch… Egh, water under the bridge. Hit it, Del!”

“Before we begin our journey, I must verify the identities of all customers. Please proceed to connect your personal links,” the mercs plug their personal links into the console, “Thank you. "Excelsior" package activated.”

Crisp subtitles for Delamain alight along her contacts, more comprehensive than the lip reading tech sometimes gives. Maybe his AI avatar enunciates more properly than a human, she wonders.

“"Excelsior"? Hohoho, this just keeps gettin' better!”

Jackie laughs as the taxi cab starts to drive and V finds herself fiddling with her suit sleeve. It’s perfectly tailored, but she still feels like a kid in dress up. Having to pretend she’s a corpo, having to pretend to be a hearing person. Her bright painted nails seem to clash so much with the persona and she curses herself for not changing the polish. What if they’re caught right away? The corps smelling Heywood and The Badlands on them the second they walk through the door. What if the spoofed SID hack doesn’t work, what if the bot malfunctions… What if, what if, what if; spins around her brain. They can’t fuck this up, there’s no room for mistakes. One disaster will destroy their reputations, hell their entire merc careers. And that's the best case scenario.

When she glances at Jackie there’s no hint of nerves, no hint of reservation or fear, just giddy excitement. Like a kid getting ready to hit up a party.

“What’s got you riled up?” She asks in spoken English, deciding she’ll mostly speak for the ride since Jackie is the only person really here, that way he doesn’t have to look at her the entire time. And maybe she’s also hoping if she talks enough she won’t clam up too bad in Konpeki.

“Hang on, watch this… Delamain! Initiate combat mode!”

She can see the bright red ink of his tattoo peeking from his suit sleeve, eyes drawn to it, and something about that scares her more; a hint of his Valentino roots showing, would it be a literal red flag for Konpeki security.

“My apologies, but you do not appear to be in any sort of imminent danger,” Delamain crushes Jackie’s hopes, a frown replacing his grin.

“Huh… Oh well. Trust me, he'll mow down an army of ‘Saka ninjas if it comes down to it,” Jackie explains to V and she wraps her arms around herself, resisting the desire to bring her legs up into the seat, trying to get her mind off her nerves.

“So, what else is included in Excelsior mode?” V tries signing to the AI, curious if it has translation tech for ASL.

“Comprehensive health coverage, including the handling and disposal of a client's remains should death occur on board,” Delamain responds without hesitation and instantly ruins any chance of her getting her mind off the massive risks within this job.

“Damn. Shit got dark pretty quick,” Jackie comments.

“Dex isn’t skimping though.”

“And thanks to you, we're still gettin' a juicy forty percent.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Excelsior…This is how you wanna cruise into the major leagues…” He says like the job is already done and they’re hitting up an after party…

“Wouldn’t get too excited yet, Jack, doing a job not hitting up a party.” And her words are too sharp, voice too venomous and rough in her throat. She regrets it as soon as they leave her lips, as soon as she’s spoken them into reality, wishing she could swallow them back down. His face drops completely, eyes harsh and she knows she fucked up.

“For real, V…? See me as that shallow?”

“I-”

“Lemme explain somethin' to you, V… My whole life I've spent in this shit around us! And I ain't goin' back!”

“I’m sorry, really, I just… I’m worried and I let my nerves talk for me, I’m sorry.” She quickly tries to smooth it over, those knots in her gut only winding tighter with Jackie mad at her.

“Swear to christ, V, I will never fucking get you,” he says, shaking his head and looking out the window.

“What do you mean?”

“Twenty years old, sitting in the back of a Delamain, on your way to do a job for Dex fuckin’ Deshawn and you can’t even muster a fuckin smile? You fuckin’ know what I’d have done to be where you are right now when I was your age, I was still dreaming of seeing The Afterlife! Took you less than a year to be here, took me ten! And you ain’t even happy about it! Then you act like I’m not takin’ it serious, like I don’t got my fuckin’ head in the game, just cause you can’t appreciate where the fuck you are right now!”

She chews her lip, not sure what to say to him. Guilt coming over her. He’s right, she hasn’t lived in Night City nor been a merc nearly as long. He’s been doing this since he left the Valentinos… For Jackie this has been a lifelong dream, the ultimate goal. She didn’t even consider it a possibility until she met him and now she’s already on her way there. Of course he’s happy, on the precipice of his dreams coming true.

“I’m sorry, really I didn’t mean to piss on your parade.”

“Yet somehow you always do.”

V sighs watching the city pass outside her window for a few more moments, tapping her fingers, that knot feels like a ball of lead now. She wants to claw her skin off, tear and tear away at herself, at her being, and maybe, just maybe she’ll find someone better under the gore. Someone who isn’t such a fucking asshole. Someone who knows how to keep their mouth shut and doesn’t ruin everything for everyone else. She’ll never understand why Jackie puts up with her, why he has for so long. She just doesn’t want to fuck this up. The job, her friendship, the little bit of happiness she’s built. V wrings her hands together, tight enough to hurt and she twists them a little harder, nails digging into the skin. If she can’t find anyone better maybe she’ll just claw away until she’s nothing at all.

She’s already a bundle of nerves over the heist and she can’t stand another moment of the tension hanging thick in the air.

“Did you fuck my wife?” She says in her best imitation of something between an Italian and a Brooklyn accent, watching Jackie’s face, the hint of a smile tugging at it. Tension starting to melt ever so slightly.

“Don’t get me started,” he returns forcing the same cheesy voice.

“Did you fuck my wife?”

“I think you fucked my wife and got me started.”

“I got started cause you fucked my wife.”

“I could trace back the moment I got started it’d definitely be when you fucked my wife!”

“That is unquestionably when I got started!” They’re smiling now, giggling at every other word as they choke on their cheesy jokes. Tension melts away as a weight is being lifted off her chest.

“My records indicate that neither of you are married.”

And they lose it, laughter filling the car at Delamain’s interjection to their stupidity. Its ridiculous and dumb and they sound like children. But, she’s thankful for the moment, the reprieve, where it’s laughter and not nerves tearing at her guts.

A call notification lights up on V’s optic contacts, T-Bug’s avatar and V answers, the runner’s voice coming just a moment later.

“Hey. How's things?”

“Eh,” Jackie answers, “been better, been worse.”

“We’re nearing our destination,” Delamain tells them and V’s throat tightens.

“Listen, set up a direct, encrypted line to guide you through Konpeki. V, ring Jackie now, see if we're in sync. Can't be too careful.”

She puts a call through to Jackie, inteface telling her it’s establishing a secure connection.

“And?” Bug asks, expectantly.

“Got static,” Jackie cringes, “Say somethin', Bug?”

“The greatest crimes issue from a desire for excess and not from necessity."

“Say what now?”

“Yeah, I read you. Not so much your Greek friend, though it was kind of exciting,” Jackie tells her with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Could give it some thought, try to understand…? How 'bout you, V?”

“I want more Aristotle!”

“Fuck off, both.”

Jackie and V share a giggle at the runner’s expense, V’s going to miss when Bug goes into retirement. If all works out, even on the brighter side, it may be the last time all three of them work together. But at least Bug will be happy and safe, unlike V or Jackie, this was never her dream or end goal.

“OK, tech checks out, looks like,” T-Bug confirms.

“Será mejor que sí…”

“Stay in touch”

And V just realizes the taxi has stopped moving, through Jackie’s window she can see the front entrance of the hotel. The bright red exterior walls, a worker standing at the ready and those nerves are clawing their way back with a vengeance, tearing up her insides and making her want to bolt, terrified that they’lll be found out as soon as they step foot in. They need to get moving, only way to get through the fear is to take control, do what needs to be done. And hopefully avoid puking in the back of an expensive AI taxi.

“Thank you for choosing the Delamain service. And best of luck. I shall await here for your return.”

“Shit's finally happenin’… “

“Its game time, got any iron left on you, time to put it away,” she tells him, tucking her gun and knife into the center compartment. Jackie following suit. V tugs off her suit jacket and rolls her white sleeves to her elbows, making sure her blades are accessible from the start.

“Alright, Hannah, let’s go.”

V opens the door of the Delamain, greeted by the view in front of the hotel, in the distance she can see the space travel facility, night settled over the water. The hotel has trees and plants out front, trying to sprinkle some nature into the cement and chrome world of Night City. She carries her suit jacket over her shoulder, keeping one hand busy with it, while the other sits in her pocket. Hoping it will keep her from signing if she needs to talk.

“Hold on, lemme grab the Flathead.” Jackie pops the trunk of the taxi and pulls out the case with the bot.

The mercs take the two marble steps up, a vibrant stript of red along the path.There’s long white marble with planters and the name of the hotel inscripted in gold.

“'Member, reservation's in your name… Ramón. You're there to meet Hajime Taki - military tech department rep. Papers are for the Flathead” T-Bug tells them as they get closer to the double doors.

“Welcome to Konpeki Plaza,” a man in a red, black, and gold uniform greets them, bowing his head as they pass by.

There’s a large waiting room, white couches along the sides with monitors displaying documentaries and vases with red hologram plants branching out of them. A security gate divides the waiting room from the front desk, scanners to check each guest for weaponry. Beyond it she can see staff with gold plated skin. All non-security personnel of the hotel are gold plated; receptionists, concierge, bartenders, and the like. A requirement for the job, even staff must match the aesthetic.

“Welcome to Konpeki Plaza. Please come through single file,” The guard tells them as they reach the full body scanner.

“You got it, holm-- uh, ahem, sir,” Jackie stumbles and V screams internally, watching her friend step forward. Blue light crackles along him, like lightning, then it flashes red. Misty’s warning of mean reds, flaring in V’s mind.

“Ahem. Hold on got something,” the guard stops Jackie before he can go any further, “Sir, care to explain why you're bringin’ a combat bot onto Konpeki Plaza premises?”

“Arms dealers.” V yells out quickly, hating how forced it sounds, tightening her fingers in her jacket, desperate not to sign on instinct and not realizing she forgot the ‘we’re’ part of her sentence until she finished saying it.

“Excuse me?”

“Ah!” A gold skinned concierge steps over, “You are here to see Taki-san, am I right? Please accept my apologies for the confusion.”

“Pff,” Jackie scoffs as the concierge bows and walks into the lobby, waiting at the front desk.

V steps into the scanner, guard assuring her it will only take a moment. It distorts her vision, crackling it with blue for just a moment. Then the guard tells her to go ahead and she walks forward, meeting Jackie at the desk. A woman with gold skin, black hair all shaved except for the bangs and sidelocks greets them. And V is starting to notice that the Arasaka logo is everywhere, the corp hotel owned by them. On the screens, gold emblazoned on marble planters, and on pamphlets. The hotel and Arasaka logo are clearly one in the same.

“Youkoso. Greetings and welcome to Konpeki Plaza,” she says bowing her head to them and V returns the gesture.

“We’d like to check in,” Jackie says and V sends him a silent thanks for talking. .

“Of course, just a moment, please” the receptionist taps away at a keyboard, “The name on the reservation is…?”

“Victorino.”

“Double room, two adults, one night. Correct?”

“That’s the one,” V tells her, with a tight nod.

“Perfect… I will go ahead and notify Taki-san of your arrival.”

“Shit, no good, not part of the plan. Talk her up, V, stall!” T-Bug yells out over the call and V is once again wanting to scream.

“That, uh, won't be necessary,” she curses herself for stuttering, “We'll go freshen up first, notify him ourselves.”

“But Taki-san is expecting you, no…?”

“Senorita, do you know how long we been traveling? Eighteen hours from New Barcelona. With a delay on Metakey 'cause some cyberpsycho blew himself into bits inside the terminal…”

“Been a nightmare, ugh.”

“Of course, I understand. You will be in the Lapis Lazuli Suite on level forty-two. Oh, one more little formality… Please validate your SID chip.”

“Honor's all yours, Hannah.”

A tablet on the table lights up with a bright blue handprint and she’s reminding of her issue getting into her own apartment. Bug said she put a temporary hack on their SID chip, but there’s an extra twinge of anxiety as V lays her hand down on it. She half expects it to show a senior citizen, to be outed as a fraud and tossed out the door.

“Everything seems to be in order. We wish you a pleasant stay!~”

“Better get goin'.”

V murmurs a thanks, feeling a bit of relief at having that part of this whole thing done. Playing corpo is somehow more stressful to her than the idea of breaking into Yorinobu’s penthouse. She follows behind Jackie. Large marble planters fill the lobby, some with trees that nearly touch the staggeringly high ceiling.

“New Barcelona? Really?” T-Bug comments as V follows Jackie up a short set of marble steps.

“It's called improvisin' - you should try it,” V stares up at a gold framed painting, “Whaddaya think, Hannah"?

“...” V raises an eyebrow at him with a soft noise in her throat.

“Quaint, cozy. Not like the hotel we had in Zurich for that convention.”

“Don't need that, Jack. Enough.”

“What? I’m takin’ this seriously!” Jackie grumbles when T-Bug scolds him.

They take two turns through the lobby, guards passing by talking about dolls being left in rough shape as they near what looks to be a bar in the corner. It's an open pathway inside, the bar illuminated in pink and a gold plated woman stands at a podium bearing Arasaka’s logo. There’s a lit collection of alcohol behind the bar, liquor that costs more than V’s rent, which isn’t a hard feat but still rubs her the wrong way.

“Bar don't look too shabby.”

“We don't do reservations on weekdays, so feel free to grab any available table. Or a couple of stools at the bar if you prefer?” She explains to them, a valley girl accent to her words.

“Could bring Misty here one day. When we, uh… close this deal.”

“Might take a look around.”

The idea of sitting down, if only for a moment, and catching her breath after the close call in the lobby sounds nice. Her nerves are frayed already, she’s never wanted to drink so much on a job before. A quick breather before she has a full blown panic attack.

“Shit,” Jackie curses, “look like some fuckin' travelin' salesman with this case. Go ahead, I’ll go on upstairs.”

V nods, watching Jackie go to the elevator, a part of her feels guilty, but she doesn’t intend to take too long. And it’s not as if she’s made visiting bars on the job a habit before, she can have this one. She rubs a hand over the back of her neck, feeling the chrome indents of her Mantis Blades cooling the skin. Half of the room is a lounge with black couches and slick pink metallic chairs, terrariums built into the walls. The other half is, gold stools and booths before the neon pink bar. Each side is filled with people mingling, dressed in high fashion, people who’ve gambled away more money than she’s ever seen.

“And when I say heads're gonna roll, I don't mean it as a fucking turn of phrase,” a half drunk man slurs his speech at the golden bartender. The stench of whiskey clings heavy to his clothes.

“Had enough guy, don’t you think? You’re making the other customers uncomfortable,” the bartender sends a pointed look towards V, a slight twang in his voice. She was looking for a breather, not conflict.

“Good! 'Cause this affects them, too! It'll slap everyone in the face!”

“What’s that?’ She entertains him, figuring it might get the guy gone sooner.

“You wanna know what a bearer of bad news looks like? What's four hundred yards long, weighs a hundred thousand tons, and is nuclear powered…? The answer's docked in the bay! Hanako Arasaka decided -,” he hiccups, “decided to take a little vacation!

“Big deal.”

“Don't know how big just yet,” her sarcasm doesn’t penetrate the fog of whiskey, “And by the time we do, it'll.. it'll be too late. Screw this. I'm gonna get some sleep…”

With that the man stumbles away, taking the too strong smell of booze with him and the shining bartender turns to her. His shaved hair either red or pink, color distorted in the glowing light.

“Evenin, what can I get you, baby?”

Her nose wrinkles at the term of endearment, “little forward, don’t you think?”

“Suckled it outta my ma's very breast,” he returns, “Fifty percent protein, the other half pure high octane CHOOH2.”

He presses two gilded hands to the bar leaning forward as he regales his story and she can’t help but raise an eyebrow; he’s implying he’s a nomad, but why would he tell her that?

“What?”

“She had wind and dust in her hair, so to speak. Belonged to the Aldecaldos. Before the bombs began fallin'. Her final words? ‘Wherever you go, whatever you do, be yourself, David.’ And so I ended up here. Still no one but myself.”

He’s full of shit, she decides immediately. Maybe her own distrust or her own frustration, nobody with nomad blood would end up here, gold plated and slinging drinks to corpos. At the very fucking least, they wouldn’t act so damn happy about it.

“Lovely story if it wasn’t a crock of shit.”

“Everyone's making something up,” he smirks, “Just like you, baby.”

“Excuse you?” she chokes out, feeling like ice water has been shot through her veins. He’s seen through her, that implication clear, but how? Even regaling to her some fucked up story of being a nomad, like he could smell the dust of the badlands still on her skin.

“Can I getcha somethin'? At the least, water?”

“Bourbon and cherry coke.”

“You got it, baby.”

The repeated use of the pet name earns him a glare, V tapping her fingers against the bar, his story and perceptiveness making her nerves worse. He sets the drink on the table and she downs it with a gulp, alcohol not quite loosening her how she hopes. She sets the glass down and leaves the bar, it may be petty but she doesn’t leave him a tip, frustrated at the idea he could have seen through her.

She jabs the elevator button, tapping her foot as she waits and stares at some painting. Its all abstract bullshit, pretty colors, but she’s not sure she sees much else to them. The golden doors open, the back of the elevator windowed with what looks like foliage inside, maybe it’s just a screen. V steps inside and jabs to her level. And after just a short ride, it stops at her floor.

The doors open and she sees Jackie, looking over one of the art pieces, walking past a desk and concierge to greet him.

“About time,” he says, when he spots her, the pair making a beeline to the suite. They walk past a couple speaking Russian, talking about testing on people, as they find the door.

Jackie opens the door and she gets her first peek of it, stepping in. The furthest wall almost entirely windowed, looking out over the hills. Another expanse dedicated to a terrarium, a large plush bed, white sofas, and a table projecting hologram displays of fish. V tosses her suit jacket off onto the couch.

“Pretty snazzy. Too bad we ain't stayin' the night. Nice choice, Bug.”

“Didn't pick it for snazz. Offers quickest access to the dweller and servers.”

“Sí, sí, me acuerdo,” jackie grumbles as he puts the Flathead case down on a table in front of the terrarium. The little spider bot springs to life the second it’s case is opened.

“Now you fire up the Flathead and find the shaft entrance.”

“Sounds simple enough…”

“Simplicity's sometimes toughest to master,” T-Bug tells her.

“Aurelius? Aristotle? Who's it this time?”

“Yours truly, that one's mine.”

“Go ahead and find the shaft, chica, I’ll get the Flathead running.”

V nods and begins looking around the room, scanning around, finding the shaft after a short moment. A little square panel standing out on the wall next to the terrarium, scanner telling her it’s Flathead compatible.

“Found it.”

“Good. Jackie, how's the Flathead lookin'?” T-Bug asks, he’s put the control shard in one of his neuroports while V was looking for the shaft, eyes now glowing bright white blue.

“All set. Systems’re operational, charge at a hundred…,” a moment passes his expression furrowing as he shakes his head, “Mierda. Little gonk's stuck.”

“Just gonna stand there and look at it? Gonna have to switch to manual control. V, take the control shard from Jackie. Gonna link your Kiroshis to surveillance so you can guide the bot.”

“Why me, Jack’s got full blown optics?” She asks, as he pulls the control shard from his head.

“Yeah, but you got better tech, unlike someone I ain’t run up my tab with Vik. Got last-gen firmware low flow. May be contacts, but you’re working with top notch Kiroshi tech.”

“Plus someone already has some playtime with the bot,” T-Bug outs her and Jackie raises an eyebrow at V, a teasing smile on his lips.

“You played with the bot?”

“Just… give me the shard,” she takes it from Jackie’s hand, “Surveillance cover the whole hotel?”

“Mhm. Even the bedrooms in the suites.”

“Seriously?”

“You'd be surprised what people're willin' to give up to feel secure. Lucky for us, Yorinobu's an exception. Penthouse is dark, no hotel security.’

“Okay, here goes.” V pushes the control shard into the slot, the interface says it’s connecting her, then it glitches and in a moment she’s looking at herself and Jackie through the surveillance camera.

“Patching you through to in-cam view. Might get a little disoriented, but don't freak”

Her vision switches between rooms; a man getting a lap dance from a doll in a dimly room, two men in another hotel room. And then it lands on a third room. A meeting of four people; two Arasaka suits and two faces she vaguely recognizes. The view doesn't shift again and she takes the chance to look closer, talks of losing control of Watson, election season. And it clicks, the mayor of Night City.

“Camera’s set,” V tells Bug, political bullshit isn’t her business, she can see the vague outline of the Flathead creeping into the room. Only slightly visible to her thanks to her connection,

“Get him to the next vent.”

V scans and finds the next vent shaft tucked in the corner of the room, sending the Flathead to it. She watches as it crawls and creeps through the room.

“C’mon little buddy, you got it, yes,” She cheers on the little machine as it skitters across the camera and into the vent.

“It’s a Military grade combat bot, not your pet, V. Patching you into the next cam now.”

The next room appears, more brightly lit with two maids working to clean it. V goes to send the Flathead into the vent but the request is denied, detecting one of the cleaning ladies is too far into it’s path.

“Cleaning crew’s in the way,” V tells Bug, listening to one of the women start drooling over Yorinobu.

“Gotta distract her. Hmm, let's see what's on the subnet…temp control on the terrarium, sic the bot on it.”

V follows the runner’s orders scanning and sending the Flathead onto the temp control. Barely a moment passes before the maid’s notice, freaking out about how expensive it is. The merc takes her chance and sends the bot into the unblocked vent shaft.

“Little guy’s through.”

Next cam flickers into a green tinted maintenance hallway, the bots legs tinkering across the floor. Vent on the other side of the room, V sends it through, smiling as her little buddy makes his way through. And it brings her to a new camera, it looks like where the surveillance feeds lead to. A console and row of screens with a security guard watching them.

“Dweller's just beyond the door. Flathead can jimmy the lock.”

V sends the command, watching it scamper to the door, tendrils working at the lock. But nothing gives away.

“He’s having some trouble, poor feller.”

“Shit… Gotta be another way. Lemme think… Got another cam other side of the door, but it's disabled.’

“Got a CCTV port, might be able to enable it.”

“Go for it.”

The Flathead creeps across the room and jacks into the port, giving V access to the other camera. And V switches her vision to it, the next room looks like a high tech runner’s nest. Two netrunning chairs in deep cooled divots within the room. But only one is in use, a man jacked into the security frame, illuminated in blue, screens running code around him.

“Dweller’s inside.”

“Just as planned.”

“Still don’t get why they only have the one.”

“Decent dweller's as good as a dozen rank-and-file. Lemme graft a demonoid onto your link, you’ll be able to jack the bot directly into the chair and neutralize the runner.”

“Got’cha”

“You'll have to get the Flathead in there first, though.”

“Got another shaft grate,” V finds when she twists the camera’s view, there had to be a vent in the other room, servers lining the walls. Bad ventilation and the entire operation overheats.

“Shaft may link both rooms, looks like. Toggle to the other cam.”

V does so, a moment of scanning and she finds a hidden shaft grate in the floor, “Think I got it.”

“Send the Flathead over there, then toggle over to the second cam.”

She waits until the bot is prying open the vent in the surveillance room, then flickers back over to the runner’s den, eyes on the vent and hoping she didn’t send their tech into the wrong room. A moment passes and she sees her robotic friend creeping his way out.

“Our friend’s inside.”

“Flathead into the chair, V, jack in.”

The bot crawls across the floor and into the netrunner’s cubby, creeping up the chair and scuttling over the man’s body. Deep in the subnet the man doesn’t stir or even notice as the bot hovers over his face and jacks into the chair. And the code across the screen glitches, replaced by a T.

“Holy shit.”

“Whoop! Got him! Love those daemons!” Bug cheers, louder and more excited than V has ever heard her. They did it, the bot is in, T-Bug has access to it all.

“Uh, Flathead buddy stays, right?”

“To keep an eye on the dweller, yeah. Punching into Konpeki’s main net. Go ahead and log out.”

The young merc’s vision starts to glitch and flicker red, her pulling the shard from her head, everything spinning. Lightheaded and her body feels both too light and too heavy. Like she could collapse and float away all at once.

“That's how it's done! How ya feelin'?” Jackie asks, concern lacing his voice.

“Like I’m about to puke on a rug worth more than my car.”

“Bug? How're you doin' on time?” The runner doesn’t respond right away, a moment too long passing.

“Bug?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Soooo listen, ICE is thicker than I thought. Piercing it'll take a couple hours.”

“A couple hours?! Can't do it any faster?”

“Want my brain to burst into flames? Just siddown and enjoy your snazzy suite.”

“Thanks, I will! V, you take it easy, c’mon rest for a bit.”

V doesn’t need anymore prodding, settling down onto the white sofa, hoping her head will stop spinning and stomach cease churning by the time Bug is done. The merc kicks off her heels and lays across the sofa, softer than her bed. Jackie sitting across on the other side of the table, V brings her hand up to her face, trying to block out the blue light from the holo projector. But catches herself looking at the bracelet Misty gave her, the way the beads catch the light, remembering the name of it.

“Hey, what was our suite’s name again?”

“Lapis lazuli, why?”

“Isn’t that what Misty’s bracelets are? The blue beads with the gold.”

“Oh...yeah, ain’t that some shit, must be a good sign.”

“Maybe… she read your cards before this?”

“Nah, didn’t get a chance, nagged me about mean reds though. What about you, cards in your favor?”

“All I remember is something about a magician and love, blegh.”

“Hehehe,” his laughter is warm and fills the huge room, “telling you, one day you’re gonna be head over heels with some chiccy or mano and you’re not gonna know what to do with yourself.”

“That how it was with you and Misty?”

“Pssh, knew I was crazy about her from day one, took a while to work up the nerve though one day I just told her the truth.”

“That you were in loooove~.”

“More like I’d take a bullet for her, chica.”

“Romantic.”

“Fuck yeah it is, in Night City, that’s worth a billion I love yous.”

“So you say.”

“Keep doing that and you’re gonna rub the finish off Vik’s work,” Jackie tells her and she realizes she’s been rubbing and fiddling with her implants, “be a waste for free work to be ruined.”

“I’m gonna pay him.”

“You give him anything upfront, even a dime?”

“I… gave him a hug…”

“Wow,” Jackie says half laughing and she’s laughing too, “a whole hug for top of the line chrome! Probably wasn’t even a real hug, just your half ass shit!”

“I may have only used one arm.”

“Santa mierda, V, gotta learn to hug people like you mean it.”

“Yes, yes,” she yawns, “blah blah blah, never know which hug will be the last one, blah….”

“Flathead wear you out that bad?”

“Maybe a little…” Her stomach feels better, but her head is still light, fuzzy. And in the plush of the sofa, with Jackie close by, she finds herself drifting away. Eyelids getting heavier with each word, each lull of his voice. She didn’t drink much, but she’s sure the bourbon didn’t help.

“Gonna be a while, might as well catch a cat nap, chica. Though Bug might not like it, haven’t quite managed to get the stick out of her ass.”

“Yeah..maybe…”

The world fades away, a soft fuzzy sleep taking over. Time ticks by around her as she catches a moment, or maybe several, to sleep. Her brain is still a little foggy, but the dizziness is gone by the time she slowly starts to wake back up. A bad case of cottonmouth as she wakes, world filtering back in.

Her suit jacket is tossed over her, a makeshift blanket she didn’t put there, she rolls over to sit, more stable than she was before. The time on the terrarium panel tells her only an hour or two has passed. Jackie’s back is too her, his eyes staring at the window. And she finds herself staring, standing in a suit and basked in the lights of the city view, he’s never seemed so serious.

“Whaddaya think? Why'd he give it all up?” He asks after a moment and she blinks, brain still foggy.

“Who?”

"Yorinobu Arasaka. The good life, I mean. Old news, I know. Just got to thinkin's all. It's like, think… You got everything, right? Eddies, education. Your pops can snap his fingers and turn half the fuckin’ planet into a nuclear wasteland… But instead you're like, ‘Nah, fuck it,’ and whaddaya go do? Start a fuckin' gang! Steel Dragons or some shit! You ghost from your fam, chip some RealSkinn and play gang leader for a few years. For what?!”

She can sense the frustration in every word, feel it every clench of his fingers or swing of his hands. Someone like Yorinobu was handed everything he could ever want; tried to piss it away to play edgerunner, then found himself sucking the silver spoon once again. But, she can’t blame him for wanting out from under his father’s thumb; that alone a feeling she knows too well. Her fingers hover over her wrist, the still branded flesh that Vik saved.

“Maybe...he just wanted out of the system.”

“So then why’d he come back.”

“Tough to ditch the system when the system’s your own family,” V admits, finger still on the mark.

“Black sheep’s still a sheep, eh?”

“Maybe…”

It took her forever to get the nerve to leave, she talked about it constantly, but it wasn’t until her mother’s death, murder, culling. Whatever she’s meant to call it, that she finally was pushed to make that move. Been gone for years now, but… more days than she cares to admit were spent wondering if she ever should have run, if she should crawl back and beg. If a family that hates her is better than no family at all…

“Crawled back on all fours, tail between his legs, fuckin’ cheap ass rebel. Fuckin’ tourist!”

Her nails dig into her skin; insecurities brimming, fear that maybe she’s just as much a fuckin’ tourist. Some black sheep nomad who’ll go running back to her dad, beg for another chance, playing pretend merc when all she’ll ever be is the family burden.

“Tourist or not, he just walked into the lobby. And we are back in biz. Penthouse security is neutralized.”

“Perfecto, let’s start this show.”

And with those words, they’re back in business, the younger merc up on her feet. V grabbing her jacket and following Jackie out of the suite, fiddling with the fabric as she walks, heels clicking across the floor.

“Hey, Bug…” Jackie says after a beat of silence, “were, uh… were you on comms that whole time?”

“Three and a half hours.”

“Eehh… about that stick up the ass…”

“Mean the one up mine?”

“Ehh, slip of the tongue, y'know…”

“I know. Now's your chance to make up to me,” T-Bug tells him as they reach the elevator, Jackie pressing the button.

“This is going pretty smooth right,” he turns to V as they wait, “right?”

“Really are a silver lining type, ain’t ya?” V teases as the doors open and they step into the elevator.

“Hey, when are you gonna wave off that dark cloud hanging over your head? Tellin’ you, it’s downhill from on in.”

She rolls her eyes and hits the button to the penthouse, elevator doors closing and the carriage rumbling, shaking as it ascends. Silence falling over them, only the sound of the elevator. Jackie’s leg shakes and she knows that silence is about to end.

“Ahh, there's the awkward silence. You, uh, wanna hear a joke?”

“Now? Seriously?”

“OK, so why'd the rockerboy's output kick him out of the apartment? ‘Cause he wasn't chippin' in.” Jackie cackles at his own joke and V rolls her eyes, a slight smile on her lips.

“Jesus Christ…”

Bug sounds a moment away from killing him, but thankfully for the older merc’s sake, the elevator comes to a stop. Doors opening up to Yorinobu’s suite. It feel different, seeing it from her own perspective instead of Evelyn’s and outside of a braindance editor. The entire suit feels bigger. A part of her wonders if it’s the height difference between herself and Evelyn, but decides to chalk it up to braindance shit instead.

“Huh… not bad bein' heir to the Arasaka empire. Sure as shit better'n bein' the son of Raúl Welles,” Jackie comments taking in the room.

V turns the corner through the room and a tank catches her eye. A slightly red light illuminating an iguana. It immediately reminds her of the only other iguana she knows, Manny. Come to think of it, his original crate was from Arasaka?

“Hey, Jackie, look!”

“Whoa, another fuckin’ iguana, not as cute as Manny though.”

“Manny’s original crate was marked Arasaka; think he might’ve been Yorinobu’s before we klepped him?”

“Think we stole his iguana and made him get a new one?”

“Maybe?” She gently taps the tank glass, watching the iguana’s tail flick back and forth.

“Guys! Focus! The safe! And make it quick!” Bug yells out, bringing the merc’s back down to earth. V tosses her jacket onto one of the seats in the center, searching around the penthouse. Rain patters outside the windowed walls. They know where the safe is, but how do they get it out of the floor?

“Why, what's the rush?”

“Sig on Yorinobu's gone dark!”

“What is he, a fuckin' sorcerer?”

“Some kinda dead zone's my guess - have him back in a sec. And you do your damn job! Look around for a switch.”

V walks around one of the dividers where Yorinobu’s bed is, the slick metal of a gun catching her eye first and foremost. Black and gray, with purple detailing. She checks it for ammo and finds it loaded then decides it’s hers.

“Looks like Yori left us a little gift,” she laughs, tucking the iron in her waistband. And on the other side of the bed, she finds a little switch. She presses it.

“Bingo, got somethin' ejectin’! C'mere, V!” Jackie calls her over to the corner of the room, heart pounding in her chest.

They’re so close to the finish line, each click of her heels feeling like a step closer. This could actually work. A large black safe has risen out of the floor, a small jack in port and two red lights. Jackie stands on one side of it, the gray rainy day behind him.

“What now, Bug?”

“Jack in your personal and make us rich.”

V plugs her personal link in, leaning one hand against the safe. Jackie leans against it from the other side, foreheads nearly touch as they wait for Bug to work her magic. Just get the chip and walk out, that’s all that’s left. All they need to do. She can’t stand still, itching to cross the finish line, minutes away from the major leagues.

“Gimme two…”

The merc’s interface shows Bug uploading the daemons to crack the case and V watches the number rise. Sixty percent, seventy, seventy-five; each ticking number another shaky breath, a rising beat of her heart, and a chill up her spine. Homestretch, nearly there.

And there’s a hum, V’s focus drawn away from the rising percentage, to the windows. Flying AV whirring through the gray skies, hovering around. She looks to Jackie, hoping somehow he’ll have an explanation, something to help her ignore the way her stomach is starting to drop.

“We got winged visitors… Bug…?” There’s catch in his voice, nerves. Jackie’s scared and she swallows the lump in her throat. His face illuminated in the red flashing lights of the case, mean reds, the words flash in V’s mind.

“Dunno who. But staffs abuzz, all two hundred on their feet, can't keep still…”

Somethings wrong, the hair on the back of her neck stands up, a chill in her she can’t shake. Something is so fucking wrong.

“Can't say I like this, how much longer, T?!”

“Shit. Yorinobu's penthouse bound!”

“What!?”V’s voice cracks, digging her nails into the safe, they’re fucked. They’re so fucked.

“Fuck him!” Jackie slams his hand down, rattling the container, “Open the safe!”

“Almost got it… Done!” The safe opens, revealing a cryo-container within. Bright white light and a fog of ice cold air coming with it. V rips her personal jack out.

“Preem, lets get the fuck out of here!”

“Lemme look to this, eh?” Jackie says, pulling the container out and looking at the little screens across it.

“Relic intact?”

"Bioshard integrity - one hundred percent." Guessin' that's a yes,” Jackie reads off the vitals of the shard, picking up the case.

“Good, let’s delta.”

The pair nearly trip through the center of the penthouse, rushing towards the elevator with Jackie lugging behind the giant cryo-container. So close, so close, so fucking close. An elevator and taxi ride away, then they’ll be at The Afterlife counting their eddies. The homestretch.

“Fuck, too late!” T-Bug yells before V can hit the elevator button, “Yorinobu's about to walk in - find cover!

“Where in the fuck!?” V swings her hands as she yells, they’re so fucking close. She rakes her nails across her face, leaving red angry marks down her skin.

“That pillar- try that!”

“You fuckin' kiddin'?!” Jackie screams as the mercs make a move to the pillar in the center of the penthouse, were she thought servers for the room were kept. The back of it opening up and allowing a tight passageway.

“No! Inside it! Now!”

V slips inside as quickly as she can, Jackie following suit. He holds the cry-container close to his chest. The glass barrier is one way, they can see out, but it can’t be seen in. Still not ideal cover, ideally they’d be outside of the fucking hotel by now. The merc presses her hands to the glass, cursing under her breath.

“We’re in,” she whispers to Bug.

“Which don't solve our problem, T.”

“I fuckin' know our problem's still there! Lemme think for a sec, okay?”

The lights to the penthouse come on, elevator doors opening as Yorinobu strides in. with mechanical monstrosity of a body guard from the BD taking large whirring steps after him. And he seems even bigger now. He’s a cyber giant, one mech hand larger than any part of V.

He’s outlined in red, his eyes staring straight at her, Vik said her new contacts would highlight if enemies saw her.. No, there’s no possible way. The man has barely set a borged-out foot into the room. She meets his gaze head on, swallowing the lump in her throat as she tries to seem braver than she is. On the off chance he may truly know the mercs are there.

“Is that… Is that Adam Smasher?” Jackie whispers and V trusts him to look at her hands as she signs, not wanting to break eye contact with the robotic monstrosity, refusing to show weakness.

“Bodyguard?”

“Worse,” her trust in her friend is well placed, “Night City legend. Bleak motherfuckin' one, too. What's the plan?”

“We stay quiet and we wait.”

A flash of movement makes V finally break the stare down, Yorinobu walks to the middle of the room and stops at the seat across from the table, black fabric strewn across it. He picks it up, regarding it for a moment and her heart drops into her stomach.

V’s jacket. She left her fucking jacket on his chair, like an idiot, she didn’t even have time to consider grabbing it. They’re going to die because she left her fucking jacket out in the open and Adam Smasher is still staring at her.

She half expects Yorinobu to call a sweep of the room, ring security, that he’ll realize the random jacket must be an intruder. But he shakes his head, tosses it aside onto the floor, not giving it another thought. While his body guard Smasher lingers in the corner, robotic eyes staring straight at V, watching the mercs squirm.

“Are they here yet?” Yorinobu asks out loud.

“They approach from the landing pad,” an AI voice responds.

“Fuck are they talking about?” V resists the urge to elbow Jackie, silence has never been more important. One sound too loud and a borged out psycho will rip their heads off. And if her contacts are right, Smasher may just be waiting for the perfect opportunity.

“Nuh-uh, no fucking way…. This isn't happening…!” T-Bug whispers over comms and V sees someone coming down the spiraling stairs, a guard it seems, with another older man following him, “Saburo Arasaka.”

The second man is older, much older than the first. Balding with gray hairs and liver spots across his scalp, glasses perched high upon his nose. Dressed in a mixture of yukata robes over what seems to be slacks and loafers he takes slow measured steps down the stairs. The head capitalist himself, owner of Arasaka.

“The emperor? Yet another asslickin' legend….”

V taps Jackie’s side and puts her finger to her lips, encouraging him to be quiet. The man who led Saburo in starts to walk around the room. He’s older than V or Jackie, but nowhere near Saburo’s age. Long graying dark hair pulled back in a bun, cyberware across his neck coming out from under his black suit.

“I thought I told you not to meddle in my affairs,” Yorinobu speaks in his native tongue, V’s contacts translating and subtitling to English.

“Oh fuck,” Jackie curses as the long haired guard comes to stand in front of them, silver ringed brown eyes starting to scan them.

“Leave us,” Saburo orders and the guard stops scanning, turning to face the corporate leader.

“Arasaka-sama, I still haven't done a full sweep.” The guard turns his back and V can see where part of his hair is shaved, allowing intense cyberware extending beyond his neck and towards his scalp.

“This is my son.”

“Of course. Should I retrieve what we come here to-”

“I will handle it. You may go.”

The long haired guard bows and goes to leave the room, finally Adam Smasher’s gaze on her drops, as the borged freak leaves with the guard through the elevator doors. If they’re here to retrieve something… it’s likely the biochip, which means if they go to get it and see it’s gone… They’re fucked. They’re straight fucked.

“Un-fucking-believable… Saburo Arasaka.” That comment makes V nudge Jackie with her foot, once again begging him to just stay quiet.

“Did you think I wouldn't know it was taken from me?” Saburo asks his son, barely making eye contact as Yorinobu looks through a datapad.

“Actually, I don't think of you at all. Ever. You see, that's your problem. You think the world revolves around you. Arrogant.”

“Yorinobu.”

“Why did you come? To humiliate me? To personally see to it that your son knows his place?”

“"The nail that protrudes from the wall gets hammered…"

“Couldn't think of anything original to say?” Yorinobu yells in exasperation, standing up and pacing around the room. He’s on edge, looking ready to jump out of his skin and V can’t say she has a good feeling about any of this.

“And do you think it ‘original’ to sell our greatest achievement to Westerners - our future to these… barbarians?!”

It’s definitely the biochip Saburo is after, they’re screwed, monumentally screwed. V would laugh if she didn’t feel like dying, of course, of course it all goes to shit.

“Our future? Ours?! You are mistaken. You've only ever cared about yourself… and your sick schemes.” Yorinobu points and swings his limbs, still pacing, every word coiled tight with barely restrained hatred.

“I knew this day would come. That sooner or later your impudence would cross the line,” Saburo is calmer, measured, taking soft steps towards his son, “There is much for which I could forgive you, but for treason - no.”

The two men, father and son now stand in front of the pillar before an audience they don’t know. Stares trained on each other, each hateful, but one furious in it’s spite and the other calm in it’s contempt. Moments pass, no word said, each waiting for the other to light a fuse that will set off the powder keg.

“I'm just glad your mother didn't live to see this. The heart should break but once.”

And it goes off. Saburo’s words are punctuated by Yorinobu’s hands wrapping tightly around the old man’s throat. Yorinobu slams his father back against the pillar, cracking the glass in front of Jackie and busting open Saburo’s head. Blood streaking the shards. And he pulls away and for a moment, as Saburo clutches at his crushed windpipe, Yorinobu seems nearly regretful.

“You shall never have to forgive me for anything again.”

His hands wrap again, choking his father against the pillar. Until Saburo starts to fall limp, Yorinobu bringing him down onto the floor in a lifeless heap. Yorinobu stands over his father. Saburo is dead, killed before the merc’s very eyes at the hands of his own son. Jackie curses and V watches as Yorinobu paces, mind clearly racing before he stands over his father’s corpse again.

“I wish… I wish to put the hotel on lockdown.”

What does that mean? What the hell does that mean?

“May I ask why?” The AI secretary asks him.

“Saburo Arasaka has been murdered.”

“Code red initiated. Attention! Code Red has been initiated throughout Konpeki Plaza. Please remain in your rooms and follow all instructions given by staff.”

Oh no, oh fuck no. The lights in the room drop, only bright neon red ones glowing angry in the dark. What the hell is going to happen? What the fuck do they do now? The elevator doors open, Smasher and the long haired guard walking in; the latter rushes and comes to a full stop when he sees Saburo’s corpse.

“What happened?”

“Someone… someone poisoned my father.”

“Poisoned…?”

“Seems so.”

“Yorinobu-san… I doubt…”

Yorinobu glowers at the guard, pushing into his personal space, trying to intimdate him. Trying to make him stop questioning what happened, trying to stop him from looking any closer. Anyone who gets a good look at Saburo’s corpse will see the fingerprints around his neck.

“What is your job, Takemura?”

“I don't follow.”

“It's a simple question. Answer it.”

“To protect the head of the Arasaka family.”

“I do sincerely hope you'll do a better job of executing your duties from now on…”

“Forgive me, Arasaka-sama,” the guard drops his head in shame, “I shall not disappoint.”

Yorinobu turns to leave the suite. The guard, Takemura, follows close behind. And the still red highlighted Smasher follows behind him. The elevator doors close behind them. Jackie and V left alone in the suite again. But what the fuck just happened?

“What the fuck just happened in there?” T-Bug asks, exactly what’s rattling around V’s skull as the pillar back opens again. Jackie and V clambering out.

“Yorinobu just killed Saburo, he fucking choked out his own dad, I didn’t even know you could do that!” V rambles and yells as she turns the corner of the pillar, looking down at Saburo’s corpse. She quickly checks his pockets, stealing some cash and a pair of dog tags off of him.

“What?”

“His own fuckin’ pops.”

“Know what this means?l Security's gonna swarm the place any second. Oh my god, we're so fucked!”

“We need to get the fuck out of here, now!” They can’t just go out the elevator, they’d meet security on the way. They’re beyond fucked. Why the hell did they take this stupid fucking job!?

“Gimme a sec!”

There’s the helipad, but it’s not like they have anything that fucking flies. Think, think, think; she screams in her head to just fucking think, there has to be something, anything.

“We don't have a sec!”

“Okay, got somethin'! Window - now! Releasing the lock! Should see a ladder… Ladder…”

V sees an opening in the large windowed walls, double doors practically made of glass they goes onto the ledge. This has to be in, T-Bug can undo the lock and they’ll slip out.

“Oh fuck.” T-Bugs voice drops and a chill shoots up V’s back, something is wrong.

“Bug!?”

“No, no, no, no - not now…! I’ve been made… “

And panic turns to agony as T-Bug screams, a shrill cry of pain then she’s gone. Connectuon cut and V freezes in place.

Bug is gone, just gone…

Maybe, Konpeki just cut their comms? But the scream rings through V’s mind. She’s heard of how runner’s can die, daemons and quick hacks. Having their entire brain fried, every nerve and neuron set on fire, burned from the inside out... And all that's left to find is a simmering corpse stewing in their own filth. Bug was never meant for that, meant to retire, meant to find peace after years of netrunning. But now…

“Bug.!? Bug!? Can you fuckin’ hear me, Bug please, are you there!?” V calls out, words slurring together. She just needs to hear Bug one more time, and know everything is okay.

And nothing.

“¡Pinche Dios Santo bendito! We lost her, V!”

“They...scorched her...didn’t they…?”

“We… we gotta go, V,” Jackie says, voice cracking as he smacks at V’s shoulder.

Bug’s final hack going through, the window unlocked. V steps out through the window onto the ledge, rain pelting her skin as she rushes around the corner. Bug said there’s a ladder they can use, last thing Bug ever said… There’s no time for mourning, no time to cry, they need to get through this. The ledge narrows around the corner, ride lights outside the hotel window guiding the way, secured against the steel of the hotel. V sees the yellow safety ladder. The merc presses her back to the building, gently side stepping across the narrow ledge, if they just reach the ladder. One wrong step and they’ll plummet.

“You can do it, Jackie… just don't look down,” jackie tries to talk himself up, following V, “ Yep, that's fuckin' high…!”

There’s a whir of engines, an aircraft vehicle buzzing around the outside of the hotel.

“Shit! That Trauma?” Jackie asks and that’s exactly what they need right now, doctors shooting them.

“If they’re here for Saburo, they’re a little late.”

“Just hope they didn't see us! ¡Chingada madre!”

The aircraft carrier flies in close, flashing blinding white light onto the mercs. It sees them, definitely sees them.

“Suspects in violation of security protocols.” The mechanical voice croaks out.

“Time to bail!’ Jackie screams and the aircraft starts to fire, drone automated shooting at them.

The glass around them bursts and V jumps, grabbing Jackie’s hand in her left, she swings her right blade out towards the ladder. It hooks in the bottom rung, creaking in distress as it stops their fall. And there the mercs hang, suspended by a single Mantis Blade and a ladder rung; rain pouring down upon them and a drone still searching for them through the debris. The strain pulls at V’s arm, pain shooting throughout, shoulders ache and left arm pulled tight trying to hold Jackie and the case he holds in his other hand.

If she could pull them up with the blade, maybe they can get to safety. But her muscles already strain, wrought tight with the strength it takes to hold them up. The blade pulling at the inner tissue it’s attached too, never meant to support more weight than the person it’s attached to. Rain and tears sting her eyes as she forces herself to pull with the blade, use it to lift them up.

“V! I can’t hold on!’ Jackie yells out, rain slick hand starting to slip from her own. She digs her nails into his skin, holding him tighter.

“Just a bit more, I can do this!”

Her throat is raw and she doesn’t know how much she believes her own words. Nerves scream in pain as her cyberware pulls at what’s left of her flesh. Muscles cry as forced beyond their capability. She curses beneath her breath, pulling them just a little further up. Immeasurable pain and brute force of will only amounting to the tiniest bit of progress, not even an inch closer to safety. Her blade is pulling further out from her skin, raising up from her arm in a way she knows it shouldn’t.

Every nerve in her arms on fire; blade tugging at flesh and the other nearly pulled from socket under Jackie’s weight. Barely an inch closer to the safety, Jackie slipping from her grip quicker than she can pull, blade lifting from her arm quicker than she can move them. Her teeth sinks into the inside of her cheek, hard enough to bleed as she pushes herself further. Closer, closer, she urges herself.

A bright white light shines across them, illuminating them in the gray night, adding another ache to her eyes. Drone marked Arasaka buzzing around, refinding them within the debris of the destroyed hotel wall. The robotic voice speaking again.

“Violators found.”

And her blade breaks, V’s eye blown wide as they begin to plummet, shock blurs her pain and deafens the world. Slowing it for a moment, only able to stare as metal snaps, tissue tears, and her arm is ripped open. Cyberware tearing out tissue and nerves, viscera left behind.

Then she hits glass, shattering it as gravity slams her through and shock becomes hurt. She hits metal, body bouncing from impact, crying as the air is knocked from her lungs. Her head bashing against something. V clutches her arm, the pain it hitting her as everything else does, blood sticking to her fingers. Each breath hurts, a labored wheeze as bruised lungs strain to work.

V blinks, sitting up slightly, regaining her sense of self now that her fall is broken. Across from her is Jackie and the cryo-case. She looks at her arm, A solid rip from wrist to near elbow, nearly an open hole, metal and moving inner parts of the cyberware mixed with gore. It doesn’t bleed as much as she'd expect, the internal mechanics helping block major bleed out. It hurts, metal now working against raw nerves. But, she’ll live… if this is the worst that happens, she’ll live.

The cryo-case is dented, part of it sparking and part of it splatted with blood. But her eye is drawn to Jackie. A tear in his gut, shrapnel and glass caught him well, bleeding more than her. The white of the button up around his stomach turned scarlet.

“The Relic! ¡Madres! Agh… Oh, this ain't good. Agh…” Jackie curses, each breath pained.

“Jackie, you’re hurt!”

“Worry about me later,” he growls, “check the relic… "Container depressurized. Biochip integrity at ninety-four percent." And fuckin' droppin'! Carajo! Parker! Call her!”

“And tell her what!? We fucked up!?”

“Just do it!”

Evelyn answers after a short ring, her avatar coming across V’s contacts.

“V?! Konpeki's all over the feeds! What the fuck's going on there?”

“Got a problem! Cryo-case is damaged. Biochip's integrity at… Jackie?”

“Eighty-six percent!”

“Eighty-six percent and droppin'!”

“Shit…! OK, listen to me. There's only one thing you can do. One of you's gotta slot the Relic into your neural port!”

“That sounds really dangerous!”

God only knows how this biochip could fuck them up, the relic itself is like putting another personality in your head, seeing ghosts. If this one is even half as fucked up as that, they could be putting themselves in serious danger.

“The longer you wait, the greater the risk we lose it!”

“Well, someone’s got to do it,” Jackie says, voice a rasp, face steadily draining color as he opens the case, “In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit - Amen.”

Jackie crosses his body with the pray and pushes the chip into his neural port and V watches his eyes light up for a moment. And he’s quiet for another, a second too long.

“You okay?”

“Dunno… I guess… Don't feel any different.”

“Once you're back, we'll take out the Relic and run a full brain scan and sweep. But you two need to get the fuck out of there first!”

“We’re working on it!”

Jackie and V get back on their feet. He holds his hand to his stomach, trying to press his guts together and she keeps her arm held close to her chest, not putting pressure on it. Jackie calls Delamain.

“Del, we'll be there in a couple. Be ready, got it?”

“Certainly, Mr. Welles.”

“Better be fuckin' certain.”

“We gotta somehow… reach the lobby. Only chance to hit the garage. And we'd best be quick,” Jackie jabs himself with an air hypo, “ Oh-ho, that's the shit… Great… Now let's get outta here.”

“Wait, take your jacket off, use it to keep pressure on your gut, okay? Should help with the bleeding.”

It’s minimal first aid knowledge, she knows. Hold something to a wound to keep it from bleeding out as quickly. But it’s all she can offer, helping Jackie get the jacket off with one hand, so he can press it to his stomach wound. She can move her right hand somewhat, but it hurts and she swears she can see the tendons moving around the metal in the gaping wound her forearm has become. She catches herself wondering if she’ll be able to sign with her right hand again. But, there’s no time for those fears.

She walks down the red lit metal grate, heels nearly catching in it as she turns to a doorway. V leads the way, less injured than Jackie, she pushes the door open. A door lobby with glass banisters and plants, the only light the bright red ones.

“Great… Now let's get outta here,” Jackie says, each word a stressful choking sound to get out.

An AI voice speaks repeatedly over the speakers that Konpeki plaza is in code red, as the mercs work to move quickly and quietly. Catching the murmuring of two guards as they reach a marble staircase, speaking of sweeping the floors and checking the lobby. They creep around the corner and past a desk, seeing the back of the men’s through the glass banister. The only sound the pounding of V’s heart and Jackie’s labored breathing. They watch as the two men separate, enough space for each to grab one.

They move down the last stretch of the stairs, guards talking about evacuating Yorinobu. She lets Jackie take the one closest to them as she moves further to the one at the doorway. V swings her left blade, now her only one, through the man’s gut. Her right arm shoots pain through each nerve, metal inside churching to dispense a blade that no longer exists. She holds back a sound, Jackie’s already choked out the other guard, checking for pockets. Each one armed with a silenced gun. She steals ammo off of them.

They come to another door, each catching their breath. Sweat clinging to V’s brow as they brace themselves for what’s to come next.

“Careful… security likely to be swarmin' outside,” Jackie warns and V nods, words clumping together in her throat as she opens the door.

They stay crouched, spotting more guards as they go. The pair hide behind a planter, V taking a scan of the area, spotting a security camera. Remembering Bug’s lessons, she’s quickly able to shut them off. She’s the one to step back out, leading the way for the first time in months of working together. V needs to get Jackie through this, he’s holding on now, but..

She grabs a guard from behind and snaps their neck, arm twinging in agony at the movement she throws their body aside, clearing a long stretch of hallway for Jackie to follow her down. All light bright red and screens that once showed commercials now flash the words, Code Red. She leaves Jackie to stay hidden behind a counter when she sees another by the doorway, jumping at his back and dropping him just like his coworker.

“Ain't doin' too bad… Just a little further…” Jackie whispers as she drops another guy, her arm screaming at her to stop. But she’ll survive without an arm, if worse comes to worse, she can’t let Jackie get hurt any worse.

They creep through a door, past a desk, hearing a guard yelling out as they sneak and weave through the room. She watches over the top of a planter as the guard walks past them, none the wiser as V creeps around, getting behind him, and taking him down. She can’t risk leaving any behind, leaving one alive and them finding the mercs later. The hotel is huge, a labyrinth of Arasaka guards.

“Engaging hostiles!” A voice booms out, the mercs spotted by a heavily armed Arasaka guard who nearly trips over V.

Fuck, fuck, so much for stealth. Jackie shoots over a counter, trying to stay somewhat protected from the gunfire, while V takes lead, firing Yorinobu’s gun at the men, only dropping behind cover to reload, she blasts. Fuck it, stealth not an option, she’ll turn the whole damn hotel into a blood bath.

The guards drop and V knows she’s been shot, but she’s standing so she moves onward. Through a doorway, three more men open fire as the mercs turn the corner. V blasts a bullet through ones head, Jackie blows the second full of holes.

“One more fucker dead!”

The third is further back behind a glass door and V charges forward, glass open as she fires at the man. Bullets ripping through his chest in a spray of blood before he collapses, red smeared across the marble. If she gets a chance to sleep tonight, she’ll be seeing red in her dreams. The vivid neon lights of the emergency lit hotel, the burgundy uniforms, and the steady spray of it from every shot fired.

Jackie and V go running around a corner, through another glass doorway and slide into side of a marble planter. Taking a moment to breathe, she can hear guards talking. Orders from higher up, panicked yells from the less experienced. She can spot two around the corner, but can’t get a clear shot. She runs to the open doorway, catching one off guard as she slams into his view and rips a blade through his gut.

A full armored worker fires off when he sees it, partially hidden by a linen rack. Another runs in, half hiding behind a planter, firing off around the corner. She presses against a wall between it and a partial doorway, reloading before she looks back through. The less armored man moves around a pillar, peeking from behind cover, and she shoots his head as soon as she sees it, watching him hit the marble.

She struggles to get a clear shot of the third, still hidden behind the rack and so she runs forward, past the rack and coming to a sliding stop behind him. The guard fumbles to swing around when he realizes where she’s landed. Back turned to Jackie now, her friend fires a shot clean through the guard’s head.

The room is cleared for a moment and the elevator is nearby, she runs past a desk, when she sees the button screen. A glowing red off symbol.

“Fuck!”

“Chingo tu madre! It's shut down! What about the other one?” Jackie yells between rattling breaths, she wanted this to be stealthy, didn’t want to put him anymore danger.

She runs, heels clicking against blood streaked marble, nearly tripping over a corpse. Quickly trying to stop herself when another guard springs up behind a desk. Two more swarming the room, one in the heavy almost samurai-like Arasaka armor.

“Orale! Got to plough through them!”

She focuses on the Saka samurai, pulling the trigger again and again, Thankful to have emptied the ammo off every body she’s dropped so far. A bullet catches his throat, a gush of blood as he paints the floor, and she shifts to the other men. A headshot on one, the other already down thanks to Jackie.

V searches their corpses, pocketing ammo and bounce backs, when she finds an access token on the samurai. V thanks any god that may be listening, if they exist and makes a beeline for the elevator at the end of the room.

“Got access,” she breathes out, calling the elevator.

Its doors open and she steps in, the side railing lit that bright red. She waits as Jackie rushes in, he’s still in somewhat decent shape it seems. Not the ideal heist, she thinks as she hits the button, but maybe they can get out of this. Rush Jackie to a ripper, check on T-Bug, collect their eddies, and tonight will be a story to tell later. Remember the Konpeki Heist, how everything that could go wrong did.

“Hah-… agh! Heh, hng…” She can’t tell if he’s laughing or groaning in pain, maybe both. Blood is coating his hands, has he bled through the jacket? No, Jackie’s bulletproof, said it himself a billion times. He’ll be okay, he has to be.

“Jackie…”

“Saburo Arasaka, Hundred and fifty years… and today… of all fuckin' days. That's like… some divine comedy shit… hehehehe… agh.”

And he’s laughing, of course he is, holding his guts together and he laughs, because why would Jackie Welles do anything else. She’s not sure if she’s going to cry or laugh along, if she’s charmed or infuriated by it; is he just still desperately searching for that silver lining or does he genuinely not give a fuck if he flatlines? That idea, the thought, makes her throat tighten. He can’t die, he won’t die, she won’t let him.

“Save your strength, please, we’re not out of the woods yet.”

“What do you think I’m doing!?” She doesn’t miss the frustration, because if he wasn’t so hurt, he’d been the one leading that battle, charging in to take brunt of it all, “Buuut… chill, V. We'll get out alive.”

“I know we will,” she says and wants so desperately to believe.

The elevator reaches the lobby, doors open to more guards, more gunfire. She shoots at one that looks out behind a wall, three more in the main room of the lobby. Jackie slides behind a desk, using it for cover between shots. V takes lead, shooting from around a doorway. Its chaos and mayhem, V blasting the four men. One dropping behind a chair, catching one through the green ferns growing from a planter. Three more Arasaka corpses, splattering blood across marble and the roots of those towering trees. Bullet after bullet, shot after shot, until her ears are ringing and three remain; the mercs and one last guard.

He throws a grenade across the room at them, V shooting it in the air before it can hit them, smoke and fire smoldering across the ceiling. She uses the chance to close the gap and blows his brains out at close range.

Room cleared they rush through the rest of the lobby, finally reaching the elevator that will take them to the garage. V slams the button, calling the elevator. The door opens and she runs inside, expecting Jackie to run in after her. His steps are slowing and he leans against the wall for a moment instead, having to catch a second wind. He’s getting worse, but they’re in the homestretch, they can do this. They can do this, he stumbles through, leaning against the elevator wall.

“Argh… I'm leakin' a little…” His voice a rasp.

The elevator stops at the garage, so close to safety. Doors opening she can already hear the guards and the mercs step out, eye on them, its a swarm of Arasaka. Gunfire rings out alongside the screech of brakes. The Delamain taxis coming to a stop in the center of the garage, it’s doors flinging open.

“I advise that you waste no time in entering the vehicle,” Delamain chirps at them, like this is a normal night.

But she needs no prodding. V grabs Jackie’s hand and runs for the taxi, dragging him through the garage to the open doors. Rather than making him walk around, she shoves Jackie through her side on the right, letting him slide into the left seat before she jumps in; he needs the extra second of protection more than her. The doors shut, bulletproof shields raising as they the taxi is blasted by the guards. They’re safe? Right?

“Welcome back. With Delamain, you leave your problems at the door….”

“DRIVE NOW!”

And Delamain does just that, engines firing up as he rams through the garage door like it’s nothing. She leans forward on the two front seats. As the taxi takes a sharp turn, they’re almost there, almost safe. Jackie wasn’t fucking around about the combat mode.

“Not bad at all.”

“Client feedback noted.”

“How’s the ride looking?”

“Tiptop. Though alas, we are being pursued.”

And then she sees him, Adam Smasher, the borged monster of a former man rushes them. No hesitation, no fear, as he slams his entire body into the car. Shattering glass, gnashing metal, and nearly sending the car to the side; slamming V and Jackie to the right.

“Sweet fuckin’ jesus!”

Jackie curses as V screams, the hell kind of freak is this guy? The car goes back down on its wheels. Adam Smasher on a metal knee, slowing standing up on front of the car.

“Combat mode activated. Please remain calm.”

“Calm!!!????” She yells out as Delamain begins to drive backwards.

“Road block ahead. I kindly request that you brace for impact.”

“¡Oy, mis huevos! Shiiiit!”

The cab takes a turn, rather than driving through Adam Smasher, it goes through another roadway. A row of cars blocking the way and Delamain slams through through without hesitation, taking them through the Night City roads away from the hotel. Jackie is hunched over, bloody hands still pressing the jacket to his gut, the white shirt soaked through with it.

“A hostile enemy aircraft has a lock on us.”

V doesn’t need a word more from the AI taxi, climbing halfway out of the window, she spots the drones flying after them. Three of them. Needing steadier aim, she flips off her hearing aids with a thought, steeling herself as the car weaves through the road and she fires at them. This is Arasaka’s last ditch effor to keep a lock on them, if she can get rid of them, they’re in the clear.

Three shots; first drone goes down sparking as it hits the city streets. Two more kills the second, the metal remains slamming into a streetlamp. And the third goes down with a final shot, smoldering onto the roof of a BD store. She turns her hearing aids back on as she slides into her seat again; they’re gone.

“Hostile aircraft eliminated.”

“Nice work there… Del…”

She shifts to look at Jackie, he has one hand on his stomach, the other braced against the door. V grabs his shoulder with one hand and his leg with the other, practically shaking him.

“We did it, Jackie! We made it!”

“Heh...guess we did…” It’s not the triumphant excited Jackie, she’d expect to hear. His voice still rough, a rattle barely leaving his lungs. Her eyes sting, no, no.

“My medical diagnostics indicate that Mr. Welles’ condition is critical.”

“Critical, what- take us to a fucking ripperdoc, now! Vik’s behind Misty’s shop!”

She reaches to put pressure against the jacket over his wound, hand over his, but the fabric is bled all the way through. Blood sticking to her skin, warmer than Jackie’s skin and he’s looking pale, paler every second. He leans back against the chair, strength starting to leave his body.

“Apologies, but that will not be possible. Our itinerary has been pre-arranged and paid for in advance. I am not at liberty to alter it.”

“Fuck your itinerary and fuck your liberty, just get us to goddamn doctor!”

“It's OK, V… I'll hold out…”

When did his nose start to bleed, when he did he start hacking up blood, red streaking down his nostrils and over his chin. She sucks in a shaky breath, eyes starting to water. No, not Jackie, anyone but him… please. She doesn’t know who she’s begging; maybe god, maybe fate, maybe just anything in this world that will listen.

“Yeah, yeah,” she chokes out, nodding, “you-you just got to hold on, okay? And, and, we’ll hit the major leagues. Only the best jobs, swimming in eddies, just like you always wanted.”

She brings her forehead to his, feeling the cold sweat of his skin, hoping her warmth, touch, her words; anything will keep him alert. The tears flow freely now, wet and hot on her cheeks.

“Mija... you’re gonna be rich, I can feel it…”

“No, we’re gonna be rich, Jackie! You and me, that’s how it’s always been, I-I can’t do it without you, y-you got to stay with me okay! We’ll get back, you can see Misty and your mom, everyone and let them know you made it.”

“Misty… She knew… She always knew…” he breathes out, eyes glassy with a weak smile, “told me not to take this job, why she always got to be right?”

“J-just a little longer, please, Jackie...please,” she begs him, like he can stop it. Like he can put his inside back together, stop the color from draining out of his face, and can just stay with her.

“The biochip…” he holds her shoulder, grasp weak, and takes the chip from his head with the other, “Hold on to it. For me…”

And he slides it into her neuroport, her vision glitching for a moment. She surges forward, wrapping her arms as tightly as she can, burying his head into his chest, crying into him as she clings tightly; wishing she had the strength to just hold him together.

“Please, please, Jackie, I can’t lose you, just a little longer, please,” she sobs into his ashen skin and blood soaked shirt, begging with every slowed beat of his heart.

For a moment his hands graze her back and she waits for a bear hug, for him to squeeze the breath from her lungs and lift her from her seat like he’s done so many times. For him to be Jackie; her best friend, her partner in crimes, her brother, her everything. But his touch is faint, the space between each beat growing further and further. Until his hands fall limp, body slack in her arms, and she knows the next heartbeat will never come.

And she sobs, she holds him and cries out her pain, if only for a moment. No more ‘chicas’, ‘jainas’, or the odd ‘mija’. No more smiles that outshine the sun. No more nagging her to look on the bright side. No more bear hugs or hands the size of her head ruffling through her hair. No more Jackie…. And it’s not fair and it’s not right.

“Mr. Welles has passed. Where shall I take his remains?” A robotic voice asks and she realizes the car is no longer moving.

She forces herself to let him go, one of the hardest things she’ll ever have to do. Pulling away, she sees him, truly lifeless. Bright green eyes now dull with no light behind them, limp hands falling away from her.

“W-what?” She stumbles over the word, brain fogged over with grief.

“The Excelsior package provides for the disposal of passenger remains free of charge. I merely require a destination.”

“I…he-he’d want to be with his family,” she stumbles across her words.

“Mr. Welles' closest blood relative is Guadalupe Alejandra Welles, proprietress of the El Coyote Cojo bar. I will make sure to deliver him safely. Mr. DeShawn awaits you in room number two-oh-four. ”

That’s right… Dex… The chip. The world didn’t stop spinning, only her’s. There’s still a job. And the idea of still going, that there’s a tomorrow beyond today, seems unfathomable. How the hell could she ever move on…

Because Jackie would kill her if she didn’t and she knows that. He’d haunt her for a thousand years and kick her ass every day of it. She looks at the remains, her friend gone, now limp and bleeding across white leather. And knows if he could speak, he’d tell her to get her ass to that hotel room and finish this job, that he and Bug didn’t die just for V to bury herself alongside them. She squeezes his shoulder, presses her forehead to Jackie’s one last time, feeling the cold of his skin.

“See ya in the major leagues, Jack…”

V opens the car door and steps out into the backlot behind the motel. Rain pours down across her bloodied skin, soaking her to the bones, a numb chill clinging to her. Painted across brick is the Night City emblem marks the wall, red graffiti altering its slogan.. The city of broken dreams…

She moves, on autopilot as she makes her way up the stairs and to the back door of the motel, sheltered from the rain once she’s in a trash filled back room. The motel is bathed in the neon red lights, only offset by the white of sign bearing its name, it’s always red. She stumbles up the staircase and then another, past a tv chattering on about Saburo Arasaka.

The merc walks down the gloomy hallway, dark except for warm yellow floor lights, Graffiti covered walls, rain washing down the windows at the end of it. And she reaches room 204, her arm leaden as she knocks.

No response.

“Its V,” she yells out, knocking harder.

The door opens but before she can take another step, Dex’s body guard takes a step out. Large hand blocking her from coming further. He checks the hallway, making sure she wasn’t followed. After a moment, he finally pulls away.

“He waiting.”

The man takes a step back, allowing V into the room. She pushes through a bead curtain and sees Dex, leaning over a TV screen, another cigar between his golden fingers. She clears her throat, hearing the door close behind her.

“WNS… N54… Even the pirate networks… You blowin' up everywhere! And the Jackster? He out in the car?”

“He’s...dead,” her voice breaks, words like thorns in her throat. Having to say it, having to hear it from her own lips…

“Condolences friend,” he tells her, shifting to look at her rather than the tv, “and the relic?”

“Here,” she says, voice a murmur as she taps her neural port.

“Hmm, I was afraid of that…”

“What?!”

She got the fucking relic, everyone is fucking dead, but she got the relic! Everyone died for this fucking chip and now he’s disappointed that she has it!?

“Saburo Arasaka?” Dex paces, smoking his cigar, “Dead…?! You got any notion of the shit you pulled me into?! You offed the fuckin' emperor! His majesty! Anyone with so much as a pinky toe dipped in this mess is as good as dead!’

“I didn’t kill Saburo! I- I-” she stalls, wanting to say she didn’t do anything, but can she say that? Can she act like she didn’t fuck up any of this? Like she has no role in Jackie and Bug’s deaths…

"No shit?l Tell that to the ‘Saka ninjas they send after you!”

“We...we got to leave the city.”

Badlands isn’t the safest for her, but it will be safer with money, she could settle in another city, maybe. She can outrun her family more than Arasaka.

“You don’t say.”

“Call Parker, we close the deal, collect our eddies, and go off the radar.”

“A’ight, settle down,” he sits down on the leather couch, “Gotta be tactical about this. Parker, eddies, then we leave the city limits behind. But first… Your face… got blood all over it. Bathroom's there. Go get yourself cleaned up.”

He points her to the bathroom of the motel and she nods, in no place to argue, she just wants to be on the other side of this mess. To be able to tell herself at least she made it to the major leagues, at least Jackie would be proud of her, even if he isn’t here to see it.

V stumbles into the bathroom, legs wobbling. Everything should hurt, her arm ripped open. Bruises mottling every inch of flesh. But she’s… numb. She works on autopilot, only somewhat aware of the door shutting behind her as she grips the sink, streaking blood across the silver.

Her blood and Jackie’s.

Bile rushes up her throat, stinging as she pukes into the sink, choking and gagging it out. The tears threaten to come again, eyes stinging as he nails dig into the sink. He’s gone, he’s really fucking gone. Her best friend, her brother in everything but blood and name, her rock, and world. The man who took her in, who gave her a goal, a life…

And how’d she repay him?

Watch him die in the back of a Delamain. All her promises to keep him safe, to repay back all the kindness he gave to her. And she couldn’t save him, couldn’t protect him, couldn’t do shit but hold him. Fuckin’ only time she really hugged him with all she had and she doesn’t even know if he could really feel it, if his body was too numb.

If she would have refused the job.

If she had gotten them up the ladder.

If she had been stronger.

If she had been stealthier.

If she had gotten them through the lobby quicker.

If she could have convinced Delamain to get him to a doc.

If she knew better first aid.

If….if… if…

Thoughts spin and whirl through her mind, a thousand reasons why it’s her fault. Why she could have saved him, why she could have done more, why she failed him…

Misty will never take Jackie’s last name and it’s V’s fault. They’ll never have kids, they’ll never buy a home together, he’ll never get to take her to that stupid hotel bar with the annoying waiter.

Senora Welles will be forced to bury her son and it’s V’s fault. She’ll never hold her son again. Never see him smile again. Never see him live out his dream. Never cook his favorite foods for him and nag him not to talk with his mouth full.

Jackie had a future, a family, people who loved him. He was going to marry Misty one day, have kids. Get enough eddies to provide for them and his mom. And now there’s a hole in all of their lives. The world as a whole now worse off without him, her own world destroyed. It should have been her, she knows that, the world would be better off losing her than losing him.

Yet here she is and she’s just supposed to keep moving, supposed to keep breathing, supposed to live a life post Jackie.

When she looks up, she sees her own reflection staring back at her. Red rimmed eyes, swollen from crying and blood splattered across her skin, stuck in the ends of her hair. And she doesn’t know where it’s from, if it’s her own, if it’s Jackie’s, or if it’s from the people she killed tonight. T-Bug and Jackie gone, yet she’s here.

A brilliant talented netrunner is gone. But she’s still here.

The kindest man to walk in Night City is gone. But she’s still here.

She glares at herself, because she has no right to be here and the world has no right to be this cruel. Her fingers clenches, pulling at her damaged nerve endings and she slams her fist into the mirror. Glass shatters and crackles, shards splintering into her knuckles.

V washes the blood from her hands and face, cleaner but still a zombie as she turns to the door. Jackie wanted this for her, one of the only people who ever wanted anything good for her. If only for him, she owes it to him to finish this job. She stumbles to the bathroom door and opens it, stepping out.

Knuckles collide with her head, wracking more pain through an already injured merc, she’s sent sprawling to the ground. She curses and twists around on the floor, not sure she has the energy to stand back up, vision blurring as Dex’s bodyguard stomps on her. Heavy foot colliding with her head. She curses and sputters choking on blood. She twists onto her back, blinking through the pain as Dex’s bodyguard hands him a pistol. The fixer walks closer, standing over her.

“Can't risk it, V,” he says casually, leveling his gun with her head,” ‘Member our first convo?”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” She screams, spitting blood as she stares down the barrel.

“Seems I've chosen the quiet life, after all. No blaze o' glory for me.”

The shot rings out, loud and clear, the world going dark as a bullet rips through the young merc’s head. Blood splatters across the dirty carpet, her body going limp, a final breath gurgling forth as she chokes on her own blood, iron taste clinging in the back of her throat.

Then she’s gone.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #silverv #johnny silverhand #jackie welles #female v #aidan becker #aidan v becker #angst

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