#fucking NAILED interior and exterior

[hazard-and-friends]

HAZARD TO SOCIETY NW1

[normalenjoyer-png]

this is getting its own post cause i want more people to see my funny headcanons. look under the cut boy.

these are all my initial drawing ideas but all my beautiful dumb idiot brain could come up with is the meme above

dialogue 1

NM: (opening the door) this is the castle. (cut to vast empty expanse of void. room size (very large, VERY tall) indicated by light gray lines, implying no lighting except what's produced by the void) it is empty because i hate decorating and i hate you and want to see you miserable. goodbye. (trio left in various states of concern, shock, and anger)

dialogue 2

NM (much more silly+conniving personality): hey guys welcome to the castle! (he's holding open the door to an absolute dogshit shack held together by like 4 nails in the middle of a disturbingly drippy and muddy and sticky swamp. killer's tugging his foot out of a puddle with both hands.)

option 3

the exterior is the dogshit shack and horrible swamp and the inside is like some TARDIS bullshit where it is just impossibly massive and impeccably clean void. can be especially funny if nightmare gets really fucking mad at mud on the interior

[whimsimille]

VACANT ROOM

Lee Dong Wook x fem! reader

"My dear, could you perhaps verify it one more time?" You asked, mustering the most charming smile you could manage in the face of the disinterested and nonchalant receptionist, who seemed more interested in her nails than her job. "I find it incredibly hard to believe that a reputable company like Starship would commit such a glaring oversight."

At half past midnight, the hotel was teeming with actors, singers and idols. Positioned in the center of the lobby, the luxurious building housing the assistant's desk was where you were standing. The interior exuded an atmosphere of old-world elegance, with polished marble floors, ornate chandeliers, and plush velvet drapes adorning the walls. Soft candlelight cast a warm glow over the dining room, illuminating tables adorned with crisp white linens and sparkling silverware.

Guests, dressed in their finest designer attire, mingled and conversed in hushed tones in the grand ballroom. Their quiet laughter pierced the air, merging in perfectly with the sweet notes of a Mozart sonata that drifted from the grand piano in the corner, played by a virtuoso whose fingers moved like dancers across the keys.

"I regret to inform you, ma'am," she retorted, her eyes barely leaving the glossy pages of an article about the latest trends in Seoul's fashion week. "But your company specifically requested a grand suite with a panoramic view spanning across the sea, located on the 16th floor. One king-sized bed, presumably for you and Mr. Lee Dong Wook."

"But that can't be right! There must be some kind of mix-up." Instant panic set in, your pulse going haywire as images swarmed in your mind—you sharing close quarters with him—definitely not on your wish list.

With an exaggerated sigh, she ditched her magazine and leveled her gaze at you for the first time since this little chit-chat commenced. “I assure you, there is no mistake. Everything has been arranged as per the request we received. The company was very explicit about the arrangements."

"Explicit about throwing me into a room with my ex-husband? That doesn't seem like a professional request."

"That's not for me to comment on, ma'am," she replied curtly, picking up her magazine again. "My job is to ensure our guests have the best experience. If you have a problem with your arrangements, I suggest you take it up with your company."

"But that's... it's... preposterous!" you stammered, feeling the blood drain from your face. "There must be some way to rectify...”

"I'm afraid all other rooms are fully booked. Perhaps you could address your grievances with your company, ma'am.”

"Aish…"

You turned your head to the side, spotting Dong Wook standing in the doorway of the lobby, dressed in a new, crisp navy blue suit with trousers tailored to his frame, complete with a matching tie and polished leather shoes. God, he had become insufferable since he discovered fabrics imported from Milan. This was where all the money had been going before the divorce.

Crushing the last of his half-smoked cigarette under the heel of his polished Italian leather shoes, he looked down and saw the flickering neon sign from the hotel entrance reflected in the trail of smoke.

"What the fuck is going on?”

“You ought to watch the language you use, old man,” you retorted, your thumb and index finger nervously smoothing out creases from the Chanel dress handpicked for the company's decadent birthday celebration held at this isolated high-end dwelling. “Prayers should dominate your vocabulary rather than swear words at this stage in life.”

His sharp gaze turned to you, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath his usually calm exterior.

Unmoved or maybe portraying so, you played along, “Just stating the obvious.”

A dismissive snort escaped him as he ran his hand irritatedly through otherwise meticulously groomed locks. “And if I don’t?”

You rolled your eyes, masking the unease creeping into your voice. "Then you'll just be an old man with a foul mouth, won't you? A grumpy, divorced, aging actor with nothing but a string of B-list movies to his name?"

"Better than being a frustrated little girl who got pissed by losing an award to me,” he retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm and a bitter bite. "A little girl who can't accept that she's not the best and that someone else could actually outshine her brilliant talent."

A sharp retort tipped the tip of your tongue as you hesitated, but you swallowed it down, heart palpitating. If only the hotel was closer to your home, you'd escape this uncomfortable situation. You'd rather risk wandering down a dark, unfamiliar alley at midnight than share a room with your ex. But you were stuck here, trapped in this ostentatious lobby, miles away from any familiar comfort, forced to face whatever the night would bring.

"Can't you sleep in the same bedroom as your best friend? You two are usually tied by the hip, practically inseparable at every social event," You taunted, eyes glinting under the harsh lobby lights.

“Gong Yoo has a wife and you know it. And I'm not about to impose on their space. What about you? Don't you have other friends that came other than scripts and books? Or did they all get scared off by your charming personality?”

“Oh, you better bet that I'm charming. Maybe that's why our daughter decided to stay with me.”

Before he could respond, a bitter laugh escaping his lips, the woman at the desk cleared her throat, extending a key towards the two of you with a look of forced patience. "I believe this is what you two are fighting over, correct? Perhaps you could decide who gets the bed and who gets the sofa without causing a scene in the lobby?"

You took the key from the receptionist's hand with an exaggerated sigh, turning it over in your fingers. The weight of it felt heavy in your palm, like a lead boulder pulling you down into the pit of despair.

“Yes, of course. Thank you so much; your help was really indispensable.”

Turning back to face Lee Dong Wook, you could barely contain your humiliation as he stood stoically by your side, staring out at the dark ocean beyond the hotel's glass walls. Along with the sound of the ice cubes in his drink and the scent of his expensive cologne, the lobby was filled with the sound of the waves crashing against the coast. You couldn't help but wrinkle your nose at the cloying smell that reminded you too much of your past.

"I suppose we have no choice but to make do," you said finally, motioning for him to follow you towards the elevators.

As he settled into step beside you, the click-clack of your high heels on the marble floor created an odd harmony with his steady gait.

It was almost impossible not to gag at the stale, rich smell of warm metal and coffee that pervaded the elevator. Pressing the button for the sixteenth floor, you peered up at the metal ceiling.

A few seconds later, the doors opened with a soft hiss and you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, feeling Lee Dong Wook's hot breath on your neck. He seemed to be waiting for you to take the lead, as if this were some kind of game, a cat-and-mouse chase that you just couldn't seem to win.

Swallowing hard, you walked ahead to the suite number indicated by the keycard.

When you finally turned the handle and pushed open the door, you found yourself face-to-face with an opulent display of luxury: plush red and gold carpets underfoot; crisp white linen tablecloths adorning an ornate dining table; fluffy duvets piled high on a king-sized bed; and a decadent bathroom beyond.

It was too much like the honeymoon suite he'd gotten you when you were still married, and your heart skipped a beat as it registered.

Butterflies filled your stomach as you set your luggage down on one of the side tables.

You turned around to face Lee Dong Wook, who was standing in the doorway, watching your every move intently, reminding you of the way Yeosin would look at you when she was planning a prank. 

Well, she was his mini version after all.

You held your breath as he stepped inside, taking in his tall frame and perfect nose. 

He took a deep breath before reaching up to his necktie and loosening it ever so slightly. "It's going to be a long night," he muttered under his breath as he moved closer towards the window, pulling back one of the heavy curtains to let the cool sea air and the sound of waves splashing against the shore gently lap at his face.

"I'll take the couch. It's not like I haven't endured worse accommodations while filming on location.”

He turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, an all-too-familiar gesture. “You have had back pains all the time since giving birth to Yeosin.”

“I don’t," you snapped back immediately, an automatic response honed by years of bickering.

“Yes, you do," he insisted, his tone softening. "I may not have been around recently, but I do remember. You’d wince every time you thought I wasn’t looking. But if you want to play the stubborn card here, if it makes you feel stronger, be my guest. In the meantime, you can freshen up. I'll make a makeshift bed for you, kid.”

There you stood, in the silence that followed, absorbing the sight of him.

It wasn't fair, an inner voice protested, as you took in the jawline you had kissed and nibbled countless times, the tantalizing constellations formed by the moles adorning his neck, each one a landmark you could identify even with your eyes closed, like a child eager to please and win a candy.

In the end, it wasn't fair that he could still find his way into your heart, the way a worshiper finds their way into a long-abandoned cathedral, kneeling in reverence among the dust and the decay, and still find it holy, still find it beautiful that there’s a vacant room waiting for him to lay his head.

He was the prodigal son returning to the home he once renounced, and you? You were the father left to wonder if welcoming him back was a show of futility or a sign of welcomeness.

"You always were stubborn," you retaliated, folding your arms across your chest. "Always thinking you knew best. Well, I'm not that same naive 23 year old girl you married. I can take care of myself.”

“Stop it. I have a headache right now.”

"You were always quick to jump in and play the hero, weren't you? But this isn't a drama, Dong Wook. There's no director yelling cut, no script to guide us. This is real life. And in real life, I don't need you to save me."

"I never asked to be your hero," he retorted, the quietness of his words cutting through the tension like a knife. "And I never wanted to be one. I just wanted to be there for you. But you always made it so damn hard." 

Frustration bubbled inside you, "You think I made it hard? You were the one who walked away. You were the one who gave up on us." 

“She’s only six,” he countered weakly. “She doesn’t understand what’s happening.” 

“You’d be surprised, Lee. Kids are smart. They pick up on more than we give them credit for. She knows something’s wrong. She misses her father. She misses us being a family.”

As the words left your mouth, you could see a flicker of pain cross his eyes. But you didn't care. You were too angry, too hurt to care about his feelings. 

With a huff, you turned on your heel, leaving him alone in the bedroom. As you slammed the door shut, the metal clanged loudly against the wall, echoing through the otherwise silent room. You hear the latch click into place, sealing you inside the small, enclosed space.

The bathroom was spacious and modern, with a luxurious glass-enclosed shower stall and his-and-hers sinks. 

Before you was the daunting task of turning on the water to run a hot bath. The faucet gave a small shudder, like a beast waking from slumber, as it sputtered to life, filling the room with the biting smell of chlorine and the comforting warmth of hot steam. A bottle of expensive shampoo, perhaps a gift from one of his many sponsors, sat on the vanity counter. You uncapped it, and its scent—a tantalizing blend of jasmine and sandalwood—tickled your nose as you sniffed it slightly.

The room began to mist up as your fingers fumbled at the buttons on your dress as if they had a mind of their own, desperate to get out of this suffocating fabric that reminded you too much of happier times when he'd slide them down your spine slowly and carefully, making you gasp under the cover of darkness.

Heat flooded your cheeks, remembering how those fingers had once traced your entire body—the pulse point at your wrist, where his wedding ring used to be, now replaced by a thin silver band around your third finger.

Stepping into the tub, the water was scalding hot—almost too hot to touch—but you reveled in it nonetheless.

As you slipped into the tub until it was almost full, feeling it lap at your neck and shoulders, you let out a long sigh of relief.

Closing your eyes, you breathed heavily as you began to scrub the last few days off yourself. 

Memories flooded back—years' worth of memories that had led up to this moment: the late-night movie marathons where you both would cuddle on the couch, the way he would laugh at your comical impersonations of movie characters, the way he would always keep the last slice of pizza for you, the way he would read bedtime stories to your daughter, his voice imitating various characters, making her giggle. You remembered his bright smile when your daughter took her first step, his eyes filled with tears of joy, the proud look on his face when she called him 'Daddy' for the first time.

But alongside the sweet memories, the bitter ones also found their way: the arguments that lasted till dawn, the slamming of doors, the sound of shattering glass, and the cold silence that followed. You remembered the canceled family trips due to his sudden shooting schedules, the forgotten birthdays and anniversaries, the vacant spot beside you in bed getting colder each day, late-night calls from agents about last-minute script changes, and sleepless nights spent worrying about Yeosin while he was off filming some romantic comedy filled with clichés and air kisses towards irrelevant starlets.

You scrubbed until your skin began to redden and sting from the heat, until all that was left was residual anger and resentment. Then you climbed out carefully, reaching for the plush white towel hanging on a stainless steel rack.

After drying off, you slipped into your silk pajamas and brushed your teeth with Totoro’s brush, the one Yeosin insisted on bringing so that you could remember her while she stayed with her Nana.

Stepping back into the suite, you expected to see Dong Wook, but he was nowhere in sight. The room was empty, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant murmur of voices from the television.

You walked towards the window, peering out into the darkness. The moon was a thin crescent in the night sky, casting a faint glow over the sea. Lee was probably out there, taking one of his late-night walks along the beach, letting the cool sea breeze clear his mind.

Turning around, you noticed the makeshift bed he had prepared on the couch. The cushions were arranged neatly, with a soft blanket folded at one end and a pillow with a fresh case. Beside it, there was a small side table with a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers—for your bruised ankles and sore legs, no doubt. Despite everything, Dong Wook was still considerate.

You walked over to the couch, running your fingers over the soft fabric. It wasn't a king-sized bed, but it would do. 

Lowering yourself onto the couch, you winced slightly, feeling the day's exertion catch up with you.

You slowly stretched out your legs, trying to find a comfortable position. As you did so, you could feel the soreness in your muscles easing slightly. 

Curling up on the couch, you wrapped the blanket around yourself, pulling it up to your chin.

Lying there, you found yourself mimicking Yeosin's favorite position—curled up like a small ball, waiting for her father to come home and pick her up. It was a bittersweet feeling, a reminder of the simpler times, when the lines between work and personal life hadn't blurred, when the word 'divorce' hadn't been a part of your vocabulary.

As you closed your eyes, the events of the day replayed in your mind: the party where he'd been eyed by other women, the looks he gave you when you seemed more interested in your Champaign than his speech, the receptionist's words, the look on his face, the tense silence in the elevator. But despite the turmoil, you felt a strange sense of calmness. Maybe it was the fatigue, or maybe it was the realization that you could handle whatever life threw at you.

With that thought, you slowly drifted off to sleep, the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant sound of the sea lulling you into a deep, peaceful slumber.

-------------------------------------------------

As the first rays of dawn creeped in through the slats of the blinds, you stirred from your sleep.

Slowly blinking your eyes open, you adjusted to the soft morning light, feeling something different.

Under you was not the stiff fabric of the couch, but something softer, more yielding. You didn't know when or why, but here you are, in the king sized bed that was supposed to be Dong Wook’s.

Confusion clouded your sleep-laden mind as you tried to piece together the puzzle and heat hushed to your cheeks as you felt something nuzzling your neck, the soft sensation making you bite back a groan.

Suddenly, you felt a warm presence between your legs, a muscular thigh that was solid yet comforting. It took a moment for you to register the protective arm draped securely around your waist, pulling you closer against a firm, muscled chest.

"Wha--?" you started, your voice cracking as surprise jolted you fully awake.

Before you could react, a chill coursed through you as your shirt was ridden up, an audacious hand slipping underneath to splay across your bare skin.

"Shh, it's just me, baby," a deep voice whispered in your exposed left breast before sucking it into his mouth softly, tugging at the pink flesh with his teeth while rolling the other hardened nub between his fingers.

As he slid down even further, his tongue softly licking the valley between before finding its way into your cleavage, your mind reeled from the situation. You gasped at the feeling of his cool tongue tracing circles around the right nipple, tickling it lightly as it hardened even more under his touch.

Your hand instinctively reached up, fingers tangling in the soft strands of hair. It was familiar—too familiar. The scent of sandalwood and sea salt filled your senses—a scent you had known for years, a scent that brought back a flood of memories, reminding you of all the times he had made love to you on a beach house's balcony after one of his late-night strolls along the shore.

"Dong Wook…” you breathed out, the sound more like a plea than anything else. The name felt foreign on your tongue after so long, tasting bitter and sweet at the same time.

"Yes, it's me," he replied, his voice a soothing hum in the quiet room. "I missed you."

"I--I don't know what to say," you stammered, your mind reeling from the sudden turn of events.

"Just relax. All you have to do is open up those pretty legs and let me fuck this pussy once again.”

His tongue found its way into your mouth; you tasted the remnants of the Merlot from last night. You sucked on it eagerly, feeling him groan softly as he pushed deeper into your throat.

Hungry. You were hungry for him, starved for this intimacy that had been denied to you for too long. 

You couldn't believe it—this was Lee Dong Wook, the man who had once claimed not to know how to please a woman properly, who had once slept with dozens of nameless starlets and models just to forget your name.

Letting go of your lips, his head found its way into your neck and his hand slid further up, pressing against the mound hidden by your silk pajamas.

You didn't trust yourself enough to speak, fearing your voice would betray the growing need twisting inside you. Instead, you responded by parting your legs slightly, granting him access to your cunt.

Expertly unbuttoning your pajamas with his other hand, Dong Wook spread the fabric apart, revealing all of you to his hungry gaze. 

Your pussy glistened in the dim light, a testament to the tangible evidence of your arousal. He swept away your slit with one broad thumb, gathering slick and marveling at how wet and ready you were for him.

"That's my good girl.”

Unable to resist any longer, he dipped two fingers into your slick folds while his thumb continued its sensual assault on your swollen nub. Pleasure started to unfold in waves of white heat, and the combination made you utter moans.

With a devilish smirk, he withdrew his hand and brought it up to his mouth, sucking on one finger. 

"Fuck, you're so wet and sweet for me, honey. Tell me, didn't any of your flings with those little boys in the set make you cum like I used to? Or were they so young that the only things they observed were these lovely curves and a treat for their hands?

His words stung, but the ache between your legs pulsed with need, completely drowning out any traces of regret.

In the haze of his touch, you were lost. It was obvious that you ought to halt him, shoo him away, and remind him of what he had done to you—severing all ties, abandoning you while he toured the globe filming and failed to remember you existed.

But the truth was that you missed him, missed the sensations his mouth could create in your mouth, and missed the way his hands could change from being rough to being gentle in an instant.

“Shut up, Lee.”

There it was, the opening salvo of a fight, but he ignored it, knowing that once you got past this hurdle, you would be his again.

He rewarded your honesty with a devilish grin before sliding his hand back between your legs, slipping his fingers deeper inside you. "Such a dirty mouth on such a pretty girl," he murmured against your skin before pressing his index and middle fingers deeper, crooking them to find your g-spot with practiced ease. “I guess I'm the only one who teaches nice manners to our daughter, huh?”

You moaned long and low, bucking against him. Your whole body felt like it was shivering underneath the touch, like a fever dream that turned into reality.

"Drop this shit before I decide to leave you with a purple dick."

"Calm down, darling… I'm just playing with you, hum?"

He pushed you down into the mattress then, holding your hips in place as he began thrusting his fingers in and out of you in a rhythm that had your body trembling with need. 

You could feel the bed squeaking beneath you as you arched into him, craving more contact as he thrust faster and harder into your pussy, sliding off on to his fingers as if they were a big, thick dick. 

It was perfect; it hurt and felt amazing at the same time.

“Jesus…”

A whimper escaped before you could stop it, betraying how much you needed him inside of you again.

"Yeah, that's it. Just take it," he encouraged, watching with dark eyes as you moaned his name while his fingers plunged deeper into your slick folds, finding that spot that always made you come apart.

"You need this; you need me."

He was right. You did need him in this moment, in this bed, even if it was wrong and twisted. You needed him to make you forget everything else—the cameras flashing, the public scrutiny, the anger. He'd always been good at distracting you from all that.

"Oh, fuck," you moan into the pillow, feeling the pleasure coiling inside you like a snake ready to strike. Your wetness pours down his hand and fingertips before it drips onto the comforter beneath you. 

You open your eyes to look at him, seeing how he bites his lip in concentration as he works you open with his fingers, tongue and teeth. His dick twitches against your leg, eager and ready. There's no one else who can make you feel this way; there's no one else who could make love to your body with such precision even after all these years apart.

"Squirt for me, baby. I know you can, hum? Like old times.”

“I… I can't…” you whimper, but he doesn't let up.

“Shhhh, baby… Come on, you can let it out. Soak me. Soak the sheets. Show me how much you want me.” He urges, his words acting like a spell, pushing you further towards the edge.

His fingers worked faster, his thumb pressing down on your clit in relentless circles while his other hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave a mark. His other hand slides up to your throat, fingers closing around it lightly, the threat of pressure making your pulse race even faster. 

Overwhelmed, you felt yourself let go, your walls clenching around his fingers as a rush of warmth gushed out of you. Your body arched as you squirted, your release soaking both his hand and the sheets beneath you. 

“Dong Wook!" you scream, the words echoing in the room as you come apart under his touch.

The sensation was too much; your body was sensitive and overstimulated. You whimpered, but his fingers didn't relent, continuing to stroke your swollen nub even as your body twitched and shuddered.

As you came down from your high, your mind felt foggy, and your body was limp. The surroundings softened into a comforting mist as you sank deeper into subspace. But he wasn't done yet.

Even as your body begged for a reprieve, he moved over you, his body pressing down on yours as he positioned himself at your slit.

“W-What are you doing?” You ask, your voice weak and shaky.

“What do you think, wifey? I'm going to pound into you until you're begging for mercy. Going to fill you up so good, you'll be begging me for another baby. Want to give Yeosin a baby brother. Want to make a little version of me for her to play with. Can you imagine our son running around the house, causing trouble just like his father? But first...” he trails off, the hand on your throat, applying such pressure that dark spots form behind your eyelashes.

“First, I'm going to fuck you senseless."

Suddenly, your phone rings, the sound piercing the silence like a gunshot. You glance at the caller ID and see Gong Yoo's wife, Ji-Eun, name flashing on the screen.

Well, he'd have to wait then.

"Dong Wook, it's Ji-Eun," you try to protest, but he ignores you, his eyes dark with desire.

"Let it ring. She can wait," he growls, and before you can protest further, he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt inside your wet heat.

But the ringing never stops.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four calls.

With a sigh, Dong Wook grabs your phone from the bedside table, places it on the pillow next to you and answers.

Before the line could finally connect, he changes positions, seating himself against the headboard with you straddled in his lap. Your breasts bounce with every single movement, and soft moans spill from your mouth as he continues to thrust into you.

"Hello?" He breathes into the phone, his voice steady as if he isn't buried deep inside you. His free hand grips your hip, guiding you up and down his length at a relentless pace while he talks to Gong Yoo's wife, Ji-Eun.

"Dong Wook, what the hell were you thinking?" She scolds from the other end of the line. "You can't just arrange for you and your ex-wife to share a room, no matter how many strings you pull!"

Dong Wook chuckles lowly. “Well, it seems our plan worked perfectly then," he murmurs in your ear, his warm breath fanning over your skin. His words surprise you, making you pause.

He planned this?

Ignoring your shocked expression, he continues his conversation. "Listen, I appreciate your concern, Ji-Eun, but there's no need to go yelling at the manager or looking for another room. We're adults; we can handle this." He punctuates his words with a particularly harsh lift of his hips, ripping a breathy moan from your throat.

Meanwhile, Ji-Eun continues her rambling, her words becoming background noise as you frown, scratching his shoulders and trying not to lose your shit. It would be humilliating coming all over his dick only from seeing it poking your belly.

Suddenly, Dong Wook pulls the phone away from his ear, offering it to you. "I think she wants to talk to you," he murmurs, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he kisses your nose.

You glare at him, about to protest, but his hand encircles your bruised neck again, making you relent.

With a huff, you take the phone, pressing it to your ear as you try to keep your voice steady. "Hello?"

Dong Wook smirks, his hand dropping to join the other on your hips, guiding you up and down his length like a well-used doll again.

This man is the devil.

"Oh, thank God, you're there, honey." The older woman exclaimed, relief evident in her voice. "I was worried about you! I'm on my way to your room now. We need to sort this out."

Panic set in; the last thing you wanted was for her to see you in this compromising position. You had to dissuade her.

"No, wait! You don't need to do that. We're handling it. We're...we're talking things out," you lied, hoping she'd buy it. 

"Are you sure? I can be there in five." Her voice was filled with concern, but you could detect a hint of suspicion.

"Yes, we're fine. Really," you insisted, biting back a moan as Dong Wook hit a particularly sensitive spot. "We'll...we'll talk tomorrow, okay? Goodnight."

Abruptly, you ended the call, tossing your phone onto the nearby bedside table, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

Turning your wrath on him, you struck his chest with all the strength you could muster. "I swear I'm going to kill you, you absolute jerk!”

"Oh really?" He groaned in response, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smirk. "But darling, before you commit homicide, don't you think you should let me leave a lasting heir on this divine body of yours?"

Before you could lash out again, his other hand darted out, capturing your wrist mid-air. His grip was firm effectively stopping your hand from making contact with his broad chest again.

“I want you.”

“You’re crazy, Lee! Delusional, old, out of your damn mind!”

“I’m yours too and I still love you.”

His eyes eyed you hungrily, his gaze dark with desire and something else. Something that made your heart pound out of your chest, something that made you weak in the knees. He loved you once, and he loves you still.

Or maybe it wasn't love anymore—maybe it was possession, maybe it was lust—but it felt real in that moment. You couldn't resist him, no matter how hard you tried.

“L-love me?” you husk, staring at him in disbelief as you feel his cock pulsating inside you. He pushes deeper, but you don't resist. You feel an odd mix of anger and desire, pain and pleasure, all mingling together into an intoxicating brew.

His tongue flicks out, licking your lips as he leans down, his face close enough that your noses touch. "Yes, I do," he murmurs against your lips. "And I always will." His voice is low and rough with want as he kisses you gently before plunging his hips once more.

In the end, you realized that it wasn't about fairness. It was about acceptance. Acceptance of the past, acceptance of the present, and acceptance of the potential of the future. It was about opening up that vacant room in your heart once more, dusting off the cobwebs and letting the light in.

Maybe it was welcomeness. Maybe it was time to let go of the pain of the past and embrace the possibility of a new beginning. Maybe it was time to let Dong Wook find his way back not as a prodigal son but as a cherished guest. Maybe it was time to let love bloom once more.

And just like that, the vacant room wasn't so vacant anymore.

[f1shart]

the amount of times i've drawn clowns on this blog is absurd. yes it was twice but that's twice too much

ANYWAY personality swap verona au anyone? its more of a personality inversion since i didn't swap their personalities with one another (og idea by @quejicadelapulpa)... more info ⬇️

idk why when i invert their personalities they become depressed, evil, or both but 😭 i'll go in depth on each of them

Tybalt: he was always a clown but swapbalt is quite literally a clown (he prefers jester). his personality is basically mercutio: playful, friendly, but still prim since i don't see why that would change about him i mean he's still absolutely loaded 🤑 also he loves annoying mercutio, especially since it's not like he'll get his ass whooped if he starts to throw hands (since, yk, tybalt is JACKED)

Mercutio: what i meant when i said they turn depressed when i invert their personalities 💀 swapcutio is a man of few words. he probably speaks very quietly too, only ever getting loud when he's pissed at tybalt. speaking of, he's not as hot-headed as og tybalt mostly cuz i didn't want to just swap their personas and call it a day. nah this is much funnier. i feel bad for him though i mean he's got this fucking clown constantly bothering him and there's nothing he can do about it

Romeo: he's giving pascal and i'm so sorry ab that. anyway this is where i delve more into personal hcs about personality since some of these sims weren't given much originally. i see romeo as a pretty smart kid so i didn't change that about him. i also see him as a bit immature but his wit makes up for that and that's how he's able to charm people. while swapmeo is mature, he is unfortunately quite uncharismatic so who tf knows how he pulled juliette. he's still a romance sim tho so he has his ways...

Juliette: not too much about her. i originally saw her as a little hot-headed similar to tybalt, so i decided to commit to that and make her a very mellow and chill individual. no more raging at online shooter games for her ! swapiette also wears very comfy clothes unlike juliette and dont u worry i kept her uggs. they're simply too iconic 😩

Miranda: she's basically more like her mother. this is where i was conflicted like do i swap the adults' personalities as well?? regardless, swapiranda (i need to stop) is a good christian girl 😌 as you can see she did not dye her hair in this universe and same with hermia but we'll get there. i also removed her beautiful shades SORRY but they're still there in spirit with the blue of her nails. i think swapiranda has that sweet exterior but a snakeish interior in terms of personality

Hermia: i exchanged the goth aesthetic for something more pastel and trendy for the time. you could say swapmia is a bit like og juliette in terms of personality. ooh maybe she doesn't dislike her brother in this universe! though i can see her and juliette getting tired of his smileyness. also yess swapmia's hair is her natural blonde it fits her vibe more.

Puck: last and certainly not least, evil puck 😍 the poor residents of swap veronaville cuz this kid... to me, og puck is kind, shy, dedicated to their tasks but dreadfully incompetent. you'd think he's the media's idea of a fairy- playful and mischievous, but he is surprisingly the opposite. THEN THERE'S SWAP PUCK. absolutely devious. despicable. he plays pranks and they are fucking mean pranks (not as far as battery acid in pop tho 💀 that's one of their cruel jokes. pls tybalt is not actually drinking battery acid) who KNOWS what swapmia sees in them. maybe she's evil too lmfao

anyway that's what i got. tell me why typing this drained 54% of my battery. apple is wild. maybe i'll do st but that's a hell of a lot of work

[yeonjunszn]

ASAP! — TWENTY TWO

PAIRING! mark lee x f!reader

SUMMARY! you’re not exactly the best barista at zhong coffee, but for some unknown reason (his massive crush on you), mark thinks you can do no wrong. sick and tired of his favoritism and your lack thereof due to absolute obliviousness, your coworkers are determined to fix this problem. asap.

MORE! cat fight 🙀🙀🙀🙀

◠‿◠ ‿◠ ‿◠ ‿◠ ‿◠

True to his word, Hongjoong arrives at Zhong Coffee with his friends around 9am. You spot him strolling into the shop and glancing around. (Probably looking for things he could steal.)

Waving at him, you stay in your place at the register as he walks to greet you, his friends tailing him like they're minions.

"So what's up?" you ask, pretending to pick at the skin around your nails.

"Oh, my friends and I are just looking at some of the different roasts you guys have, considering which ones to ste- I mean buy! Yeah, buy," Hongjoong stumbles. His emo friend rolls his eyes and walks back to the display with all the coffee beans with the pastry guy. "Why are you working mornings now?"

"Oh, uhhh, I wasn't doing the best during the mid shift to be honest. They thought I'd do better in the mornings," you answer. You're a horrible liar, which makes you think you'd make a horrible actor. Not looking Hongjoong in the eye is going somewhat well for you in this case. "Hopefully I can help you with what you're here for."

You finally look at Hongjoong's face. He looks flustered, like he'd just been caught in the act. But he hasn't yet. You just need to continue chatting for a bit more. Yeonjun and San are nowhere to be seen, despite the mornings being their usual shift. Renjun’s going to be hearing about this at your lunch break.

"Oh, well, to be honest my friends and I were looking at this specific roast of beans because it's really popular nowadays. And also the grinders you guys have. The reselling value is astounding!" Hongjoong exclaims, pointing to where his friends are. They're chatting about which beans would be better, but you can't really hear more than that. "Can I ask you a question?"

You nod, not really paying attention to Hongjoong, instead watching as his friends walk towards you at side register, discussing which grinder would be worth more based off the sound of the hopper.

"Are you into bad guys?" Hongjoong asks suddenly.

The question catches you off guard as you try to think about your answer. Are you into bad guys? The only crush you think you've had before was on Lee Jeno and despite his pretty exterior, the interior wasn't as pretty. Would he be considered bad? And then there's Mark, who's by all definitions the complete opposite of a bad guy. He's nice to you; he helps you no matter what, he gives you his chocolate croissant to cheer you up, he’s let you be a shitty employee for how long? He is a complete good guy and maybe that's your type.

By the time you've finished thinking and have come up with an answer, Hongjoong's friends have left and the 2 new grinders from side bar along with five bags of white coffee are missing. Panicking, you press on the panic button under your register, signaling Renjun, who rushes out from behind the counter to stop the thieves with Hendery and Xiaojun. Just like Xiaojun said, Chenle is not on the floor and within a few minutes, the shop has been closed with all entrances locked.

Hongjoong notices the commotion around you, his eyes also searching for his friends as the shop’s alarm system goes off. "Fuck..." he mutters under his breath. "Of all days..."

Hongjoong turns to you, an eyebrow raised, "You didn't know about the grinders, right?"

"What grinders?" a voice sounds from behind you. Hongjoong's eyes widen as he begins to sprint for his life, as Hyuck starts chasing after him.

From the corner of your eye, you spot Hongjoong's shorter friend with one of the grinders from the bar, hunched over and making his way to the back of the shop. You try to make your way towards him, but something flies at your face. It's hard and it hurts once it crashes right against your nose.

Blood trickles on to the floor from your nose and you look up from where the mix cup was thrown. Wooyoung looks at you with an apologetic look, shouting, "I'm so sorry, Y/N! I had to!"

Huffing, you pinch the tip of your nose and tilt your head back. You didn't think today would be this chaotic. Yeah you made jokes about potentially dying and getting hurt, but they were just that. Jokes!

Something soft covers your face for a bit, obscuring your vision. Oh no, this is it, this is when you're going to die. All because some guys were stealing grinders and beans from your place of work and weren't going down without a fight—

It's suddenly lifted off your face and a hand brings your chin down, nudging your hand off your nose and pressing the soft thing to the bloody nostril.

Mark's face comes into view and as you grab the handkerchief, his hands come up to cup at your face, "You okay?"

"The pastry guy is headed towards the back," you reply, dodging his question.

"Sumin's already waiting there. And I asked you if you're okay, not where the pastry guy is," Mark chuckles. He brings his face closer to yours, inspecting yours for any bruises. You desperately hope he can't feel the warmth blooming across your face. "No bruising yet but I'll get you ice. Wait here."

The speed in which Mark leaves you has you upset for some reason. It's almost as if you'd preferred if he stayed with you, wrapping you in his arms again. You realize then and there that you wouldn't mind staying in his hold for a while. What are these thoughts and where did they come from?

TWENTY TWO — grinders and coffee beans

PREV! twenty one — #xiaojun_out

NEXT! twenty three — what is a marky/n

MASTERLIST!

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TAGLIST! @stardusthyuck @erin-calling @tddyhyck @bigheadchen @choiwonder @neozon3nha @sunflowerbebe07 @kissesfrmwonwoo @miyawwn @sserafimez @haechansbbg @lilyidk03 @mowchiie @jaemsrina @jeongintwt @shwizhies

[is-she-suffering]

2002 - queenadreena.com OFFICIAL MAILING LIST BAND Q&A

This Q&A session with the band went out to all those who subscribed to the official mailing list. The questions answered by the band were asked by various fans.

What or who has been the most powerful influence on your creative life? Crispin: Distortion. Orson:  Rhythm-the point at which an ebb becomes a flow, the point at which my ego gives way to my true self. Katie: Sharks. Pete: Liza Minelli.

Have you ever read a book that you would like to live in? Crispin: No, but perhaps I could write one. Orson: My life is melodramatic enough as it is, i need no assistance with that. my life often feels like any book by Dostoyevsky or 'Narcissus and Goldmund' by Herman Hesse...I told you I was self indulgent. Katie: Blood, bones, tooth and nail, words and paper all burned away. Pete: 'A Christmas Carol'.

Do you think that your songs are out there waiting to be discovered by you or do they only exist when you create them? Crispin: A boringly technical answer, but its probably a bit of both. All the notes and chords etc. obviously exist, although it seems highly unlikely that anyone will arrange them identically like us ever again. Orson: There is an archetypal rhythm that exists outside and inside us all, it is not owned yet requires a vessel to be manifest. music is that point where the exterior and the interior meet. Katie: They hide in the blind spot-sometimes you catch them watching you. Pete: Both and neither

Who do you most admire, and why do you admire them? Crispin: There really is no one person that i particularly admire. i admire a lot of different people at certain moments, and certain aspects of their personality might impress me more consistently. Orson: Herman Hesse, for creating works of art so simple and balanced in form and containing all that can't be put into words within. i.e. 'the glass bead game'. Katie: An unholy fuck Pete: Ditto

Do you believe in a god or gods? Crispin: I suppose I would probably go along with one of those theories about the universe all being one big never ending energy blah blah blah and god flows through everything etc. etc. and so on. Orson: I believe in love, in pleasure and pain in what is and what is not-in any word you might attach to it. Yes. Katie: sometimes I am stretched so thin to bursting I can see them peering back at me through my translucent skin. Pete: No.

What is the best piece of advice you have ever been given? Crispin: Don't take life too seriously-its not permanent. Orson: Kill your ego. Katie: Eat your own face. Pete: I haven't had any I liked.

Are you happy? Crispin: No. Orson: I measure the quality of life by how close or far I am from my true self/feelings. Since sorrow and joy spring from the same well this question means nothing to me. Katie: Fighting brings on a warm glow. Pete: Yeah, I'm fine.

Is there a piece of music that can make you cry? Crispin: most of it, until I turn it off. no seriously, lots of songs have at one time brought me to a sort of nostalgic moment. most recently 'Teenager' by the Deftones - although it probably wont make me feel that way ever again. also the second song on that Sigur Ros album-'Agalis Byrjan' or something or other. Orson: Many things can reflect my pain and sadness from the most profound to the most banal of circumstance. All music I listen to can act as that mirror. There are too many pieces to list but I am certainly no stranger to weeping. Katie: The one that got away. Pete: I'm already too upset.

Would queenadreena ever consider making a new, better version of 'Alice in Wonderland'? Crispin and Pete: Better than what? The book? That would be a daunting task. Orson: It's already been made by the Czechoslovakians. Katie: I have cut the faces off all my dolls-we have forgotten who we are.

Do you use drugs to help you create your music? Crispin: No, I use them to get away from it. Orson: I use all I have been scarred with to create-drugs, love, sorrow, joy. I need no specific help. Katie: ---- Pete: No.

[2manyflannels]

2, 6, 9, and 10 for therion!!! (I hope I did this right)

OTP: Alfyn/Therion

I know. I know basic. They just hit !! Every travel banter they have together I’m giggling, kicking my feet, twirling my hair.

Also, it’s been said before and will be said again as trust issues vs trust too much, and how they balance

Chefs kiss

The way they care AHHHASVBHf;uiabegfdvhucj aferuwdjpsVCbh8pg9urjsdnuxj

(It also doesn’t help that they’re the most popular on AO3 so they have the most content) 

BROTP: Therion and Primrose

Another pick that is a pretty lukewarm take. They’re besties

They are the most sassiest sardonic pessimistic bitches

They need each other in this group. Or they’ll be overwhelmed by all these sunshiney bitches

They’re the type of besties to check their nails while verbally destroying a bitch.

MLM/WLW s

Favorite Dynamic (s) (Not Necessarily the same as OTP or BROTP)

Besides the alfion and primrose dynamics I do like the general dynamic of the “PATH” travelers. They’re the disastrous double-date to the chaotic family road trip of the “OCTO” travelers.

Tressa and Therion are really funny to think about. They bicker, a lot. The natural rivalry of merchant/thief. 

*to Heathcoat* “You can’t tell me what to do your not Olberic….AND OLBERIC’S NOT MY DAD”

My LGBTQ+ HCS:

uh that boy is 

1) gay

2) trans (he/they)

(but we already knew that)

Random HC

Not to be a Debby-downer, but I do believe that he (like Phili) is a war orphan. I think that his parents died, and that's why he had to learn how to fend for himself so quickly.

General Opinion (I love all the main 8 dearly, but I will answer asks about side characters if prompted)

I love you bebee! 

I love his arc. 

Even though I knew it was coming I did gasp when Darius pushed him off the cliff. 

I feel like he is one of the characters who would benefit from the concept of the travelers interacting with one another and discussing that outside of travel banter, as much as I like the Cordelia-Heathcoat trust, I don’t think that was enough for him to suddenly have faith in people again. I think the unwavering found family he hypothetically gained.

I get why he’s the most popular character in the fandom. He is a tragic edgy boy. The rough exterior soft interior somehow never gets old

–

Number asks!!!:

2: 

More people than he’d ever fucking expect y’know.

 He is the type to care from a distance, but how he shows he cares is really meaningful.

Of course Cordelia and Heathcoat depended on him, and I think even after he returned the dragon stones, they stayed in contact and asked each other for aid time and again. 

I think in a group of a lot of yes-men (Alfyn, Ophilia, Tressa, Cyrus) it’s really helpful (while not always appreciated) to have a loud and stubborn “No man”. (Trust issues suck but they do come in hand) 

Also in The Travelers, I think everyone depends on everyone. No one is not doing their part in the group project y’know. 

6:

He had his purple scarf before Darius, which means it’s something he’s had for a long time. Possibly a remnant of their parents, or maybe the first thing besides food that they stole for himself. 

9:

They don’t. Therion is the type to feel emotions and then immediately repress them. He is a trainwreck of trauma repression, and I think it takes him a long time to feel comfortable expressing himself again, even after traveling with the octogang for a long time. He’s the type to have a bad day and punch a tree. I think once he gets some healthier coping mechanisms in him they’ll open up little by little, especially to Alfyn and Primrose.

10: 

With one eye open. He is on guard. You know how people say that for some animals sleeping openly is a sign of trust. It’s the same for him. He stays on watch until he’s certain no one is up to stab him and run. When he does sleep, it’s rough. A single noise can wake him, and he has constant flashes of Darius, the cliff incident, and other people who’ve probably treated him horribly. It’s not a fun time until let’s say it together now “he gets healthier coping mechanisms”.  

When he does gain a healthier sleep schedule, he sleeps more peacefully but is still a light sleeper and an early riser. 

He also goes to bed later because anyone can tell you it’s easier to steal in the dark.

[lausticzt]

my canon timeline consists of

The 57th Exterior Scouting Mission arc,

MPs trying to retain their hold on Eren and putting Laura as a representative to make sure the Survey Corp don't just run off with Eren should their expedition fail (they fucking right though-) because she's the only one with experience for the expeditions and titans ; and god does she hate that.

During the Female Titan arc., I think she's warmed up to Eren by this point. Because god does he remind her of herself, but also that rage of humanity and fight that she once held; though his more honourable then her previous self.

She wouldn't want him to be executed by then. She'd want to buy them more time to figure something out. They wouldn't tell her details of their plan, of course, because what happens in Stohess was inexcusable. God she'd be so unbelievably pissed and once again, her distain for the survey corps would rise; but she's also in too deep -- those remnants of her old self are back, and it's not so easily distinguished. She has loyalty in her heart for people she actually cares about.

Evacuation and the aftermath of the fight are where her priorities are redirected; because you know she'd want to kill the Titan herself, and its a battle of protecting people and fighting. But she also will support Niles decisions ; she was still an MP.

Clash of the Titans arc

The events in Wall Rose afterwards she's not involved in much ; not on the frontlines. Finding out Eren is kidnapped, she'd want to go -- because o h shit, that's right, she cares about these people now, because oh look she can actually show care for the soldiers younger then her ; she doesn't really care much that he's a titan and his role is important, he's just important as he is, human, with passion in his eyes and heart. ** on the fence whether she goes or stays with nile -

Royal Government arc

She would liaise with the Survey Corps behind MPs backs, because her heart was always with them; or rather, for her its no longer about sides, but doing what she feels is right to her.

She has such an active role when it comes to the nobles in the next arc. and especially the MPs. Because her actions aren't unnoticed. And her father has high connections in the government. First Interior Squad knows what's up. And also, the reveal of the anti-odm gear would be something she would never approve of ; for someone who'd criticise the survey corps, having things meant to take them out would make her protective. Even killing Erwin wasn't okay in her eyes ; and she has a lot to say about that man, and never anything pleasant.

If she tried to conceal Eren's location, or help the survey corps in any way, she'd out herself, and be seen as a traitor alongside them. She knows of Historia, watched over the 104th Training Corps members, the new levi squad, as much as she could. If there's interrogation, it's definitely outside of Nile's knowledge ; but, at least, all the beauty she was known for would take a huge hit. She'd be released when the coup happens, her hair ripped and uneven, and definitely shorter once she tends to it. She loses a few nails of her own ; and isn't especially keen to be touched in the aftermath. Except, if it came to Historia, who she finds herself understanding given her childhood, and the lack of love they both shared ; also, for real though, Laura also looks a lot like frieda which I never noticed until rewatching it - but also, they hold themselves so differently that they also don't look anything alike on that alone. and yes, the younger ones are also fine, she isn't a touchy person but god, knowing they are safe? she ignored the pit in her stomach to hug them.

Return to Shiganshina arc

She's going on that mission to shiganshina and no, you're not stopping her. I need her there for her own reflection on the past she tried to forget, and also because you know who's fucking going on that mission ; marlo, her absolute boy. You can bet the death of all the new, younger recruits, was hard on her; as someone who is now developed to nurture and protect the newer generation (she's only 28 but that means old in the aot universe its hard to survive) ; the cart titan? it had to go, die, she will end you. bastards don't get to do all this and have an escape option. The option over Erwin and Armin? She actually shows restraint and maturity for once in her life, despite yes, having blade in hand, because the choice is only Armin, you're wrong, she also leaves the choice to the others ; and puts trust that it will be the right one.

everyone in the walls are basically united now, so there's no differing factions.

Marley arc

still a w.i.p but she's going to have to beat some sense into this little shit- oh hey cart titan, still eyeing you but we fineee. thank god laura doesn't drink, only on the rarest of occasions like before the return to shiganshina. Niles death would hit her deep. She was always about only protecting the people she cared about, so she understands eren's motivation, but she's also not about killing families and children ; next generation is all they can put hope in to fix the world, that means on both sides - no euthanasia plan (it wouldn't affect her anyway; she lost the chance to have anymore kids during the fall of wall maria). She'll rebuild the outside world ; because at least there's nothing here that can contain her anymore, she can just live freely ; which means healing from everything up until this point, another struggle in its own, but thankfully theirs a lot more people who need a lot more support, so you're stuck with her.

bonus:

The Fall of Shiganshina arc

she's a complete mess and mostly hospitalised for many months ; don't visit her, she has nothing but hate and no will to keep going, and she's finally succumb to her biggest fear; failure. as a mother, as someone strong, as someone who held any hope in their exploration of the outside; of any true freedom to be found. it would always get taken so long as they kept pushing back against titans. Also, a year later, when she's newly appointed to the MPs .

OVA / ACWNR

she's within the timeline of this ova, which is extremely entertaining for me because - underground criminals? in her dorms? suspicious, up to something, she's fucking watching you. Isabel would, unfortunately, grow on her a bit ; but also be the one who continuously gives her grief and vice versa, but out on the field you have to protect your own, background and personality preference aside. it's not stalking ; it's making sure you don't get in the way, or do anything shady. bet you have a knife on you at all times. try it on me, dare you. they good with ODM? ... fuckers. bastards. scoundrels. now she's out training again until her bones break. won't be outclassed, only she can be the strongest.

[nanabrainrot]

3. The Bitch to Scratch

Summary: What do you mean you don’t know what pet play is?

Pairing: Dark!Bruce Wayne/Housewife!Reader

Warnings: praise kink, misogyny, codependence, toxic marriage, petplay, usage of puppy and dehumanizing names, piv sex, she/her pronouns and afab reader, anal play

When Bruce tells you he has a surprise, you groan. It’s more of a “I’m throwing some strange kink on you” than it is a surprise for your enjoyment. A surprise is defined as an unexpected event, he once said to you when you began to bicker.

This was unexpected.

The guest room was fucking pink now. You had never been noted for your femininity, though this was… was unbecoming. You had taken note of some noise as you saw a delivery truck bringing things when he sent you to get your nails and lashes done a day or so ago but the pink toile wall paper, the furry pink heart print on a white rug in the middle of the room, a new desk in the corner with some random office chair were all new but the pink interior was the least of your concerns: Bruce built a fucking big Victorian looking dog house in the middle at the wall.

You feel your stomach drop to your ass and your heart still in your chest at the sight. Bruce was always one to add and suggest strange things to keep your sex life up to par, but… a big ass dog house in your guest room had to be a joke. “Why’re you just standing there? Go up to it,” he shortly quipped, flicking your behind playfully (earning an irked glare as usual). So… you did. The floor creaked beneath you, shuffling up to it like a ghost was going to jump out. It was a bit on the short side, so you ducked a little to walk in to find the shit inside was still pink.

A big fluffy pink doggy bed with something on it, some tiny box television that only played dvds, and a wall with only a leash, dog ears, and a buttplug with a tail were hanging on it. The inside was reminiscent of the exterior, obviously custom commissioned to mimic a pretty Victorian cottage, and the inside was all pink vinyl siding. It’s dark in the room except for the light of the pink princess box television playing a dvd of his favorite movie, Scarface. Of course its his favorite rather than yours.

“You don’t want to see what’s on your bed, bitch?”

“Bitch?” you whip around, only to be met with him looming over you, with only a pair of pajama pants hanging off his hips. His shirt got discarded on the desk. “Bitch. It’s a female dog,” he smiles like explaining colors to a toddler, “that’s what you are.” A part of you wants to argue, but have already surmised bickering to only extend whatever he has in store. You shake your head and huff, too annoyed to bicker and barter, and move to sit in front of the doggy bed on the ground and pick up the pile of discarded fabrics on the doggy bed.

Lingerie. But it’s not just lingerie. Under the layers of lacy violet is a collar with the name “Bruce’s” on it in big gold letters. Script font. He’s such a dick. Your neck doesn’t bother to crane back. You don’t wanna see the smirk. “You don’t want me to put this on, do you?”

“I do. And you will.”

The lace is balconette, your tits hanging over the useless underwire, a garterbelt settled on your waist and gliding over your crotchless lace g-string to the lace thigh highs, all a shocking violet. You aren’t even blushing, but wearing a scowl and he’s having a ball. His face has that winner’s smirk as he rolls the buttplug between his fingers, then wiggling his figure for you to walk over on the floor.

You take a step and he frowns. You stop. “Bitches don’t walk. Crawl.” You wage your consequences of smothering him tonight. Glaring, you get on all fours and crawl to him on the floor of the custom kennel where he sat on the doggy bed grinning.

“Gonna put your ears on puppy,” he coos. Jesus, he’s going insane. The wire slides through your hair and sits behind your ears. You should bite him. He smiles at you in a tender way, pleased by your obedience and vulnerability, hands holding your face and thumbs caressing your face. Despite the agitation, you find your face hot with being flustered at his touch. “Turn around, bitch.” There it is. You scowl again and stick your tongue out.

You turned on all fours, stiffly waiting for whatever he was going to do to happen, before heaving him spit heavily on something.

The buttplug is cold when it goes in.

You yelp helplessly at the intrusion, jolting only to be grounded by his firm hand on your hip. It’s cold inside still. You feel the furry tail of the buttplug lay on your thighs as both his hands go to start kneading at the flesh of your ass, staring stupidly at your shaky form. “Lay on your belly here, puppy,” he says in a soft shaky voice. You look back as you go to crawl up on the big dog bed with him and lay on your belly facing the television (though this does nothing due to his habit of pushing your face into the mattress). He doesn’t like foreplay, you note.

His cock intrudes into the warmth of your cunt, groaning at the tightness and hot feeling. Your cry is buried in the dog bed, the pink fur warm against your cheek as your eyes go hazy already. “I’m gonna put your collar on, puppy,” he grunts, hips thrusting shallowly into the hole, but given his size even shallow thrusts take you far (with much shame). You hear his unclasping on the collar, then feel firm fabric push against your throat, hear another clasp, and the collar remains taught against your throat.

“Good puppy,” he rasps out, grabbing harshly on your hips and bucking harder at the lewd sight. As time passed, he noticed your compliance and willingness to be put in submission. No amount of bribing and coercion did it, but you strangely never told him no to sex. In your premarital years, you were both virgins and just a few months into your relationship with him, you were fully fixated on sex, on pleasure. In Bruce’s opinion - the only correct stance - a wife was a prize of pleasure. He had already been watching you a long while by then, already had fate in his hands to mold you.

And look at you now.

Internally, you want this finish. Bruce’s biggest flaw is his stamina. You came sufficiently from just pentration, “lucky” you, but the thing is long after you’d already had your fill, Bruce’s fixation on lasting long would leave him still bucking as you squirmed and panted under him. Today is not different. You can’t crane back at him because the collar would hurt your neck, but know his eyes are trained on the screen as he fucks you from behind on your belly, his head and veiny shaft sliding in and out of your gummy hole.

“Nng,” you rasp, “how l-long will you take?” His hands press hard on your sides and he slams as hard as he can inside, beating into your cervix and earning a loud yelp. His head moves close to your head, only to your knowledge from his hot breath in your ear. “However long I want it to.”

Bruce isn’t a bad fuck, not anymore. Your virginity had taken 1 second to lose with him; he had put the tip in and frantically pulled out to cum on your belly all those years ago. Today, you were pushing an hour into Scarface with him fucking into you. His breath is hot and shallow, the veins of his cock scraping against it, filling you up and emptying you in steady short strokes. “Pleashe,” you breathe desperately in a broken breath into the mattress, mascara dribbling down your face and a puddle of drool already in the doggy bed, “can’t take much more, Brucie baby.”

You only used your pet name for him when you needed something. Bruce knew this and grinned hard before saying, “Don’t give up on me now, sweetheart.”

In a swift movement he pulls your hips up off the doggy bed, letting his left hand sit on your hip, while the right yanked your hair back. Your yelp overwhelms the sound of the television as he sets a brutal pace, your body almost like a ragdoll as you feel like putty in his hands. Vision white and your belly hot, you feel like your going to come for the umpteenth time and try to shake your head despite his right hand yanking at it. “No, no! I can’t keep going please! It’s too much, too much - Brucie!”

He stills only because he’s had his fill, hips taut to yours. Your jaw slack and eyes blown wide with overstimulation at your pussy’s abuse. And he doesn’t pull out, but gently pushes down your shoulder blades until your chest was pressed to the doggy bed. He comes down too, his chest to your back, and circles his arms around your neck to let your head lay on his forearms like a pillow. His gifts keep bucking, keeping the hole plugged up to keep his cum hot. You’re shaking pathetically and still softly mewling with glazed eyes. His lips find your cheek, pressing kiss after kiss with a mild, euphoric grin on them.

“Good puppy,” he groans in your ear, still lazily humping your cunt, “you’ll always be my pretty little puppy.”

[hazard-and-friends]

6/2 NW3

Trial reflection pt 1 of 2: The trial itself

6 searches, two each interior and container, one each exterior and vehicle. the day's flow struggled a bit because they wildly underestimated how long ext and vehic were going to take, but we were dog #2, so we got through 4 searches before lunch.

exterior. this was, fascinatingly, the exact same area as our NW1 exterior, and the single hide was in a similar location. he came out ready to work and found it reasonably fast; I then kept him moving around the search area until the timer called 30 seconds. he gave me a complete heart attack by sniffing a clump of grass and ALMOST hiking a leg. spent the rest of the day convinced we'd left a hide there because I refused to let him check the area again. but no, just the one. 1/1 hides.

vehicles. I am seeing a trend where in 4 of 4 vehicle searches at trials he takes fucking forever to decide to search the cars and instead wants to check out literally anything else. he did eventually tune in and did correctly find the hide. on the other hand, we've passed 4 of 4 vehicle searches so you know. 1/1 hides.

containers 1. 16 sterilite shoeboxes, two hides on opposite ends of the same row, no distractions. he got one hide but not the other; I want to see the video from this search because I think he expressed interest in the correct box, just failed to commit to it. on the other hand no falses. 1/2 hides.

interiors 1. BIGASS ROOM. half of a cafeteria, chair rack on one wall, long wall with some shelving, a single table & chairs, a garbage can. lots and lots of open space. 3 hides, one on the chair rack, one a few feet away on the shelving--he nailed both of these. nice and confident. then faffed about until the 30 second warning. 3rd hide was on the garbage can, 0 interest in it. 2/3 hides.

at this point we had a longass break, partially for lunch and partially to let everyone else finish ext/vehic. we had apparently already missed out on a leg but i didn't know this.

5. containers 2. absolute mindfuck. 8 toolboxes, 1 hide, no distractors, AND the hide was in the very first box. he alerted, i called it, i experienced a 3 year extension to my life when the judge said "yes" because i was SURE it was a false, he checked the other boxes, i made him check them again to be sure, finish. 1/1 hides.

6. interiors 2. another BIGASS SPACE. one half of a livestock barn (fuck u, says everyone running spaniels). hazard demonstrated again that distractors come second to odor (amazing, phenomenal, perfect, 10/10 no notes). he found the hide, then went to check out the manure. I recognized this and called finish. 1/1 hides.

overall: 7 of 9 hides, 2 missed, 0 falses. my goal was 0 falses, so success there, and 1 fewer error than last NW3.

have we fixed his containers problem? maybe. I don't know. I think we now also have a vehicles problem, but he's passed every vehicles search he's done, just while giving me an anxiety attack, so idk.

no shiny ribbons but we're now only one clean search away from our elements titles in int, cont, and vehic. (need two more in ext.) so.....progress.

[lazarettta]

Misthios III

Characters (Mother Miranda, Alcina Dimitrescu, Reader)

Word count (2k)

Rating (T)

Warning (straight zooted, none)

Countess Dimitrescu takes you home.

Any mistakes you find, blame it on the herbs.

Only taking a few steps from your holding cell, you were startled with what awaited you.

You weren't sure what to expect when you were about to meet Lady Dimitrescu but what you got wasn't on the top of your list; her inhuman beauty or her height. She was taller than tall and for a split second you actually gawked at the woman before remembering yourself and thankfully your jaw snapped shut inaudibly but she'd already caught you.

“This is (Y/n), take her to your castle and keep her there until I call.” You frowned at her words, you weren't some goddamn pet to keep and she had another thing coming if she thought that you were just going to sit around twiddling your thumbs. Miranda stopped next to the tall woman near the door and a small torch light, “Not a scratch, Alcina.”

“Of course, Mother Miranda.” She seemed amused and she clearly wasn't as human as she portrayed herself to be. You'd place a bet wagering that she is one of the myths you haven't yet tracked down...but which one?

Miranda didn't spare you another glance and she was gone within a blink of an eye, leaving you two alone, you cleared your throat bringing the woman's honey eyes to you again. “But you will refer to me as lady Dimitrescu.”

Keeping up with Alcina's long strides down the dreary pathway wasn't an easy feature especially given that the hallway itself was narrow and you didn't really have any interest in touching the walls. They were wet but it did not look or smell like water. Eventually the woman came to a stop, right in front of an iron door that turned out to be an elevator shaft—a bit like the ones used when mining was still a thing.

Prison cells in some abandoned underground mining tunnels, Miranda? Always so dark and mysterious...

The silence between you both was thick and a bit awkward and you could feel her caution and curiosity rolling off of her in waves and you knew that she was occasionally glancing at you because you were doing the same thing while you both waited for the elevator shaft to come down. This place just continued to get more and more curious—what other wonders was this village in the mountains hiding away from the rest of the world? But you were quick to chastise yourself for the thought, curiosity always killed the cat, (Y/n)...

“Yes,” her voice was low and deep this time opposed to the thunderous tone she was using earlier, “but satisfaction brought it back.”

You hadn't been aware that you spoke out loud. Having allowed yourself to be distracted with your thoughts that you failed to take notice of how much more observant the other woman became towards you the minute you both loaded onto the old shaft. Though the old thing hardly made a sound under lady Dimitrescu's weight despite the fact that in order to enter she had to duck a little for herself and her large brimmed hat.

Shoving your hands in your pocket, you turned slightly to look up at her making sure to keep your eyes above those pearls wrapped around her pale neck and accenting that decolletage—no doubt purposely done. “Ah, I haven't had that recited back to me in a very long time.”’

“Then you’re not keeping the right company.”

Your mouth twitched around a smile before you schooled it away, “That would be true if I actually had any friends...or family.”

Lady Dimitrescu raised an eyebrow, not that you’d see it because of her hat casting a shadow over a majority of her face, “Handsome thing like you without friends or family? Doubtful. Surely you have someone waiting for you? You seem like the type to have a maiden or two at your feet.”

This time you couldn’t push back your smile, you knew that she was fishing for some answers about your character—and no doubt trying to figure out why Miranda thought you were special enough to be placed under her word of protection, as if you actually needed it.

But that was all fine because you’d do the same thing, in fact you already were but you’d give her something—an inevitable piece of information that will come to light soon enough. She was already suspicious so it really was just a matter of you beating her to the punchline.

“Nope, none of the above. People just have this pesky little habit of dying on me.”

She chuckled, low and deep and you felt it a bit (and fuck was this the longest elevator ride you’ve ever been on), “Oh I know of that nuisance all too well myself.”

“Do you now?”

“Oh quite dear.” There was a bit of a sinister flare to her tone behind that innocent smile and shrug she tried to sell you. “One could even say it's my favorite pastime.”

And right as you were about to press another question the shaft came to a screeching halt, oh…how convenient. You swore you saw Lady Dimitrescu outright grinning before she ducked out ahead of you, if you didn’t know better you’d say she read your mind.

The moment you stepped out of the shaft and through the opening of the alcove, you were severely unprepared for the harsh winter wind or how well into the evening it’s become and the conversation earlier was placed on the backburner.

Less than two hundred feet away there was a stagecoach waiting with four black horses attached. The stagecoach was all black with gold trimmings, a style fit for royalty—you’ve seen enough of them in your lifetime to know.

There was a young man half frozen next to it as he waited for Lady Dimitrescu’s approach, nearly stuttering out all of his teeth to greet her but she hardly paid him any attention, gracefully ducking inside. The young man gawked at you as you entered the coach behind his employer but was quick to close the door after you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, the tips of your ears heating up when you had to brush past her crossed legs to sit on the bench across from her and she made no effort to move, only watching you while smoking from her cigarette stick.

The stagecoach had a bigger interior than the exterior let on, accommodating the dark haired beauty perfectly. Though she was sitting at a sideways angle she seemed very comfortable and she was easily dumping the ashes outside of the cracked window.

“Is there anyway to get my things back…it had a majority of my clothes in there.” Or get back to your camp—it was probably ruined by now, either by wild animals or nature itself.

“We will accommodate you at the castle.” Her gaze was on you again but you were busy looking out of the window down at the village, now that it was nightfall everyone had their lights on—it was bigger than what you expected. “I don’t suppose you like dresses?”

~~

As you suspected, the inside of her castle was just as massive and beautiful in it's antiquity as it was on the outside. The estate was kept in pristine condition and you were honestly impressed with what you saw. But it was really warm though not uncomfortably so. You two had barely stepped into the lobby of her castle with you mostly admiring how easily she was able to bend at the waist without batting an eye to get through a door that wasn't custom sized for her. She seemed used to it but you wondered why she didn't correct the doors.

“Hmm. Nice castle but why is it so warm? I might have to sleep with a window open.” you joked, still taking in everything and you had yet to notice how your words affected your host.

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned on you so fast you actually did run into the taller woman. Your entire face was lost in a world of firm fluffiness and your senses were filled with the very essence of Lady Dimitrescu. Though before you could scramble away with an apology on the tip of your tongue, Lady Dimitrescu was moving before you and she had reached down and she fisted the back of your parka and kept you right where you were, close and trapped.

You were forced to look up at her between her bust, or let them suffocate you, and she was already looking down at you with a hard look but you had no idea what the hell you did.

“You open a window in my castle and you won't be sleeping at all, guest to Mother Miranda be damned.” she snarled, her tone steely and you had no choice but to listen—even if she didn’t have you in a death grip, “The windows are off limits. Do not open them. Do not touch them. Are we clear?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, still struggling against her unyielding hold and against your rising temper, “What the—”

“Do you understand?” she tightened her grip on the back of your clothing, forcing the collar of every layer you wore to constrict around your throat at an alarming fast rate.

“Understood.” you gritted, your blunt nails digging her soft flesh beneath your hands that was her stomach but you doubted that your nails were as deadly as hers. You didn't bother to tell her that it was a joke and you were quick to straighten yourself out as you caught your balance when she released you with a bit of a pull against your parka forcing you away from her. You cursed her in your native tongue but her attentions were now focused on something to your left—no, on someone.

“Ah, good! Servant, come here,” a young girl no older than twenty quickly came over, bowing her head awkwardly.

“Y-yes Lady Dimitrescu, how may I serve—”

Alcina cut in quickly as if she had better things to do, and she did, “You're not serving me tonight, girl. This (Y/n). She will be staying in the guest room to the left of the wine room and you will be tending to her every need for the duration of her stay, and I do mean her every need.” though her tone was cheerful there was an undertone of a threat if her instructions went under-performed. Alcina winked at you as she hadn't almost choked you out in the middle of her foyer.

“Yes ma'am, I understand.”

The maiden nearly nodded her head from her shoulders. She was so terrified. If you were blind you would've assumed it was her first day, but a good portion of you knew that it was something else—you remembered quite well how Miranda preferred to run her own kingdom and you weren't surprised that this woman had similar tastes.

“Keep your pleasantries. Just show me to my room and leave me before I really lose my fucking temper.” you snarled at both of them, namely the Lady of the castle. You were able to physically restrain yourself from starting a brawl with this woman but your mouth has almost always gotten you into more than half the situations that left marks all over your body.

Lady Dimitrescu looked back to you, tilting her head back slightly as if she was just finally taking notice of how hard you were glaring at her. She did not know why as it could've been for a number of things that have happened within the last five minutes.

Alcina's eyes shifted from you to the trembling maiden between the two of you, then back to you again, “Are we going to have an issue, (Y/n)?” and clearly misunderstanding the reason for your ire.

You scoffed knowing when to pick your battles and how she handles her staff was not one of them. But how she handled you was, “Manhandle me again and we will.”

The maiden gasped at your audacity and flinched sharply when Alcina chuckled while setting her hand on her hip. She found more and more curious and she was starting to see why Miranda liked you so much before. There was a spirit that burned inside of you—strong and rattling in its cage, she could see it in your eyes even as you restrained yourself.

The maiden opened her eyes when she didn't feel the whoosh of Lady Dimitrescu slapping you through the wall, she was surprised to see you still standing there alive. The maiden looked at you in awe before bowing her head, “P-please follow me, ma'am.”

Alcina still stood there with her hand on her hip and another one of her cigarettes was lit, watching you follow the little maiden through one of the side doors when a familiar buzzing made itself known until Bela was standing next to her, snuggled close as she wiped the blood from her mouth with the sleeve of her black shift. It needed to be washed anyway.

“Mother, who is that? Another meal?”

“No,” Alcina answered softly, reaching down with her free hand to push back Bela's hood so she could comb out a few tangles in her eldest daughter's blonde hair, “But she is very interesting, isn't she?”

“Yes, but who is she?” Bela asked again, this time looking up at Alcina.

“Perhaps a friend, or foe, that has yet to reveal itself. But for now, go and collect your sisters dear and meet me in my study...I wish to talk to them about something more pressing.”

Bela was gone in an instant, the synchronized buzzing of dozens of blowflies disappearing quickly leaving Alcina alone with her thoughts.

Here is a link to the Ao3 version of this story...if it's easier than tumblr...

[heavenseed76]

The Helmet

Rated: T for swearing

For Writer Wednesday

Non-descript. That was the only word he could give the place he left his heart. He thought his death would be painful, bleeding out on a battlefield, blood and glory. A warrior’s death. Not this. Not the empty, hollow feeling left when you carved his heart out of his chest and took it with you.

Every door was the same, except for the numbers, wooden and dust-covered, attached by a single nail. He moved down the corridor silent as ever, stopping where he knew you to be. He was a calculating man. He had stood on the street opposite this door for more than a day, watching. Waiting. Counting windows and measuring walls, to be sure he knew which door was yours. A glimpse of you closing your curtains had made him drop further into the shadows.

A glint of something in the alley as you closed your curtains for the night had given you pause, but you would be damned if you’d give your heart the satisfaction of looking twice. Fuck him and fuck his shiny armor. Squeezing your eyes closed you pushed back the coil of longing for your own reflection in the familiar lines and planes of his beskar chest plate, broken by the rhomboid kart’a. Where you’d place your ear to hear his heartbeat and -

Cutting yourself off from that train of thought you flopped on the bed and grabbed the data pad from the bedside table, the blue glow the only light in the room as you turned out the light. Several pages into your novel you heard it. Soft clicks against the entry pad to your apartment. The effervescent fizz of wiring being cut.

He had taught you too well for it to work. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you waited. How dare he underestimate you. How dare he underestimate your training.

The lock clicked.

Nothing happened.

His heavy sigh was audible through the door.

A dull thud sounded, shaking the durasteel core of the faux-wooden exterior.

Outside, he looked as though he were about to be bound, gloved hands splayed against the door in surrender, helmeted head pressed against it in defeat. You had used every defense he had taught you to keep even the best hunter - himself - out of your home. He could picture you just as you were, sitting on your bed, blaster in your hand, ready for him, should your defenses fail.

“Cyar’ika?” He asked finally. “Please? I just.. can we talk?”

You run your thumb over the clean lines of your blaster, oiled and tuned just like he trained you all those years ago. He sounds tired.

“No. Mando.” You keep your voice level. He can’t hear you break, not now.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Cyar’ika. I am nothing without you. I’m not a Mandalorian. I’m not even a man.” You can hear him slide down the door, the weight of him dropped against it on the floor outside. Hearing you call him Mando… it twists against something vital inside him and he bleeds. He’d given you his name and you refused to use it anymore.

The threadbare carpet… the muted pastels of the paint on the walls… the strangely breast-shaped lights in front of each doorway. It spoke of simplicity, familiarity, cozy domesticity. Everything he was not. It was kitschy. It was far removed from the utilitarian, sterile and impersonal interior of the Razor Crest. He could imagine your apartment was more of the same. This was not his world. You belonged here. And there was no place in this world for him. That something twists again… he bleeds more.

“Are you happy here? Tell me you’ll be okay and I’ll go. I… I won’t…. bother you again….” His voice is defeated.

He feels the air shift more than he hears you come closer to the door. The shadow of you is cast onto the carpet beside him as you press your forehead into the last barrier between you. You are inches and a million miles away from each other.

“You can’t toss a detonator into my life whenever you get jealous or you don’t like one of my friends or whatever, Mando. I’m not going to chase you across the galaxy. I can’t wait for you to decide what you want. I’ve waited years for you. And you break my heart every time. I pick up the pieces and tell myself it’s worth it… But you can’t love me enough to give up who you are for me. I’m done giving up who I am for you. I gave up everything, Mando. Every. Fucking. Thing.” The panic seeks to break you again. The loss of your family, your home, your life, all left behind for the man on the other side of the door. You swallow it down.“I need you to stop pretending. Stop. Just. Let me go. This is it, Mando. This is it.”

Minutes pass. Hours. The sun begins to draw pink streaks across the sky and you finally hear him stir on the other side of the door.

“I am nothing without you, cyar’ika. If you don’t want me, I’ll respect that. But I’m here if you need anything. You have the ship’s comm. I love you cyar’ika.” His voice breaks. You can hear him make him way down the hallway, no longer silent.

You leave the blaster next to the door and take your aching bones back to the bed. Something besides your heart nags you, though. Your resolve is solid. This was always the way it would end. You had planned this escape from this toxic relationship for months, and you finally felt free. This had been your final test, and you passed. So why did it feel as though there was something left dangling?

Rubbing your tired eyes you try to set it aside, but his voice replays in your mind. His voice. His unmodulated voice, telling you he loves you.

You rush to the door and unlock it with keypad, yanking it open. The hallway is empty, except for the Mandalorian’s helmet sitting in your doorway, hollow and alone.

[rafecameron]

evasion

Summary: You don’t understand why your best friend is suddenly avoiding you like the plague, but once he confesses his reasons you have a decision to make.

Pairing: Topper Thornton x Reader

Word count: 4.2K

Warnings: alcohol, a little bit of angst

*GIF is mine*

Topper had never been as tough as he’d made out to be. His interior was soft and his heart was easily broken that’s why after Sarah he vowed to himself he’d never fall in love again. So when he found himself falling for his best friend he unconsciously started distancing himself. Making excuses as to why he couldn’t hang out, letting texts go unanswered for days. He hadn’t meant to do it, but his mind was so scared of going through the pain again it decided the best option was to block everything out. That meant you’d suddenly gone from seeing him everyday, to clinging onto his arm as you walked and falling into each other due to laughter to not hearing from him for days on end. To watching him make an excuse and leave whenever you would show up.

At first you didn’t think much of it. Maybe he really did have a family dinner to go to or plans with Kelce he had forgotten about until now. But after a couple of weeks you started to believe that he wasn’t just forgetting important events and that he was in fact avoiding you. And you couldn’t figure out why. Had you done something or said something to make him upset with you? You’d never fallen out with Topper before, sharing your fair few tiffs with Rafe and Kelce over the years, Topper was always the one that stuck around no matter what. So why was he now avoiding you like you were some deadly disease.

You make your way through Rafes house and out to his garden where you knew your friends would be. Kelce was swimming laps in the pool, Rafe was talking animatedly into his phone and Topper was lounging on a sun bed watching them both. He looked over and caught your eyes, offering what seemed to be a half hearted smile in your direction.

You stroll over to him, determined to talk to him and get things back to normal. You missed your best friend. But as you get closer you notice him glance down at his watch and sit up, worry seeping through your body at his actions.

“Hey, Top.” You offer him a small wave and a nervous smile.

“Uh hey,” he replies as he stands up from his sun bed, “Sorry I actually have to go. Promised my mum I’d help with some things around the house.”

“Oh…” you watch him fumble around grabbing his things before he disappears into the house without a second glance. You knew he was lying, he never helped around the house and his mother would never ask him to. You avert your eyes over to Kelce who had stopped his swimming and was resting his arms against the side of the pool watching the interaction. The boy simply shrugs when your eyes meet his and he pushes back off the wall again.

You sigh and plop down onto the bed Topper had just vacated. You already wanted to slink off back home, Toppers quick departure and cold greeting enough to ruin any hopes you had of having fun today.

You’d asked Rafe and Kelce that day if they had noticed anything different, Rafe said no, though you were sure this was more because he couldn’t be bothered to get involved. But Kelce had noticed his friends' quick disappearances and feeble excuses for the past few weeks to why he couldn’t attend events he’d usually be all over. But he had no ideas as to why so you continued to be left in the dark.

After that day you couldn’t help but fall into a sulk. A frown prominent on your face every second you were around your friends. You didn’t mean to take it out on them but you couldn’t help it. Being around them made you think of Topper and thinking of your friend ignoring you caused your heart to drop and shatter.

It had been a little over a month since you’d even seen Topper now and you were moping more than ever.

“For gods sake y/n, would it kill you to smile a little?” Rafe groans as you sink into his couch with a face like thunder.

You shoot the boy a glare, “It might actually.” You huff.

“I can’t take this anymore, either you say something to him or I fucking will.” Rafe states matching your glare.

“You don’t think I’ve tried? He’s ignoring me Rafe, I can’t talk to someone who doesn’t want to know me.” You sigh out.

So Rafe decides to intervene, coming up with a simple plan to get you and Topper alone together so you could talk through whatever the hell was going on with him. He pushes you up the stairs and into the study, his phone perched between his ear and shoulder as Topper talks on the other end of it.

“He’s on his way, stay here.” Rafe instructs you, pulling the door halfway closed as he disappears back downstairs.

So you wait, pacing up and down the study, your lower lip being assaulted by your teeth. You’d never been nervous to see Topper before but now your hands were shaking and you couldn���t stop your heart beating out of your chest. It felt like you had been stuck in this study fretting over the inevitable meeting for the whole day but you knew it couldn’t have been more than half an hour.

Once you heard two voices getting closer you stopped pacing, turning to face the door. Soon enough Topper was stumbling through the door before it was slammed shut, the sound of the key turning in the lock. Topper hadn’t even noticed you, instead he banged on the door calling for Rafe to stop messing around and let him out. You cleared your throat and Topper's hand stopped on its way to the door again, he slowly turned and when his eyes met yours the colour seemed to drain from his face at the sight of you and your heart sank. You just couldn’t understand why he hated you so much all of a sudden.

“Can we talk?” You ask quietly.

“Rafe never said you’d be here.” Topper replies, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“I know. You wouldn’t have come if you’d known.” You state, you let out a sigh and turn to lean back against the desk, your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt as you looked down.

Topper stayed quiet, he didn’t even try to pretend he hadn’t been avoiding you which only served to hurt you more. You chewed on your lower lip, you’d rehearsed a whole speech in your head but now he was here you had forgotten all of your words.

“Why are you avoiding me?” You finally ask, lifting your eyes from your feet to look over at him again but his eyes aren’t on you, “Did I do something wrong?”

His head snaps round at that, eyes swimming with what looked like anger, “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Topper tells you adamantly, “Don’t think that.”

“Well what else am I supposed to think?” You ask your voice raising a little, “You haven’t spoken to me in over a month! How am I not supposed to think I’ve done something wrong?”

Topper let’s out a groan and runs his fingers through his hair, the frown constantly prominent on his face, “Look, it’s my problem, okay? You didn’t do anything.” He almost tells you, he almost spills out his feelings for you with the hope that you feel the same but before he has the chance to, you speak again and he knows he can’t tell you.

“You’re my best friend Topper! Please don’t shut me out.” You beg him.

Topper's frown is replaced by a look of sadness which he quickly recovers himself from, he shakes his head and turns to bang on the door again.

“Rafe, I know you’re listening asshole, let me out.” He kicks at the door and you lean back against the desk, willing the tears not to fall.

The door unlocks, an annoyed looking Rafe appearing behind it, “My dad will fucking kill me if you damage this door.” He frowns pushing past Topper to look down at where the boy had been kicking.

Topper takes that as his opportunity to slip out of the room and disappear down the hallway. You let the tears slip past your eyes now he’s gone, ignoring Rafe mumbling to himself about the door while you let yourself break down.

Once Rafe realises you’re crying he hurries over, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders a concerned look plastered across his face.

“He’ll come around, y/n.” He tries to reassure you but you just shake your head. You didn’t think he’d come round, you’d lost him forever and you had no idea why.

“He won’t, Rafe.” You sob out, “He hates me and he won’t even tell me what I’ve done wrong so I can fix it!”

You sob into Rafes chest, your body shaking with your cries as Rafe holds you silently. Rafe had never seen you upset before, he wasn’t very good with sympathy so whenever you were upset you would go to Topper. So Rafe held you awkwardly, trying his best to soothe you and tell you everything would be okay, but no matter what he said you couldn’t stop crying. No matter how many times he repeated that it would be okay and things would work out you just couldn’t believe him.

The next couple of weeks you spent mostly by yourself. You tried your best to get over your heart break by doing things to take your mind off Topper. You baked cookies - which were awful but still, you had tried - and you took care of yourself. You took long baths, read novels, plastered on face masks and hair masks, painted your nails. And it all made you feel good and a little less heart broken.

So when Rafe called inviting you to a party you didn’t even think twice about agreeing. Topper only entering your thoughts after you had hung up the phone. It was a waste of time wondering if he would be in attendance, of course he would be. But as confused and upset as you still were at him, you felt you could face him without breaking down when he inevitably ignores you.

You dressed up in your best dress, spending more time on your hair and make up than you usually would, wanting to take pride in your appearance. You hoped feeling confident in your exterior would make you feel stronger on the inside.

You arrived to Rafes house two hours after the party had started, your usual time of arrival. There was nothing worse than being at the start of the party while everyone was still awkward and sober. You entered the house, heading straight towards the kitchen to get a drink, you also knew that was the most likely place you’d find Rafe and Kelce.

You were right of course, Rafe was leant back against the kitchen island, Topper and Kelce in front of him chugging beers while the group around them cheered them on.

“Not missing the fun am I?” You ask as you appear beside Rafe.

“I was beginning to forget what you looked like.” Rafe joked pulling you into a one armed hug before quickly mixing you a too strong drink.

“Hi.” You smile over to the two boys who had finished downing their drinks. Kelce returns your greeting, Topper offering you the slightest of smiles before turning and placing his empty bottle on the counter beside you.

Topper ignoring you still hurt like hell but you were determined not to let him see it. If he was okay with not talking to you anymore you were going to pretend you were perfectly fine without him as well.

Drunk you however was not so confident she was okay without Topper. After four beers, two overly strong drinks from Rafe and three shots instigated by Kelce you were more than a little drunk and you were on a warpath to find your blonde friend - or ex-friend, you weren’t entirely sure which fitted best.

“You!” You slur out when you find him on the landing upstairs, you push against his chest causing yourself to stumble much more than the boy in front of you, “Why do you hate me?”

Topper frowns, grabbing at your hands and trying to steady you. He looks around the hallway nervously as you shout at him, quickly pulling you into Rafes room for privacy.

“Y/N, I think you should try and sleep.” Topper instructs you trying to lead you towards your friend's bed.

You shake your head and push him off of you, “No! I refuse to leave without answers. Why do you hate me? What did I do to you? Why can’t you just tell me instead of avoiding me, you’re killing me here Top!” You feel tears prick at your eyes and if you were sober you might have been able to subside them but now they were streaming down your face.

Topper sighs, he wants nothing more than to reach out and pull you into a hug. To comfort you, to hold you and promise none of this was your fault and that he loved you more than anything. But wanting to do that was what caused this problem in the first place.

You could see the hesitation on his face and you cross your arms, stomping your foot slightly like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Tell me Topper. I deserve to know.” You demand and Topper let’s out another sigh because he knows you’re right. He’s been distant and rude and you deserve more than that, so with his heart beating at a ridiculously fast pace he tells you the truth.

“You didn’t do anything,” he begins, quickly shutting you up with a wave of his hand when you start to talk over him. “You didn’t do anything.” He repeats himself, “I meant what I said when I said it was my problem. I was scared so I distanced myself from you.”

“Why were you scared?” You ask quietly when Toppers pause was too long for your liking.

“Because I didn’t want my heart to break again.” Topper lets out a slightly shaky breath, he suddenly seemed a lot more sober than you were, “I didn’t mean to, but I fell for you y/n. I fell hard and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship and I didn’t want to be rejected. I wanted the feelings to go away and I thought if I avoided you I might get over it.”

You find it hard to process what he’s saying in your drunken state, your brows furrowed as you tilt your head studying him.

“Topper I-“ you cut yourself off with another frown, your head shaking slightly, “I don’t know-“

“It’s fine.” Topper cuts in, his stance suddenly nervous, “I get it, you don’t feel the same. I shouldn’t have said anything… I - you should get some sleep.” He quickly turns and hurries from the room without a second glance.

You sit on the edge of the bed and lay back, eyes staring up at the ceiling as you try your best to work out what Topper had told you. He fell for you, but what is that supposed to mean? Was he in love with you? Were you in love with him? You had no idea how you felt, Toppers words were swirling round in your head and making you feel sick. You felt dizzy and confused and were thankful that the alcohol worked quickly to knock you out.

The next morning you wake with covers wrapped around you. Your head hurt but not as much as you imagined it would. You wished you had woken up blissfully unaware of last nights events, either from the excessive alcohol consumption of just from a fuzzy hangover. But you awoke remembering the events perfectly and the sick feeling quickly returned.

You turn onto your side, eyes peering down at your friend on the floor who was eyeing you with a smirk, “Morning, you look a mess.”

“Thanks Rafe.” You roll your eyes and pull the covers up to your chin, “One, never let me drink that much again and two, never leave me unattended when you inevitably fail number one.”

Rafe laughs and rolls onto his side leaning up on his elbow, “I refuse to take responsibility for your messiness, Kelce got the shots out.” He defends himself.

You let out a groan and drop your head down onto his pillows, “Something worse than the shots happened.” You admit quietly.

“Something worse than Kelce pouring double whiskey shots and forcing everyone to drink them? Must be pretty bad.” Rafe comments.

You bury your face into the pillows, “I found Topper,” you mumble out, “I confronted him and he told me he loved me and I didn’t fucking say anything.”

You weren’t sure if Rafe would understand your muffled confession but he did, you lift your head when he doesn’t reply only to find him staring up at you.

“Explains why he’s been avoiding you.” He says simply with a shrug.

You shoot him an incredulous look, “Is that all you can say?” You ask, voice a little high pitched in disbelief

“What?” Rafe asks defensively, “Do you want me to say you’re an idiot for not saying it back? Because you are.”

Your brows furry and you sit up fully, your head spinning from the sudden movement, “But I don’t know if I feel the same way.” You admit, “He’s my best friend…”

Rafe sighs and copies your movements, sitting up on his makeshift bed on the floor, “Do you want me to listen or do you want advice?” He asks.

You consider for a moment, it would be nice to sound out your thoughts with someone, but you knew Rafe well and despite the awful decisions he makes for himself he is good at giving advice. Rafe notices things other people don’t, he’s good at watching people and reading thoughts and he’d hate to hear you say it but sometimes he was like the mother of the group. Always sorting everyone’s problems while ignoring his own, so you ask for his advice.

“You’re in love with him.” He says simply.

You look down at him, waiting a beat for him to continue but shoot him a glare when he doesn’t, “Is that it? Your great wisdom?” You scoff.

Rafe rolls his eyes, bringing his knees up slightly and wrapping his arms around them, “You’ve been in love with him for a while. I can tell.”

“Rafe you aren’t helping.” You let out a groan.

“Think about it y/n! I’m your best friend too, right?” You nod so he continues, “You wouldn’t act the same if I started avoiding you. You wouldn’t sulk and cry, you’d come up to me and call me all the names under the sun and probably hit me. But you cried, because it hurt more because it’s Topper. You aren’t happy when he’s not around, Topper makes you happy. He always has. You love him, you're just too scared to see it, like he has been.”

You study Rafe for a moment considering what he’s said, was he right? Have you loved Topper all this time and just been too stubborn or blind (or likely both) to notice? You think back to your times with Topper, a slight smile on your face at the memories. Topper was the one you always sort out for cuddles. He was the one who’s hoodies you stole when it got cold, who’s house you slept over at the most. Topper was your rock and you had been lost without him. He made you comfortable, made you feel safe and secure. The swell of your heart when he’s around has nothing to do with the fact that he’s been your best friend for so long but has everything to do with the fact that you’re in love with him. Crazily, stupidly in love with him, and it took Rafe of all people to make you see it.

You slowly nod your head, “You’re right, Rafe. I’m in love with Topper.” You declare, a smile forming on your lips as you spoke.

“I’m always right you should know this by now.” Rafe rolls his eyes, “Now go tell him and leave me to sleep off this headache.” He lays back down and rolls over while you jump out of the bed.

You don’t care that you’re in your dress from the night before. You don’t care that your hair resembles a bird's nest and your make up is probably a mess. You don’t care about any of it, all you care about is telling Topper how you feel, and hoping your silence the night before hadn’t ruined everything.

You walk to Toppers, your feet sore from wearing your heels the night before so you walk barefoot, your shoes clutched in your hand as you stride determinedly towards the Thornton residence. You don’t think twice about knocking on the door until after your fourth pound, lip between your teeth as you imagine his mother’s face seeing you stood a mess on her doorstep. Prim and proper Mrs Thornton would not be too pleased with the sight, but luckily for you it was Topper who answered the door. Sleep is still evident in his eyes and messy hair when he appears in front of you.

“Y/N?” He asks rubbing sleep from his eyes, “What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Can i come in? I really need to talk to you.”

Topper sighs, leaning tiredly against his front door, “If this is about last night please just forget it.”

“I don’t want to forget it.” You protest.

“Please y/n. I’m too hungover for this,” he groans, you open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off, “Okay you want to talk about it? I’m sorry okay. I’m sorry I fell for you and I’m sorry I avoided you and I’m sorry I brought it up last night and ruined everything even more,” he rambles out, speaking a little louder each time you open your mouth to speak, “I’m an idiot, and you don’t feel the same, it’s fine.”

“Topper-“

“I mean it’s not fine, far from fine actually. But I’ll get over it. I just hope you don’t hate me forever because of it.”

“Top-“

“Can you just forget I ever said anything? I’ll stop avoiding you and I’ll try and just forget everything.”

“Topper!” You shout finally getting him to stop his ramblings and look at you wide eyed.

You stand in silence for a couple of seconds, you trying to sort out in your head what you should say, Topper looking at you desperately. But words fail you so instead you rush forward, grabbing Toppers face in your hands and pressing your lips against his. Topper's shock is soon replaced by confusion and then relief as he kisses you back, melting into your touch.

Kissing Topper felt like no matter what everything would be okay. It was like coming home after a weekend trip and feeling at home again. The sound of the morning chirping of birds disappeared as you got lost in him. You were the only two people in the world, right now in this moment nothing else mattered except from you and Topper.

“Y/N,” Topper begins when you finally pull away but you shush him.

“I love you. I think I always have. And I think we’re both idiots for taking so long to realise this.” You whisper, lips still hovering in front of his.

Topper's heart soars and he’s sure he’s never felt so full of love before in his life. It was like his body was on fire with the feeling and he never wanted to feel anything else again.

He leans down, kissing you again quickly before picking you up. You laugh softly and wrap your legs around his waist.

“Let’s go sleep these hangovers off, then you can tell me again how much you love me.” Topper smirks, kicking the front door shut behind him before carrying you up to his room.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” You smile kissing over his face as he lays you down on his bed, “Never stop speaking to me for that long again, my heart can’t take it.”

Topper leans down, soft lips against your cheek and jaw, “I will never leave your side again.” He promises, lips finally finding yours in a slow lingering kiss before he finally falls onto the bed beside you and pulls you against his chest.

“I love you.” He mumbles against your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to your head. His soft breathing lulling you into a peaceful sleep, full of happy pictures of your further with Topper forever by your side.

Tags: @rudyypankow​ @topperthornton​ @rafej-cambanks​ @joshy-obx​

[personasintro]

My Tiny Secret | 16; We Meet Again

𝑴𝒚 𝑻𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆 | 16; We Meet Again

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

⏤𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: seokjin x reader

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

⏤𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: strong language

⏤> 𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒙

buy me a coffee?♡

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

The next day is cloudy, the dark clouds are filling the bright sky while you're waiting inside of the coffee shop. But this time as a customer with a slight frown settled on your face.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Taehyung asks, wiping off the counter while he glances at you with a similar frown to your own.

You had to tell someone about your meeting with Seokjin and Taehyung was the perfect person for it. Considering Hoseok would flip out if you'd tell him you're about to meet some stranger who wants to talk to you about your missing father. Technically, you're the one who wants to talk to him.

You had to message him later in the night, asking about what time you should be waiting for him and his answer was six in the afternoon. The shop is closing in a few minutes and you really hope you're not being played right now. You came a little bit earlier which was probably mistake. You've been sitting on one of the bar stools for the last ten minutes feeling awfully nervous. It's not like it's a date, there's just something about that man that makes you feel like a teen having her first date. Some part of you is scared of him, because he is a still stranger to you. But as you promised, you googled him as soon as you got home. There wasn't much information about him, just some boring articles about how he owns a successful company that sells house estates. There were a few pictures of him from a couple of events but other than that, it seemed like he's a very private man.

“Don't worry, I'll be fine.” you smile at Taehyung, who holds a worried look on his face.

You didn't exactly tell him the whole story about the reason of your meeting with Seokjin, since you're not that close, but you told him enough to know that he has just something you need. Still, he's not stupid and you can see uncertainty behind his worried expression.

“You've my number, if anything happens just call me.”

You smile at that, thanking him right away. Checking the time you see it's exactly six in the afternoon, so you bid goodbye with a reassuring smile to worried Taehyung and make your way outside of the coffee shop. As on cue, a black sport car parks right in front of you causing your brows to furrow in confusion, but that's until the driver's window is rolled down and there's no one else than Kim Seokjin himself sitting in the car.

“You're right on time.” you note, trying not too hard to gawk at the shiny black exterior of the car.

You were never the type to observe cars that much, but even from your lack of knowledge you observe, knowing that car is probably more expensive than the small apartment you live in.

“I'm a man of word,” he tells you, the right corner of his lips twitching at that as you dryly gulp. “Now hop on, we got our reservation.”

You're quick getting into the car, having a fear of closing the door too roughly since most of the men are really sensitive about that. But once they smoothly close, your eyes widen at the interior that matches with the black color. The white lightening decorates the door, illuminating the whole space with a pinch of color while a huge touch screen is in the middle. A scent of leather and his cologne fills the inside and even the roar of the engine, once he drives away, is freaking awesome and hot.

Soft melody resounds from the speakers alongside with a beeping sound that makes your eyebrows furrow. The car stops at the red light and before you can look at Seokjin in confusion by the repeating sound, he's hovering over you as he puts your seat belt on. He smells so fucking good. You gawk at him, ignoring his confident smirk once he pulls away.

“You forgot your seat belt.” he comments, gripping the steering wheel with one hand while the other one rests against the window as he leans onto it.

“Thanks.” you mutter, wanting to roll your eyes at his cocky behavior but all you can do is to look outside of the window, with incredibly fast beating heart.

You're screwed.

You've never felt being so out of place like right now, in the same room with a bunch of people that look like they're from a magazine, causing you to look down at your outfit. You've chosen your best formal dress that you could find in your small wardrobe. You thought they look nice and fancy, until you've seen all those women wearing a designer dress.

“Are you okay?” Seokjin asks you, holding a door for you as you get into a more private area.

“Yeah, I'm just wondering..” you trail off, quietly thanking him for holding a door for you, before a waiter leads you to your table. “I look so out of place.” you admit, not knowing exactly why are you telling him this.

A few people turned back and stared at him as you both walked in. They probably wonder why a woman like you is with him right now.

“Is that what's bothering you?” he chuckles, sitting down on the opposite side of the table as you put your small purse down.

“Yeah,” you admit, “Just look at me.” you bitterly chuckle, biting your lip.

“I am.” he says slowly, causing you to look at him just to find him staring at you with so much intensity that makes you to look away.

“I've never been in such an expensive restaurant. Why the hell did you pick this one?” you frown, causing him to chuckle as he shakes his head.

“Well, you mentioned something about steaks and this restaurant is known for having the best ones in the city.” he effortlessly answers, snatching the menu from the table while you do the same.

You hide your flushed cheeks behind it, scanning the food with a frown before you see the actual price causing you to silently gasps. Growing embarrassed by your automatic reaction, it's even worse when your menu is being pushed down as you meet Seokjin's eyes.

“Is everything okay?”

You wonder if he makes fun of you, but it's incredibly hard to read him because he barely shows any emotion which makes you frustrated. You've never met a human so interesting, intimidating and strange at the same time. It's just reminder that you don't know this man at all. How come that you feel safe with him?

“Of course, Mr. Kim.” you tell him, snatching the menu again just to hide your face, trying to seem like you're picking your food.

“Seokjin,” he says, pulling down your menu again causing you to annoyingly sigh at him. “Call me Seokjin.”

“I don't know you.” you remind him, causing his lips to twitch.

“Yet, you're here with me.”

“That doesn't mean I know you.” you shoot back.

“Then it makes you foolish for coming here with me.”

“Did you just call me stupid?” you frown, glaring at the man in front of you that smirks in return.

“It depends on how you take it.”

Your blood boils, ignoring the light tone he has. Is he just trying to lighten up the mood, tease you or makes fun of you? It's so fucking hard to read him and understand him.

“Can I take your order, please?”

The waiter's voice resounds next to you, causing you to flinch. You hear Seokjin saying his order, while you quickly try to pick your own, since you were distracted with him this whole time. When your order is done, the waiter walks away but not before he politely bows at the both of you.

The next few minutes are filled with awkward silence, your nails gently tapping against the wooden table as you stare at the man in front of you. He surely feels your eyes on him, but he's effortlessly staring at his phone until he tucks it into his inside pocket of his suit. Sighing, he looks right back at you and it leaves you speechless for a moment.

“Spit it out,” he tells you, causing your brows to furrow in slight confusion. “You've probably got a lot of questions, so spit it out.”

It's almost funny how you got used to his blunt responses and sharp tongue. This man is cocky, mean and snobby.

“How do you know my father and why were you looking for him?” you ask straight away, spitting it out just as he requested.

He seems to be amused by your straight forwardness, chuckling under his breath before he licks his lips. “Your father used to work with me. He stole money from me and disappeared.” he answers, sounding as if he's talking about his day.

You open your mouth in shock, growing embarrassed by your father's actions. It makes sense he was looking for you, hoping he'd get some information. He thought you might knew where he might be. But why'd he spend his free time inviting you to this restaurant and fancy dinner, when you don't know anything. You really doubt it's because he wants to share any information with you. He could care less about someone like you – yet, here he is.

“Wait,” you speak up, eyeing him. “You don't believe me. You think I know where he is. That's why you've invited me to this dinner. You thought you'd get some information, not the other way around.”

Of course! It makes perfect sense.

And the fact he stays quiet and almost shamefully stares into his lap, confirms your assumptions. You scoff, ready to stand up when he mutters a quick 'wait!”.

“I don't know where my father is. He left me and my mother when I was still a kid and the last time I've seen him was two years ago, when he had the audacity to knock at my door and ask for money. I'm sorry to say this, Mr. Kim, but you're not getting any information out of me because I don't have any.” you tell him quickly, glaring at the man the whole time you speak as he sighs.

“I know that now, calm down.” he sighs again, probably disappointed that you're no help for him.

This man is really getting on your nerves, he has the audacity to tell you to calm down. You're going to smack his handsome face.

“Then what do you want?” you ask him. “Wait-- do you want me to give you the money he stole for you? Right? Is that it?” you fire all the questions at him, causing him to glare at you in annoyance.

“I don't think you've got that kind of money. No offense.”

“None taken.”

Actually, yes, you're offended but you stand your ground with head held high.

“Yes, I was hoping you know something. I'll admit that. I don't care if you know about your what has your father done and why I was looking for him, sorry not sorry. It's none of my business.” he admits, taking a sip of water before he puts it down.

You're gaping, fire burning inside of you at his honesty and plan that he had this whole time.

“You really only care about yourself, right?” you scoff, noticing how dark his eyes has become.

“You don't know me.” he says lowly, clenching his jaw as you can't help but stare.

Who the hell is this man?

But when you're ready to bombard him with another set of questions, or curse about his personality, you're stopped by a waiter bringing you your food. For a few minutes, you rummage through your food with a fork, a frown settled on your lips as Seokjin comfortably eats. Cheeks puffed as he calmly eats with no problem, before he swallows and looks up at you.

“Why are you the one who's chasing him? Aren't you supposed to go to the police or something?” you murmur, looking down at your untouched food.

“I probably should. But I wanted to find him and deal with this on my own. He'd be in a lot of trouble if I brought this to a police.”

For the first time of this night, you see at least some kind of light inside of his dark personality. You're so taken back, that you stay quiet and watch him eating instead.

“Are... are you going to tell police? Now that you can't find him.” you ask carefully.

You shouldn't care about the man who abandoned you and your mother, but he's still your father. And you're curious.

“Maybe,” Is all he says, before he eyes your untouched food. “And now eat. I'm not paying for it just for you to stare at it.”

Frowning, you want to curse at him but find yourself to actually taste the food. And it's the best food you've ever tasted, diving for another bite right away.

From the corner of your eyes, you see amused smirk on his lips but you ignore him, focusing your attention onto the food that you won't probably get to taste ever again.

taglist: <is in the comments> comment on the most recent chapter to be added to the taglist

[heartofsnark]

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. 

[poison--ivory]

Uninviting Cataclysm (Alastor x Reader) Chapter 4

Part 1: link

Part 2: link

Part 3: link

For the next few weeks of your relationship with Alastor went from being worried about your well being to having hope that your life wasn't just a masterpiece of disaster. Things were finally looking up for you. Throughout those few weeks you got closer to Al, Mimzy, and Husk. Mimzy took some time to warm up to you and gave you the occasional threat now and again. You came to the conclusion that she cared for Al in a way that an older sibling protected their younger sibling. You can kind of see from her stand point of some random bim coming about and being the object of his affection.

      You felt the same way when Issacs's girl erratically showed up one night. They both came home from hitting the town and getting liquored up. Mama was a wreck that night yelling and hitting Isaac with her small hands. Papa escorted the young lady to the guest room, deeming her not stout enough to carry herself back home. Ever since that night you saw the young couple in a dimmer light. Losing some respect for your elder twin in the process.

 Husk on the other hand warmed up to pretty fast. Every time Al brings you back to the club, Husk and yourself play a couple of card games, losers usually paid for lunch. Teaching you how to deal all the way to keeping a straight face. He's a nice guy altogether, crunchy on the exterior and soft on the interior. But, you estimated that Al didn't like you talking with Husk for too long. He even goes out of his way to break up any sort of  conversation if he sees you two getting too close.

But, the most valuable information you received these scarce weeks were from the man himself.

 Alastor, the radio man is very hands on with you especially your waist. He wraps his lanky arms around your petite waist and gives you a strong, short squeeze before cuddling next to you. The only problem is he has to initiate the touching and he gets pissed easily. Al got so irritated when you gave him a shocking hug from behind and gave you a stern lecture with a small pat on the behind. You figured he hated people touching him without permission. To prove this theory you tried holding his hand when the two of you were alone. He yanked that arm back so fast all you saw was a blur. It took you around thirty minutes to get him to calm himself down. He spent the rest of the day with his hands in his pockets whenever you came into the room.

  Your courtier would never take you to his house, but he would happily go to your home and chat with the family. You were quite perplexed that your papa liked him. He's the type of dad that gets mad if his little girl even has a crush on another boy. Yet, it didn't stop there, even your brother found him likable. You're very liberated that they all seem to get along, but you were a little disappointed that they weren't as protective as you would think. Nonetheless, you felt very fulfilled with your man that day.

  Going on small dates are pretty joyful considering Al knows how to keep the fun going. If you even look like you're bored or uninterested he makes either witted jokes or invades your personal space in an attempt to fluster you. On some nights if you're really lucky he does more than just kiss you goodnight.

      Next, you seem to notice whenever family is brought up he talks about his mother in a very bright light. But, he never talks about his father. You brought it up to him and he dismissively walked around the whole topic. So, you never brought it back up instead you got him to talk about his mom. Apparently he gets most of his personality from his mother, Abigail. She taught him how to make jambalaya, singing, his etiquette knowledge and that prize winning smile that adores his features. This guy brings up his mother with such admiration that makes you question it sometimes. It's not that you mind his banter, in fact you found it amusing to hear him talk so fondly about her. You won't lie about feeling a little jealous from their closeness.

He's definitely a Mama's Boy .

 The last details you noticed were the really late night hunting he does. That lean frame of his is covered in scratches and small bruises. He tells you that most of his scars come from deer or jagged tree branches. It didn't explain the scratch marks on his neck. He told you those marks on his neck are from your guys last intimate moment together and without questioning him you believed his word. You don't remember clawing his skin. You left it at that and took him inside to mend his sore muscles.

   Blood underneath his finger nails took you aback, when he took his gloves off. You offered to help clean them, but he was really reluctant to even let you stare at them. You just wanted to help, but he thought otherwise. He stared at you from the corner of his eye before giving you a loud laugh and a resounding 'No.'. Like everything else in your relationship you just let it go without any further question.

 You should've known better.

    Nearing the end of June, with most people trying to find efficient ways of keeping cool. You were inside a hot kitchen all day baking a whole batch of beignets for a special little boy. Joseph's last night here was today and you wanted to make it fantastic for him. So, you invited all his school friends, neighbors and some of Claire's friends. You were going to spend most of your hard earned money on his go away party, however Al stepped in to pay for most of the expenses. He even invited Mimzy and Husk for entertainment wise. That incident still gave you butterflies and a genuine smile on your face.

     The only thing you needed to do was powder the pastries and get ready for the night of fun. Sprinkling the canister of sugar powder upon the delightful treats. Setting aside the sugary French styled doughnuts with a covering, taking long strides to the staircase you made it to your room to gather a simple long sleeved dress. Then, managed to freshen up with a nice bath and some light makeup. Packing the beignets in a proper container and double checking the  security of the vessel. Alastor should be coming by to pick you up in his newly repaired car, but the person at the door was not your Al. But, your dear friend Husky. He adored a simple white button up dress shirt, black slacks with polished black dress shoes and pulled together with dark gray suspenders.

"Ya ready, doll?" Blowing the rest his gasper smoke into the night air, He leaned his arm out for you to take.

"Where's Al," Taking his arm with a worried look on your face. ",did something happen?" He waved his hand off into the distance before giving you a slightly direct answer.

"He had some last minute stuff he had to take care of." You both stepped in his dark boiler and sped off down the pathway. "Don't worry he'll make it back in time for the party. Fucker lectured me about being late and look at what he's doing now." He scoffed.

"Well, thank you. For taking me in his place, Husk. I really appreciate it." Flashing him your most sincere smiles. His cheeks flushed a modest hue of pink before he scowled. Grumbling a quiet ‘welcome’ before his gaze drifted towards the road. The path ahead grew bumpier by every turn down a lane leading through the thick woods. We scheduled for the party to be held near the bayou at mid evening. So, by the time the party starts the sun should be setting.

   Husk and you managed to keep conversation up with the occasional bits of quietness here or there. Talking to Husk is like talking to your other self. Sometimes you could say the most random shit and he’ll come back with a response that will put a smile to your face. He’s basically like your second big brother with a small(not at all) drinking problem.

“So, when are you getting this car repaired,” The boiler hitting a jagged rock before settling back in place. “Because this gal has seen better days and probably a near death in its future.” You murmured under your breath.

“Fucking inherited this piece of junk from my old man. Shitty old fucker couldn’t even buy me a new one.” A loud, deep growl came from his throat and through one arm off the wheel, “Bought himself a new car, while I’m struggling to get to work and back.” He scowled and gave a great sigh before stating he needed a drink.

“I’m pretty sure there’s going to be lots of liquor, especially from those old geezers.” You knew that Mrs. Claire and her friends would sit outside their houses at dusk drinking away on those rickety porches getting buzzed. You know this because your papa used to take you out and sat you down on the weathered wood while he got tipsy with his friends. One sundown you took a sip of a stray bottle they left unattended, you being a small child decided it would be experimental to drink the loopy juice. You took one sip and gagged, spitting saliva and finally throwing up. Mama was so pissed, and wouldn’t let him go drink for months.

“Good fucking need it.” He seemed to ease up a bit just by the mention of booze.

“Why are you so wound up tonight anyway.” Raising an eyebrow over in his direction.

“Alastor didn’t tell me until last minute that I had to pick you up and I was already three-fourths of the way to the party.” His fingers gripped his hair, then slowly combed through it. “ Fucking asshole wasn’t even remorseful.” Adding in a quiet jackass in his blur of curses.

“What exactly did he say he was doing tonight, if you don’t mind me asking.” Conscious of his body language you observed his hands tighten on the steering wheel, his posture straighten for just a  second then went back to hunching. Husk’s Adams apple bobbed down and up, you wanted to chalk it up to him yearning for his alcohol. “It’s not something dangerous right?”

“Nah, it’s nothing dangerous he just had to run some errands and I guess he had more on his platter than expected.” He reassured you, his hand rubbed the top of your hands.

“I know he’s spontaneous, but this is kind of unexpected of him. He seems to love get-togethers or any social event with music.” You did have hopes for the two of you spending the night together. Maybe lay down on the grass and star gaze and probably watch Husk get drunk. “We do have time before the party, we could go and help him finish what he needs done.”

“No!” He groaned, slightly pulling on his face. “He already has Mimzy helpin’ him, and he would get pissed if I just brought you by.”

You really didn’t understand why you couldn’t drop by to help.

   If it was a work matter you would have noticed or heard about the situation, but nothing eventful really happened this week. The victims of the Bayou Killer reduced their number of murdered victims these past handful of weeks. Which makes you feel somewhat safe tonight and that’s sort of why you're throwing this party.

Maybe you're just reading too far into the situation and Al’s going to be just a few minutes late.

“It’s fine I know first hand how Al can get a little irked when people don’t follow his instruction.” Managing a small smile to your lips. “I was just a little curious about the whole ordeal.”

Inhaling a deep breath Husk created a deep groan that emitted from his throat. “Don’t beat yourself up, (y/n). Being curious about your lover is perfectly fine.” Taking another puff from his gasper and letting the smoke trail out the window. “ And to be clear here, he’s an asshole and you're just the clueless moth flying towards his flame.”

 Furrowing your eyebrows, “What’s that supposed to mean?”, you demanded.

   Husk made another groan emit from his throat, he’s been doing that a lot tonight. But, you never really see Husk worried, he’s usually either angry, smug or on the occasion vulnerable. He gets you overwhelmed with fear when he talks so lowly about himself, the whole scene of him with bottles on bottles lying next to his passed out body makes your chest clench.

“I’m not insulting ya it’s just,” He twirled his wrist in a small circle, “Al’s not some dandy who needs your concern. To be completely honest you deserve a fellow who would settle down and have a nice family one day.”

“What makes you think Alastor doesn’t want to have a family with me.” You tightly crossed your arms over your chest, “Did he mention any of this to you?”

“No, no when you have been with Al as long as I have you tend to pick up all of his quirks.” Another deep puff and that stick was gone. The smoke came out in rings carried off by the wind. “And his motives.”

    Opening your mouth to counter his claim, the upcoming lights flashed in your eyes. The lanterns strung up on steel poles lined along the large land area. You could already see a large portion of people starting in on their fun evening.

      Husk pulled over to the side where a small portion of boilers settled at. He stepped out and walked over to your side, wrapping his arm around your frame leading you down the path of bright lights. Prior to leaving you snatched the beignets from dash nearly pushing them out your mind beforehand.

      Joseph seemed like he’s having a despairing time with his friends. While they all played together, he sat himself down on one of the benches. Face cast away from them and back hunched over to rest his head on his arms. His little head turned towards your way, eyes closed, brows furrowed and crunching his nose up.

His gaze met yours and that little cannon rammed right into your gut. The air nearly left your lungs, but you deliberately gained your stance. “How’s the going away boy doing?” Returning his tight squeeze with an equally suffocating grasp. Little hands pulled on dress and a small face nuzzled into your side, Joseph’s petite face stared up at you, whites of the eyes turned pinkish. “Oh, honey, I know moving is really isolated, but look on the bright side. You can spend time with your cousins and experience new places.”

“It’s not the same.” His little voice raised a very squeaky octave. “They all make fun of me whenever I visit. They call me a baby for still sleepin’ in the same room as granny, they even called me daisy.” Shoving his face back into your hip, a large shiver went throughout his small body.

        You know from great experience about family troubles, but comparing your situation to Joseph’s would be like comparing a gator to a croc. They may look the same on the outside, but they have major differences. His family was more docile like a gator, while your biological parents were more like crocodiles, very aggressive and annoyed by others in their space. But, this isn’t your family, thank god, this is about your favorite little guy right now.

I should stop doing this to myself.

“I know this is hard for you and we can’t really change your granny mind any time soon.” Ushering him back over to the bench sitting him down next to you. “But, you still mail and call to us everyday if you want to. It might just make you feel better about being so far away from all the wondrous folk down here.”

“You really think that’ll work.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, yes I do think that’ll work just fine.” Stroking his hair out his face in the process rubbing the stray tears. “So, how does that sound.”

He slothfully nodded, looking up at the night sky. “I could have Aunt Shirley write my letters though. My penmanship is dreadful.” he quietly added, giving a small smirk direct at you.

    Shooting straight up, with a small bounce you pulled Joseph to his feet. “Now I made this party happen and got you to stay up late, just for you to pout and cry.” Flicking his nose you gave a soft smile. “How about we make this night better with a sweet treat.” You showcased the container and popped the lid off. The aroma of powder sugar met Joseph and your noses. His eyes shined a tad bit and that tiny smile that hung from the corner of his lips gave way of his joy. He sure did love these sugary confections.

“Thank you, (y/n). You made this night a whole lot better.” He gratefully took a beignet and practically shoved the pastry in his mouth. Humming that the French doughnut was indeed good.

     Walking off and setting the plate down you pinpointed Husk Downing himself with silly juice with some of the older guests. Deciding not being surrounded by drunk people was a good idea you made the decision of mingling with Floyd. He was probably the most reasonable person to approach. Upon seeing you he gestured to the empty seat next to him you gratefully took the offer.

“So, how has the night been faring you, Floyd.” Giving him a kind smile and gestured towards the party. “ Having fun?”

  He gave a noticeable shrug before answering, “I kind of wanted to stay home. But, you know how Clay can be.” He took another swig of punch. “Not that I don’t want to be here. I’m just tired from this week, ya know.”

“It’s fine to be tired. I’m pretty sure we're all tired from the month with the past killings.” A small groan came from your throat. “Why do you think the killings stopped all a sudden?”

“I feel like the fucker wants to put everyone on the edge of their seats and while we’re all nice and happy they’ll find another body.” Floyd’s outlook was depressing, but you won’t lie about thinking that way, too.

“You really think they’ll find one.” You questioned. All you got in return was a short and assertive nod.

“Mrs.Claire has a smart idea of sending her grandkid to Arkansas, especially in the condition she’s in. Barely can afford to feed one person on her salary.”

     Nodding you agreed with Floyd, Mrs.Claire does need help and sending Joseph to Arkansas would be her first step. You spent about the next hour talking to Floyd, Clay and his dame, Mama and Papa, your brother, Mrs. Claire and a surprising still standing upright husk. You grew worried about Al once you knew how much time flew by. Husk reassuring you that he’ll come later or in a few minutes. By the second hour it was already eleven o’ clock and by now you were more furious than worried. You decide to cool your mind with a few drinks and maybe a little liquor to ease your troubles. By your fourth drink you were a little tipsy and hanging off of Husk to keep yourself standing. You weren’t drunk. But you felt that if you let go you would fall straight into the dirt below.

       Suddenly, hands blocked your view. “Guess who, darling.” In your inebriated state you uncontrollably giggled. The anger is still there ;like a grain of stubborn sand in a bag. But, not so much as before. Turning around you pulled him into your chest.

“You said a couple minutes late, liar.” You huffed.

“I’m sorry, love, but something came up and I couldn’t leave it hastily finished.” A huge smile plastered his face, teeth and all. “ Do you think you could forgive me?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Liquid courage gave you the confidence of trailing your fingers along his chest. “ Maybe if I get something to ease my anger.”

Al’s eyes widened and that sharp smile turned into a smirk. “My little bearcat is getting handsy this evening.” He maneuvered his arm around your waist pulling you into his side. “Maybe I should take you home. Come here now chere.” He strolled back to his car with you in tow.

Maybe I should’ve been more cautious back then.