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emeren · 4 years ago

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such a tease - eren jaeger

👗 anon request <3

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 4k

content warnings: 18+, smut, choking, degradation, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, jealousy, possessiveness

notes: this was an anonymous request and lemme just say, i was SO excited to write this one. i’m unfortunately not super happy with how it turned out, but i’ve been swamped bc school just started back up!

SUMMARY: reader decides to tease eren by wearing a skirt without any underwear for the day, causing her very jealous boyfriend to act out in an unexpected way.

one look in the mirror was all it took for you to quell your nerves. your fingers ran over the expanse of the pleated skirt, smoothing out any wrinkles and creases. this was bold, even for you, but you knew exactly what you were doing.

eren had never been particularly shy about his protective nature; he was always making sure people understood you were his girlfriend, wrapping his arm around your waist or glaring at men who stared a little too long.

you loved that about him, but you loved pushing his buttons even more. he had a bad habit of being an argumentative, hot headed little shit, and teasing him like this was asking for some rough, animalistic gesture. that was exactly what you wanted.

you’d never neglected to wear underwear in a skirt this short, the fabric stopping just below your ass. you knew you’d have to be careful or you would end up flashing jean or armin, and that would drive eren up a wall.

you hoped eren wouldn’t notice until you were all out; meaning there would be nothing he could do about it. teasing him was one of your favorite things to do.

you heard your phone buzz quietly from your bed, picking up the small device and seeing eren’s name at the top.

lil shit <3: get ur ass out here we’ve been waiting forever

the eye roll that naturally came to you was strong, giving yourself one final once over in the mirror before heading out of your apartment. you couldn’t help the nervous smile that teased at your lips once you left the building, connie’s beat up minivan sitting at the curb. riding in his car was never the first choice; it was musty and had suspicious stains on the carpeting, but it was the only one that fit all of your friends.

connie laid on the horn as soon as he saw you, the rest of your friends yelling from inside the vehicle as you approached. you could see jean in the passenger seat, jogging up to the rear door with a knot of nervousness in your stomach. you placed one hand on your thigh to keep the skirt from riding up as you slid the van door open.

sasha and mikasa were stuffed in the small backseat, armin and eren sitting in the middle row. it was comical to see eren in the spot generally reserved for the smallest passenger, but you had no doubt that he wanted to sit in the middle because of you. he was petty like that - a trait that made teasing him all the more fun.

“hey guys,” you smiled, sliding into the van as your friends all greeted you at once. your eyes were on connie, who was craning his neck to give you a rather incredulous look.

you felt eren stiffen as you sat down, reaching for the seatbelt. connie decided to speak up before you had a chance to question it. “dude, come ooooon. what the hell took you so long?”

“sorry, i was distracted and my phone was on my bed,” you explained, connie resolutely rolling his eyes in response.

“let’s go already, i’m starving!” sasha wailed from the back, shaking your seat in front of her. you giggled at her desperation, finally turning to your boyfriend as connie sped away from the curb.

you were surprised to see that eren was already staring at you, a weird glint in his eyes. you gave him a smile, trying to act innocent. “hi.”

he didn’t say anything, just looked forward and placed his large hand on your bare thigh. it wasn’t that it was unusual for him to do so in front of your friends, in fact it was normal. you just weren’t used to him placing it so high; so high that the tip of his pinky dipped beneath the fabric of your skirt and threatened to inch towards the apex of your leg.

had he already noticed?

“took you awhile to get ready,” eren commented, his words only being heard by you as everyone else in the car chatted about going bowling. you glanced back up at him, eyes scanning his face. he was wearing a black t-shirt and sweats, the customary ‘i don’t care about anything’ outfit he always seemed to adorn. the cold metal of the ring on his middle finger did little to ease your nerves.

“yeah, i was just thinking about some stuff and got distracted,” you lied, smiling up at him. he was looking at you from the side of his eyes, jaw clenched.

“really?” he breathed, his hand shifting ever so slightly up your leg. his smallest finger teased at the crease of your thigh, head leaning down to whisper in your ear. “were you thinking about some stuff or were you forgetting about some stuff?”

your breath hitched, face growing hot as you struggled for something to say. connie, once again, beat you to the punch. “oi! lovebirds! no canoodling in my back seat!”

“we weren’t canoodling,” eren sneered, pulling away and moving his hand to just above your knee. he squeezed the skin generously, your slight embarrassment about eren’s public displays of affection quickly wearing off. “i was just saying, it looks like she forgot a coat.”

jean snorted from the front seat. “yeah and because you’re a dumbass who doesn’t wear one either, i’m gonna have to give her mine later.”

jean’s lighthearted words lit a devious lightbulb in your mind, the gears of your plan now in full swing. you leaned forwards, wrapping your arms around the back of the chair and consequently jean’s broad chest. you leaned your head to the side, a grin on your face.

“you really are too sweet to me, jean-jean!” you cooed, the feeling of eren’s grip tightening on your thigh an indication of just how well this was working in your favor. jean chuckled at the familiar nickname, hand coming up to pat your arms wrapped around him.

you let go and slid back into your spot, eren’s face clearly peeved at your display of affection. for once, you had the upper hand. and you were going to milk it all the way.

the local bowling alley was a small, dank building that prided itself on its catering towards college students without much else to do. as connie skidded to a stop in his self-designated parking spot, the legacy of the building seemed to live up to its expectations.

eren hadn’t said anything else on the ride over, just kept his hand protectively (and respectfully) placed on your lower thigh. you were much more careful sliding out of the car this time, hand blatantly coming down to cover your ass. you knew that eren was watching you, as he was quick to follow you from the vehicle and stand behind your brazen figure.

he wrapped his arms lazily around your waist, resting his chin on the top of your head as you waited for your friends to pile out of the car. you’d grown accustomed to his touchy nature, suddenly deciding to press your ass against his groin. the gesture was small, but you could feel eren’s dick harden within his pants.

“careful!” he hissed, hopping back in an attempt to shake away his sudden erection. you snickered to yourself, giving him a glance over your shoulder as you followed your friends into the building.

the interior was the same as it’d always been; drowned out with black lights and the smell of wax. it was the kind of atmosphere that reminded you of your earliest days of childhood; attending large birthday parties and eating way too much cheaply made cake.

the attendant was a short man named george, one who’d acknowledged connie’s arrival with annoyance.

“head to our usual lane guys,” connie pointed, a grin on his features. you all made your way towards lane ten, eren in a sulking tow behind you.

as everyone began to sit down, jean motioned for you to sit next to him. “each side will be opposing teams. we’ve gotta be on the same team, per usual.” he called innocently.

you and jean had dominated your friend group bowling tournaments each time before, and you figured this would be no different. you started towards him, surprised when you felt eren’s hand wrap around your wrist.

“she’s going to be on my team this time, if you don’t mind,” eren stated in a quipped tone, something that would normally go undetected by jean due to their frenemy behavior. you knew that eren’s words were coming from a place of jealousy, sincerely trying to hide your sadistic grin.

jean scoffed, shaking his head. “yeah, right, jaeger. she’s going to be on connie and i’s team, like always.”

you nodded your head in agreement, spinning to face your boyfriend. your skirt lifted ever so slightly at the action, eren’s teal eyes snapping to the garment with an annoyed perseverance. “don’t worry, i’ll take it easy on you.”

he knew what you were doing. he knew that the thought of a part of you - a part specifically reserved for him - nearly on display for anyone who cared enough to pay attention, was enough to fill him with a primal sense of possessiveness.

eren had never been particularly good at hiding his emotions. in fact, he’d been known to let them consume him in an embarrassingly juvenile way. as you sat down next to jean, your bare leg bumping his, eren couldn’t suppress the annoyance that washed over him. he folded his arms, the thought of your tight little-

“eren?” armin called out, eren snapping from his lewd thought process. you took notice, leaning down to tie your bowling shoes. “did you hear me? i said here’s your shoes.”

you listened to eren clear his throat and apologize, deciding to chat with jean and connie as everyone got ready to play.

the final straw in your plan hadn’t even happened on purpose. it’d come to you itself, as if the powers that be were purposefully trying to get you rammed into oblivion. it came after the first few rounds of bowling, after a few near misses with jean regarding the skirt, each one sinking eren further into his foul mood. it came in the form of a lanky, awkward looking employee.

he couldn’t have been any older than eighteen, carrying sasha’s order of nacho fries and your coca cola. he’d meant his comment to be nice as you got up to grab your drink. he hadn’t meant to say something that would send your childish boyfriend over the edge.

“oh, uh, i like your skirt,” he’d commented awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck. you smiled politely in response, eyes flitting over to eren. and if looks could kill, that awkward teenage boy would’ve been dead on sight.

eren’s eyebrows were furrowed, jaw clenched tightly. you felt your cheeks heat as he made eye contact with the boy, standing from his seat. eren was tall, looming behind you as he protectively wrapped himself around your figure.

“thanks,” he said flatly, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. you held your breath at the feeling of eren deeply exhaling against the sensitive skin, large hands squeezing your hips. the boy quickly looked at the ground, nodding before deciding to leave. eren waited until he was gone to remove himself from you, an annoyed twitch in his eye. “fucking little pervert.”

you rolled your eyes, taking a generous swig from your coke. “he was just being nice.”

eren glared at you, watching as you started back towards your friends. “nice my ass. i know you’re doing this just to rile me up.”

“what ever do you mean?” you snickered, purposefully swaying your hips as eren scoffed, plopping back down in his seat.

you made your way over to your teammates, sitting down and watching armin finish his turn. a couple minutes went by, chugging your coke and getting ready for connie to take his turn.

“i think i’m gonna go use the bathroom,” you hummed, jean nodding his head in understanding. you waited until connie tossed the bowling ball down the lane, effectively missing all of the pins. you knew you’d drank the soda way too fast, standing from the bench and making your way towards the dimly lit restrooms.

they were dark inside, with red lighting like something out of a sex club. you pushed the heavy door open, quickly locking it behind you and relieving yourself.

as you washed your hands in the sink, you thought about just how riled up eren was getting. it was humorous, in more ways than one, but you couldn’t help the slight guilt that crept up the back of your neck about your actions.

but then again, it wasn’t like eren wasn’t known himself for being a tease. you couldn’t count the number of times where he’d purposefully made you jealous or grabbed your ass in an inopportune moment. so what was the harm in giving him a taste of his own medicine?

you flattened your hands against the skirt, making sure it was straight before unlocking the door and heaving it open, stepping out into the dark hallway.

you jumped back at the appearance of a dark figure leaning against the wall, defensively clutching your chest as you stood in front of your slightly amused boyfriend.

“mind if we chat?” he asked, voice edging an emotion that you knew you couldn’t get into at the moment. your eyes glanced down the end of the hallway, no one in sight. you looked back to him, his pink lips turned upwards, the word ‘gotcha’ written all over his face.

“we should probably head back out there,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the way eren was sizing you up. he just smiled, pushing himself from the wall and taking a step towards you. all of the confidence you’d had in your teasing flew out the window, swallowing at the downfall of your plan.

“don’t worry. i told ‘em my mom was calling,” he purred in response, index finger coming up to gently trace against your jaw. it was his turn to be smug; everyone in your friend group knew that carla’s phone calls were a draw out, lengthy affair. he’d trapped you.

you held your breath as he stepped forward, slowly tilting your jaw to place a deceivingly sweet kiss to the skin. you felt embarrassed at the way your cunt throbbed at the action, his lips moving to tease the shell of your ear. “but what about me?”

“what about you?” eren sneered, his voice turning slightly sour, fingers roughly gripping your jaw as he placed a kiss right below your ear. “this is what you were asking for, wasn’t it? now be a good girl and go back into the bathroom for me.”

you hesitated for a moment, thinking about your friends bowling a mere 100 feet away. eren’s eyes were dark, and the churning you could feel at the pit of your stomach was only making it harder to resist.

all it took was the thought of eren bending you over the sink, fucking you stupid for you to demurely shift in place, turning to shove the bathroom door open once again. you could feel your neck burning at the thought of how easily you’d just submitted, but you wanted this. more than anything.

the bathroom was no desirable place; it smelled like generic soap and had discarded pieces of toilet paper on the ground. eren didn’t seem to care, gingerly locking the door behind himself before roughly shoving you forward facing against the cool, knock off linoleum countertop.

you could feel his hard dick pressing against your ass, your reflections in the dirty mirror lit under the red lightbulbs. he was commanding; aggressively grinding himself into you, your skirt beginning to ride up at the motion.

eren made eye contact with you in the glass, one hand coming forward to tilt your neck to the side. he slowly brought his lips down, peppering the skin till his mouth met the base of your neck. he made sure you were watching as he pressed his tongue flatly against the skin, your breath hitching as you watched him drag the wet muscle up to your jawline.

“you’re such a tease,” he growled against you, rolling his hips into your ass. you could feel your skirt starting to ride up even more, the cold air uncomfortable. “’s’hot, knowing your pretty little cunt is so exposed.”

his hand on your jaw slipped around your throat, squeezing lightly in warning as he flipped the edge of your skirt up.

you squeaked as his other hand snaked between your legs, middle two fingers slowly sliding themselves between your already soaking center. he rubbed at your clit, breath hot against your neck as he forced you to watch him through the mirror.

“look at how pretty you are,” he mumbled as he plunged his two digits inside of you, the sudden sensation causing a gasp to leave your lips. he wasn’t playing nice; roughly digging his fingers all the way to the last knuckle. his other hand squeezed your throat tighter. it hurt, but you couldn’t help the way your cunt clenched around him, chest tightening. “so pretty for me. n’only me.”

he slowed his fingers, pumping in and out of you, the sound of your slick causing him to grow impossibly harder. the feeling of his cock pressed against the flesh of your ass sent another throb to your cunt, eren smirking in response.

“needy for my cock after teasing all day?” he asked, stuffing his fingers particularly deep, a strangled moan slipping past your lips. you struggled to nod your head against his grasp, the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of you at such a rhythmic pace causing you to grind your hips against his hand and subsequently his cock.

he quickly pulled his fingers out from inside of you, hand growing tighter around your throat. “you were such a little whore today. a little whore who needs to learn a thing or two.”

you could feel tears prickling in your eyes, eren’s hand that was wrapped around your throat coming up to pry your mouth open. you didn’t have a chance to react before he was slipping his sheen coated fingers past your lips, the saccharine flavor hitting your tastebuds.

“suck for me, pretty girl,” he said lowly, hooded eyes watching you in the mirror. you did as you were told, wrapping your lips around his knuckles and swirling your tongue around his fingers. the taste wasn’t completely pleasant or unpleasant, your mouth releasing with a smack.

eren pressed down on your tongue with his fingers, saliva filling your mouth before he dragged the two digits down your chin and throat, leaving a shiny trail in their wake.

he brought his hands down to roughly grope your chest, your own hands pressing against the countertop to keep you steady. eren gripped the hem of your sweater, forcing the fabric up to your midsection.

“off, take it off.” he demanded, leaning back from you but still keeping his groin pressed against your ass. you were quick to oblige, pulling it over your head. as you did so, you could feel eren palming your ass under the skirt, his dark eyes fixated on the sight of your little skirt riding up on your skin.

you dropped the sweater to the ground, knowing you’d regret it later, but you couldn’t be bothered. eren didn’t wait, letting go of your ass to unclasp your bra, the undergarment falling into the empty sink. he palmed at your newly exposed breasts, fingers pinching at your hardened nipples.

he was watching you in the mirror, the sight of you batting your eyelashes with your saliva on your chin only making him more possessive. it sent a twitch to his cock, hands releasing from your chest to shove you against the cold glass.

“want me to show this pretty cunt who it belongs to, hm?” eren nearly growled, the thought of jean or that employee ever being lucky enough to see you like this pushing him over the edge.

you tried to nod against the mirror, your breasts pressed against the cold material only aiding the way your center throbbed mercilessly for whatever eren was about to do. his hand came up to fist your hair, the other haphazardly yanking down his sweats and boxers.

you could see his veiny cock slap against his stomach through the mirror, the tingling in your clit multiplying at the sight of it. eren smirked at your staring.

“fuck,” he hissed, his gaze drawn to your skirt pooled around your waist, glistening center ready for him to abuse. and he couldn’t wait any longer, rubbing the tip of his cock between your legs.

a gasp ripped through your throat at just how deeply eren thrusted into you, his hips hitting your ass with a loud smack. it hurt; his brows furrowed as he completely pulled out from you, just to ram himself back inside your tight cunt.

“what’s wrong?” eren asked breathlessly, pounding into you as hard as he could. you were jerking against the mirror, mouth open as your nose began to tingle; a tell-tale sign of tears. your boyfriend had a sadistic smile on his face, a piece of hair falling from his bun to rest against his forehead.

“ah- hurts,” you gasped out, the sound of eren pounding into you filling the small space. eren hit you with a particularly deep angled thrust, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix. he tightly fisted your hair, yanking on the follicles as hit other hand gripped your waist for better leverage. it hurt so bad, but so good.

“look at you, look at you take my cock like this,” he said, voice gravelly as he began to buck his hips faster. you could feel the hot tears rolling down your cheeks, eren’s hand around your waist moving to guide your knee up onto the counter top for better leverage. the pain lessened with his movement, his animalistic thrusts growing pleasurable. “such a good little whore. a little whore who’ll only let me fuck her like this, hm?”

you moaned out against the glass, eren yanking your hair as an indication for a worded response. “yes-yes. all for you, only you.”

eren groaned out at your words, his head leaning back as he slammed into you from behind. he was blurry as your breath fogged the glass, but just the image of him bucking his cock deep within your throbbing cunt was enough to have you seeing stars.

he was filling you up so nice, pressing himself against you as the veins in his arms grew prominent. you could feel him twitching inside of you, your own center clenching around him as he made sure you knew you were his.

“such a little tease, showing off her pretty little cunt like that,” eren moaned out, shamelessly loud. he buried himself within you, your eyes rolling back in your head as the building anticipation between your legs became too much to bear.

“eren-” you heaved, him quickening his pace, hitting your cervix over and over. it was enough to make the tears come back, your vision becoming hot white as he bucked his hips once more, stuffing his cock impossibly deep within you. your orgasm didn’t reach its climax until you felt eren’s length twitch, effectively filling you with his cum.

the high was incredible; the cold mirror a stark contrast to the hot, burning sensation as eren thrusted out his own climax.

the two of you stood for a moment, mirror foggy and bathroom humid as you recollected your composure. when eren did pull out, he watched his cum slowly drip down your thigh, fingers attempting to stuff it back inside of you.

“don’t let it drip out,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your sweaty cheek. you could only roll your eyes, peeling yourself from the glass. he gingerly pulled his pants back up, delivering a swift swat to your ass as he stood straight again.

“y’know, you should wear skirts more often.”

“you should get jealous more often.”

“sounds like a deal to me.”

<3 <3 <3

#eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jeager #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager smut #eren yeager #eren yaeger x reader #eren yeager smut #eren yaeger #eren yeager x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren smut #eren #eren jäger #emmy writes #👗 anon

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luckyasfuck · 4 years ago

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back seat of his car [k. bakugou]

pairing // katsuki x fem!reader

warnings/themes // NSFW, mafia leader!katsuki, illegal racer!katsuki, mentions of stalker!reader, gun violence, katsuki point his gun at your neck, katsuki checks under your skirt without conset, slight knife play, breeding kink, creampie,

synopsis // finally gathering your courage to confess to the guy you’ve been admiring, the night takes a dark turn when he assumes you’re working for his enemy, and all the secrets unfold.

word count // 2.5k

a/n // i am aware that race cars don’t have passenger seats nor back seats, just shut up and read already.

tonight was exciting. the skirt you wore hung beautifully around your hips, giving your thighs the attention they very much deserve. the nights were always cold, but you’d do anything to get bakugou katsuki to glance at your way. tonight was the night you’d finally make a move after practically stalking the male car racer for weeks now. it was obvious he knew about your ministrations, he’d look back here and there and become more cautious as the nights dragged out.

a black face mask covers your face, the competition was illegal and it would be a bitch to be caught by those bastards that call themselves cops. boots clicking on the pavement, you speed-walked to the street. the muffled screams and sounds of cars grew louder as you turn the corner, already seeing people cheering the racers on. pushing through the crowd, you manage to slip through the dudes that called themselves ‘guards’ and onto the road. a quick span around the area and you see him.

katsuki is wearing a black leather jacket, his infamous skull shirt underneath and black pants to match the aesthetic of his black racer car. his blonde hair is messy as he takes off his helmet, leaning on the car. you gulp, could you really do this? the satisfying click of your boots makes the respected racer glance at you, eyeing you up and down. with a quick and confident, you eye his car. “that’s a really fucking pretty car.”

he scoffs, “you competing here, woman? don’t even try.” he clicks his tongue. “why? cause i’m a woman?” a death glare is sent his way before you chuckle, leaning on his car too. “no, cause it’s really risky. police are gonna raid this area any second now, that’s why i parked here near this alleyway just incase.”

huh? “and how would you know that?” the crowd screams louder and your voice is barely heard, new racers coming in from all areas. the sound of their car engines fill the silent night and you watch katsuki pull his phone out, texting someone. this fumes you, does he have a girlfriend or something? i’ll fucking kill her-

“so,” the phone is shoved back inside his pocket, now his attention is all on you. half-lidded vermillion eyes stare into yours as he smirked, putting his hand inside his pocket. “where’s your car?” his eyes span the area, looking for a car that you might own and use. “oh, i’m not racing.” this response shocks him, looking at you with knotted eyebrows and his head tilted slightly to the side.

“how’d you get past those guys?” the ‘guards’ push the crowd away harshly, preventing them from entering the road. they push, throw, do anything to keep the crowd at bay. they’re pretty big guys so they don’t get beat up that easily. “i’m a woman.” you reply with a giggle.

“and i may have told them i know you.”

the blonde’s phone dings with a notification, “do you really know me now?” he reads through the text with a smirk. muffled police sirens are heard and the crowd silences for a minute before everybody’s frantically exiting the street, the car racers getting in their car and driving off full speed.

fuck, where you gonna go no-

the sound of a car door opening breaks you from your trance as you see flashes of red and blue lights rounding the corner. “get in.” katsuki rushes to his side of the car and without a thought, you enter his car. with a quick and professional manuever, the both of you are rushing through the empty and dark alleyway in seconds. the darkness seems endless until the blonde turns the corner and stops. looking back, he squints his glowing red eyes to check for any police cars.

a relieved sigh leaves his lips and he gets out the vehicle, leaving you confused. a hand opens your side of the car and you’re yanked outside harshly, “what the fuck?!” a loud thud fills the silent alleyway as your back hits the hard concrete. a sound of metal is heard and the next thing you knew, katsuki has you pinned on the wall with a gun held straight to your throat. “don’t fucking think i haven’t seen you lurking around.”

how were you supposed to know that your harmless stalking sessions meant so much to him? you gulped, forcing yourself back on the wall trying to detatch your sweating neck from his cold gun. “you working for deku or something, hm?” the weapon is shoved into your skin more and your eyes close in fear. “i... i don’t know who that is.”

katsuki tears the weapon away from you and the sound of a loud bang makes you whimper, eyes tearing up. “oh really, now?” opening your eyes, a tear trickles down your cheek as you looked up at his hand pointing the gun he just shot to the sky. noticing this, katsuki puts it back in it’s place against your neck. “i- i really don’t! i just stalked you... cause- cause i liked you and you’re- you’re hot.” you admitted, fearing for your life.

ignoring the confession, katsuki kneels down and using his unoccupied hand, he uses the flashlight on his phone. his hand hoists your skirt up without warning, attaching the hem to your waistband as he shined the flashlight on your thigh. expecting to see the symbol for deku’s little clan on your thigh, his hand is already on the trigger, ready to pull it and end your life.

but he saw nothing, just your bare, quivering thighs. and maybe your lace panties too, but he looked away before he could stare at it for too look. with a harsh movement, he fixes your skirt and pulls the weapon away from your neck before grabbing your collar and staring right into your eyes.

“listen here, you fucker. you like me don’t you?” a relieved sigh leaves your lips and you nod, staring back into his lust-filled eyes. “i’ve been fucking stressed lately, and you fucking added to that. so let me fuck you into oblivion as a punishment.” the straight forward statement made your pussy wet.

it was the fact that he still asked that made you agree, even after you life was fucking threatened 30 seconds ago. katsuki bakugou may be bad, but he’ll never stoop to that level. plus, it could be a form of sorry for pointing a gun to your neck and almost pulling the trigger. in the back of his head, he made sure he would make you feel like a fucking princess.

it was an ‘in the moment’ kind of thing, the car was heated and condensation pooled at the windows as you and katsuki made out with each other, his thigh making its way in between your legs to rub your clit on the rough material of his jeans. the shirt you wore was cut open by the knife he kept in his pocket and in an instant, he attacks your collarbones and a hand creeps up to cup your boob under your matching lace bra, your nipple being twisted around by his fingers. “you fucking slut. you absolute whore. getting off to someone who almost ended your life? yeah, you want this cock in your slutty fucking pussy, don’t you?”

without you noticing, he had ripped off his leather jacket and shirt. you drooled over his toned torso, admiring his abs and the slight hint of a blonde happy trail leading straight down into his pants. unconsciously, your hand goes to graze your fingers down his bare upper-half, trailing down the blonde hair leading you to where you wanted to touch before you cupped the large tent in his pants “yes, i want it.” you whimpered out, squeezing his bulge slightly, making him grunt.

katsuki massages your inner thigh as his unoccupied hand goes to unzip his fly and rid himself of any remaining clothes. as soon as his underwear is out of the way, his cock slaps right against his lower stomach and you stare in awe, gulping. the size and girth intimidated you, but this is exactly what you wanted. he strokes himself a few times before teasing your sensitive clit with his tip, moaning at the feeling of your lace panties against his slit. your panties are soon yanked off, katsuki leaving them dangling off your ankle as he propped himself between you, hands pinning your wrists above your head and your legs hoisted up on his shoulders.

he angles his cock to tease at your entrance, smirking at you. “come on, beg for it.” the tip goes in and out of you and you whimper out in a frantic state, “please! just- just put it in already, i want it, i want it, i want it- fuck!” your toes curl in both pleasure and pain when katsuki slams inside your without warning. the stretch burned, he was probably the biggest thing you’ve put inside you in a while. his hips still and he looks down, admiring the way your cunt swallowed him up, feeling you clench around him. “good girl.” an unoccupied hand grips your hips as he started to thrust into you slowly before gradually picking up the pace until he was pounding into you.

the car shook back and forth as the racer railed you in the backseat, skin slapping and moans prominent even outside the car. “fuck! t-too deep, bakugou, too-” a pair of lips slam into yours, cutting your sentence off. katsuki ignores your complaints and lets out a dark chuckle. “am i hitting your womb, slut? that’s what you wanted, right? you want me to fuck my babies into you so you’ll be swollen for nine months.”

“ye-”

“no. we can’t have my little fuck toy be too sensitive for sex, right? you’re my fuck toy, my cumslut. mafia boys like me are always stressed and need obedient girls like you with tight fucking cunts to keep sane.” there’s no time to think about the term he used for himself as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mind going blank as you neared your orgasm. cumming all over his cock with a loud moan, your legs quiver as katsuki goes faster and sloppier, chasing his own orgasm. his hips stutter when he cums, painting your insides his shade of white. a few more thrusts and he pulls out of you, panting. he stares straight at your glistening pussy, watching his semen slowly seep out of you.

the sight makes whimper, feeling himself getting hard all over again. “i hope you can take more, princess.” the grip on both your wrists becomes tighter and you let out a loud moan, tears spilling from your eyes down your cheeks as katsuki bottoms out inside you for the second time that night. “’cause i’m not stopping for anything.” he doesn’t wait for anything and starts pounding into you again, abusing that sweet little hole of yours. “bakugou! fuck! too much!” your legs quiver, but his speed doesn’t falter. instead, he goes faster.

lips attach to suck on the supple skin of your neck, “call me katsuki.” he whispers, biting your neck softly. “k-katsuki, gonna cum again.” you cried out, fingernails digging into the hand that kept your hands at place. “then cum, cum all over this cock again. no one, and i repeat, no one is ever gonna make you feel this good. got it?” the question is left unanswered when a loud moan erupts from your throat as you came. katsuki follows a few thrusts after, moaning uncontrollably.

the both of you pant, a heavy layer of sweat covering both your bodies. katsuki pulls out of you, instantly replacing his cock with two of his fingers, making you jump as he scissors them inside you. “katsuki, n-no more... please...” you begged, whining.

“shh...” he calms you down, pulling his fingers out and prodding them at your lips. “suck.” the command instantly has your lips encaging around his fingers covered in both of your love juices. a moan escapes your lips at the taste, pulling away once you’ve lapped all of it up. the car becomes silent, katsuki taking a roll of tissue from the corner of his car, starting to clean you up. large arms gently keep you from jumping up from the overstim. “just a little more, it would be uncomfortable if you had cum dripping all over your thighs.” a choked ‘okay’ leaves your lips as he cleaned up the remnants of his orgasm.

“there,” the window opens and katsuki throws the used tissues outside. “are you hurt anywhere?” he helps you sit yourself up on his lap gently, his red eyes looking all over your body for any bruises he might have left. “i’m fine, thanks.” you panted out, smiling at him. the blonde looks away, gently setting you down and handing you his shirt. “sorry for tearing yours.” he picks up his clothes and the weapons on the ground, starting to dress himself. you did the same, heart jumping in joy at his scent on the shirt.

the both of you climb to the drivers and passenger seat, katsuki still half-naked. the black jacket is thrown to your exposed thighs and you look at him in confusion. “you’ll get cold-” a hand keeps the jacket on your thighs as the car starts. “i can handle it.” he started to drive through the rest of the alleyway. “whatever you say.” you stay put in your seat.

“i’m... part of a mafia group.” katsuki starts. “deku, the guy i assumed you work for, he wants my head. i don’t know why, but i am sure not losing to a broccoli looking headass. and since you couldn’t mind your fucking business, you’re involved now.”

“how so?”

“i need to keep you at arms length. not to protect you or anything! it’s so you can’t go around telling everybody, and i still don’t know if you really work for that bastard or not.” the car rounds into an abandoned street. god, you were gonna get killed, weren’t you? you thought as he stopped at a worn out house, stepping out the car. “come on.”

his footsteps are loud, and you do follow him. he left his weapon inside the car, as if to make you trust him. “we were pretty sure that you worked for deku, but i think you’re too dumb for that. don’t be surprised.” the blonde warns as you both near the door. nothing was heard inside. katsuki opens the door and in an instant, metal clads with metal and 6 guns are pointed straight at you. but with a raise of katsuki’s hand, all the guns are put down. you shook uncontrollably in your spot, maybe the fact that you could barely walk from what you guys did earlier. “she doesn’t work for dek-”

“she’s pretty.” another blonde smiles at you, waving and winking. as you’re about to wave back awkwardly, katsuki pulls you beside him by your waist. “don’t even fucking try, denki.”

“she’s mine.”

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ellewriteswrongs · 4 years ago

Text

picking favorites (a @tsbandau drabble)

if y’all aren’t emotionally invested in @underdog-arts ‘s band au, idk what y’all are even doing /j

anyway, here’s a wholesome family drabble insp. by the band au and my (not-so) subtle obsession with remus and janus. also subbing to their patreon is the best $5 i’ve probably ever spent, no joke

“Honey, you can still pick up Ry, right?” Janus called down the hallway, carrying a basket of laundry on each hip before depositing them in the hallway to put away later. Remus was seated in their shared office catching up on emails as Janus began packing up leftover pasta into containers to take to their show scheduled that night.

“I told you I got ‘em,” he agreed, banging the last clumps of his protein shake into his mouth with the heel of his hand. “I’m gonna’ jog to V’s and grab the van.”

Janus nodded to themself out of instinct before faltering, their brow furrowing.

“Wait—Re, that’s like three miles,” they challenged, dumping the dirtied dishes into the sink. “Just take the fucking car.”

Remus’ snort laugh was audible from down the hallway.

“They asked for the van!” Remus cackled. “And I, for one, do not disappoint. Apparently making my kid’s friends think they’re cool is worth a three-mile jog.”

Janus rolled their eyes, albeit fondly. This was, unfortunately, not news.

Riley was having an…interesting phase. It wouldn’t be abnormal for kids their age if it weren’t for the fact that their parents were ridiculously competitive, and all of their parents’ friends were eager to get in on it.

As soon as Remus attended career day in Riley’s first grade classroom, resulting in the entire class of six-year-olds marveling at the fact that their friend’s dad was a “rock star.”

Janus loved that conversation over dinner that night.

They weren’t jealous. No, in fact, it was probably overdue for Riley to have a bit of a “Daddy’s kid” phase, considering how joined at the hip they were with Janus for multiple years now. But they wanted to win.

Riley could make their own decisions about picking a favorite parent. As long as that decision was Janus.

“You’ve gone so-oft,” they sing-songed, smirking as Remus appeared in the kitchen behind them, wrapping one hand around their hip and pressing a kiss to their temple. “Ry’s got you wrapped around their finger.”

Remus have a flash of his crooked grin.

“Yeah, well…at least I know where they get that from.”

Janus rolled their eyes, trying to hide their reddening face.

“Sap,” they grumbled fondly. “Hurry up and get on with your run before you’re late to pickup. And tell V I said hey.”

Remus gave an exasperated chuckle and affirmation, but pocketed his keys and wallet nonetheless.

The jog to Virgil’s apartment wasn’t a particularly strenuous three miles, being downtown and all, and Remus was far from out of shape. Still, three miles was three miles—especially in the late afternoon sun. Needless to say, Virgil wasn’t thrilled to have a giant sweaty man on his doorstep, but he handed over the keys nonetheless.

The van was old, still clinging to its axels from when Remus himself purchased it from an old neighbor and declared it the band’s “tour bus.” It was nice enough at the time, especially for the price he paid, but it certainly wasn’t still around for anything more than sentimental value.

Mainly just Remus refusing to get rid of it.

That, and the fact that, for whatever reason, Riley thought it was the coolest thing ever.

The drive wasn’t long, only the sitting in traffic of other parents in minivans trying to get into the school parking lot. He…wasn’t a fan of that part of being a parent, that’s for sure. He could do without any other parents, thank you very much, but at least it was fun to see how obvious all of them were in their distaste of both him and Janus, compared to how much their kid absolutely adored them.

A fact that was only proven when Remus eventually made it to the parking lot and exited his van, only to be met with ear-splitting squeal of “daddy!” and an armful of six-year-old.

He can’t deny how, even after all these years, the title still makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Like…he is a dad. That’s his kid! How fucking rad is that!

He happens to spot a few other parents, along with some of Riley’s friends that he recognizes, and he offers a quick wave with the hand that isn’t mussing up his kid’s hair.

“You brought the van,” Riley points out with a toothy grin that Remus can’t help mirroring. He can’t help the knot in his throat when he spots the gap in their teeth from their first ever lost tooth—which only meant they were getting much too old and Remus would really appreciate it if they would slow the fuck down.

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” Riley nods, bouncing on Remus’ hip just a bit out of excitement. “I gotta’ warn you though, JJ’s getting pretty jealous.”

Riley laughs before sticking out their tongue and making a fart noise in Remus’s face.

Remus is, for the thousandth time, bewildered at how Riley couldn’t possibly be more like Janus if they tried. And mostly smitten. He has the coolest kid on Earth, after all.

“They can suck my butt!” Riley squeals and Jesus Christ, Remus is going to have a heart attack right there in the parking lot. He’s gonna’ have to grill Jan again to make sure those two aren’t secretly biologically related.

“Hey, your words not mine, squirt,” he smirks, opening the van door and strapping them into the car seat. “And your early bedtime if you let JJ hear any of that.”

He finishes with a pinch on their nose before closing the van door and getting back in the driver’s seat.

Riley, as soon as the radio turn on, starts protesting very aggressively to listen to “your songs, daddy! Play your songs!”

Thankfully, he has a CD burned with some of their…cleaner songs for that exact purpose.

Riley, for lack of a better word, was ‘singing’ along at a volume that Remus would’ve otherwise found hilarious and impressive if it wasn’t right in his ear. Still, there was a certain fondness that came with watching his kid’s excitement over his work—something that, as usual, was paired with thrashing within the confines of a car seat and headbanging their little heart out.

Along the drive Remus made every attempt to stop the barrage of the screamo singer in the making, but all were ultimately unsuccessful. At least…until he pointed out one particular building out of a strip mall assortment.

“Hey, you see that store right there? The one with the red sign?” He spoke up, catching Riley’s eager attention in an instant. They placed both hands on the van window to look out.

“What is it?” They asked, squinting to try and read what was on the sign.

“You know the snake on my leg?” Riley nodded, quieting down. “That’s where JJ took me to get it.”

They paused, seemingly putting some pieces together in their head.

“How come you only have one?” They asked, still kicking their legs against their seat. “JJ has lots, how come you don’t have lots too?”

Remus chuckled, continuing along the road as the light turned green.

“‘Cause I don’t need another one. They’re very expensive, you know.”

“Is it ‘cause you’re a wimp?”

Remus choked on his own spit.

“N-no,” he choked out, laughing. “No I’m not, I just think it looks better this way.”

He didn’t bother looking into the backseat to see what Riley thought of that answer, but if the return to karaoke that followed was any indication, they were not impressed. Still, he’d probably take the teasing over the screaming, but kids are kids.

Even as they pulled into their driveway, Remus had to strategically dodge Riley’s flailing limbs in order to un-fasten the seatbelts on their car seat and actually get them in the house. Apparently the music was not as vital to the ‘sing-along’ as he’d hoped it was when he turned the car off.

“Alright, alright, calm those legs down before you knock my teeth out, will ya’?” Remus teased, placing Riley on his shoulders where they instantly took fistfuls of his hair to hold on. Riley toned down the velocity, but otherwise did not stop. “Careful, squirt, if you wanna’ kick so bad, I’m signing you up to play soccer.”

Riley stopped almost instantaneously, gripping Remus’ hair even tighter as they headed back inside the house, Riley’s tiny backpack slung around Remus’ forearm.

“Nooo,” they wailed, half punctuated by laughter that echoed through the house.

“What are we complaining about?” Janus spoke, leaning against the doorway across the room with a fond smile.

“He said if I kick him in the teeth I have to play soccer,” Riley whined, attempting to climb down from Remus’ shoulders on their own. Janus snorted a laugh before swiftly crossing the room to collect their child and place them on their hip.

“Wow, your daddy’s so mean,” Janus agreed, raising a challenging eyebrow as they stood in front of their husband. Remus pouted before bending down to steal a kiss.

“Gross,” Riley giggled, pressing a hand on each of their parents’ faces to separate them.

“Gross?” Janus smirked. “Well in that case, maybe your dad was being a bit unfair.”

Riley turned to Remus to stick out their tongue at him.

“I mean, soccer? That’s just ridiculous,” Janus continued, a mischievous glint in their eyes. “We’ll obviously have to sign you up for football instead. A punt like that has got to be put to good use.”

Riley immediately went back to their dramatized complaining, this time reaching desperately for Remus to get him to take them back from Janus—to which Remus just held up his hands in mock innocence.

“No can do, kid,” he smirked. “The punishment has to fit the crime, after all.”

Riley continued their attempts to wiggle out of Janus’ unyielding grip.

“Never!” They declared, trying a different approach of reaching over Janus’ shoulder to escape from behind. “I won’t! I won’t do it, I promise!”

Remus and Janus both knew they wouldn’t actively try to hurt either of them, but sometimes it was just more fun to assert rules when it came with shrieking laughter and climbing their parents like a jungle gym.

“Well, now you know where we stand,” Remus spoke in false authority, reaching for one of Riley’s tiny shoes and holding it up to address it as if it were in control of their legs. “I better not see you around these parts again, ya’ hear?” He added in an over-the-top western accent, gesturing to his face.

Riley squealed with laughter as he held out his hand for a handshake and they shook it with their accused foot.

“Alright, alright, you two,” Janus intervened with fond exasperation. “Snacks are on the counter, take it or leave it.”

Riley whipped their head around to peer into the kitchen, cheering when they spotted two plates on the kitchen counter, each with a toaster waffle piled high with blueberries.

“Second…breakfast!” They cheered, drumroll-ing on their leg before whooping and slinking out of Janus’ grip and climbing up onto the kitchen barstools. Remus, giving a fond eye-roll at the enthusiasm, turned to drape his arms over Janus’ shoulders from behind, perching his chin on top of their head.

“They get it from you, you know,” he mumbled, smirking at the scoff it earned him.

“Shut up,” Janus grumbled, the smile evident in their voice. “That is all you.”

“Babe, sports are a threat in this house,” he teased. “You’re telling me that came from me?”

“Yeah, I’ll take that one,” they chided, turning around to face their husband. “As long as you’re aware that the energy, the volume—honey, that’s all you.”

Remus quirked his brow with a proud smirk.

“Or maybe it’s the fact that they sleep for fourteen hours and we haven’t even had eight in the last six years,” he challenged knowingly. “You know, I happen to remember that back in the day…that bed was hardly even for sleeping.”

Janus snorted, their face reddening slightly.

“Is it bad to think of those as the ‘good old days’ already?”

Remus swept a piece of their hair out of their face.

“Hell no, dude. We lived like kings back then,” he chuckled. “How ‘bout this—I’ll get Ro to take ‘em to the park or something this weekend and I’ll dick you down just like old times, ‘kay?”

Janus sputtered out a cackle, smacking Remus on the chest before covering his mouth with their hand.

“Fucking christ, they’re like two yards away,” they hissed, still laughing. “I am not going to be the one fielding questions about what getting dicked down means, oh my god.”

“You say that like they listen to anything when there’s food in front of them,” Remus countered, nodding in the direction of their kid as Janus rolled their eyes with a chuckle.

“Now that, is from you,” they grinned, jabbing him in the side with their elbow.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re serving up delicacies like toaster waffles,” Remus said, raising his hands in mock defense.

Janus gave him a look before crossing their arms.

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky I know you can’t go two hours without food. Go on, there’s one for you, even if it’s probably cold by now,” they teased as Remus excitedly kissed their forehead before practically running to the kitchen. He hopped up to sit on the counter, folding each toaster waffle like a blueberry-filled taco before funneling them into his mouth.

Janus followed close behind—at a normal pace, thank you very much—and took the actual seat next to their kid, sipping at the cup of tea they had left on the counter before the two had returned home as they listened to Riley regaling their day at school.

———

Realistically, Remus probably should’ve seen it coming. He was a couple days past his previous record of days as Riley’s “favorite” and he knew he likely didn’t have much longer before Janus dethroned him again, but he certainly hadn’t expected the scene he walked in on that night.

He had heard hushed laughter coming from one of their house’s bathrooms that evening, assuming at first that Janus was just handling Riley’s bath or something like that, but as he cleaned up the mess from their dinner and finished washing the rest of their dishes, he was surprised to find they were still in there. So obviously he had to investigate.

He knocked on the door, rolling his eyes fondly as shushing and giggles came from within.

“Everything good in there?” He teased, leaning against the door. “I gotta’ say, I’m a little hurt I didn’t get invited to whatever club this is that hangs out in the bathroom.”

More giggles followed by the oh-so familiar sound of Janus’ shushing.

“I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself what all the fuss is about,” he sing-songed, slowly creaking open the door before letting out a snort laugh at the scene before him.

Janus was seated on the edge of the bathtub, wash cloth in hand, as Riley sat on the sink counter, covered on all limbs with temporary tattoos. At least the pieces of tape that Janus had cut into circles and colored black to look like ear gauges were admittedly cute.

“Oh, I see how it is,” he smirked from against the doorframe.

“JJ said you’re a wimp,” Riley proudly announced. “I was right.”

Janus stuck their tongue out and made a spitting noise and…yeah, that was their kid alright. Not that Remus would have it any other way.

#anyway.......i would die for them #my writing #tsbandau #sanders sides #ts remus #ts janus

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maybankiara · 5 years ago

Note

Rafe having an unhinged attack and the reader helps calm his down and he's scared to show that sid of him to her (or him)

BREAK MY BABY

pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

summary: Rafe has been moody the whole day and you’ve had enough. Things get a little complicated when you have to go back to his place and walk in on something you shouldn’t have seen, and see the side to your boyfriend you didn’t know existed.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mild cursing, implied self-harm

requests are open

It comes without a warning.

Topper is the first one to see the cracks that day, even before you come, and he warns you about Rafe’s odd mood. You arrive to the golf court a little late as you had to help out with cleaning up after the storm, and even though you expect Rafe to have an edge to him, it’s a different thing to see it.

��Hey, guys.’

Topper nods in your direction, as it’s his turn with the ball. Rafe is standing at his side and he turns around at the sound of your voice. He smiles, but it looks tight, and when he walks up to you and kisses you on the cheek, it’s too harsh.

‘Morning, babe.’

You raise an eyebrow, but don’t question it. He doesn’t usually call you babe.

‘Good game?’

‘I wish. Top’s destroying me.’

‘Ah.’ You nudge him in the ribs, smiling. ‘Guess someone’s going to be a sore loser?’

Rafe doesn’t look at you, or reply, and you see his Adam’s apple bobble as he swallows. A vein is bulging on his neck and you notice how stiff his shoulders are when he takes the swing, and misses. He’s cursing under his breath, but he swings again, and the ball rolls close to where Topper’s is.

You don’t know much about golf, but you can tell that it wasn’t what he was hoping for.

Topper gives you a look, just as Rafe slams the club into the ground.

‘Fuckin’ piece of shit.’

‘Hey,’ you say, approaching him. He glances up and you give him a reassuring smile, kissing him on the cheek. ‘You just need to relax.’

Rafe huffs. ‘Yeah?’

‘Turn around.’

He hesitates, frowning, but then does as you told him. You reach for his shoulders and start massaging them, using your thumbs to disperse the knots in the muscles. Rafe’s unusually stiff – he even flinches at your touch.

‘Stop it,’ he says, and you drop your hands. ‘It’s not working.’

‘Of course it isn’t if that’s your attitude.’

‘Really?’ Rafe turns to look at you, his jaw clenched. ‘It’s got to be my fault, right?’

‘What’s your problem, Rafe?’

He snickers and walks away from you, following Topper towards the ball. You stand in the spot, arms crossed on your chest, trying to figure what the fuck just happened.

Dozens of feet away from you, Rafe is taking his turn at golf and you hear him grunt again, harshly enough that Topper flinches. You begin walking towards them just as Topper’s ball hardly moves and Rafe leads his forward, leaving Topper and you behind.

Your friend sighs, resting his arm against the club. ‘We had a run in with one of the Pogues,’ he explains. ‘It got a bit messy.’

‘Fuck,’ you sigh. ‘How bad?’

‘Bad. He also had a business meeting with his dad in the morning.’

‘Right.’

Ahead, Rafe raises his arms at the two of you. You follow Topper’s lead, not letting your eyes leave your boyfriend.

It’s not the first time a Pogue makes his way over to this side of the island and you know what he thinks about that. It’s a Kook thing and it’s a Pogue thing; it’s simple. Except Rafe sometimes takes it to a personal level and thinks of himself as the prince of the Kooks, and makes it his duty to show the stray Pogues where their place is.

If Topper was right and he had a meeting with Ward before that, no wonder he’s like this. Still, that doesn’t mean you’ll tolerate it.

‘What’s taking you two so long?’

Topper ignores the question. Rafe walks over to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist. When you push him away, he steps back as if burned.

‘What?’

‘Don’t,’ you warn. ‘Topper said you have a few minutes left. I’ll wait for you in the car.’

Rafe opens his mouth, but then closes them, promptly, and rubs his nose. ‘Whatever.’

When you turn around, Topper glances at you. You give him a nod – I’m okay. Whatever’s happening with Rafe will pass, as it always does. You’ve learned that sometimes you just need to give him a little time to cool down.

The car is in the garage, hidden from the sun, and you spend your time scrolling through social media. It’s your turn to pick up Rafe as Topper was the one giving him a ride, and the bike is at the mechanic’s. Usually, when Rafe gets like this, you just leave, but that’s not an option now.

Well, you could leave him to walk home in this heat.

The thought makes you giggle – maybe it could teach him a lesson.

The door opens and Rafe slings himself into the passenger seat. He doesn’t say anything as he slams the door shut, looking straight ahead.

‘If you keep acting like that, I’ll make you walk.’

‘I lost the game,’ he tells you.

You start the car and drive out of the garage, feeling the wind in your hair. There’s music playing on the car radio. Your elbow is on the door and you’re leaning against your hand.

When you glance at Rafe, he’s still as stiff as before. ‘It’s just a game, Rafe.’

He throws his head back. ‘Just drive me home.’

All you do is sigh – there’s no point in arguing.

It takes you about five minutes to get stuck in a traffic jam, and you find yourself growing restless, too. Mostly because of the fact that Rafe’s leg wont stop jumping up and down and he’s biting his nails, but also because of the fact that the heat is burning into your scalp.

Usually, his hand would slide up your thigh, and he’d pull you in for a kiss in situations like these. You’d use your time the best you could. This time, he stares into the distance, fingers enclosed into a fist, showing no signs of wanting to do anything with you.

Right, you think.

You decide you’ve had enough. When you drop him off at his place about fifteen minutes later, you don’t even stop the car engine. He exits the car and begins walking away from it, immediately.

You honk, once. ‘Give me a shout when you’re out of your bitch phase.’

He just walks into the house without saying anything.

Good riddance, you think.

You’re almost halfway to the other side of the island, choosing to go for a drive instead of just back to your house, when you reach into the backseat for a hat and realise his phone and wallet must’ve fallen out of his pocket.

‘Idiot.’

The car takes a sharp turn and you’re driving back, almost against your will. If Ward or Rose are home, you’ll just give the things to them. Sometimes you wonder if this is how you act when you’re on your period, but you know you’re better at controlling yourself than Rafe is.

You ring the bell, but nobody answers. It’s still early in the afternoon and you assume most of them are probably out of the house, anyway.

With a sigh, you take your keys out of your pocket. The house is quiet when you enter and your plan is to just leave the things on one of the counters in the main hallway. In and out, and forget about it.

You do that, at first, but then you hear Rafe’s voice coming from upstairs. It’s loud, as if he’s yelling, as if he’s arguing with someone.

He might’ve been an ass to you today, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’d go through fire for him. This is exactly why you walk up the stairs, towards Rafe’s room. If he’s arguing with someone from his family, you’ll let just slip out, as if you weren’t here in the first place. If it’s someone else, you’ll help out.

You’re not a fool; you know there’s people who could want things from Rafe.

Your feet are quiet against the carpeted upstairs hallway. Your steps are careful, increasingly so as his voice gets louder. It’s muffled, coming through a closed door, and he sounds choked up.

The muscles in your back tense. You’re as stiff as he was earlier. If this is someone trying to choke him— Your fingers ball into fists and you’re ready to throw hands.

Right in front of his door, you stop.

‘You’re a fucking asshole,’ you hear Rafe say. His voice is cracking, as if he’s crying. ‘Is this want you want to do with your life? Beating people up? You’re a shitty fucking person. You can’t keep going on—’

There’s a crash, as if something has been slammed into the wall, and you hear Rafe yelp.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, fists ready at your sides, and barge into the room, ready to stand by Rafe’s side and fight whoever’s got their hands on him.

Except—

Except Rafe’s alone.

Your hands fall to your sides and you straighten your back, looking around, but there’s no one. You could’ve sworn—

‘What are you doing here?’ Rafe asks. His voice is harsh and rough from shouting.

The Kook prince is on the floor, propping himself up on his elbows. The nightstand next to him has an indent in it; some things are scattered around the room. It looks as if there was a break in.

Rafe repeats his question, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. His eyes are bloodshot and cheeks bright red, lips big and puffy. He’s breathing heavily, and his skin is shiny with a sheer layer of sweat.

‘I—’ you begin, but words evade you. A cold flash runs through you. ‘I thought someone was hurting you.’

‘Not what happened,’ Rafe says, finally getting up. His hair is a mess, too, and the more you look at him, the more you realise there is something awfully wrong with the scene. ‘Get out, Y/N. You shouldn’t be here.’

‘Rafe, what the fuck is going on?’

He looks around, bewildered. ‘You’ve got to leave.’

‘Rafe—’

‘I said’—his eyes meet yours and they’re dangerous—‘leave.’

You stand your ground. ‘No. Not until you tell me what’s going on.’

Rafe walks over to you until he’s inches from your face and you feel his breath on yours; his chest is rising and falling too fast, and he closes the door behind you, and the heat radiating off his body is too hot even for this weather.

Something’s wrong, but this is your boyfriend, this is Rafe, and you’re not leaving until you are told what’s going on.

‘What’d you think happened, huh?’ He steps closer to you until your bodies are pressed together. You try to stay in place but he pushes against you, and you step back. ‘You think there was someone trying to kill me?’

‘Choking you,’ you say. You raise your chin, facing him. ‘Throwing you around.’

Rafe grins. There’s blood in his mouth, you realise. ‘That’s just me. Isn’t that what you like to see? Is this what you came here for?’

Your fingers touch his cheek and he flinches; there’s a bruise forming. ‘Who did this to you?’

‘Stop.’

‘Rafe, who did this to you? Was it that Pogue?’

‘Stop.’ He takes a step away from you and pushes his hands off of him. He spits blood on the laminated floor, shaking his head. ‘Leave. I don’t want you to see me like this.’

‘I’m not leaving.’

‘It’s for your own sake.’

‘You can’t tell me—’

‘I’m going to fuck up your life!’ he screams. His hands are in his hair, tugging at it, and he kicks the nightstand – the same sound you heard before. ‘Can’t you see? I’m out of control, Y/N, and I keep losing it! Is this what you want? Is this what you came here for?’

You flinch at his voice but you step closer, despite your instincts telling you to run away. This is Rafe, you tell yourself. Even if he doesn’t look like himself.

‘You’re not going to hurt me,’ you tell him. ‘I trust you.’

‘You shouldn’t.’

‘Rafe—’

‘Don’t you see it? Even my dad sees it. I’m a fuck up. I make everyone around me feel like shit.’

You step even closer, until you’re a breath apart, and you shake your head at him. ‘We all have bad days, Rafe.’

He lowers his head. ‘Mine are worse than other people’s,’ he mumbles.

‘You can’t let them,’ you tell him, quietly. ‘Stop letting your moods influence who you are. You’re not a bad person just because you have a shitty day.’

When he raises his eyes to meet yours, they are filled with tears, and he lets out a shaky breath. ‘I can’t control myself. You need to stay away from me.’

‘I need to stay with you until you’re better.’ You place a hand on his cheek and rub it with your thumb, mindful of the bruise. You feel how hot he is underneath your fingertips. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not going to let you go through it alone, okay?’

‘Why?’

You sigh. ‘Because I love you, you idiot.’

His eyes drop. ‘I don’t deserve it.’

‘If you keep talking shit about yourself, how are you going to think you’re anything else? Rafe, you don’t have to be alone. You’re not going to ruin my life. You’re making it better, every single day.’

Finally, his hands are at your waist, and he tilts his head forward until your foreheads are touching.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers.

‘Happens.’ You wrap your hands around him, feeling his breathing grow steadier, feeling him relax into your touch. ‘You just breathe and we’ll get through it, okay?’

He nods. ‘Thank you.’

‘Let’s take this one day at a time,’ you say, holding him. ‘Today, you stop saying bullshit about yourself, alright?’

‘Yeah.

‘Good.’ You let out a shaky breath and laugh, a little, breathing for the first time since you entered. You feel him close to you and you realise how stupid are the arguments you’ve had. ‘You better be fucking grateful I was ready to throw hands for you.’

Your words make him laugh, too, and you feel your heart relax at the familiar sound. He kisses you softly, almost cautiously, and smiles into the kiss. ‘You better.’

‘Idiot,’ you call him, but then you kiss him back, and soon enough, things are better again.

#rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #obx fic #obx imagine #topper thornton #my fic #my imagine #requested #thank you for requesting this!!#i loved writing it #beburningred #rafe x reader

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saxxxology · 4 years ago

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control || oneshot

Sam’s tense, stressed, and you’re his only source of relief.

PAIRING: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Native American!Reader

WARNINGS: a/b/o dynamics, smut, semi-public sex

NOTE: This work was written for Bel as a commission. Do not save or repost my work without my consent. 18+ only - if you are not 18, please leave/unfollow me!

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You’ve been on the road for hours, stopping only for gas and snacks. The sights whizz by at sixty-five miles an hour, open landscape to towering trees. You’re tired and sore from almost two weeks of being on the road and tracking leads on Michael, but Sam won’t stop. Things are getting rough—Omegas are rare, and Sam’s an Alpha in a word where your kind are outnumbered three-to-one. He used to be nice, sweet, kind. Now, since his brother’s been gone almost three weeks… he’s irritable and aggressive, only speaking when you ask him a question or when he wants you to do something.

It’s hard, especially since Alphas and Omegas aren’t genetically compatible by just working together. Sam’s not a bad-looking guy, and you’re an Omega without a mate. It’s programmed into you to want him, bad. Trouble is, he doesn’t seem to feel the same way. If you can just lure him in… he might appreciate you a little more.

“I’m tired,” you murmur one night when you’re peeling through Oregon. “We should find a motel.”

“Get in the backseat.”

You glance over at the Alpha. He looks tired, dark shadows under his eyes, thickening beard, tense jaw. It’s been a rough few days, and he’s been showing the effects of suffering from a lack of sleep.

“Let’s find a motel,” you try to reason. “It’s really late, Sam, and you haven’t slept. I don't want you to pass out on the road.”

He clears his throat. “I won’t.”

“You don’t know that… please, there’s gotta be a place in the next town.” You pull out your phone and open the Maps app, intent on finding a reasonable place. “Let’s just stay for one night, we can shower, get some real food...”

His jaw ticks. “Fine.”

You sigh with relief and scroll through the list of motels that come up. The cheapest one has six rooms available, so you turn on directions and set your phone on your seat. The rest of the drive passes in silence, and you let Sam find a parking spot as you head into the lobby to book a room for the night, with cash. You meet him in the parking lot, where he’s got both of your bags, and then go unlock a room on the second level.

“You shower first,” Sam directs. “We’re outta here first thing in the morning.”

You nod in silent agreement and unzip your duffel bag, tugging out a bundle of clean pajamas. His eyes laser-focus on your back as you disappear into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. The shower pressure is a little heavy, but you let it beat the tension out of your shoulders and back.

It feels good to be alone—the last two weeks have been filled with Sam and hunting and Sam and driving and more Sam. Why he’d chosen you to come along, you have no idea. There’s a bunch of Alphas that had come with you from the other world that are just as good at tracking and hunting as you are, if not better.

Regardless, the Omega in you needs either space or for him to stop being so focused on his mission of finding his brother. He’s an Alpha, after all… if you can coax him into staying a night at a motel after four days of camping out in the Impala, who knows what you can get him to do.

You emerge in a billowing cloud of steam, pulling at a strap of your tank top. Sam’s reclining on one of the beds, watching the news. He stands up when you shove your dirty jeans and tee-shirt back into your bag and grabs his own—just a rolled-up pair of black sweats. Wordlessly, he stalks past you into the bathroom, and you hear the shower start up almost instantly.

Jerk.

***

You check out the next morning, after two hours at the laundromat, where you plot your course back to Lebanon. There’s nothing much to do but go back, since every lead is cold and you can’t do much else.

Another day passes on the road. You pay for a night at a campsite just outside Wyoming and camp down inside the car, Sam in the front seat, you in back. It’s cold, and you spend most of the night shivering and yawning over actually sleeping. Sam takes note of your discomfort the following morning and buys you the biggest coffee Starbucks can make.

You wake up late, having fallen asleep in the backseat. Sam’s still driving, eyes focused on the road, and he barely glances in the rearview mirror as you sit up.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“Nebraska.” Sam holds up a bottle of root beer as you clamber back into the front seat. “I got food while you were out, thought you might be thirsty.”

You crack the bottle open and take a long sip. “Thanks.”

“We’ll haul through the night, get back to Lebanon in the morning.” Sam shifts in his seat.

You don’t bother to reply, only sit back in your seat and rest your head against the window. The miles tick by, lit by the light of the moon. The whole car smells like Sam, and it’s starting to drive you nuts.

Sam breaks the silence after almost an hour, taking a deep breath before speaking. “You smell different.”

Cheeks flushing, you sniff under your shirt. “I’m wearing deodorant.”

“Not that.” He tightens his jaw. “You know what I mean.”

You chew on your lower lip. “Are you…?”

“Not going into rut,” he says. “But I can’t deny you smell good. Why d’you think I asked you to come along?”

You shift on the seat, feeling the strong pulse between your legs. “I thought you said I was smart.”

He chuckles. “You are. But there’s other Alphas back at the bunker and I’m not leaving you there alone for them to fight over.”

Your cheeks flare. “They wouldn’t fight.”

He grimaces. “Trust me, they would. I’ve seen more than enough fights over Omegas, they’re brutal and I don’t need to deal with knotheads who can’t control themselves. Besides, with the way you’re smelling right now, it’s not smart to take you back there at all.”

You shift a little closer, heart racing in your chest. “They wouldn’t fight if I had an Alpha.”

His nostrils flare. “Don’t start.”

“It wouldn’t be bad,” you explain. “You don’t have to claim me, I’m not asking for that.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Your hand creeps onto his thigh. “I don’t wanna get dropped off somewhere, Sam. If I got you on me, if I got you inside me, they’d know.”

Sam scoffs. “Yeah, and what happens when you get pregnant? The last thing I wanna deal with right now is a pup.”

“I’m not in heat.”

“Yet.”

“Still.” Your fingers drift up, rubbing over the front of his jeans. “You’re so on edge, you need to take a break.”

“Can’t.”

“Not even five minutes?”

He tongues the inside of his cheek. “What do you have that’s only gonna take five minutes.”

You give him a little squeeze, watch his upper lip flicker up into a snarl. “Is it so bad that I just want a good, hard fuck? Funny that a guy like you isn’t jumping at the chance to get his knot nice and wet.”

Sam exhales sharply as his cock gives a soft twitch, giving way to the tease of your hand. “Y/N…”

You rub him again, feeling him swell and stiffen in his jeans. “Come on, Sam, please…”

He groans when you lift your hips, shoving your pants down and to the floor. “Y/N—”

“Give me your hand.” You tug one of his hands off the wheel and guide it between your legs, dipping into the waistband of your panties, and two of his fingers slide against wet, hot flesh. “This is what you do to me,” you whisper, rubbing yourself against his hand. “I need it so bad, Sam, please… I’d feel so good on your—”

You squeal as he suddenly turns off the road, down into a little rest patch. The tires grind against the gravel, and he wrenches the door open, pulling his hand from between your legs and wrapping his fingers in the front of your shirt. He drags you out of the car and around to the back, not caring as you let out a whimper of pain as you stumble on the ground.

“Sam, what—?”

He shoves you down over the trunk, letting you catch yourself on your hands. “If you’re going to act like a little Omega slut, then I’m gonna fuck you like one.”

He lifts you onto the trunk and steps between your thighs, wrenching his belt open and pulling his cock into his hand before tugging your panties aside. You feel him rut through your folds, grunting as he slicks himself, and thrusts into his hand as he lines himself up, trying to find your entrance in the darkness. His other hand lands between your tits as he thrusts in with a primal shout, the sudden sensation of hot slick on his cock almost too much. He shudders through another shove, and your breath chokes off when he presses in deep enough for you to feel the firmer flesh near the base of him inside.

“That’s it,” he snarls, “take it good… you wanted this so bad, didn’t you?”

You nod, head tipping back as he grabs your waist to hold you still as he picks up the pace. Straining forward, he presses each deep, heavy thrust against your cervix, fighting the urge to see if you’re receptive enough to take him in there, where he’s only been a couple times before, and drain him dry.

“Oh no you don’t.” He shoves your shirt up and palms a tit in one huge palm when you try to wiggle back and change the angle of your hips. “I like it this way, you spread out like a greedy little slut.”

He bends to kiss you, and the feeling of his lips pressed wet and sloppy against yours makes you squirm, desperate for more. Your hands slip around to grab handfuls of his ass, sliding the waistband of his boxers down until you can feel warm, firm muscle. He grunts, rutting closer, and you spread just a little wider, letting the skin above his cock rub against your clit.

“You’re gonna cum like this,” Sam growls, “with my cock inside you… just how you want it. You want it, don’t you? So fucking wet and tight for me. Gonna feel real good getting my knot up in you.”

You cry out, stifling the sound with a palm as he spreads his stance and fucks you closer and closer to orgasm. He grunts when you buck underneath him, trying to get him to ease off, but he holds you in place.

“Scream,” he pants, “nobody can fuckin’ hear you out here, I wanna hear you scream.”

Your head falls back onto the car as your body convulses. A whine turns into a long, hitching series of breaths, and you cum so hard your vision blurs. Sam grunts, going still inside you and working his fingers on your clit until you’re whimpering and begging for him to back off.

He wastes no time in pulling out, tugging your hips off the car, and turning you around to bend you over. You wince as he kicks your ankles apart, and he slides back inside without hesitation, hands holding your hips high enough for him to be comfortable.

“That’s it, baby,” he urges, “I’m almost there, gonna cum nice and deep… take it real good for me…”

You shudder through another wave of pleasure as Sam’s thrusts grow stronger and more determined. His fingers dig into your flesh, surely leaving bruises, and when you feel him curl over you, his lips meeting the back of your neck, you arch for him, slick streaming down the insides of your thighs as he fucks right against your sweet spot.

“Sam—” you choke on a sob as his grunts start to intensify, “fuck you’re… I need you to—”

“I’m gettin’ there,” he pants, “fuck, I’m gonna cum…”

You let out another squeal as he shoves forward, his knot popping inside your cunt as his mouth presses against the back of your neck. He cums with a bestial snarl in your ear, hips pumping wildly against your ass, and you squirm as the heat of his seed fills you.

Panting hard, he slumps against you, pressing as close as he can. His teeth scrape over your skin, and you shiver, arching away. He chuckles darkly.

“You really think I’d claim you right here?” he nips at the back of your neck again, earning a breathy whine. “Mmm, you’re not ready for that. When your hot little ass goes into heat, though…”

You squirm when he gives you a shallow thrust, knot pulsing inside you. “You’ll claim me?”

“I’m not gonna let anyone else get a taste of this,” he murmurs. “It’s all mine now.”

He steps back, easing his softened knot out of your body, and strides around to the backseat to grab a wad of napkins. You wipe yourself down, discarding the sticky tissues in a plastic bag destined for the trash, and slip into the front seat. You’re a mess—panties drenched in slick and cum, the front of your shirt rumpled from where Sam had grabbed you. He eyes the way you squirm on the seat and reaches back to grab a blanket.

“Sit on this,” he directs. “Don’t need you ruining the seat.”

You fight the urge to retort that it’s really his fault that the seat would be ruined, but you tuck the cotton fabric underneath you without a word. It’s pointless to put your pants back on… if Sam wants you again, they’ll only get in his way.

As the Impala pulls back onto the road and roars away, you tuck yourself against his side, head on his shoulder so you can press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. He doesn’t object when you slide down to rest your cheek against his thigh, and he settles back in his seat, eyes fixed on the long, dark road ahead.

He’ll figure out what to do with you when you get back.

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#alpha!sam winchester #alpha!sam x omega!reader #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester fanfiction

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wingsofkpop · 4 years ago

Text

Hiraeth - I.X: Was it Worth it in the End? Part One

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, very heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, violence, explicit descriptions of fighting, blood and gore, mentions of death and murder, mentions of trauma, some satanic themes, etc.

word count: 7,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

A/N: It’s finally here! Thank you all for your patience and support! Please enjoy!

“—this plan is fucking insane!”

“You said anywhere was better than the mansion!”

“That was before I knew you were claiming sanctuary with the very people that sent Teenage Chewbacca to maul Jinyoung and I!”

“It was Minho who turned Changbin! How many goddamn times do I have to say that to get it through your thick skull!?”

The incessant bickering of the two voices gradually lifts Jinyoung from his slumber, reintroducing his mind to the workings of reality. He flutters his eyes open, surprised at the lack of light, and forces himself to sit up. At his sudden movement, his head roars with pain, sending a dizzy spell through his limbs. He manages to swallow the temporary vertigo and keep upright, quickly realizing his current position in the backseat of a car.

“Jinyoung?... Oh thank god—he’s awake.”

“It’s about fucking time.”

“(Y/N)? Jaebeom-hyung?” Jinyoung squints, attempting to map out your and his brother’s silhouettes through the blackness. He manages to pinpoint the annoyed glare of the latter in the passenger seat, thus concluding that you are probably driving. “What happened? How did I get here?”

“While you were taking a snooze, that fucking superwolf broke into our home and nearly ripped my throat out.” Jaebeom snorts, “Of course, not until after he impaled me with my own landscaping.”

“I managed to stake him before he hurt Jaebeom.” You pipe in, “But we don’t think it killed him—only slowed him down long enough to let us get away.”

Jinyoung shakes his head in both confusion and shock, immediately regretting the decision when his brain pounds like a bass drum. He allows himself a moment to pass the ache before cautiously speaking, “And… where exactly are we going?”

“Yeah, Wonder Woman. Why don’t you tell my brother where your brilliant idea for refuge is?”

Jinyoung can feel the intensity of your glare from the back seat.

“I’m taking us to the wolf pack.” You murmur softly, “If anyone has a chance of talking Changbin down, it will be his own people.”

“And as I was explaining to our dear (Y/N), the wolf pack also has a pretty large bounty over our heads.” Jinyoung hears Jaebeom release a heavy sigh before leaning back in his seat, “We’ll be attacked the moment we step foot out of this car.”

“Would you stop being so damn paranoid?” Your frustrated demand echoes throughout the car, “Not everyone is out to kill you—”

“I’ve made a lot of enemies over the centuries, little dove… Killed a lot of people—pissed off even more.”

“Maybe, but I know you didn’t kill Jackson Wang.”

The car grows dead silent minus the heavy breathing of who Jinyoung assumes to be his hybrid companion. He tries to make out Jaebeom’s expression, but it’s too dark. His imagination will have to do.

“Everyone says you did, but I know there’s more to the truth.” You say, “I may not know what exactly happened, but Jackson’s death wasn’t your fault—either of your faults.”

“And how exactly do you know this?”

“That doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that the pack is our only viable option at the moment, and I need you to trust me on this.”

Jaebeom sighs, “Good God—this is not happening.”

“I trust her.” Jinyoung answers without hesitation, reaching across the council to lay a hand on the hybrid’s shoulder. “We have no reason not to, hyung.”

“And why the hell not?” To his dismay, Jaebeom shrugs away from Jinyoung’s touch. “Give me one good reason why I should trust you with my life.”

“Because I could have let Changbin kill you… but I didn’t.”

Jaebeom grows silent again. And although no words are said, Jinyoung knows—and knows that you know—that the conversation ended in your favor. Jaebeom may be a paranoid, narcissistic sociopath, but even he is capable of hope in the darkest of moments.

A sudden gasp disrupts the hushed atmosphere, resonating from beside Jinyoung a mere foot away. For the first time, he notices a third body propped in the seat next to him. The figure writhes and releases a set of whimpers before growing still once again.

“We have another issue.” Jaebeom murmurs darkly, “Changbin bit Tzuyu during our fight, and when I tried to heal her with my blood… it didn’t work.”

Jinyoung raises an eyebrow, “What do you mean it didn’t work?”

“Minho transformed Changbin into a weapon that would have the power to kill you and Jaebeom—the only two invincible beings in existence.” Your explanation causes Jinyoung’s heart to sink, “His venom can’t be cured by Jaebeom’s blood, so…”

“So Tzuyu is going to die unless we find a cure.” Jaebeom finishes with a hum, “We better get to it fast cause the hallucinations are already starting.”

“The pack will help us.” You affirm. “I know they will.”

Jinyoung truly hopes that your confidence is well placed. Afterall, it is his, Jaebeom and Tzuyu’s lives all on the line.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do this.” Mark stresses, flipping through the grimoire with enough force to tear the pages. “This spell needs a lot of power—”

“Can’t you do what Youngjae does and channel something? Like a celestial event?”

Mark shakes his head. “Even that won’t be enough. I would have to channel the power unnaturally… through black magic.”

“It’s only one spell—what harm could it do?”

“Black magic is dark magic, Jack.” Mark directly addresses his werewolf companion, shaking his head even more feverishly. “It’s unpredictable… We could offset the balance of nature and—”

“I don’t give a shit about the balance of nature, Mark!” Jackson cuts in, “This may be our one and only chance to get rid of the Primes—to protect our town and the ones we love… Don’t you think that’s a little more important than upsetting the magic gods?...”

“You don’t understand—magic always comes with a price.” Mark says darkly, “I can’t trust what will happen if I use black magic… For fucksake, Jackson—I could kill you.”

Jackson places his hands on Mark’s shoulders, staring deep into the witch’s eyes. “I trust you with my life, Mark… and I know you won’t let me down.”

Mark debates with himself, attempting to find a solution past the chaos of his thoughts. His gut tells him it's a bad idea, but Jackson, his best friend, is telling him otherwise. He’s right—it is only one spell—and like he said, Jackson trusts him…

Mark just has to trust himself too.

“Alright.” He finally nods, “I won’t let you down… I promise.”

“Mark-hyung—Mark!”

At the call of his name, Mark’s mind springs from unconsciousness. His eyes snap open, discovering multiple familiar faces staring down at him. He releases a pained groan, just now recognizing the ache running through his entire body, before murmuring softly:

“What… happened?”

“How much do you remember?”

Mark attempts to pilfer through his memories, recalling his argument with Minho that resulted in the theft of his magic and the moments thereafter where said witch transformed Changbin into a super werewolf. He closes his eyes shut and leans back with a huff.

“How long have I been out?”

Youngjae hums, “At least a couple hours. Minho locked us in the old crypt after you passed out, so we really don’t have any sense of time.”

“Sounds fucking fantastic.” With a deep moan, Mark forces himself into a sitting position. His spine wails at the movement, but he pays it no mind and instead stretches his arms over his head in an attempt to work out the knots in his bones. He also takes the time to survey his surroundings, discovering, just as Youngjae said, to be inside the dingy, crumbling underground cavern beneath the mausoleum. He can’t remember the last time he’s been down here—how ironic.

“I’m guessing Changbin made a beeline for the Project Estate?”

“Didn’t even hesitate.” Youngjae answers, “You don’t think he got them… do you?”

“I honestly could care less about the Primes right now.” With Youngjae’s help, Mark manages to push himself to his feet before finding purchase against a stone pillar. He takes a second to catch his breath, then continues, “There’s an exit down here that leads into a bunch of old tunnels underneath the graveyard. If we can find it, there’s a chance we might—”

“I wouldn’t think about it, hyung.” Mark’s suggestion dies on his tongue as his favorite witch emerges from a dark corner. Beside him, Youngjae releases a surprised gasp while seeming to shrink in on himself. Mark, on the other hand, doesn’t budge.

“Enjoying this villain complex a little too much, don’t you think?”

“You don’t seem very happy with me, Mark-hyung…” Minho smirks.

“Okay—you’ve had your damn fun.” Mark sneers, “Let us all go before I really start to get pissed.”

“Like you can do anything about it anyway, without any magic and all—” The witch wiggles his finger in which the ancient ring still rests. “—and don’t worry. Once the blood moon fully passes, you’re all free to leave.”

“You’re a real fucking psycho, you know that? You really think Changbin is gonna manage to kill both Jaebeom and Jinyoung by himself?”

“I could care less if he does.”

Mark’s eyes narrow, “Why are you keeping us down here? What else could you possibly want?”

“Well, I want to make you suffer as much as possible… but that was already kind of obvious, don’t you think?”

“I’m serious, Minho!” Mark’s hiss echoes between the stone walls of the crypt, bouncing back in his ears like a record on repeat. “Why go to all this trouble to kill the Primes? To mess with me? Are you really that desperate for revenge? That you’d hurt your own people trying to get it?”

Minho shakes his head with a growl, “You all made it very clear that I was never a part of this coven.”

“That is such bullshit!” Mark peers over his shoulder to find Lia emerging from another part of the cavern, followed closely by a quivering, wild-eyed Jisung. “You just never got over the fact that we chose Mark as coven leader—not you!”

“At least I could have kept Nayeon alive!”

“Nayeon’s death wasn’t Mark’s fault! It wasn’t any of our faults!” Lia screams, “Why are you so strung up about this anyway!?”

“Because I loved her!” The atmosphere grows strangely tense at the young witch’s confession, effectively forming the beginnings of a large lump in Mark’s throat. That mass only grows as Minho continues on, “She was the only one who understood me! She believed in me when no one else would!”

Through the corner of his eye, Mark can see the same shock and pain spreading along Youngjae’s features as his own, as well as Jisung’s.

Lia’s expression, however, does not change. “I think you forget that all of us loved Nayeon—all of us are still grieving. It’s not just you.”

“You don’t understand—”

“Then make us understand for crying out loud!” Lia exclaims while throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “You go on about all this bullshit that we never try to include you, when it’s you who never tries—it’s you who always pushes us away!

“We’re supposed to be a team—a family… We are all that’s left of this coven, and look at us now.”

Minho remains silent.

A single tear cascades down Lia’s cheek as she shakes her head. “Nayeon-unnie would be so disappointed… in all of us.”

At her words, Mark feels his heart practically sink into his stomach. He notices the blank expression etched across Minho’s face, wondering what could possibly be going through the young witch’s mind. For a moment, he has hope that Lia’s speech actually knocked some sense into him—that he’ll actually make amends and set them free.

But alas… he speaks too soon.

“Apné sà mene…” Mark immediately recognizes the incantation for a boundary spell, attempting to hurry toward the doorway in which Minho retreated towards. His chest smacks into an invisible barrier, sending his body sprawling back to the crypt floor. Both Youngjae and Lia rush to his side to help him back to his feet—a new pain lingering in his side.

He glares at the retreating witch with all his might.

“You’re gonna regret this.”

“Not as much as I regret ever looking up to you.” Minho waves his hand one final time, making sure to flash his ring, before disappearing up the staircase that leads out of the crypt. With a bitter taste in his mouth, Mark watches as he goes, continuing to do so until he hears the familiar sound of a closing door.

He turns to the trio. “Any chance one of you can break the boundary spell?”

“I might be able to siphon enough power from Lia and Jisung to take it down—” Youngjae shakes his head, “—but it will only be temporary. Maybe ten seconds or less?”

“That’s better than nothing.” Mark nods, “When Youngjae breaks it open, you guys will go through the passageways and head to the Wang Cabin to warn the wolf pack—”

“No.” Lia interrupts his explanation, “Minho will be able to sense our magical energy the minute we step foot out of the boundary. You, however, do not have any magic at the moment.”

“You need to warn the pack, hyung.” Youngjae agrees with a nod, “You’re the only one that can get out undetected.”

Mark feverishly shakes his head, “There’s no fucking way I’m leaving you three here. It’s not happening—”

“Don’t worry about us.” Lia says, “I have a plan to stop both Minho and Changbin.”

“What do you mean?”

“Minho bound Changbin’s power to his own in order to complete the transformation.” She explains, pointing up toward the ceiling. “Once the blood moon is over, Minho will no longer have the power to uphold the spell, so Changbin will no longer be able to remain in his enhanced form, which means…”

“Which means we have to stop the spell before the night ends.” Mark breathes, “Okay… How do we do that?”

“Youngjae can siphon Minho’s magic which should give us enough power to counteract the spell completely… that is, if we can get close enough.”

“Once Mark-hyung warns the pack, we’ll have more than enough backup to take him down.” Youngjae adds, “We need to do this now, before he comes back.”

Mark shakes his head again, “I don’t know about this—”

“We can do this. Trust us, Mark.”

Lia’s determined gaze strikes a chord deep within Mark’s chest. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look so serious and resolute…

He’s never seen her look so much like a leader.

“Fine.” He reluctantly agrees, “Let’s do it.”

“Lia? Jisung?” At Youngjae’s call, both of the younger witches offer their hands for the siphoner to take. His own hands glow as he begins the counter incantation, gesturing for Mark to make his move with a nod of his head. Mark does as requested, carefully sliding past a crack in a nearby pillar to enter the secret passageway.

He spares one final glance at his coven mates, admiring the fierce passion along each of their features, before turning into the tunnel and becoming one with the shadows of the night.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Sometimes you forget life even existed before your time in Moon Dye Bay. Maybe it’s a result of your newfound interest in supernatural existence, or possibly due to the close relationships you’ve made throughout your stay. In the entirety of your time of living, you’ve never once called anywhere home, and while you still refuse to commit yourself to such a description, you can’t deny that this strange, little town has come pretty damn close.

Before you moved to Moon Dye, you lived in Chicago for about a year while finishing up your graduate work. Not quite in the city, but in a borderline rundown suburbia on the outskirts. There, you rented a decent condo for dirt cheap and found a well-paying, easy office job right down the street. It was every college student's greatest dream—until it wasn’t.

To this day, your mind still doesn’t recall the event as vividly as it should. Probably in an effort to ease the underlying trauma and fear. Even so, you don’t like to think back on it too much… Who would—when you’re the only survivor in a massacre of dozens of innocent people?

But even so, if it weren’t for that day, you would never have ended up in Moon Dye Bay… nor learned that fairy tale creatures aren’t quite fictional afterall.

You push the thought away to focus on pulling into the nonexistent driveway. The passenger beside you releases a rather loud groan as the car rocks back and forth, but you choose not to comment on his obvious distaste of your driving. You’re too exhausted… and frankly, you just don’t care at this point.

“You guys stay in the car.” You say while killing the engine and shrugging off your seatbelt, “I should talk to them first just in case, so try not to get yourselves in any more trouble while I’m gone.”

Jaebeom clicks his tongue, “Says the one who can’t seem to go one day without being attacked.”

“Hyung—” Jinyoung goes to scold his brother, but your voice beats him to it.

“Last I checked, it was your girlfriend, your proxy vampire minion, and, surprise, surprise, you who have all tried to turn me into a human blood bag.” You exit the car before throwing one final glare at the hybrid, “Keep treating me like some sort of liability, and the next time someone tries to kill your pompous ass, I won’t be so kind as to save your fucking life.”

With that, you shove the vehicle door shut with a little more force than necessary and storm toward the cabin, attempting to push the annoyance from mind. You wouldn’t usually waste your breath on something like Jaebeom’s pettiness, but with the combination of the stress of the current situation and fear for everyone’s lives at stakes, you really don’t want to deal with the hybrid’s need to make you feel like the dumbest person on the planet.

You eventually reach the front door, lifting a hand to knock at the wooden surface. The ominous silence of the nighttime tugs at your nerves as you wait—hopefully one of the wolves is actually up at this hour… maybe you should have called beforehand?

As each minute passes, your patience grows thinner and thinner. Even after another series of rather obnoxious knocks, no one opens the door. You debate returning to the car and discussing a Plan B with your undead squad, but decide to check the backyard first. Maybe the pack is having some sort of late night bonfire…?

You carefully navigate your way around the cabin, using the light of your cellphone as a guide through the darkness. Minus catching your toe on a loose board in the decking, you manage to make it to the back of the cabin unscathed. However, the sight that you find is definitely far from that of the bonfire:

From what little you can see, the yard is completely trashed. Picnic tables lay in splintered halves while other pieces of furniture are either smashed to smithereens or tossed to the side. Even Dahyun’s clothesline is no longer standing, and is instead strewn carelessly across the grass along with its collection of unfolded laundry. A particular sweatshirt catches your attention, appearing somewhat dirty in the minimal light. Once you’re close enough, you take the garment in your own two hands to better identify the mysterious stains… and you almost wish you hadn’t seen it in the first place when the realization settles in your head:

A large splotch of fresh blood is decorated across the fabric like an unfinished painting.

“Shit…” You curse, searching the area for any other possible clues of the pack’s whereabouts. Near the edge of the pond, you discover what seems to be an array of footprints in the mud, leading into the black of the quiet forest. There are multiple sets, you find, and you hope they all belong to the werewolves in question…

You know you should return to the car and report your findings to Jaebeom and Jinyoung, but something in your gut tells you that someone is in trouble.

Before you can dwell on the cons, you push forward into the woods, following the muddy footprints as best as you possibly can. Between pushing away mischievous branches and stepping over lazy logs, you’re almost reminded of the path you traversed before you met with Mina… You can only hope the events that follow this time aren’t as horrific.

“Yugyeom!...” You call softly, trying not to mistake each tree trunk as the silhouette of a person. “Bang Chan!... Anyone out here!?...”

The screech of the nightly breeze is your response. You eventually lose the footprint trail, unable to base your path off of anything but intuition. Your desire to turn back is strong, but you’ve come this far… and you doubt you’ll even be able to find your way back to the cabin at this point.

Your body tenses as a high-pitched wail enters your ears—a wail that sounds oddly similar to that of a human. Against the siren in your head screaming red flags, you head in the direction in which the noise came from. The silence pesters you as you go, practically electrifying your nerves from the inside out.

Out of nowhere, your foot catches some kind of large branch or rock, sending your body sprawling toward the earth with a loud gasp. You manage to break your fall with your arms, ignoring the gentle ache in your wrists, and scramble to grab the phone you dropped on the way down. Your anxiety is practically through the roof by the time the device is back in your grasp, but you muster up the courage and move to continue your search. However, the reveal of something that looks oddly like a human limb freezes your muscles.

It wasn’t a branch you tripped over… it was a leg.

“(Y/N)...”

It takes you a moment to identify the voice between the shock and fear, but all at once, your uneasiness shifts to concern.

“D… Dahyun!?”

After moving your light for a better view, you discover the female wolf slumped against a tree and covered head to toe in what seems to be a combination of blood and sticky mud. Her clothes are practically stained crimson, which you quickly realize is the result of the large jagged rock protruding from her abdomen.

“Holy shit… What happened to you?” You drop to her level to better assess her condition. There are more wounds embedded across her arms and chest—wounds that resemble claw marks…

“It was Changbin…” Your heart practically plummets to your stomach at her revelation. Dahyun pauses to cough—a couple projectiles of blood spewing from her lips—before continuing, “He attacked the pack… but he—he was different… Super strong and super fast and—and… It’s almost like he was—”

“Upgraded.” You finish, “Minho transformed Changbin into a weapon to kill Jaebeom and Jinyoung—the same spell Mark tried to use on Jackson.”

“It was more than that, (Y/N)...” She shakes her head, “Changbin wasn’t… wasn’t like himself…”

“What do you mean?”

“He was a monster…” You allow the wolf to grab your hand, ignoring the sticky feel of her blood against your skin. “I don’t—I don’t even know if anyone else is still alive… I don’t—I mean, I can’t—”

“Shhh.” You hum gently, reaching up to push away the hair melded to her sweaty forehead. Dahyun somewhat calms at your touch, but just from the wild expression along her features, you can tell the poor girl is scared out of her fucking mind.

“We’ll deal with that later, but right now, I need to get you out of here—”

You don’t have the chance to finish your sentence before she’s practically lurching away from you.

“No! You’re the one who needs to leave!”

“Dahyun—”

“He will kill you, (Y/N)!” She hiccups, “You need to run before he finds you!”

“I’m not just going to leave you here to bleed out—”

“She’s right.” You whirl around at the new voice, and to your surprise, discover a disheveled Yugyeom emerging from the darkness. Similar to the female wolf, gaping claw-marks decorate his face, chest and lower abdomen. His arm also seems to be broken and his knee badly dislocated—you can almost see the bone peeking out of his skin.

You hurry to catch the wolf before he collapses, carefully lowering him to lean against the same tree Dahyun is propped against. A pained wheeze passes his lips, but his expression remains as stoic and as determined as ever.

“If you care about your life, then you’ll run.”

“And if I care about yours and Dahyun’s lives?”

“We’re already as good as dead.”

“No—” You shake your head feverishly, “—I refuse to let you throw yourself to the big bad wolf like some fucking martyr, so you either start moving or I’ll drag you by the skin of your teeth.”

Yugyeom’s expression softens. “You sound like Jackson-hyung…”

If it were any other situation, you would have allowed yourself the time to respond to the newcomer’s comparison… but you’d rather not stay and risk the chance of encountering any more surprises.

“C’mon.” You carefully throw Dahyun’s arm over your shoulder, mindful not to push the rock deeper into her abdomen. Once you’re sure she won’t buckle back to the forest floor, you offer your free hand to the third party. “None of us are dying tonight.”

A familiar, malicious chuckle has your limbs growing numb.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Like a creature of the night, a smirking Changbin saunters into view. His clothes are torn and tarnished with blood, yet there’s no trace of injury along his skin. With the little light you have, you can just barely make out the black veins decorating underneath his eyes—the magic is already starting to consume him.

“Listen to me…” You murmur cautiously, maneuvering your body so Dahyun is safe behind and out of reach. “You’re under the effects of dark magic, okay? You’re not yourself—”

“I’ve never felt more like myself than I have now.” Your eyes dart around the area as Changbin leers closer and closer, attempting to find something sharp or heavy enough to knock him out. Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be any tea mugs or large branches in sight—

“I don’t want to hurt you, Changbin…”

“Really? Cause I sure want to hurt you…” He smiles devishly, “In fact, I’m just dying to rip out your fucking throat after that bullshit stunt you pulled back at the manor—”

“Leave her out of this, Bin.” Yugyeom hisses, clutching his chest while keeping himself supported against the tree. “If you have a problem, then take it out on me… Not her.”

“Oh, don’t worry… I’ll get to you next, hyung.” Changbin suddenly approaches, providing you no preparation as he snatches your wrist and pulls. With the little strength she has left, Dahyun attempts to defend you, landing a couple heavy hits against the attacker’s head. However, it only takes a good shove to send her flying to the ground—leaving you helpless in the arms of the beast.

You try to throw your own punches, but Changbin is both stronger and faster by miles. In the blink of an eye, he has your figure pinned to the ground with a calloused hand around your throat. Your lungs immediately go into a frenzy as the superwolf cuts off your oxygen supply. You claw at his fingers, breaking skin and fighting for breath, but his grip remains as firm as steel.

“…Think of…” You choke—your eyes beginning to roll to the back of your head. “…J-Jack…son…”

“What the fuck did you say—!?”

A loud bang erupts through the area, drowning out Changbin’s demand. Through the dark spots of your vision, you notice a gaping hole in the center of his throat. Another bang sounds, and this time, his head is blown to shreds of brain matter and skull. His grip immediately loosens, permitting your intake of oxygen once more. You quickly scramble away from the now unmoving corpse, gasping for air and clutching your swollen neck.

You’re almost glad it’s dark, so you can’t see the extent to which Changbin’s head had been mutilated.

Your ears are still vibrating when someone takes your shoulders.

“Jinyoung…?”

“Are you hurt?”

“No—no… I’m fine.” You allow the vampire to help you back to your feet. “Is… he?”

“For now.” Jinyoung hums, leading you into a nearby circle of light. To your surprise, you discover Mark carrying Dahyun with one arm and supporting Yugyeom with the other—a large shotgun splayed along his back. “Mark is a remarkable shot… I don’t think you wish to see, but Changbin won’t be bothering us for at least a couple hours.”

You release a sigh of relief. “Great… But now what?”

“Yugyeom says the rest of the pack is holed up in a secret bunker deeper into the forest.” Mark speaks for the first time, “We should head there… We all need to talk.”

“There’s no time like the present.” Jaebeom pipes up, emerging from the shadows with an unconscious Tzuyu in his arms. “I don’t know about you guys, but I really don’t want to be here when this guy wakes up…”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jackson is floating, aimlessly traveling through a white fog in which reality doesn’t quite reach. The Other Side is funny like that—Jackson doesn’t exist in the eyes of nature, therefore, when he’s not visiting the land of the living, he’s merely suspended in a state of nonexistence with nothing but the company of his own thoughts. He’ll spot the spirit of a fellow supernatural every so often, but even then… he’s completely alone.

Until he found you.

A wave of fondness spreads through Jackson’s veins—as if he had drunk a comforting cup of hot tea. In all the time he’s spent in the neverending nothingness, he never once thought he’d be able to feel again… but like a firework in the black of night, you sparked every bit of hope and passion and liveliness lingering within his mortal spirit. Maybe it was your determination that reminded him of his past self, or maybe it was your eyes—so bright with the stars of mortality—that made Jackson want to live again, to experience the warmth of your smile and the chill of your gaze in the depths of a true beating heart.

Something about you just makes him feel so… human.

Jackson snickers to himself before peering over his shoulder, having previously noticed some kind of blurred silhouette in the distance. It’s too far to tell, but he can just barely make out the approaching shape of another spirit—likely a newly deceased supernatural. He prepares to retire back to his thoughts, but is, however, interrupted when an ice-cold feeling overtakes the entirety of his being. Jackson freezes, both from the cold and his realization:

The witches know about his plan… and they’re not happy about it.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“—so once Youngjae siphons Minho’s power, he’ll be able to reverse the spell and turn Changbin back to normal.” Jaebeom keeps his focus on the witch as he relays his explanation to the many other audience members scattered around the bunker. He never thought the day would come where he would actually be working in tandem with Mark Tuan, the motherfucking magician himself, but here he is—

“What if Youngjae can’t perform the spell in time?” The pack’s beta, Yugyeom speaks up from his seat at a small, cardboard table stationed in the tiny kitchenette. He stretches his newly healed knee out in front of him before sparing Mark an inquisitive glance, “What happens then?”

“Minho’s power is the only anchor keeping Changbin alive, most of which he's drawing from the eclipse. Once that power runs out, then Changbin’s form will give out, which means—”

“He’ll die.” Dahyun finishes, pacing from one end of the underground shelter to the other. If it weren’t for the blood stains on her clothing and the large bandage encompassing her exposed abdomen, it would be impossible to tell she had been stabbed only minutes ago.

Being a werewolf certainly does pay off.

Mark nods, “Yes.”

“How long do we have then? Roughly?”

“‘Til the moon goes down, so about an hour and a half. Two hours at the most.”

“Shit.” She curses, “We’re so fucking screwed.”

“Let’s not jump to the worst of all evils so quickly.” Jaebeom fights the urge to roll his eyes as his brother, always the hero, appears from the next room before assuming his perch beside your sitting figure. He hands you an ice pack while still speaking to Mark, “You’re certain Youngjae will have enough strength to disarm the witch?”

“Not really, but it’s the only option at this point.”

“While this pathetic excuse of a plan is super great and all, there’s still a pretty big fucking elephant in the room.” Ignoring the harsh glare the witch sends his way, Jaebeom continues, “There’s a cure for werewolf wonder’s bite, right? Some sort of witchy antidote or spell—?”

“As sorry as I am for your vampire girlfriend, I never thought of a cure when I designed the spell.” Mark’s eyes flash with something akin to resentment, spilling amusement through Jaebeom’s veins like a toxin. “When I want something—someone dead, I want them to stay dead.”

Jaebeom snorts. “Still the same punk ass kid you’ve always been, Tuan… It’s nice to see that nothing’s changed.”

“You’re a fucking prick—”

“Mark-hyung. Don’t.” Yugyeom places a calming hand on Mark’s shoulder, stopping him from storming over to where Jaebeom is currently smirking like a fool. The wolf glances at the latter before shaking his head, “We have bigger things than petty rivalries to worry about.”

To Jaebeom’s disappointment, Mark agrees with a sigh.

“Right… It’s just been a real shitty night.”

“For all of us, it’s safe to say.” Jaebeom doesn’t miss the warning look his brother sends his way, shaking his head scoldingly before turning to the witch-werewolf pair. “Could Changbin’s blood possibly reverse the venom’s effects? Similar to Jaebeom?”

Mark shakes his head, “Changbin isn’t a hybrid like your asshole of a brother. His blood has no healing properties whatsoever—”

“But there has to be something.” Your voice immediately cuts the former off, allowing Jaebeom some time to suppress the urge to fly across the room and tear the witch’s tongue from his mouth. “Youngjae once told me that magic always has a loophole, so a cure has to exist—we just have to figure out what it is.”

“I admire your positivity, little dove, but we don’t exactly have the time for trial and error.” Jaebeom peers over his shoulder at a sleeping Tzuyu—who is still showing no signs of possible consciousness or life in general. Her skin is flushed and sweaty with fever, but he can sense how her limbs tremble beneath the poison coursing through her veins. His chest tightens for a moment, only until he returns his focus back onto the conversation at hand:

“Minho might have an idea, but it’s a long shot.” Mark exhales, “Once we take him down, there’s no guarantee he’d tell us—if there is a cure, that is—and with the combined effects of your and Changbin’s venom, I have no clue how long your girlfriend has until—”

A sudden clatter has everyone leaping from their seats. Yugyeom flies to the bunker door in mere seconds while Mark snatches his shotgun from the kitchen counter behind him. Through the corner of his eye, Jaebeom notices Jinyoung usher you behind his form before pressing a small pocket knife between your fingers. The blossoming of the black bruises along your throat sparks rancor through the hybrid’s veins, and he readies himself into his own fighting stance.

“Yugyeom!?... Are you in there!?”

Yugyeom’s hostile expression transitions into one of relief—the tension melting from his body like snow. Although the voice is apparently familiar to the rest, Jaebeom remains tense as the beta goes about unlocking the bunker door. He almost expects a cackling Changbin to come bursting through the trapdoor, but is pleasantly surprised when a new figure comes into view—another limp body thrown precariously over his shoulder.

“Oh my god! Chan—Felix!” Dahyun immediately rushes toward the pair. Her gaze practically alive with fear. “Holy shit—is he alive!?”

The newcomer, who Jaebeom assumes to be Chan, sets down the teenager, presumably Felix, on one of the bunk beds with the help of Yugyeom and Mark. He catches Jinyoung helping a third figure, a teenage girl who can’t be over eighteen, into the bunker as well. Judging by her glassy irises and quivering lips, she seems as if she is going to burst into tears at the drop of a thimble. The group’s collective ragged appearance, Jaebeom knows, signifies the aftermath of one hell of a fight.

“What the hell happened out there, Chan!?” Yugyeom’s demand awakens the hybrid from his trance, forcing him to return his focus to the newcomer.

“H-He found us…” Chan murmurs darkly, “I… I tried to protect them… but he was too strong…”

“How is that possible?” Jaebeom frowns. “Sabrina the Witch over here blew his fucking head off—”

“They had to have been attacked before then.” Jinyoung places a calming hand on his shoulder, which he is quick to shake off.

The strange werewolf nods in agreement, “We took our time to get here—didn’t want to risk running into him again…”

“Wait…” The room grows hushed at Dahyun’s exclamation. When Jaebeom turns toward the female wolf, his annoyance falters at the panicked expression etched along her pretty features. “Where the hell is Chaeyoung…?”

Chan remains silent and still, like a boy fresh out of war, but Jaebeom has witnessed enough in his many lifetimes to see the answer written all along his face.

Yugyeom stands. His expression grim, almost sorrowful, as if he already knows too.

“Bang Chan… Where is Chaeyoung?”

“…she’s dead…” His whisper is barely audible, yet the hybrid can see how deeply those two words wound the crowd around him. “…bled out… there was nothing I could do…”

“Fuck…” Dahyun shivers before burying her face into her palms and letting out an even louder curse, “Fuck!...”

“I’m so sorry…”

Your soft voice carries over the female wolf’s sobs. Fascinated, Jaebeom watches as you maneuver your way across the bunker to kneel in front of a now sitting Bang Chan. You take his trembling hands between your own and peer up at the wolf with the most sympathetic gaze he has ever seen—his own heart can’t help but lurch at the sight.

“I hate to add to the list, but we have another issue—” Mark groans, pulling his hand away from the incapacitated teenager’s neck to press it against his own perspirating forehead. “—Felix was bitten…”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?”

“Dahyun—please.” Yugyeom sighs, “I just—shit.”

“We need to find that cure. Now.” Jinyoung steps forward, turning to speak directly to Mark. “I will go to the graveyard to assist your coven. With my help, it should be fairly simple to disarm the rogue.”

“Don’t underestimate him. You’re still gonna have to put up a damn good fight.”

“I can well manage on my own.”

Jaebeom shakes his head with a sneer, “I seriously doubt that, considering you got yourself poisoned the last time you played goddamn Superman.”

As much as Jinyoung puts up the invincible front, Jaebeom has known his brother for a long, long time—and also knows that the previous encounter with the superwolf left him much weaker than before. He can see it in the trembling of his hands and the pained lines etched along his forehead. He’ll get himself killed long before he reaches the graveyard.

“Jaebeom should go too.” You rise from your kneeling position to join the group. “Two pairs of hands are better than one. You can protect each other.”

“Absolutely not.” Jinyoung disagrees, “Jaebeom needs to remain here in case Changbin resurrects again.”

“We don’t have the time to worry about that. The witches will need all the help they can get.”

Jaebeom scoffs, “I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but (Y/N) is right. We don’t know what we’re up against—better for us both to be there than just the one.”

Jinyoung stares at Jaebeom for a brief moment, as if searching his face for some hidden secret, before inhaling a deep, yet silent breath and finally nodding, “Fine. But if Changbin attacks—”

“We’ll handle it.” Yugyeom nods, “Thank you… for doing this.”

“We all have something to lose.” Jaebeom doesn’t miss the glance Jinyoung sends in your direction before making his way over to the bunker exit. “I just wish to make sure that no one else dies.” The last bout of final farewells are shared along with the reminder for everyone to remain on their best guard. In an attempt to follow his brother, Jaebeom moves to climb the ladder, but is stopped by the call of his name:

“Jaebeom, wait!...” He pauses—his interest piquing as you rush toward his temporary perch. Your gaze is shy, he notices, but still contains the fire of a thousand burning suns. “Just… be careful out there, okay?”

His response is indifferent. “Not to worry, little dove. I’ll make sure Jinyoung returns to you in one piece.”

“Promise me you both will return in one piece, please…”

Jaebeom’s annoyance immediately dissipates at the stressed enunciation of your words. His cold expression melts into a mixture of surprise and astonishment, mirroring the conflict brewing throughout his chest. He clears his throat, attempting to expel the emotions creeping up his back, before nodding:

“Y-Yeah, sure.” He gulps, “Can you… take care of Tzuyu? While I’m gone?”

Your gaze softens. “Of course. Just please stay alive.”

Jaebeom doesn’t respond, untrusting that his words will make sense if said aloud. After providing you a silent farewell, he climbs the rest of the way out of the bunker where Jinyoung is waiting. His brother offers a pointed glance when he completely exits the safety of the bunker.

“I trust you’re ready for this, hyung?”

“Let’s get this shit over with.” Jaebeom rolls his eyes, “I’m getting real tired of running from Teenage Chewbacca.”

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heartofsnark · 3 years ago

Text

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Eight): Icarus Falls

Notes: Why, yes, I am posting these relatively quickly. This is the last of a backlog since I’m actively still working on the next chapter, This is a doozy of a chapter, both emotionally and length wise, but I’m rather proud of it, if I’m being honest. I recommend settling in a snack and maybe...just maybe some tissues....

Word Count: 15327

Chapter Warnings: Multiple deaths, violence, gore, grief, angst.

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

V and Jackie get into the backseat of the Delamain taxi. White and tan leather interior, despite looking the nicest she ever has in twenty years she still feels like she might stain the white leather. No driver, instead there’s screens and consoles in the back of the seats in front of them. An avatar of a bald man with stark unnaturally white skin and blue lips

“Welcome on board this Delamain service. With Delamain, you leave your problems at the door,” the AI avatar greets them in a robotic voice.

“Son of a bitch! Better fuckin' believe I will!” Jackie yells out, still grinning. V lets out a breath of air meant to sound like a laugh, but the lump in her throat isn’t making it any easier.

“I see no reason why you should be using expletives.”

“Sorry, he gets… excited.” Her voice is tighter than she wants it to be, her leg bouncing now.

“Damn right, I’m excited. Hey, Del, what about that time I wanted to hire you for my cousin's bachelor party, huh?”

“Unfortunately, we do not take on such contracts.”

“Three months I'd been savin' up scratch… Egh, water under the bridge. Hit it, Del!”

“Before we begin our journey, I must verify the identities of all customers. Please proceed to connect your personal links,” the mercs plug their personal links into the console, “Thank you. "Excelsior" package activated.”

Crisp subtitles for Delamain alight along her contacts, more comprehensive than the lip reading tech sometimes gives. Maybe his AI avatar enunciates more properly than a human, she wonders.

“"Excelsior"? Hohoho, this just keeps gettin' better!”

Jackie laughs as the taxi cab starts to drive and V finds herself fiddling with her suit sleeve. It’s perfectly tailored, but she still feels like a kid in dress up. Having to pretend she’s a corpo, having to pretend to be a hearing person. Her bright painted nails seem to clash so much with the persona and she curses herself for not changing the polish. What if they’re caught right away? The corps smelling Heywood and The Badlands on them the second they walk through the door. What if the spoofed SID hack doesn’t work, what if the bot malfunctions… What if, what if, what if; spins around her brain. They can’t fuck this up, there’s no room for mistakes. One disaster will destroy their reputations, hell their entire merc careers. And that's the best case scenario.

When she glances at Jackie there’s no hint of nerves, no hint of reservation or fear, just giddy excitement. Like a kid getting ready to hit up a party.

“What’s got you riled up?” She asks in spoken English, deciding she’ll mostly speak for the ride since Jackie is the only person really here, that way he doesn’t have to look at her the entire time. And maybe she’s also hoping if she talks enough she won’t clam up too bad in Konpeki.

“Hang on, watch this… Delamain! Initiate combat mode!”

She can see the bright red ink of his tattoo peeking from his suit sleeve, eyes drawn to it, and something about that scares her more; a hint of his Valentino roots showing, would it be a literal red flag for Konpeki security.

“My apologies, but you do not appear to be in any sort of imminent danger,” Delamain crushes Jackie’s hopes, a frown replacing his grin.

“Huh… Oh well. Trust me, he'll mow down an army of ‘Saka ninjas if it comes down to it,” Jackie explains to V and she wraps her arms around herself, resisting the desire to bring her legs up into the seat, trying to get her mind off her nerves.

“So, what else is included in Excelsior mode?” V tries signing to the AI, curious if it has translation tech for ASL.

“Comprehensive health coverage, including the handling and disposal of a client's remains should death occur on board,” Delamain responds without hesitation and instantly ruins any chance of her getting her mind off the massive risks within this job.

“Damn. Shit got dark pretty quick,” Jackie comments.

“Dex isn’t skimping though.”

“And thanks to you, we're still gettin' a juicy forty percent.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Excelsior…This is how you wanna cruise into the major leagues…” He says like the job is already done and they’re hitting up an after party…

“Wouldn’t get too excited yet, Jack, doing a job not hitting up a party.” And her words are too sharp, voice too venomous and rough in her throat. She regrets it as soon as they leave her lips, as soon as she’s spoken them into reality, wishing she could swallow them back down. His face drops completely, eyes harsh and she knows she fucked up.

“For real, V…? See me as that shallow?”

“I-”

“Lemme explain somethin' to you, V… My whole life I've spent in this shit around us! And I ain't goin' back!”

“I’m sorry, really, I just… I’m worried and I let my nerves talk for me, I’m sorry.” She quickly tries to smooth it over, those knots in her gut only winding tighter with Jackie mad at her.

“Swear to christ, V, I will never fucking get you,” he says, shaking his head and looking out the window.

“What do you mean?”

“Twenty years old, sitting in the back of a Delamain, on your way to do a job for Dex fuckin’ Deshawn and you can’t even muster a fuckin smile? You fuckin’ know what I’d have done to be where you are right now when I was your age, I was still dreaming of seeing The Afterlife! Took you less than a year to be here, took me ten! And you ain’t even happy about it! Then you act like I’m not takin’ it serious, like I don’t got my fuckin’ head in the game, just cause you can’t appreciate where the fuck you are right now!”

She chews her lip, not sure what to say to him. Guilt coming over her. He’s right, she hasn’t lived in Night City nor been a merc nearly as long. He’s been doing this since he left the Valentinos… For Jackie this has been a lifelong dream, the ultimate goal. She didn’t even consider it a possibility until she met him and now she’s already on her way there. Of course he’s happy, on the precipice of his dreams coming true.

“I’m sorry, really I didn’t mean to piss on your parade.”

“Yet somehow you always do.”

V sighs watching the city pass outside her window for a few more moments, tapping her fingers, that knot feels like a ball of lead now. She wants to claw her skin off, tear and tear away at herself, at her being, and maybe, just maybe she’ll find someone better under the gore. Someone who isn’t such a fucking asshole. Someone who knows how to keep their mouth shut and doesn’t ruin everything for everyone else. She’ll never understand why Jackie puts up with her, why he has for so long. She just doesn’t want to fuck this up. The job, her friendship, the little bit of happiness she’s built. V wrings her hands together, tight enough to hurt and she twists them a little harder, nails digging into the skin. If she can’t find anyone better maybe she’ll just claw away until she’s nothing at all.

She’s already a bundle of nerves over the heist and she can’t stand another moment of the tension hanging thick in the air.

“Did you fuck my wife?” She says in her best imitation of something between an Italian and a Brooklyn accent, watching Jackie’s face, the hint of a smile tugging at it. Tension starting to melt ever so slightly.

“Don’t get me started,” he returns forcing the same cheesy voice.

“Did you fuck my wife?”

“I think you fucked my wife and got me started.”

“I got started cause you fucked my wife.”

“I could trace back the moment I got started it’d definitely be when you fucked my wife!”

“That is unquestionably when I got started!” They’re smiling now, giggling at every other word as they choke on their cheesy jokes. Tension melts away as a weight is being lifted off her chest.

“My records indicate that neither of you are married.”

And they lose it, laughter filling the car at Delamain’s interjection to their stupidity. Its ridiculous and dumb and they sound like children. But, she’s thankful for the moment, the reprieve, where it’s laughter and not nerves tearing at her guts.

A call notification lights up on V’s optic contacts, T-Bug’s avatar and V answers, the runner’s voice coming just a moment later.

“Hey. How's things?”

“Eh,” Jackie answers, “been better, been worse.”

“We’re nearing our destination,” Delamain tells them and V’s throat tightens.

“Listen, set up a direct, encrypted line to guide you through Konpeki. V, ring Jackie now, see if we're in sync. Can't be too careful.”

She puts a call through to Jackie, inteface telling her it’s establishing a secure connection.

“And?” Bug asks, expectantly.

“Got static,” Jackie cringes, “Say somethin', Bug?”

“The greatest crimes issue from a desire for excess and not from necessity."

“Say what now?”

“Yeah, I read you. Not so much your Greek friend, though it was kind of exciting,” Jackie tells her with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Could give it some thought, try to understand…? How 'bout you, V?”

“I want more Aristotle!”

“Fuck off, both.”

Jackie and V share a giggle at the runner’s expense, V’s going to miss when Bug goes into retirement. If all works out, even on the brighter side, it may be the last time all three of them work together. But at least Bug will be happy and safe, unlike V or Jackie, this was never her dream or end goal.

“OK, tech checks out, looks like,” T-Bug confirms.

“Será mejor que sí…”

“Stay in touch”

And V just realizes the taxi has stopped moving, through Jackie’s window she can see the front entrance of the hotel. The bright red exterior walls, a worker standing at the ready and those nerves are clawing their way back with a vengeance, tearing up her insides and making her want to bolt, terrified that they’lll be found out as soon as they step foot in. They need to get moving, only way to get through the fear is to take control, do what needs to be done. And hopefully avoid puking in the back of an expensive AI taxi.

“Thank you for choosing the Delamain service. And best of luck. I shall await here for your return.”

“Shit's finally happenin’… “

“Its game time, got any iron left on you, time to put it away,” she tells him, tucking her gun and knife into the center compartment. Jackie following suit. V tugs off her suit jacket and rolls her white sleeves to her elbows, making sure her blades are accessible from the start.

“Alright, Hannah, let’s go.”

V opens the door of the Delamain, greeted by the view in front of the hotel, in the distance she can see the space travel facility, night settled over the water. The hotel has trees and plants out front, trying to sprinkle some nature into the cement and chrome world of Night City. She carries her suit jacket over her shoulder, keeping one hand busy with it, while the other sits in her pocket. Hoping it will keep her from signing if she needs to talk.

“Hold on, lemme grab the Flathead.” Jackie pops the trunk of the taxi and pulls out the case with the bot.

The mercs take the two marble steps up, a vibrant stript of red along the path.There’s long white marble with planters and the name of the hotel inscripted in gold.

“'Member, reservation's in your name… Ramón. You're there to meet Hajime Taki - military tech department rep. Papers are for the Flathead” T-Bug tells them as they get closer to the double doors.

“Welcome to Konpeki Plaza,” a man in a red, black, and gold uniform greets them, bowing his head as they pass by.

There’s a large waiting room, white couches along the sides with monitors displaying documentaries and vases with red hologram plants branching out of them. A security gate divides the waiting room from the front desk, scanners to check each guest for weaponry. Beyond it she can see staff with gold plated skin. All non-security personnel of the hotel are gold plated; receptionists, concierge, bartenders, and the like. A requirement for the job, even staff must match the aesthetic.

“Welcome to Konpeki Plaza. Please come through single file,” The guard tells them as they reach the full body scanner.

“You got it, holm-- uh, ahem, sir,” Jackie stumbles and V screams internally, watching her friend step forward. Blue light crackles along him, like lightning, then it flashes red. Misty’s warning of mean reds, flaring in V’s mind.

“Ahem. Hold on got something,” the guard stops Jackie before he can go any further, “Sir, care to explain why you're bringin’ a combat bot onto Konpeki Plaza premises?”

“Arms dealers.” V yells out quickly, hating how forced it sounds, tightening her fingers in her jacket, desperate not to sign on instinct and not realizing she forgot the ‘we’re’ part of her sentence until she finished saying it.

“Excuse me?”

“Ah!” A gold skinned concierge steps over, “You are here to see Taki-san, am I right? Please accept my apologies for the confusion.”

“Pff,” Jackie scoffs as the concierge bows and walks into the lobby, waiting at the front desk.

V steps into the scanner, guard assuring her it will only take a moment. It distorts her vision, crackling it with blue for just a moment. Then the guard tells her to go ahead and she walks forward, meeting Jackie at the desk. A woman with gold skin, black hair all shaved except for the bangs and sidelocks greets them. And V is starting to notice that the Arasaka logo is everywhere, the corp hotel owned by them. On the screens, gold emblazoned on marble planters, and on pamphlets. The hotel and Arasaka logo are clearly one in the same.

“Youkoso. Greetings and welcome to Konpeki Plaza,” she says bowing her head to them and V returns the gesture.

“We’d like to check in,” Jackie says and V sends him a silent thanks for talking. .

“Of course, just a moment, please” the receptionist taps away at a keyboard, “The name on the reservation is…?”

“Victorino.”

“Double room, two adults, one night. Correct?”

“That’s the one,” V tells her, with a tight nod.

“Perfect… I will go ahead and notify Taki-san of your arrival.”

“Shit, no good, not part of the plan. Talk her up, V, stall!” T-Bug yells out over the call and V is once again wanting to scream.

“That, uh, won't be necessary,” she curses herself for stuttering, “We'll go freshen up first, notify him ourselves.”

“But Taki-san is expecting you, no…?”

“Senorita, do you know how long we been traveling? Eighteen hours from New Barcelona. With a delay on Metakey 'cause some cyberpsycho blew himself into bits inside the terminal…”

“Been a nightmare, ugh.”

“Of course, I understand. You will be in the Lapis Lazuli Suite on level forty-two. Oh, one more little formality… Please validate your SID chip.”

“Honor's all yours, Hannah.”

A tablet on the table lights up with a bright blue handprint and she’s reminding of her issue getting into her own apartment. Bug said she put a temporary hack on their SID chip, but there’s an extra twinge of anxiety as V lays her hand down on it. She half expects it to show a senior citizen, to be outed as a fraud and tossed out the door.

“Everything seems to be in order. We wish you a pleasant stay!~”

“Better get goin'.”

V murmurs a thanks, feeling a bit of relief at having that part of this whole thing done. Playing corpo is somehow more stressful to her than the idea of breaking into Yorinobu’s penthouse. She follows behind Jackie. Large marble planters fill the lobby, some with trees that nearly touch the staggeringly high ceiling.

“New Barcelona? Really?” T-Bug comments as V follows Jackie up a short set of marble steps.

“It's called improvisin' - you should try it,” V stares up at a gold framed painting, “Whaddaya think, Hannah"?

“...” V raises an eyebrow at him with a soft noise in her throat.

“Quaint, cozy. Not like the hotel we had in Zurich for that convention.”

“Don't need that, Jack. Enough.”

“What? I’m takin’ this seriously!” Jackie grumbles when T-Bug scolds him.

They take two turns through the lobby, guards passing by talking about dolls being left in rough shape as they near what looks to be a bar in the corner. It's an open pathway inside, the bar illuminated in pink and a gold plated woman stands at a podium bearing Arasaka’s logo. There’s a lit collection of alcohol behind the bar, liquor that costs more than V’s rent, which isn’t a hard feat but still rubs her the wrong way.

“Bar don't look too shabby.”

“We don't do reservations on weekdays, so feel free to grab any available table. Or a couple of stools at the bar if you prefer?” She explains to them, a valley girl accent to her words.

“Could bring Misty here one day. When we, uh… close this deal.”

“Might take a look around.”

The idea of sitting down, if only for a moment, and catching her breath after the close call in the lobby sounds nice. Her nerves are frayed already, she’s never wanted to drink so much on a job before. A quick breather before she has a full blown panic attack.

“Shit,” Jackie curses, “look like some fuckin' travelin' salesman with this case. Go ahead, I’ll go on upstairs.”

V nods, watching Jackie go to the elevator, a part of her feels guilty, but she doesn’t intend to take too long. And it’s not as if she’s made visiting bars on the job a habit before, she can have this one. She rubs a hand over the back of her neck, feeling the chrome indents of her Mantis Blades cooling the skin. Half of the room is a lounge with black couches and slick pink metallic chairs, terrariums built into the walls. The other half is, gold stools and booths before the neon pink bar. Each side is filled with people mingling, dressed in high fashion, people who’ve gambled away more money than she’s ever seen.

“And when I say heads're gonna roll, I don't mean it as a fucking turn of phrase,” a half drunk man slurs his speech at the golden bartender. The stench of whiskey clings heavy to his clothes.

“Had enough guy, don’t you think? You’re making the other customers uncomfortable,” the bartender sends a pointed look towards V, a slight twang in his voice. She was looking for a breather, not conflict.

“Good! 'Cause this affects them, too! It'll slap everyone in the face!”

“What’s that?’ She entertains him, figuring it might get the guy gone sooner.

“You wanna know what a bearer of bad news looks like? What's four hundred yards long, weighs a hundred thousand tons, and is nuclear powered…? The answer's docked in the bay! Hanako Arasaka decided -,” he hiccups, “decided to take a little vacation!

“Big deal.”

“Don't know how big just yet,” her sarcasm doesn’t penetrate the fog of whiskey, “And by the time we do, it'll.. it'll be too late. Screw this. I'm gonna get some sleep…”

With that the man stumbles away, taking the too strong smell of booze with him and the shining bartender turns to her. His shaved hair either red or pink, color distorted in the glowing light.

“Evenin, what can I get you, baby?”

Her nose wrinkles at the term of endearment, “little forward, don’t you think?”

“Suckled it outta my ma's very breast,” he returns, “Fifty percent protein, the other half pure high octane CHOOH2.”

He presses two gilded hands to the bar leaning forward as he regales his story and she can’t help but raise an eyebrow; he’s implying he’s a nomad, but why would he tell her that?

“What?”

“She had wind and dust in her hair, so to speak. Belonged to the Aldecaldos. Before the bombs began fallin'. Her final words? ‘Wherever you go, whatever you do, be yourself, David.’ And so I ended up here. Still no one but myself.”

He’s full of shit, she decides immediately. Maybe her own distrust or her own frustration, nobody with nomad blood would end up here, gold plated and slinging drinks to corpos. At the very fucking least, they wouldn’t act so damn happy about it.

“Lovely story if it wasn’t a crock of shit.”

“Everyone's making something up,” he smirks, “Just like you, baby.”

“Excuse you?” she chokes out, feeling like ice water has been shot through her veins. He’s seen through her, that implication clear, but how? Even regaling to her some fucked up story of being a nomad, like he could smell the dust of the badlands still on her skin.

“Can I getcha somethin'? At the least, water?”

“Bourbon and cherry coke.”

“You got it, baby.”

The repeated use of the pet name earns him a glare, V tapping her fingers against the bar, his story and perceptiveness making her nerves worse. He sets the drink on the table and she downs it with a gulp, alcohol not quite loosening her how she hopes. She sets the glass down and leaves the bar, it may be petty but she doesn’t leave him a tip, frustrated at the idea he could have seen through her.

She jabs the elevator button, tapping her foot as she waits and stares at some painting. Its all abstract bullshit, pretty colors, but she’s not sure she sees much else to them. The golden doors open, the back of the elevator windowed with what looks like foliage inside, maybe it’s just a screen. V steps inside and jabs to her level. And after just a short ride, it stops at her floor.

The doors open and she sees Jackie, looking over one of the art pieces, walking past a desk and concierge to greet him.

“About time,” he says, when he spots her, the pair making a beeline to the suite. They walk past a couple speaking Russian, talking about testing on people, as they find the door.

Jackie opens the door and she gets her first peek of it, stepping in. The furthest wall almost entirely windowed, looking out over the hills. Another expanse dedicated to a terrarium, a large plush bed, white sofas, and a table projecting hologram displays of fish. V tosses her suit jacket off onto the couch.

“Pretty snazzy. Too bad we ain't stayin' the night. Nice choice, Bug.”

“Didn't pick it for snazz. Offers quickest access to the dweller and servers.”

“Sí, sí, me acuerdo,” jackie grumbles as he puts the Flathead case down on a table in front of the terrarium. The little spider bot springs to life the second it’s case is opened.

“Now you fire up the Flathead and find the shaft entrance.”

“Sounds simple enough…”

“Simplicity's sometimes toughest to master,” T-Bug tells her.

“Aurelius? Aristotle? Who's it this time?”

“Yours truly, that one's mine.”

“Go ahead and find the shaft, chica, I’ll get the Flathead running.”

V nods and begins looking around the room, scanning around, finding the shaft after a short moment. A little square panel standing out on the wall next to the terrarium, scanner telling her it’s Flathead compatible.

“Found it.”

“Good. Jackie, how's the Flathead lookin'?” T-Bug asks, he’s put the control shard in one of his neuroports while V was looking for the shaft, eyes now glowing bright white blue.

“All set. Systems’re operational, charge at a hundred…,” a moment passes his expression furrowing as he shakes his head, “Mierda. Little gonk's stuck.”

“Just gonna stand there and look at it? Gonna have to switch to manual control. V, take the control shard from Jackie. Gonna link your Kiroshis to surveillance so you can guide the bot.”

“Why me, Jack’s got full blown optics?” She asks, as he pulls the control shard from his head.

“Yeah, but you got better tech, unlike someone I ain’t run up my tab with Vik. Got last-gen firmware low flow. May be contacts, but you’re working with top notch Kiroshi tech.”

“Plus someone already has some playtime with the bot,” T-Bug outs her and Jackie raises an eyebrow at V, a teasing smile on his lips.

“You played with the bot?”

“Just… give me the shard,” she takes it from Jackie’s hand, “Surveillance cover the whole hotel?”

“Mhm. Even the bedrooms in the suites.”

“Seriously?”

“You'd be surprised what people're willin' to give up to feel secure. Lucky for us, Yorinobu's an exception. Penthouse is dark, no hotel security.’

“Okay, here goes.” V pushes the control shard into the slot, the interface says it’s connecting her, then it glitches and in a moment she’s looking at herself and Jackie through the surveillance camera.

“Patching you through to in-cam view. Might get a little disoriented, but don't freak”

Her vision switches between rooms; a man getting a lap dance from a doll in a dimly room, two men in another hotel room. And then it lands on a third room. A meeting of four people; two Arasaka suits and two faces she vaguely recognizes. The view doesn't shift again and she takes the chance to look closer, talks of losing control of Watson, election season. And it clicks, the mayor of Night City.

“Camera’s set,” V tells Bug, political bullshit isn’t her business, she can see the vague outline of the Flathead creeping into the room. Only slightly visible to her thanks to her connection,

“Get him to the next vent.”

V scans and finds the next vent shaft tucked in the corner of the room, sending the Flathead to it. She watches as it crawls and creeps through the room.

“C’mon little buddy, you got it, yes,” She cheers on the little machine as it skitters across the camera and into the vent.

“It’s a Military grade combat bot, not your pet, V. Patching you into the next cam now.”

The next room appears, more brightly lit with two maids working to clean it. V goes to send the Flathead into the vent but the request is denied, detecting one of the cleaning ladies is too far into it’s path.

“Cleaning crew’s in the way,” V tells Bug, listening to one of the women start drooling over Yorinobu.

“Gotta distract her. Hmm, let's see what's on the subnet…temp control on the terrarium, sic the bot on it.”

V follows the runner’s orders scanning and sending the Flathead onto the temp control. Barely a moment passes before the maid’s notice, freaking out about how expensive it is. The merc takes her chance and sends the bot into the unblocked vent shaft.

“Little guy’s through.”

Next cam flickers into a green tinted maintenance hallway, the bots legs tinkering across the floor. Vent on the other side of the room, V sends it through, smiling as her little buddy makes his way through. And it brings her to a new camera, it looks like where the surveillance feeds lead to. A console and row of screens with a security guard watching them.

“Dweller's just beyond the door. Flathead can jimmy the lock.”

V sends the command, watching it scamper to the door, tendrils working at the lock. But nothing gives away.

“He’s having some trouble, poor feller.”

“Shit… Gotta be another way. Lemme think… Got another cam other side of the door, but it's disabled.’

“Got a CCTV port, might be able to enable it.”

“Go for it.”

The Flathead creeps across the room and jacks into the port, giving V access to the other camera. And V switches her vision to it, the next room looks like a high tech runner’s nest. Two netrunning chairs in deep cooled divots within the room. But only one is in use, a man jacked into the security frame, illuminated in blue, screens running code around him.

“Dweller’s inside.”

“Just as planned.”

“Still don’t get why they only have the one.”

“Decent dweller's as good as a dozen rank-and-file. Lemme graft a demonoid onto your link, you’ll be able to jack the bot directly into the chair and neutralize the runner.”

“Got’cha”

“You'll have to get the Flathead in there first, though.”

“Got another shaft grate,” V finds when she twists the camera’s view, there had to be a vent in the other room, servers lining the walls. Bad ventilation and the entire operation overheats.

“Shaft may link both rooms, looks like. Toggle to the other cam.”

V does so, a moment of scanning and she finds a hidden shaft grate in the floor, “Think I got it.”

“Send the Flathead over there, then toggle over to the second cam.”

She waits until the bot is prying open the vent in the surveillance room, then flickers back over to the runner’s den, eyes on the vent and hoping she didn’t send their tech into the wrong room. A moment passes and she sees her robotic friend creeping his way out.

“Our friend’s inside.”

“Flathead into the chair, V, jack in.”

The bot crawls across the floor and into the netrunner’s cubby, creeping up the chair and scuttling over the man’s body. Deep in the subnet the man doesn’t stir or even notice as the bot hovers over his face and jacks into the chair. And the code across the screen glitches, replaced by a T.

“Holy shit.”

“Whoop! Got him! Love those daemons!” Bug cheers, louder and more excited than V has ever heard her. They did it, the bot is in, T-Bug has access to it all.

“Uh, Flathead buddy stays, right?”

“To keep an eye on the dweller, yeah. Punching into Konpeki’s main net. Go ahead and log out.”

The young merc’s vision starts to glitch and flicker red, her pulling the shard from her head, everything spinning. Lightheaded and her body feels both too light and too heavy. Like she could collapse and float away all at once.

“That's how it's done! How ya feelin'?” Jackie asks, concern lacing his voice.

“Like I’m about to puke on a rug worth more than my car.”

“Bug? How're you doin' on time?” The runner doesn’t respond right away, a moment too long passing.

“Bug?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Soooo listen, ICE is thicker than I thought. Piercing it'll take a couple hours.”

“A couple hours?! Can't do it any faster?”

“Want my brain to burst into flames? Just siddown and enjoy your snazzy suite.”

“Thanks, I will! V, you take it easy, c’mon rest for a bit.”

V doesn’t need anymore prodding, settling down onto the white sofa, hoping her head will stop spinning and stomach cease churning by the time Bug is done. The merc kicks off her heels and lays across the sofa, softer than her bed. Jackie sitting across on the other side of the table, V brings her hand up to her face, trying to block out the blue light from the holo projector. But catches herself looking at the bracelet Misty gave her, the way the beads catch the light, remembering the name of it.

“Hey, what was our suite’s name again?”

“Lapis lazuli, why?”

“Isn’t that what Misty’s bracelets are? The blue beads with the gold.”

“Oh...yeah, ain’t that some shit, must be a good sign.”

“Maybe… she read your cards before this?”

“Nah, didn’t get a chance, nagged me about mean reds though. What about you, cards in your favor?”

“All I remember is something about a magician and love, blegh.”

“Hehehe,” his laughter is warm and fills the huge room, “telling you, one day you’re gonna be head over heels with some chiccy or mano and you’re not gonna know what to do with yourself.”

“That how it was with you and Misty?”

“Pssh, knew I was crazy about her from day one, took a while to work up the nerve though one day I just told her the truth.”

“That you were in loooove~.”

“More like I’d take a bullet for her, chica.”

“Romantic.”

“Fuck yeah it is, in Night City, that’s worth a billion I love yous.”

“So you say.”

“Keep doing that and you’re gonna rub the finish off Vik’s work,” Jackie tells her and she realizes she’s been rubbing and fiddling with her implants, “be a waste for free work to be ruined.”

“I’m gonna pay him.”

“You give him anything upfront, even a dime?”

“I… gave him a hug…”

“Wow,” Jackie says half laughing and she’s laughing too, “a whole hug for top of the line chrome! Probably wasn’t even a real hug, just your half ass shit!”

“I may have only used one arm.”

“Santa mierda, V, gotta learn to hug people like you mean it.”

“Yes, yes,” she yawns, “blah blah blah, never know which hug will be the last one, blah….”

“Flathead wear you out that bad?”

“Maybe a little…” Her stomach feels better, but her head is still light, fuzzy. And in the plush of the sofa, with Jackie close by, she finds herself drifting away. Eyelids getting heavier with each word, each lull of his voice. She didn’t drink much, but she’s sure the bourbon didn’t help.

“Gonna be a while, might as well catch a cat nap, chica. Though Bug might not like it, haven’t quite managed to get the stick out of her ass.”

“Yeah..maybe…”

The world fades away, a soft fuzzy sleep taking over. Time ticks by around her as she catches a moment, or maybe several, to sleep. Her brain is still a little foggy, but the dizziness is gone by the time she slowly starts to wake back up. A bad case of cottonmouth as she wakes, world filtering back in.

Her suit jacket is tossed over her, a makeshift blanket she didn’t put there, she rolls over to sit, more stable than she was before. The time on the terrarium panel tells her only an hour or two has passed. Jackie’s back is too her, his eyes staring at the window. And she finds herself staring, standing in a suit and basked in the lights of the city view, he’s never seemed so serious.

“Whaddaya think? Why'd he give it all up?” He asks after a moment and she blinks, brain still foggy.

“Who?”

"Yorinobu Arasaka. The good life, I mean. Old news, I know. Just got to thinkin's all. It's like, think… You got everything, right? Eddies, education. Your pops can snap his fingers and turn half the fuckin’ planet into a nuclear wasteland… But instead you're like, ‘Nah, fuck it,’ and whaddaya go do? Start a fuckin' gang! Steel Dragons or some shit! You ghost from your fam, chip some RealSkinn and play gang leader for a few years. For what?!”

She can sense the frustration in every word, feel it every clench of his fingers or swing of his hands. Someone like Yorinobu was handed everything he could ever want; tried to piss it away to play edgerunner, then found himself sucking the silver spoon once again. But, she can’t blame him for wanting out from under his father’s thumb; that alone a feeling she knows too well. Her fingers hover over her wrist, the still branded flesh that Vik saved.

“Maybe...he just wanted out of the system.”

“So then why’d he come back.”

“Tough to ditch the system when the system’s your own family,” V admits, finger still on the mark.

“Black sheep’s still a sheep, eh?”

“Maybe…”

It took her forever to get the nerve to leave, she talked about it constantly, but it wasn’t until her mother’s death, murder, culling. Whatever she’s meant to call it, that she finally was pushed to make that move. Been gone for years now, but… more days than she cares to admit were spent wondering if she ever should have run, if she should crawl back and beg. If a family that hates her is better than no family at all…

“Crawled back on all fours, tail between his legs, fuckin’ cheap ass rebel. Fuckin’ tourist!”

Her nails dig into her skin; insecurities brimming, fear that maybe she’s just as much a fuckin’ tourist. Some black sheep nomad who’ll go running back to her dad, beg for another chance, playing pretend merc when all she’ll ever be is the family burden.

“Tourist or not, he just walked into the lobby. And we are back in biz. Penthouse security is neutralized.”

“Perfecto, let’s start this show.”

And with those words, they’re back in business, the younger merc up on her feet. V grabbing her jacket and following Jackie out of the suite, fiddling with the fabric as she walks, heels clicking across the floor.

“Hey, Bug…” Jackie says after a beat of silence, “were, uh… were you on comms that whole time?”

“Three and a half hours.”

“Eehh… about that stick up the ass…”

“Mean the one up mine?”

“Ehh, slip of the tongue, y'know…”

“I know. Now's your chance to make up to me,” T-Bug tells him as they reach the elevator, Jackie pressing the button.

“This is going pretty smooth right,” he turns to V as they wait, “right?”

“Really are a silver lining type, ain’t ya?” V teases as the doors open and they step into the elevator.

“Hey, when are you gonna wave off that dark cloud hanging over your head? Tellin’ you, it’s downhill from on in.”

She rolls her eyes and hits the button to the penthouse, elevator doors closing and the carriage rumbling, shaking as it ascends. Silence falling over them, only the sound of the elevator. Jackie’s leg shakes and she knows that silence is about to end.

“Ahh, there's the awkward silence. You, uh, wanna hear a joke?”

“Now? Seriously?”

“OK, so why'd the rockerboy's output kick him out of the apartment? ‘Cause he wasn't chippin' in.” Jackie cackles at his own joke and V rolls her eyes, a slight smile on her lips.

“Jesus Christ…”

Bug sounds a moment away from killing him, but thankfully for the older merc’s sake, the elevator comes to a stop. Doors opening up to Yorinobu’s suite. It feel different, seeing it from her own perspective instead of Evelyn’s and outside of a braindance editor. The entire suit feels bigger. A part of her wonders if it’s the height difference between herself and Evelyn, but decides to chalk it up to braindance shit instead.

“Huh… not bad bein' heir to the Arasaka empire. Sure as shit better'n bein' the son of Raúl Welles,” Jackie comments taking in the room.

V turns the corner through the room and a tank catches her eye. A slightly red light illuminating an iguana. It immediately reminds her of the only other iguana she knows, Manny. Come to think of it, his original crate was from Arasaka?

“Hey, Jackie, look!”

“Whoa, another fuckin’ iguana, not as cute as Manny though.”

“Manny’s original crate was marked Arasaka; think he might’ve been Yorinobu’s before we klepped him?”

“Think we stole his iguana and made him get a new one?”

“Maybe?” She gently taps the tank glass, watching the iguana’s tail flick back and forth.

“Guys! Focus! The safe! And make it quick!” Bug yells out, bringing the merc’s back down to earth. V tosses her jacket onto one of the seats in the center, searching around the penthouse. Rain patters outside the windowed walls. They know where the safe is, but how do they get it out of the floor?

“Why, what's the rush?”

“Sig on Yorinobu's gone dark!”

“What is he, a fuckin' sorcerer?”

“Some kinda dead zone's my guess - have him back in a sec. And you do your damn job! Look around for a switch.”

V walks around one of the dividers where Yorinobu’s bed is, the slick metal of a gun catching her eye first and foremost. Black and gray, with purple detailing. She checks it for ammo and finds it loaded then decides it’s hers.

“Looks like Yori left us a little gift,” she laughs, tucking the iron in her waistband. And on the other side of the bed, she finds a little switch. She presses it.

“Bingo, got somethin' ejectin’! C'mere, V!” Jackie calls her over to the corner of the room, heart pounding in her chest.

They’re so close to the finish line, each click of her heels feeling like a step closer. This could actually work. A large black safe has risen out of the floor, a small jack in port and two red lights. Jackie stands on one side of it, the gray rainy day behind him.

“What now, Bug?”

“Jack in your personal and make us rich.”

V plugs her personal link in, leaning one hand against the safe. Jackie leans against it from the other side, foreheads nearly touch as they wait for Bug to work her magic. Just get the chip and walk out, that’s all that’s left. All they need to do. She can’t stand still, itching to cross the finish line, minutes away from the major leagues.

“Gimme two…”

The merc’s interface shows Bug uploading the daemons to crack the case and V watches the number rise. Sixty percent, seventy, seventy-five; each ticking number another shaky breath, a rising beat of her heart, and a chill up her spine. Homestretch, nearly there.

And there’s a hum, V’s focus drawn away from the rising percentage, to the windows. Flying AV whirring through the gray skies, hovering around. She looks to Jackie, hoping somehow he’ll have an explanation, something to help her ignore the way her stomach is starting to drop.

“We got winged visitors… Bug…?” There’s catch in his voice, nerves. Jackie’s scared and she swallows the lump in her throat. His face illuminated in the red flashing lights of the case, mean reds, the words flash in V’s mind.

“Dunno who. But staffs abuzz, all two hundred on their feet, can't keep still…”

Somethings wrong, the hair on the back of her neck stands up, a chill in her she can’t shake. Something is so fucking wrong.

“Can't say I like this, how much longer, T?!”

“Shit. Yorinobu's penthouse bound!”

“What!?”V’s voice cracks, digging her nails into the safe, they’re fucked. They’re so fucked.

“Fuck him!” Jackie slams his hand down, rattling the container, “Open the safe!”

“Almost got it… Done!” The safe opens, revealing a cryo-container within. Bright white light and a fog of ice cold air coming with it. V rips her personal jack out.

“Preem, lets get the fuck out of here!”

“Lemme look to this, eh?” Jackie says, pulling the container out and looking at the little screens across it.

“Relic intact?”

"Bioshard integrity - one hundred percent." Guessin' that's a yes,” Jackie reads off the vitals of the shard, picking up the case.

“Good, let’s delta.”

The pair nearly trip through the center of the penthouse, rushing towards the elevator with Jackie lugging behind the giant cryo-container. So close, so close, so fucking close. An elevator and taxi ride away, then they’ll be at The Afterlife counting their eddies. The homestretch.

“Fuck, too late!” T-Bug yells before V can hit the elevator button, “Yorinobu's about to walk in - find cover!

“Where in the fuck!?” V swings her hands as she yells, they’re so fucking close. She rakes her nails across her face, leaving red angry marks down her skin.

“That pillar- try that!”

“You fuckin' kiddin'?!” Jackie screams as the mercs make a move to the pillar in the center of the penthouse, were she thought servers for the room were kept. The back of it opening up and allowing a tight passageway.

“No! Inside it! Now!”

V slips inside as quickly as she can, Jackie following suit. He holds the cry-container close to his chest. The glass barrier is one way, they can see out, but it can’t be seen in. Still not ideal cover, ideally they’d be outside of the fucking hotel by now. The merc presses her hands to the glass, cursing under her breath.

“We’re in,” she whispers to Bug.

“Which don't solve our problem, T.”

“I fuckin' know our problem's still there! Lemme think for a sec, okay?”

The lights to the penthouse come on, elevator doors opening as Yorinobu strides in. with mechanical monstrosity of a body guard from the BD taking large whirring steps after him. And he seems even bigger now. He’s a cyber giant, one mech hand larger than any part of V.

He’s outlined in red, his eyes staring straight at her, Vik said her new contacts would highlight if enemies saw her.. No, there’s no possible way. The man has barely set a borged-out foot into the room. She meets his gaze head on, swallowing the lump in her throat as she tries to seem braver than she is. On the off chance he may truly know the mercs are there.

“Is that… Is that Adam Smasher?” Jackie whispers and V trusts him to look at her hands as she signs, not wanting to break eye contact with the robotic monstrosity, refusing to show weakness.

“Bodyguard?”

“Worse,” her trust in her friend is well placed, “Night City legend. Bleak motherfuckin' one, too. What's the plan?”

“We stay quiet and we wait.”

A flash of movement makes V finally break the stare down, Yorinobu walks to the middle of the room and stops at the seat across from the table, black fabric strewn across it. He picks it up, regarding it for a moment and her heart drops into her stomach.

V’s jacket. She left her fucking jacket on his chair, like an idiot, she didn’t even have time to consider grabbing it. They’re going to die because she left her fucking jacket out in the open and Adam Smasher is still staring at her.

She half expects Yorinobu to call a sweep of the room, ring security, that he’ll realize the random jacket must be an intruder. But he shakes his head, tosses it aside onto the floor, not giving it another thought. While his body guard Smasher lingers in the corner, robotic eyes staring straight at V, watching the mercs squirm.

“Are they here yet?” Yorinobu asks out loud.

“They approach from the landing pad,” an AI voice responds.

“Fuck are they talking about?” V resists the urge to elbow Jackie, silence has never been more important. One sound too loud and a borged out psycho will rip their heads off. And if her contacts are right, Smasher may just be waiting for the perfect opportunity.

“Nuh-uh, no fucking way…. This isn't happening…!” T-Bug whispers over comms and V sees someone coming down the spiraling stairs, a guard it seems, with another older man following him, “Saburo Arasaka.”

The second man is older, much older than the first. Balding with gray hairs and liver spots across his scalp, glasses perched high upon his nose. Dressed in a mixture of yukata robes over what seems to be slacks and loafers he takes slow measured steps down the stairs. The head capitalist himself, owner of Arasaka.

“The emperor? Yet another asslickin' legend….”

V taps Jackie’s side and puts her finger to her lips, encouraging him to be quiet. The man who led Saburo in starts to walk around the room. He’s older than V or Jackie, but nowhere near Saburo’s age. Long graying dark hair pulled back in a bun, cyberware across his neck coming out from under his black suit.

“I thought I told you not to meddle in my affairs,” Yorinobu speaks in his native tongue, V’s contacts translating and subtitling to English.

“Oh fuck,” Jackie curses as the long haired guard comes to stand in front of them, silver ringed brown eyes starting to scan them.

“Leave us,” Saburo orders and the guard stops scanning, turning to face the corporate leader.

“Arasaka-sama, I still haven't done a full sweep.” The guard turns his back and V can see where part of his hair is shaved, allowing intense cyberware extending beyond his neck and towards his scalp.

“This is my son.”

“Of course. Should I retrieve what we come here to-”

“I will handle it. You may go.”

The long haired guard bows and goes to leave the room, finally Adam Smasher’s gaze on her drops, as the borged freak leaves with the guard through the elevator doors. If they’re here to retrieve something… it’s likely the biochip, which means if they go to get it and see it’s gone… They’re fucked. They’re straight fucked.

“Un-fucking-believable… Saburo Arasaka.” That comment makes V nudge Jackie with her foot, once again begging him to just stay quiet.

“Did you think I wouldn't know it was taken from me?” Saburo asks his son, barely making eye contact as Yorinobu looks through a datapad.

“Actually, I don't think of you at all. Ever. You see, that's your problem. You think the world revolves around you. Arrogant.”

“Yorinobu.”

“Why did you come? To humiliate me? To personally see to it that your son knows his place?”

“"The nail that protrudes from the wall gets hammered…"

“Couldn't think of anything original to say?” Yorinobu yells in exasperation, standing up and pacing around the room. He’s on edge, looking ready to jump out of his skin and V can’t say she has a good feeling about any of this.

“And do you think it ‘original’ to sell our greatest achievement to Westerners - our future to these… barbarians?!”

It’s definitely the biochip Saburo is after, they’re screwed, monumentally screwed. V would laugh if she didn’t feel like dying, of course, of course it all goes to shit.

“Our future? Ours?! You are mistaken. You've only ever cared about yourself… and your sick schemes.” Yorinobu points and swings his limbs, still pacing, every word coiled tight with barely restrained hatred.

“I knew this day would come. That sooner or later your impudence would cross the line,” Saburo is calmer, measured, taking soft steps towards his son, “There is much for which I could forgive you, but for treason - no.”

The two men, father and son now stand in front of the pillar before an audience they don’t know. Stares trained on each other, each hateful, but one furious in it’s spite and the other calm in it’s contempt. Moments pass, no word said, each waiting for the other to light a fuse that will set off the powder keg.

“I'm just glad your mother didn't live to see this. The heart should break but once.”

And it goes off. Saburo’s words are punctuated by Yorinobu’s hands wrapping tightly around the old man’s throat. Yorinobu slams his father back against the pillar, cracking the glass in front of Jackie and busting open Saburo’s head. Blood streaking the shards. And he pulls away and for a moment, as Saburo clutches at his crushed windpipe, Yorinobu seems nearly regretful.

“You shall never have to forgive me for anything again.”

His hands wrap again, choking his father against the pillar. Until Saburo starts to fall limp, Yorinobu bringing him down onto the floor in a lifeless heap. Yorinobu stands over his father. Saburo is dead, killed before the merc’s very eyes at the hands of his own son. Jackie curses and V watches as Yorinobu paces, mind clearly racing before he stands over his father’s corpse again.

“I wish… I wish to put the hotel on lockdown.”

What does that mean? What the hell does that mean?

“May I ask why?” The AI secretary asks him.

“Saburo Arasaka has been murdered.”

“Code red initiated. Attention! Code Red has been initiated throughout Konpeki Plaza. Please remain in your rooms and follow all instructions given by staff.”

Oh no, oh fuck no. The lights in the room drop, only bright neon red ones glowing angry in the dark. What the hell is going to happen? What the fuck do they do now? The elevator doors open, Smasher and the long haired guard walking in; the latter rushes and comes to a full stop when he sees Saburo’s corpse.

“What happened?”

“Someone… someone poisoned my father.”

“Poisoned…?”

“Seems so.”

“Yorinobu-san… I doubt…”

Yorinobu glowers at the guard, pushing into his personal space, trying to intimdate him. Trying to make him stop questioning what happened, trying to stop him from looking any closer. Anyone who gets a good look at Saburo’s corpse will see the fingerprints around his neck.

“What is your job, Takemura?”

“I don't follow.”

“It's a simple question. Answer it.”

“To protect the head of the Arasaka family.”

“I do sincerely hope you'll do a better job of executing your duties from now on…”

“Forgive me, Arasaka-sama,” the guard drops his head in shame, “I shall not disappoint.”

Yorinobu turns to leave the suite. The guard, Takemura, follows close behind. And the still red highlighted Smasher follows behind him. The elevator doors close behind them. Jackie and V left alone in the suite again. But what the fuck just happened?

“What the fuck just happened in there?” T-Bug asks, exactly what’s rattling around V’s skull as the pillar back opens again. Jackie and V clambering out.

“Yorinobu just killed Saburo, he fucking choked out his own dad, I didn’t even know you could do that!” V rambles and yells as she turns the corner of the pillar, looking down at Saburo’s corpse. She quickly checks his pockets, stealing some cash and a pair of dog tags off of him.

“What?”

“His own fuckin’ pops.”

“Know what this means?l Security's gonna swarm the place any second. Oh my god, we're so fucked!”

“We need to get the fuck out of here, now!” They can’t just go out the elevator, they’d meet security on the way. They’re beyond fucked. Why the hell did they take this stupid fucking job!?

“Gimme a sec!”

There’s the helipad, but it’s not like they have anything that fucking flies. Think, think, think; she screams in her head to just fucking think, there has to be something, anything.

“We don't have a sec!”

“Okay, got somethin'! Window - now! Releasing the lock! Should see a ladder… Ladder…”

V sees an opening in the large windowed walls, double doors practically made of glass they goes onto the ledge. This has to be in, T-Bug can undo the lock and they’ll slip out.

“Oh fuck.” T-Bugs voice drops and a chill shoots up V’s back, something is wrong.

“Bug!?”

“No, no, no, no - not now…! I’ve been made… “

And panic turns to agony as T-Bug screams, a shrill cry of pain then she’s gone. Connectuon cut and V freezes in place.

Bug is gone, just gone…

Maybe, Konpeki just cut their comms? But the scream rings through V’s mind. She’s heard of how runner’s can die, daemons and quick hacks. Having their entire brain fried, every nerve and neuron set on fire, burned from the inside out... And all that's left to find is a simmering corpse stewing in their own filth. Bug was never meant for that, meant to retire, meant to find peace after years of netrunning. But now…

“Bug.!? Bug!? Can you fuckin’ hear me, Bug please, are you there!?” V calls out, words slurring together. She just needs to hear Bug one more time, and know everything is okay.

And nothing.

“¡Pinche Dios Santo bendito! We lost her, V!”

“They...scorched her...didn’t they…?”

“We… we gotta go, V,” Jackie says, voice cracking as he smacks at V’s shoulder.

Bug’s final hack going through, the window unlocked. V steps out through the window onto the ledge, rain pelting her skin as she rushes around the corner. Bug said there’s a ladder they can use, last thing Bug ever said… There’s no time for mourning, no time to cry, they need to get through this. The ledge narrows around the corner, ride lights outside the hotel window guiding the way, secured against the steel of the hotel. V sees the yellow safety ladder. The merc presses her back to the building, gently side stepping across the narrow ledge, if they just reach the ladder. One wrong step and they’ll plummet.

“You can do it, Jackie… just don't look down,” jackie tries to talk himself up, following V, “ Yep, that's fuckin' high…!”

There’s a whir of engines, an aircraft vehicle buzzing around the outside of the hotel.

“Shit! That Trauma?” Jackie asks and that’s exactly what they need right now, doctors shooting them.

“If they’re here for Saburo, they’re a little late.”

“Just hope they didn't see us! ¡Chingada madre!”

The aircraft carrier flies in close, flashing blinding white light onto the mercs. It sees them, definitely sees them.

“Suspects in violation of security protocols.” The mechanical voice croaks out.

“Time to bail!’ Jackie screams and the aircraft starts to fire, drone automated shooting at them.

The glass around them bursts and V jumps, grabbing Jackie’s hand in her left, she swings her right blade out towards the ladder. It hooks in the bottom rung, creaking in distress as it stops their fall. And there the mercs hang, suspended by a single Mantis Blade and a ladder rung; rain pouring down upon them and a drone still searching for them through the debris. The strain pulls at V’s arm, pain shooting throughout, shoulders ache and left arm pulled tight trying to hold Jackie and the case he holds in his other hand.

If she could pull them up with the blade, maybe they can get to safety. But her muscles already strain, wrought tight with the strength it takes to hold them up. The blade pulling at the inner tissue it’s attached too, never meant to support more weight than the person it’s attached to. Rain and tears sting her eyes as she forces herself to pull with the blade, use it to lift them up.

“V! I can’t hold on!’ Jackie yells out, rain slick hand starting to slip from her own. She digs her nails into his skin, holding him tighter.

“Just a bit more, I can do this!”

Her throat is raw and she doesn’t know how much she believes her own words. Nerves scream in pain as her cyberware pulls at what’s left of her flesh. Muscles cry as forced beyond their capability. She curses beneath her breath, pulling them just a little further up. Immeasurable pain and brute force of will only amounting to the tiniest bit of progress, not even an inch closer to safety. Her blade is pulling further out from her skin, raising up from her arm in a way she knows it shouldn’t.

Every nerve in her arms on fire; blade tugging at flesh and the other nearly pulled from socket under Jackie’s weight. Barely an inch closer to the safety, Jackie slipping from her grip quicker than she can pull, blade lifting from her arm quicker than she can move them. Her teeth sinks into the inside of her cheek, hard enough to bleed as she pushes herself further. Closer, closer, she urges herself.

A bright white light shines across them, illuminating them in the gray night, adding another ache to her eyes. Drone marked Arasaka buzzing around, refinding them within the debris of the destroyed hotel wall. The robotic voice speaking again.

“Violators found.”

And her blade breaks, V’s eye blown wide as they begin to plummet, shock blurs her pain and deafens the world. Slowing it for a moment, only able to stare as metal snaps, tissue tears, and her arm is ripped open. Cyberware tearing out tissue and nerves, viscera left behind.

Then she hits glass, shattering it as gravity slams her through and shock becomes hurt. She hits metal, body bouncing from impact, crying as the air is knocked from her lungs. Her head bashing against something. V clutches her arm, the pain it hitting her as everything else does, blood sticking to her fingers. Each breath hurts, a labored wheeze as bruised lungs strain to work.

V blinks, sitting up slightly, regaining her sense of self now that her fall is broken. Across from her is Jackie and the cryo-case. She looks at her arm, A solid rip from wrist to near elbow, nearly an open hole, metal and moving inner parts of the cyberware mixed with gore. It doesn’t bleed as much as she'd expect, the internal mechanics helping block major bleed out. It hurts, metal now working against raw nerves. But, she’ll live… if this is the worst that happens, she’ll live.

The cryo-case is dented, part of it sparking and part of it splatted with blood. But her eye is drawn to Jackie. A tear in his gut, shrapnel and glass caught him well, bleeding more than her. The white of the button up around his stomach turned scarlet.

“The Relic! ¡Madres! Agh… Oh, this ain't good. Agh…” Jackie curses, each breath pained.

“Jackie, you’re hurt!”

“Worry about me later,” he growls, “check the relic… "Container depressurized. Biochip integrity at ninety-four percent." And fuckin' droppin'! Carajo! Parker! Call her!”

“And tell her what!? We fucked up!?”

“Just do it!”

Evelyn answers after a short ring, her avatar coming across V’s contacts.

“V?! Konpeki's all over the feeds! What the fuck's going on there?”

“Got a problem! Cryo-case is damaged. Biochip's integrity at… Jackie?”

“Eighty-six percent!”

“Eighty-six percent and droppin'!”

“Shit…! OK, listen to me. There's only one thing you can do. One of you's gotta slot the Relic into your neural port!”

“That sounds really dangerous!”

God only knows how this biochip could fuck them up, the relic itself is like putting another personality in your head, seeing ghosts. If this one is even half as fucked up as that, they could be putting themselves in serious danger.

“The longer you wait, the greater the risk we lose it!”

“Well, someone’s got to do it,” Jackie says, voice a rasp, face steadily draining color as he opens the case, “In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit - Amen.”

Jackie crosses his body with the pray and pushes the chip into his neural port and V watches his eyes light up for a moment. And he’s quiet for another, a second too long.

“You okay?”

“Dunno… I guess… Don't feel any different.”

“Once you're back, we'll take out the Relic and run a full brain scan and sweep. But you two need to get the fuck out of there first!”

“We’re working on it!”

Jackie and V get back on their feet. He holds his hand to his stomach, trying to press his guts together and she keeps her arm held close to her chest, not putting pressure on it. Jackie calls Delamain.

“Del, we'll be there in a couple. Be ready, got it?”

“Certainly, Mr. Welles.”

“Better be fuckin' certain.”

“We gotta somehow… reach the lobby. Only chance to hit the garage. And we'd best be quick,” Jackie jabs himself with an air hypo, “ Oh-ho, that's the shit… Great… Now let's get outta here.”

“Wait, take your jacket off, use it to keep pressure on your gut, okay? Should help with the bleeding.”

It’s minimal first aid knowledge, she knows. Hold something to a wound to keep it from bleeding out as quickly. But it’s all she can offer, helping Jackie get the jacket off with one hand, so he can press it to his stomach wound. She can move her right hand somewhat, but it hurts and she swears she can see the tendons moving around the metal in the gaping wound her forearm has become. She catches herself wondering if she’ll be able to sign with her right hand again. But, there’s no time for those fears.

She walks down the red lit metal grate, heels nearly catching in it as she turns to a doorway. V leads the way, less injured than Jackie, she pushes the door open. A door lobby with glass banisters and plants, the only light the bright red ones.

“Great… Now let's get outta here,” Jackie says, each word a stressful choking sound to get out.

An AI voice speaks repeatedly over the speakers that Konpeki plaza is in code red, as the mercs work to move quickly and quietly. Catching the murmuring of two guards as they reach a marble staircase, speaking of sweeping the floors and checking the lobby. They creep around the corner and past a desk, seeing the back of the men’s through the glass banister. The only sound the pounding of V’s heart and Jackie’s labored breathing. They watch as the two men separate, enough space for each to grab one.

They move down the last stretch of the stairs, guards talking about evacuating Yorinobu. She lets Jackie take the one closest to them as she moves further to the one at the doorway. V swings her left blade, now her only one, through the man’s gut. Her right arm shoots pain through each nerve, metal inside churching to dispense a blade that no longer exists. She holds back a sound, Jackie’s already choked out the other guard, checking for pockets. Each one armed with a silenced gun. She steals ammo off of them.

They come to another door, each catching their breath. Sweat clinging to V’s brow as they brace themselves for what’s to come next.

“Careful… security likely to be swarmin' outside,” Jackie warns and V nods, words clumping together in her throat as she opens the door.

They stay crouched, spotting more guards as they go. The pair hide behind a planter, V taking a scan of the area, spotting a security camera. Remembering Bug’s lessons, she’s quickly able to shut them off. She’s the one to step back out, leading the way for the first time in months of working together. V needs to get Jackie through this, he’s holding on now, but..

She grabs a guard from behind and snaps their neck, arm twinging in agony at the movement she throws their body aside, clearing a long stretch of hallway for Jackie to follow her down. All light bright red and screens that once showed commercials now flash the words, Code Red. She leaves Jackie to stay hidden behind a counter when she sees another by the doorway, jumping at his back and dropping him just like his coworker.

“Ain't doin' too bad… Just a little further…” Jackie whispers as she drops another guy, her arm screaming at her to stop. But she’ll survive without an arm, if worse comes to worse, she can’t let Jackie get hurt any worse.

They creep through a door, past a desk, hearing a guard yelling out as they sneak and weave through the room. She watches over the top of a planter as the guard walks past them, none the wiser as V creeps around, getting behind him, and taking him down. She can’t risk leaving any behind, leaving one alive and them finding the mercs later. The hotel is huge, a labyrinth of Arasaka guards.

“Engaging hostiles!” A voice booms out, the mercs spotted by a heavily armed Arasaka guard who nearly trips over V.

Fuck, fuck, so much for stealth. Jackie shoots over a counter, trying to stay somewhat protected from the gunfire, while V takes lead, firing Yorinobu’s gun at the men, only dropping behind cover to reload, she blasts. Fuck it, stealth not an option, she’ll turn the whole damn hotel into a blood bath.

The guards drop and V knows she’s been shot, but she’s standing so she moves onward. Through a doorway, three more men open fire as the mercs turn the corner. V blasts a bullet through ones head, Jackie blows the second full of holes.

“One more fucker dead!”

The third is further back behind a glass door and V charges forward, glass open as she fires at the man. Bullets ripping through his chest in a spray of blood before he collapses, red smeared across the marble. If she gets a chance to sleep tonight, she’ll be seeing red in her dreams. The vivid neon lights of the emergency lit hotel, the burgundy uniforms, and the steady spray of it from every shot fired.

Jackie and V go running around a corner, through another glass doorway and slide into side of a marble planter. Taking a moment to breathe, she can hear guards talking. Orders from higher up, panicked yells from the less experienced. She can spot two around the corner, but can’t get a clear shot. She runs to the open doorway, catching one off guard as she slams into his view and rips a blade through his gut.

A full armored worker fires off when he sees it, partially hidden by a linen rack. Another runs in, half hiding behind a planter, firing off around the corner. She presses against a wall between it and a partial doorway, reloading before she looks back through. The less armored man moves around a pillar, peeking from behind cover, and she shoots his head as soon as she sees it, watching him hit the marble.

She struggles to get a clear shot of the third, still hidden behind the rack and so she runs forward, past the rack and coming to a sliding stop behind him. The guard fumbles to swing around when he realizes where she’s landed. Back turned to Jackie now, her friend fires a shot clean through the guard’s head.

The room is cleared for a moment and the elevator is nearby, she runs past a desk, when she sees the button screen. A glowing red off symbol.

“Fuck!”

“Chingo tu madre! It's shut down! What about the other one?” Jackie yells between rattling breaths, she wanted this to be stealthy, didn’t want to put him anymore danger.

She runs, heels clicking against blood streaked marble, nearly tripping over a corpse. Quickly trying to stop herself when another guard springs up behind a desk. Two more swarming the room, one in the heavy almost samurai-like Arasaka armor.

“Orale! Got to plough through them!”

She focuses on the Saka samurai, pulling the trigger again and again, Thankful to have emptied the ammo off every body she’s dropped so far. A bullet catches his throat, a gush of blood as he paints the floor, and she shifts to the other men. A headshot on one, the other already down thanks to Jackie.

V searches their corpses, pocketing ammo and bounce backs, when she finds an access token on the samurai. V thanks any god that may be listening, if they exist and makes a beeline for the elevator at the end of the room.

“Got access,” she breathes out, calling the elevator.

Its doors open and she steps in, the side railing lit that bright red. She waits as Jackie rushes in, he’s still in somewhat decent shape it seems. Not the ideal heist, she thinks as she hits the button, but maybe they can get out of this. Rush Jackie to a ripper, check on T-Bug, collect their eddies, and tonight will be a story to tell later. Remember the Konpeki Heist, how everything that could go wrong did.

“Hah-… agh! Heh, hng…” She can’t tell if he’s laughing or groaning in pain, maybe both. Blood is coating his hands, has he bled through the jacket? No, Jackie’s bulletproof, said it himself a billion times. He’ll be okay, he has to be.

“Jackie…”

“Saburo Arasaka, Hundred and fifty years… and today… of all fuckin' days. That's like… some divine comedy shit… hehehehe… agh.”

And he’s laughing, of course he is, holding his guts together and he laughs, because why would Jackie Welles do anything else. She’s not sure if she’s going to cry or laugh along, if she’s charmed or infuriated by it; is he just still desperately searching for that silver lining or does he genuinely not give a fuck if he flatlines? That idea, the thought, makes her throat tighten. He can’t die, he won’t die, she won’t let him.

“Save your strength, please, we’re not out of the woods yet.”

“What do you think I’m doing!?” She doesn’t miss the frustration, because if he wasn’t so hurt, he’d been the one leading that battle, charging in to take brunt of it all, “Buuut… chill, V. We'll get out alive.”

“I know we will,” she says and wants so desperately to believe.

The elevator reaches the lobby, doors open to more guards, more gunfire. She shoots at one that looks out behind a wall, three more in the main room of the lobby. Jackie slides behind a desk, using it for cover between shots. V takes lead, shooting from around a doorway. Its chaos and mayhem, V blasting the four men. One dropping behind a chair, catching one through the green ferns growing from a planter. Three more Arasaka corpses, splattering blood across marble and the roots of those towering trees. Bullet after bullet, shot after shot, until her ears are ringing and three remain; the mercs and one last guard.

He throws a grenade across the room at them, V shooting it in the air before it can hit them, smoke and fire smoldering across the ceiling. She uses the chance to close the gap and blows his brains out at close range.

Room cleared they rush through the rest of the lobby, finally reaching the elevator that will take them to the garage. V slams the button, calling the elevator. The door opens and she runs inside, expecting Jackie to run in after her. His steps are slowing and he leans against the wall for a moment instead, having to catch a second wind. He’s getting worse, but they’re in the homestretch, they can do this. They can do this, he stumbles through, leaning against the elevator wall.

“Argh… I'm leakin' a little…” His voice a rasp.

The elevator stops at the garage, so close to safety. Doors opening she can already hear the guards and the mercs step out, eye on them, its a swarm of Arasaka. Gunfire rings out alongside the screech of brakes. The Delamain taxis coming to a stop in the center of the garage, it’s doors flinging open.

“I advise that you waste no time in entering the vehicle,” Delamain chirps at them, like this is a normal night.

But she needs no prodding. V grabs Jackie’s hand and runs for the taxi, dragging him through the garage to the open doors. Rather than making him walk around, she shoves Jackie through her side on the right, letting him slide into the left seat before she jumps in; he needs the extra second of protection more than her. The doors shut, bulletproof shields raising as they the taxi is blasted by the guards. They’re safe? Right?

“Welcome back. With Delamain, you leave your problems at the door….”

“DRIVE NOW!”

And Delamain does just that, engines firing up as he rams through the garage door like it’s nothing. She leans forward on the two front seats. As the taxi takes a sharp turn, they’re almost there, almost safe. Jackie wasn’t fucking around about the combat mode.

“Not bad at all.”

“Client feedback noted.”

“How’s the ride looking?”

“Tiptop. Though alas, we are being pursued.”

And then she sees him, Adam Smasher, the borged monster of a former man rushes them. No hesitation, no fear, as he slams his entire body into the car. Shattering glass, gnashing metal, and nearly sending the car to the side; slamming V and Jackie to the right.

“Sweet fuckin’ jesus!”

Jackie curses as V screams, the hell kind of freak is this guy? The car goes back down on its wheels. Adam Smasher on a metal knee, slowing standing up on front of the car.

“Combat mode activated. Please remain calm.”

“Calm!!!????” She yells out as Delamain begins to drive backwards.

“Road block ahead. I kindly request that you brace for impact.”

“¡Oy, mis huevos! Shiiiit!”

The cab takes a turn, rather than driving through Adam Smasher, it goes through another roadway. A row of cars blocking the way and Delamain slams through through without hesitation, taking them through the Night City roads away from the hotel. Jackie is hunched over, bloody hands still pressing the jacket to his gut, the white shirt soaked through with it.

“A hostile enemy aircraft has a lock on us.”

V doesn’t need a word more from the AI taxi, climbing halfway out of the window, she spots the drones flying after them. Three of them. Needing steadier aim, she flips off her hearing aids with a thought, steeling herself as the car weaves through the road and she fires at them. This is Arasaka’s last ditch effor to keep a lock on them, if she can get rid of them, they’re in the clear.

Three shots; first drone goes down sparking as it hits the city streets. Two more kills the second, the metal remains slamming into a streetlamp. And the third goes down with a final shot, smoldering onto the roof of a BD store. She turns her hearing aids back on as she slides into her seat again; they’re gone.

“Hostile aircraft eliminated.”

“Nice work there… Del…”

She shifts to look at Jackie, he has one hand on his stomach, the other braced against the door. V grabs his shoulder with one hand and his leg with the other, practically shaking him.

“We did it, Jackie! We made it!”

“Heh...guess we did…” It’s not the triumphant excited Jackie, she’d expect to hear. His voice still rough, a rattle barely leaving his lungs. Her eyes sting, no, no.

“My medical diagnostics indicate that Mr. Welles’ condition is critical.”

“Critical, what- take us to a fucking ripperdoc, now! Vik’s behind Misty’s shop!”

She reaches to put pressure against the jacket over his wound, hand over his, but the fabric is bled all the way through. Blood sticking to her skin, warmer than Jackie’s skin and he’s looking pale, paler every second. He leans back against the chair, strength starting to leave his body.

“Apologies, but that will not be possible. Our itinerary has been pre-arranged and paid for in advance. I am not at liberty to alter it.”

“Fuck your itinerary and fuck your liberty, just get us to goddamn doctor!”

“It's OK, V… I'll hold out…”

When did his nose start to bleed, when he did he start hacking up blood, red streaking down his nostrils and over his chin. She sucks in a shaky breath, eyes starting to water. No, not Jackie, anyone but him… please. She doesn’t know who she’s begging; maybe god, maybe fate, maybe just anything in this world that will listen.

“Yeah, yeah,” she chokes out, nodding, “you-you just got to hold on, okay? And, and, we’ll hit the major leagues. Only the best jobs, swimming in eddies, just like you always wanted.”

She brings her forehead to his, feeling the cold sweat of his skin, hoping her warmth, touch, her words; anything will keep him alert. The tears flow freely now, wet and hot on her cheeks.

“Mija... you’re gonna be rich, I can feel it…”

“No, we’re gonna be rich, Jackie! You and me, that’s how it’s always been, I-I can’t do it without you, y-you got to stay with me okay! We’ll get back, you can see Misty and your mom, everyone and let them know you made it.”

“Misty… She knew… She always knew…” he breathes out, eyes glassy with a weak smile, “told me not to take this job, why she always got to be right?”

“J-just a little longer, please, Jackie...please,” she begs him, like he can stop it. Like he can put his inside back together, stop the color from draining out of his face, and can just stay with her.

“The biochip…” he holds her shoulder, grasp weak, and takes the chip from his head with the other, “Hold on to it. For me…”

And he slides it into her neuroport, her vision glitching for a moment. She surges forward, wrapping her arms as tightly as she can, burying his head into his chest, crying into him as she clings tightly; wishing she had the strength to just hold him together.

“Please, please, Jackie, I can’t lose you, just a little longer, please,” she sobs into his ashen skin and blood soaked shirt, begging with every slowed beat of his heart.

For a moment his hands graze her back and she waits for a bear hug, for him to squeeze the breath from her lungs and lift her from her seat like he’s done so many times. For him to be Jackie; her best friend, her partner in crimes, her brother, her everything. But his touch is faint, the space between each beat growing further and further. Until his hands fall limp, body slack in her arms, and she knows the next heartbeat will never come.

And she sobs, she holds him and cries out her pain, if only for a moment. No more ‘chicas’, ‘jainas’, or the odd ‘mija’. No more smiles that outshine the sun. No more nagging her to look on the bright side. No more bear hugs or hands the size of her head ruffling through her hair. No more Jackie…. And it’s not fair and it’s not right.

“Mr. Welles has passed. Where shall I take his remains?” A robotic voice asks and she realizes the car is no longer moving.

She forces herself to let him go, one of the hardest things she’ll ever have to do. Pulling away, she sees him, truly lifeless. Bright green eyes now dull with no light behind them, limp hands falling away from her.

“W-what?” She stumbles over the word, brain fogged over with grief.

“The Excelsior package provides for the disposal of passenger remains free of charge. I merely require a destination.”

“I…he-he’d want to be with his family,” she stumbles across her words.

“Mr. Welles' closest blood relative is Guadalupe Alejandra Welles, proprietress of the El Coyote Cojo bar. I will make sure to deliver him safely. Mr. DeShawn awaits you in room number two-oh-four. ”

That’s right… Dex… The chip. The world didn’t stop spinning, only her’s. There’s still a job. And the idea of still going, that there’s a tomorrow beyond today, seems unfathomable. How the hell could she ever move on…

Because Jackie would kill her if she didn’t and she knows that. He’d haunt her for a thousand years and kick her ass every day of it. She looks at the remains, her friend gone, now limp and bleeding across white leather. And knows if he could speak, he’d tell her to get her ass to that hotel room and finish this job, that he and Bug didn’t die just for V to bury herself alongside them. She squeezes his shoulder, presses her forehead to Jackie’s one last time, feeling the cold of his skin.

“See ya in the major leagues, Jack…”

V opens the car door and steps out into the backlot behind the motel. Rain pours down across her bloodied skin, soaking her to the bones, a numb chill clinging to her. Painted across brick is the Night City emblem marks the wall, red graffiti altering its slogan.. The city of broken dreams…

She moves, on autopilot as she makes her way up the stairs and to the back door of the motel, sheltered from the rain once she’s in a trash filled back room. The motel is bathed in the neon red lights, only offset by the white of sign bearing its name, it’s always red. She stumbles up the staircase and then another, past a tv chattering on about Saburo Arasaka.

The merc walks down the gloomy hallway, dark except for warm yellow floor lights, Graffiti covered walls, rain washing down the windows at the end of it. And she reaches room 204, her arm leaden as she knocks.

No response.

“Its V,” she yells out, knocking harder.

The door opens but before she can take another step, Dex’s body guard takes a step out. Large hand blocking her from coming further. He checks the hallway, making sure she wasn’t followed. After a moment, he finally pulls away.

“He waiting.”

The man takes a step back, allowing V into the room. She pushes through a bead curtain and sees Dex, leaning over a TV screen, another cigar between his golden fingers. She clears her throat, hearing the door close behind her.

“WNS… N54… Even the pirate networks… You blowin' up everywhere! And the Jackster? He out in the car?”

“He’s...dead,” her voice breaks, words like thorns in her throat. Having to say it, having to hear it from her own lips…

“Condolences friend,” he tells her, shifting to look at her rather than the tv, “and the relic?”

“Here,” she says, voice a murmur as she taps her neural port.

“Hmm, I was afraid of that…”

“What?!”

She got the fucking relic, everyone is fucking dead, but she got the relic! Everyone died for this fucking chip and now he’s disappointed that she has it!?

“Saburo Arasaka?” Dex paces, smoking his cigar, “Dead…?! You got any notion of the shit you pulled me into?! You offed the fuckin' emperor! His majesty! Anyone with so much as a pinky toe dipped in this mess is as good as dead!’

“I didn’t kill Saburo! I- I-” she stalls, wanting to say she didn’t do anything, but can she say that? Can she act like she didn’t fuck up any of this? Like she has no role in Jackie and Bug’s deaths…

"No shit?l Tell that to the ‘Saka ninjas they send after you!”

“We...we got to leave the city.”

Badlands isn’t the safest for her, but it will be safer with money, she could settle in another city, maybe. She can outrun her family more than Arasaka.

“You don’t say.”

“Call Parker, we close the deal, collect our eddies, and go off the radar.”

“A’ight, settle down,” he sits down on the leather couch, “Gotta be tactical about this. Parker, eddies, then we leave the city limits behind. But first… Your face… got blood all over it. Bathroom's there. Go get yourself cleaned up.”

He points her to the bathroom of the motel and she nods, in no place to argue, she just wants to be on the other side of this mess. To be able to tell herself at least she made it to the major leagues, at least Jackie would be proud of her, even if he isn’t here to see it.

V stumbles into the bathroom, legs wobbling. Everything should hurt, her arm ripped open. Bruises mottling every inch of flesh. But she’s… numb. She works on autopilot, only somewhat aware of the door shutting behind her as she grips the sink, streaking blood across the silver.

Her blood and Jackie’s.

Bile rushes up her throat, stinging as she pukes into the sink, choking and gagging it out. The tears threaten to come again, eyes stinging as he nails dig into the sink. He’s gone, he’s really fucking gone. Her best friend, her brother in everything but blood and name, her rock, and world. The man who took her in, who gave her a goal, a life…

And how’d she repay him?

Watch him die in the back of a Delamain. All her promises to keep him safe, to repay back all the kindness he gave to her. And she couldn’t save him, couldn’t protect him, couldn’t do shit but hold him. Fuckin’ only time she really hugged him with all she had and she doesn’t even know if he could really feel it, if his body was too numb.

If she would have refused the job.

If she had gotten them up the ladder.

If she had been stronger.

If she had been stealthier.

If she had gotten them through the lobby quicker.

If she could have convinced Delamain to get him to a doc.

If she knew better first aid.

If….if… if…

Thoughts spin and whirl through her mind, a thousand reasons why it’s her fault. Why she could have saved him, why she could have done more, why she failed him…

Misty will never take Jackie’s last name and it’s V’s fault. They’ll never have kids, they’ll never buy a home together, he’ll never get to take her to that stupid hotel bar with the annoying waiter.

Senora Welles will be forced to bury her son and it’s V’s fault. She’ll never hold her son again. Never see him smile again. Never see him live out his dream. Never cook his favorite foods for him and nag him not to talk with his mouth full.

Jackie had a future, a family, people who loved him. He was going to marry Misty one day, have kids. Get enough eddies to provide for them and his mom. And now there’s a hole in all of their lives. The world as a whole now worse off without him, her own world destroyed. It should have been her, she knows that, the world would be better off losing her than losing him.

Yet here she is and she’s just supposed to keep moving, supposed to keep breathing, supposed to live a life post Jackie.

When she looks up, she sees her own reflection staring back at her. Red rimmed eyes, swollen from crying and blood splattered across her skin, stuck in the ends of her hair. And she doesn’t know where it’s from, if it’s her own, if it’s Jackie’s, or if it’s from the people she killed tonight. T-Bug and Jackie gone, yet she’s here.

A brilliant talented netrunner is gone. But she’s still here.

The kindest man to walk in Night City is gone. But she’s still here.

She glares at herself, because she has no right to be here and the world has no right to be this cruel. Her fingers clenches, pulling at her damaged nerve endings and she slams her fist into the mirror. Glass shatters and crackles, shards splintering into her knuckles.

V washes the blood from her hands and face, cleaner but still a zombie as she turns to the door. Jackie wanted this for her, one of the only people who ever wanted anything good for her. If only for him, she owes it to him to finish this job. She stumbles to the bathroom door and opens it, stepping out.

Knuckles collide with her head, wracking more pain through an already injured merc, she’s sent sprawling to the ground. She curses and twists around on the floor, not sure she has the energy to stand back up, vision blurring as Dex’s bodyguard stomps on her. Heavy foot colliding with her head. She curses and sputters choking on blood. She twists onto her back, blinking through the pain as Dex’s bodyguard hands him a pistol. The fixer walks closer, standing over her.

“Can't risk it, V,” he says casually, leveling his gun with her head,” ‘Member our first convo?”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” She screams, spitting blood as she stares down the barrel.

“Seems I've chosen the quiet life, after all. No blaze o' glory for me.”

The shot rings out, loud and clear, the world going dark as a bullet rips through the young merc’s head. Blood splatters across the dirty carpet, her body going limp, a final breath gurgling forth as she chokes on her own blood, iron taste clinging in the back of her throat.

Then she’s gone.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #silverv #johnny silverhand #jackie welles #female v #aidan becker #aidan v becker #angst

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huntertales · 4 years ago

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Part Three: There’s Some Things You Can’t Fix. (Heaven Can’t Wait S09E06)

Episode Summary: When Dean gets a call from Castiel about a possible case dealing with spontaneous human combustion, the older Winchester decides to investigate–on his own. The reader decides to tag along. She doesn’t take no for an answer when Dean shares his odd hesitations on letting her work on a hunt with Castiel. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,502.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Cas watched from the passenger side window as Nora’s house slowly pulled up into view. The knot in the pit of his stomach began to tighten at how time was slipping by quicker than he anticipated to the big moment. His very first date. At first he was unsure of the proper reason why his palms felt so sweaty and his stomach started to feel strange. It wasn’t quite queasy like the time he ate some bad food when he was homeless and was forced to survive off of scraps he found in the dumpster. But he didn’t quite feel up to his normal self. When he told you and Dean about his sudden symptoms, your shared reactions weren’t ones he was expected. The man rolled his eyes in a dramatic fashion while you laughed it off.

He didn’t understand what was so funny about what he said. Cas was genuinely worried there was something wrong with him, maybe he caught something from a customer and he only began to notice it now. He thought it was enough concern to cancel his date, in fear he might get Nora sick as well. She never missed a day of work since he started there. Humans were infamously notorious for catching all sorts of viruses and diseases. What he was feeling wasn't a stomach bug, it was something vastly different. Cas should've learned by now that emotions can change how a person feels psychically.

"It's like butterflies in your stomach. You're excited, but you feel like you're about to pass out from nervousness." You explained almost perfectly about how Cas was feeling at the moment. "It's how I used to feel whenever Dean was around before we got together. When you're finding your feelings for someone, it gets...complicated.”

"But I'm not in love with Nora." Cas said. He started to grow even more confused at how truly complicated it was to be a human. There were so many more things than keeping after yourself. Not that relationships and emotions were strange territory, there was just so much more out there he never experienced before. He realized he was only just beginning to learn what it was all like. "At least, I don't think so."

"It's most likely just last minute nerves. Maybe even a little crush. No need to go on proposing to her during dessert." You reassured the man. "Just go in there and be yourself."

"Okay." Cas inhaled a deep breath to try and calm his nerves before placing a hand on the passenger side door. "Thanks, Dean."

"Cas, wait. I can't let you do this." Dean managed to stop the other man before he made a grave himself. Cas sat with his foot standing on the pavement and the car door opened a few inches. The poor guy thought Dean was going to try and stop him from meeting up with Nora, thinking it was a bad idea after all. But that wasn't the cause of concern for Dean. He was looking out for his friend. His attention was focused on the tacky blue vest Cas was still wearing. "You're gonna wear that on a date?"

Cas put his foot back into the car and shut the door again, having a feeling there was something Dean was hinting around. First impressions were everything. Cas wanted to make the very best. He glanced down at his clothes to see what the problem might be. He always kept a tidy appearance. There was not a single stain on his outfit, maybe a piece of lint he overlooked. He didn't understand what the problem was, or how he could fix it.

“This is all I have, Dean.” Cas confessed.

"You know, Dean is right. Uh...we don't have time for you to change." You thought to yourself for a moment about what Cas could do to try and spruce up his appearance a bit better. You should've forced Dean to let Cas borrow some of his clothes. But you would just have to work with what you had. You tilted your head to the side and bit your lip for a brief second to try and think. "Okay. Lose the vest."

“What are you—”

"Lose the vest. Come on. Fork it over." You stopped Cas from trying to put up a fight about the stupid article of clothing. Thankfully he complied and handed over the bulk of fabric over to you from the front seat. "That's a little better. And now your buttons—why don't you unbutton it?”

Sometimes Cas took things a little too literal. The man started to undo the first two buttons of his shirt like you suggested, but kept going with a third one and almost undid another before Dean stopped him. "That's far enough, Tony Manero. Save the strip tease for Nora."

"All right. Let me take a look." You leaned forward in your seat to try and get a better look at Cas with his slightly new appearance. You took a few seconds before you deemed him good enough to head off on his date. "Yeah. Good.”

"Listen to me. There's a few things you need to know." Dean felt the need to give the man some advice if he wasn't to make a fool of himself, more than he probably already would. "Always open the door for her, okay? Ask a lot of questions. They like that. And...oh, if she's happy to go dutch, she's lying."

"Okay, that's enough." You interrupted the man before he could give anymore unsolicited information that might hurt Cas more than help. You lightly slapped a hand on Cas' shoulder and offered a supportive smile. "Go get 'em, tiger."

Cas inhaled a deep breath to try and calm his racing heart before finally gathering the courage to open up the passenger side door again and step out. You and Dean watched as he finally made his way to Nora's front door, finding this situation sort of like dropping off your kid on their first date. There was a sort of innocence and adorable factor that made you smile. Dean offered a supportive thumbs up when Cas stopped at the closed front gate and looked over his shoulder to see the both of you were still there. Cas returned the gesture before opening up the gate and continued heading toward the house.

You smiled to yourself when Cas managed to make it to the front door without backing out. He adjusted his appearance one more time to make sure he looked presentable and reached a fist up to knock on the door. However he stopped when he realized something. Wasn't it customary to bring dates flowers as a romantic token? What if she was expecting them? Before he could begin to panic, luck seemed to have been on his side tonight.

Cas spotted a blooming rose bush conveniently right next to the porch. He remembered Nora saying about how she liked gardening in her free time. Red roses were also a symbol of love. He found a pair of clippers and snipped himself a single rose, Nora wouldn't know the difference. Dean snickered to himself when Cas’ small touch he added on his own caused the poor man to prick his fingers when he cut the single flower off. It seemed Cas might not be doomed after all.

"I think it's our cue to leave." You said. You slipped out from the backseat and back into the passenger side when you saw Cas waving you off, wanting you both to get out of here before Nora realized he was here. You smiled at the sight. "Our boy's all grown up."

You waved back at Cas as Dean turned the engine back on before either one of you could embarrass your friend in front of his date. However before Dean could pull away from the curb, he swiftly put his foot on the brake when he saw a truck start backing up when it seemed to have come out of nowhere. Dean slowly started to grow frustrated when the car started to get dangerously close to the Impala. Before there could be an accident, he managed to get the driver's attention. You waved one final time at Cas before the Impala drove off down the street and into the night, all before disappearing from sight.

+ + +

A few minutes into driving after dropping off Cas on his date, the silence that fell over the car was interrupted by your phone going off. Your brows furrowed in confusion as to who might be trying to get in contact with you. You partially hoped it wasn't Cas. Things couldn't have gone south that quickly. When you spotted the name on the I.D. of the sheriff you had been working on the case with together, you answered it after the third ring.

"Now, here's a wrinkle. Our first crime scene, the married couple? Full analysis of the spray came in from the lab." The sheriff got a strange lead that he thought you might want to hear about that benefited both parties. And it cut down on the list of suspects to just one possible lead. "Turns out it only contains the wife's DNA."

"The husband's still out there." You mumbled, connecting the dots on your own. You thanked the sheriff for the tip before ending the call. You turned your gaze over to Dean, who had been trying to split his attention from you and the road. "We got to go by the police station. I think I know who’s behind all of this.”

+ + +

Figuring out the face to the angel who was causing all of these deaths was only part of the puzzle you needed to solve in order to wrap up this hunt before someone else could get hurt. You and Dean stopped by the station to have a talk with the sheriff to hear out what else he had found out from the new lead. You looked through the documents of the wife's death certificate and the typed up police file about the actual reported crime, hoping to find something that might help pinpoint a direction to help you solve this hunt once and for all.

"He was already a bit screwy, but then he found religion. She was a hard-line atheist, no peach herself. When he got himself obsessed with this Buddy Boyle whack job, an already bad marriage got worse." The sheriff went on about the couple that landed with the wife dead, and the husband still missing. You scoffed ever so quietly to yourself at the familiar sounding name. It all was starting to make sense now of how this mess came to be. "Kept telling her to 'let God in.'"

"Buddy Boyle." Dean repeated the name of a preacher he heard before. You glanced up from the documents and rolled your eyes from the trouble he was causing you lately on an already crappy situation that was spiraling out of control."That explains it."

“Explains what?” The sheriff asked, feeling out of the loop from what the man was talking about.

"Nevermind. Uh, let's see." You focused your attention back to the documents as you shuffled around the papers to try and find something actually useful. You stumbled upon a photograph that made you do a double take of the happy couple. You pointed a finger to the vehicle in the background. "Is that his truck?"

"Yep." The sheriff casually answered.

You remembered where you saw the truck before, right when you were leaving Nora's house, the one that nearly backed into the Impala. You and Dean shared the same worried expression, coming to the possible conclusion to the worst possible outcome. Cas was in danger. If you and Dean weren't quick enough to get back to him, he might be next.

+ + +

Trying to understand how a human deals with the influx of emotions was a complicated and difficult thing without experiencing what it was like to be one first hand, and even then it was still confusing. The smallest and kindest gesture can make someone burst with happiness, while a slight inconvenience can ruin one’s day. Cas learned slowly over time that he was just like everyone else on this planet. Nothing special without his grace, living day to day just trying to survive. And while it might seem depressing and bleak at times, it wasn't always like that. Cas learned that life wasn’t so bad being a measly human. But his brother didn’t want to see past the pain.

His brother wanted to fix these humans and make the world a better place like he did in heaven, the place that was no longer. All the angel could feel was the endless sorrow in the world. An endless melody that called out to him, begging for relief. Cas was calling to him the loudest. The man might have been warded from all angels, but his pain was like a beacon shining down on him. It made him stick out like a sore thumb for his brother to find him and put the poor human out of his misery once and for all. But Cas wasn’t a feeble creature. He might have been without his grace to protect himself, he still had some tricks up his sleeve to keep himself alive long enough for his friends to come to his aid.

The backdoor to Nora’s house burst open without warning, causing the conversation between Cas and his brother about his life choices to be mometairly paused, the angel wondering who was trying to ruin a special moment. It seemed you and Dean figured out on your own who was to blame for the recent deaths around town. The both of you came charging in with your angel blade in hand swinging up in the air, but you were no match against the more powerful being who easily flung you across the room.

Dean landed roughly against the wall and into some of the baby's things, none of which broke his fall. You slid across the floor and into a dining room chair that caused you to hit your head against the wood. The blow was enough for you to forget for a moment about the blade. You tried brushing off the pain and placed the hand that had been holding the weapon to your now throbbing head. When the pain subsided enough for you to open up your eyes and figure out where the angel might have gone, you noticed his attention drifted away from Cas and to you for some reason. A bad feeling settled into your stomach at the way he was just staring...observing you.

“What happened to you?” The angel whispered to only felt himself. You propped yourself up on your elbows as you stared up at the angel, wondering what kind of pain you must be giving off. Your life has been filled with nothing but misery and pain. But it was a pain that you couldn't see yourself. "The sorrow you're going through, it's strong. Stronger than I've felt with most. The guilt is the worst of all, isn’t it?”

Your expression shifted into a hardened expression at the things he was saying. You tried to play dumb, hoping you might be able to buy yourself some time while you figured out how to get out of this. "What the hell are you talking about?”

“You humans try so hard to hide the pain, but I can see it so clearly. You’re suffering. All of you are.” The angel went on without going into proper details about the sort of pain you were feeling at the moment. The kind that you buried deep underneath the surface for no one to see, not even yourself. A sort of sympathetic smile crossed his face at the trauma he felt off of you. "You're denying yourself the truth.”

Dean used the angel’s distraction as a way to get the upper hand and finish this before anyone else died at the hands of unwanted mercy, or to spill any secrets that needed to remain buried deep down. He slid the blade across the floor and over to Cas, who swiftly grabbed the weapon and did what needed to be done. Killing any of his siblings never got any easier. Whenever he was forced to kill one of his siblings, it never got any easier when the numbers of their kind dwindled over the years from war and tragedy. But he couldn’t let his brother keep going on this path, there would be no end to his mercy. You quickly shielded your eyes from the sudden burst of white light when Cas plunged the blade into the angel’s chest, ending his brother's mercy killing with one of his own.

+ + +

Turns out Cas’ evening plans turned into an accidental miscommunication between Nora and himself. She was going on a date—just not with him. Cas spent the night with Tanya, Nora’s infant daughter who was now peacefully sleeping after the commotion that went down in the kitchen not too far from her nursery. While Dean took a call from his brother outside, you helped Cas tidy things up and take care of the baby’s fever that was starting to worry him. With his grace gone, Cas couldn’t fix humans anymore with a simple touch to the forehead. Luckily for him, you had a few tricks up your sleeve to help.

“It’s probably because she’s teething. An easy fix.” You explained to him. You spotted a few teeth poking through the baby’s gums when she let out a yawn at how she was being kept up past her bedtime. “Why don’t you go to the medicine cabinet and see if there’s any baby aspirin? That should do the trick.”

You took Tanya out of Cas’ arms without an ounce of hesitation and began to slowly rock her back and forth when she started to grow fussy. You occupied the baby while Cas departed to the bathroom to hunt down the medicine you told him to get. He came back a minute later to see you softly cooing at the baby with smiling praises of how adorable she was. Despite never having had a child of your own, and the loss of one, you fell into the motherly figure naturally. You were a caregiver to him and the boys, even to strangers you never met before. The sight of you holding Tanya made his heart break.

When you saw the man was back with the medicine, you grabbed the medicine and proceeded to read the instructions that would bring the fever right down. Cas continued to watch as you handled Tanya with ease, acting naturally as she was your own. He realized that this was both of yours first moment alone together since everything happened unfolded and him leaving the bunker. There was so much he wanted to say to you.

“You’re very good with her.” Cas wasn’t sure if what he said was the right thing. It had only been a short time ago since everything unfolded. Wounds such you had dealt with might still be sore. And what his brother had said about you burying it deep down was something you would most likely do. Sometimes that wasn’t healthy. Humans need to talk about their problems, or at least give people who they loved reassurance they weren’t dealing with these problems alone. A small smile crossed your face at the compliment. “I...I also wanted to apologize to you.”

Your face scrunched up slightly in confusion at the sudden shift in conversation topic. “What for?”

“For not being there for you when you needed me the most. If I learned anything about being a human from you and the Winchesters, it’s that you’re there for the people you care about in crisis.” Cas said. “Dean called me from the hospital and told me what happened after you stopped doing the trials. It’s...I wish I was there.”

You fell silent for a moment as your expression shifted into one that made Cas suddenly regret bringing it up in the first place. You put Tanya down back into her crib and turned back to him. A heavy sigh fell from your lips at what you were about to admit.

“Don’t tell Dean, but...I guess there was some truth to what the angel said back there. I’ve been beating myself up about it for weeks now about what happened. Sometimes I lie in bed and think about what it might be like if things turned a bit differently.” You said. You turned your attention to the sleeping Tanya and smiled to yourself for a brief second about how adorable she looked. “But feeling guilty over it won’t change the past. We can’t change anything about what we did. That’s something you’re going to learn pretty quickly about being human. All we can do is keep moving forward and make best with what we got, not what we lost.”

Cas listened to your words of advice and nodded his head. He was starting to understand that no matter who he was, angel or human, no one was perfect. Mistakes were going to be made. It was just the nature of living. “You know, you don’t make such a bad human, after all.” Your compliment to the man made him chuckle for the first time tonight.

You made your way to the door when Tanya's quiet snores came from the crib. Cas felt the need to return your compliment with one of his own. "If you ever are given the chance to be a mother, I think you would be perfect." He said. "You're a kind person, Y/N. You deserve the happiness that you seek. It might not come soon...but hopefully one day."

“Thanks, Cas.” You mumbled. You didn't know why, but the thought of becoming a mother made you suddenly grow a little bit sad at the prospect you might not have all of this. You talked about how you thought you never would or want to have a child, but deep down, you were lying to yourself. It was a bitter sadness that you buried deep down. You looked over at the crib and let out a quiet sigh. "That means a lot."

Back outside with Dean, his conversation with his brother was turning out to be less comforting than the one you had with Cas. He leaned against the hood of the Impala and listened to the night he had with Kevin and Crowley, hoping there might have been some good news sprinkled in there somewhere. It turned out to be the worst outcome Dean could think of. He took the truth Crowley gave his brother with a grain of salt. The demon had been less helpful to them in the past without getting something out of them. Dean highly doubted the self isolation treatment the demon was being given softened him up. Sam was confident Crowley was telling the truth.

"No, Dean, not this time." Sam told his brother the hard truth all of you were going to have to come to terms with. "Look, Metatron built the spell to withstand any attempt to reverse it. There is no putting the angels back in heaven. It's done.”

The older Winchester let out a heavy sigh from what this news meant for someone. He finished up the call with his brother the exact moment you accidentally spooked him when you placed a hand on his arm. You smiled at his reaction before it slowly faltered at the sight of his face. Dean told you the same news Sam had given him over the phone about the mess that seemed to be unfixable. Your mind immediately went to the one person who was going to handle it the hardest, and who it affected the most. "Are you gonna tell Cas?"

The poor guy already was beating himself up badly about the situation that he caused, and all he wanted to do was undo his mistakes. But it seemed there was no way of putting things back together the way it once was. There were just some problems you couldn't fix. Out of anyone, you understood that the most.

+ + +

Every part of you wanted to keep Cas around and offer him a chance to have a proper place to call his home back at the bunker. But there were circumstances you would eventually learn that kept him from doing so. For now you remained in the dark about the reason why, thinking it was Cas’ personal choice to do as such. Cas had made a life of his own in this little town and seemed to be enjoying himself. It was just how it was going to be for now until things got better. if that was even possible anymore.

The final stop for Cas was back at the convenience store before his shift started. You conveniently excused yourself for a quick pit stop to the restroom before you and Dean headed back on the road to the bunker. It gave Dean a perfect chance to have a conversation with his friend about how things had to be.

"Listen, Cas, back at the bunker, I'm sorry I told you to go." Dean started off with an apology that felt like it needed to be said. "I know it's been hard on you, you know, on your own. Somehow you're adapting. I know Y/N's been worried about you, but it makes her happy seeing you do good. And, honestly, I'm proud of you."

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas said. Hearing words of encouragement from his friends brought a small ounce of happiness to him, but it only lasted for a short while, something else was weighing heavy on his mind that felt he needed to discuss. He glanced out the window before back to the hunter. "But there's something Ephraim said. The angels--they need help. Can I really sit this one out? Shouldn't I be searching for a way to get them home?"

"Don't worry. Me, Y/N and Sam, we'll take care of the angels." Dean reassured his friend, releasing him of the burden. "You're human now. It's not your problem anymore."

Dean never got around to telling Cas the information Sam told him. He should've. It was probably the right thing to do. But he couldn't get himself to do that, not to the poor guy who was already feeling down. He didn't lie, he just glossed over the truth. Refrained from giving all of the truth. It was becoming a habit lately with him—not telling the whole truth. Dean kept telling himself it was for the best.

He forgot that the truth will always come out. There was no lie or feeling that a person can bury deep enough to keep it from seeing the light. Eventually it was going to come back and haunt him.

Rewrite Taglist:

@deansquirreljerkwinchester // @everything-i-tried-was-taken // @starswirlblitz // @supernaturalismydrug // @we-are-band-sexuals // @angiewinchestercas // @kaylinfayezink // @owhatshername1 // @kgbrenner // @cleo-is-my-doggy // @eeyore1988 // @dakota-dream // @lilylovelyxo // @timetravelingginger // @holahellohialoha // @quicksilver123456 // @natashacamillas //@lexi-anastasia //@kaylinfayezink // @deanwnchstr @albot-eh // @rashinyx2002 // @shellybeans // @icantfindacreativeurl // @becs-bunker // @oreosatmidnight // @bands-and-shietz // @fabulousmustachesonapolarbear // @clarewinchester // @releasethekracko // @alex-zeppelin // @mega-mrs-dean-winchester // @theskytraveler // @notmoose94 //@assassinofmasyaf // @caswinchester2000 // @savannah-m-99 // @sunlight-dean // @strayrosesbloom // @that-slytherin-over-there // @1000roughdrafts // @its-medeanwinchester // @simplyhemmings // @dream-believe-and-love // @that-winged-rat

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Beast Mode {One Shot}***

Florian Munteanu x Reader

Words: 3.5k

Warning: Cursing, NSFW AT ALL, SMUTTTTTY, DO NOT READ AT WORK

Summary: You’re in a relationship with Florian who has come to the end of his training period in prep for his long-anticipated and publicized match with “Elias “Cutthroat” Morales. The two of you haven’t seen each other in three months because of his trainer’s brutal training practices. You fly in a few hours before the match to wish him luck.

Note: I’ve said this before, I am terrified of this man but here we are. I don't know what that/this says about me but oh well. This was not asked for at all. SMH

**I have never written Florian, I have no idea about his mannerisms, body language or personality. I am writing this because I cannot stop thinking about it and it is driving me nuts. So, excuse me if this does not fit him exactly. I hope you enjoy the terrifying ride. As always, thank you for reading!!!!

**Image not my own

***Not Edited/proofread***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What training would restrict visits from his girlfriend for three months? His trainer. No matter how much he’d protested, begged and bargained he was not budging.

“No visits until fight night. You need to stay objective and vicious.”

It was logical but he missed the hell out of you. FaceTime calls were not cutting it anymore, especially when he saw your posts on social media. As an influencer, it was your job to play everything up but from what you posted it looked like he was out of sight and out of mind. It didn’t help matters the comments he’d read under your pictures. They were all from thirsty dudes who loved using their internet fingers to make it seem like they were big and bad. Little did they know he was big and nasty. He’d easily break every bone in their body over you. There was no limit to his possessiveness.

“Focus!”

The drill Sergeant like sound of his trainer’s voice snapped him right back to reality. He zeroed in on his sparring partner and bobbed and weaved around the ring evading punches and firing them right back. He’d trained like a beast for the last six months. The last three he’d been pushed past the brink of sanity. He was now so ready for this match that all he saw was him standing victorious covered in his opponent’s blood. Was it vicious? Yeah. Did he care? Nope.

“Good. Yes! Don’t give him a chance to recover. Yes! Always in kill mode.”

He did one of his fancy moves spun behind his opponent then hammered his sides with everything he had. As they turned to him, he then delivered the final blow, a jaw crushing right hook. Everyone around him cheered and clapped. He ripped the gloves off his hands and checked on the guy he’d just knocked out. The doctors gave him a reassuring look to tell him he’d be fine. Taking their word for it he slipped out the ring and made it over to his trainer who had a pleased look on his face.

“Morales has no idea what’s in store for him. You’ve shaved off eighteen seconds off of your recovery time, added a full twelve minutes to your stamina, you’re faster than I’ve ever seen you and not to mention that mean in you is at the right level to blow. This match is yours.”

He felt it too. He felt like he was in the best physical shape of his life. He was focused and had his eye on the prize. The only thing missing was you.

“Hit the showers, get back to the hotel and I’ll send over the massage therapist to loosen up those muscles and have a good meal. Tomorrow you go from sixty-eight and ten to sixty-nine and ten!”

As he packed up his bag he nodded he liked the sound of that. Deciding to just grab a shower at the hotel he ducked into his waiting car and stretched out in the backseat. He was ready for a little break. At the thought of that, he thought of you. he took out his phone and found your contact to see your recent message from last night, a picture of yourself cuddled in the bed of the house you shared together. He could tell you weren’t wearing anything and every muscle in his body flexed aggressively.

“Push it away, focus,” he chanted to himself. It was a chant whenever he felt biology taking over. He was but a man.

MSG: I’m sorry I missed this last night. I had to be up for my last practice. Don’t be mad.

A few minutes passed before a response came in.

MSG Y/N: It’s okay. I get it, Big Nasty has to be aggressive, be be aggressive.

He snorted.

MSG: Really?

MSG Y/N: I’m your biggest cheerleader babe. I miss you.

Your words felt good to know. Usually, when he went into disappear training mode your relationship struggled. You wanted him around to share everyday things with, to be with but he wasn’t anywhere there. You said sometimes you felt like you were single and hated it but maybe you should go act like it too. It was the root of many arguments between the two of you, but neither of you ever let go.

MSG: I miss you so fucking much it’s insane.

MSG Y/N: How much?

MSG: I can’t even use words.

MSG Y/N: Then what would you use to show me?

Again, his muscles tensed and all he could think about was showing you how much he missed you. In seconds he was hard.

“Fuck!”

He resisted the urge to palm his length and tried to focus on his breathing.

MSG: Chill, babe. I’m already hard.

MSG Y/N: Really? Show me. Please. I haven’t seen a dick in months.

He could hear the whine in your words. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he did it anyway. Slipping his sweats a few inches lower he allowed his hardness to flop out. He was getting harder. He took a picture of himself and sent it to you.

MSG Y/N: Damn baby. It’s beautiful. I miss it so much.

MSG: He misses you.

A groan escaped him and showed him how close he was to losing himself. Slipping his meat back inside his sweats he sat up and worked to shrug off the arousal you’d brought on him.

MSG: When this is done let’s take a trip. Anywhere you wanna go.

MSG Y/N: Okay. Let’s do it.

You were always down to indulge his love of traveling. He worked hard and took a lot for the job and liked to unwind just as hard. As he approached the hotel he let you know his intentions for the night before ending your conversation.

When he made it up to his room he wasted no time getting in the shower and letting the hot water work magic on his muscles. You were still on his mind and made it even more difficult to get through without touching himself. He caught himself three times. The first he didn’t even realize it until he grunted out your name. He looked down to find his cock in his hand. The second time he caught himself before he gripped his length and the third he stopped the thought.

He didn’t know what the hell had come over him, but he had better find a way to get a grip especially this close to the match. His coach and trainer were both unanimously against any sort of pleasure while training and before a match. They didn’t care about the toll it took on his relationship, they cared about the end goal. He’d done this before and each time you were a trooper with accepting it, but this felt different. This time was harder for you, harder for him too.

When he got out of the shower his meal was waiting. He settled in front of the tv and watched videos of Elias Morales fight. This was his pre-match routine the biggest plate of pasta and studying his opponent. You didn’t have a record like his by just floating through matches. He was meticulous if nothing else, he trained, plotted, and prepared then executed.

An hour later he got a message letting him know his massage therapist would be there soon. Pausing the latest video, he stripped down and went over to the massage table and laid there waiting. As he waited he continued the video. He was so focused on it he didn’t hear when the masseuse entered. It was only when he saw her feet it registered.

“I think deep Swedish should work tonight,” he suggested. She didn’t answer. He was about to turn around when he felt the hot oil drip across his back. The next thing he felt were small hands begin their work of rubbing him down and kneading out knots.

Every night this week there had been a different masseuse, a different one he had to tell just what he liked. As he was about to open his mouth to let her know he liked some pressure along his spine but not at the tail of his spine she beat him to it by doing just that. A long moan slipped from him, it felt good. The masseuse continued her work and expertly kneaded his back muscles with the right amount of pressure and the right alternating techniques. It was like they knew just what he liked. Small hands went lower to his waist and gently massaged him there. The next place he felt her hands were his calves, she squeezed as her hands slid down to his ankles.

“God yes!” His body was quickly relaxing.

Thirty minutes more found him completely relaxed with muscles that didn’t hold an ounce of tension in them.

“Turn.” Not paying attention he flipped over to find a hot towel drop across his face.

“Breathe it in, eucalyptus, rose, lavender, coconut oil, and lemon. The right recipe for relaxation and optimal pore health.” He laid there and inhaled the aromas coming from the towel and found himself relaxing even more. This was almost just what he needed. It would have to do.

The same small hands began rubbing his chest down spending focus on his pec muscles before slowly gliding over his abs. This is where the hands slowed even more. There was no massage patterns to her movements now. When he began to move to take the towel off she moved her hands to his thighs and forcefully massages into them. It was enough to throw him off. Another twenty minutes passed before he heard a feminine moan in the air, a moan that did not belong to him. Quickly he ripped the towel off his face and sat up to see you standing beside him.

“Y/N?”

“Surprise!” Seconds passed before he pulled you into his arms and hugged you.

“Oh my god, what’re you doing here?”

“I missed you like really missed you. I couldn’t wait until tomorrow night. I needed to see you, baby.” He smiled and pulled her back into his arms. He felt the same way.

“I missed you too. Shit, this one was worse than all the others before,” he expressed as you pressed your forehead to his.

“It was. I hate this, but I love you so much.” Your lips met for a sweet peck, but one peck turned to two and three and before either of you knew it you were full-on making out. You moaned on his mouth and his hardness instantly returned with a vengeance. You bit his bottom lip and softly raked your nails up and down his back.

“Don’t do that babe, please.”

“I’m sorry.”

“If Hugo found you here he’d be so pissed.”

“I don’t care. I’ve followed every rule for two years. I’ve never protested. I’m protesting now. I want to see my man.” He smiled, he loved hearing you call him that. When you introduced him he always felt cocky when you called him your man. He didn’t know why.

“You’ve been a good girl,” he said as he stroked your hair down your back.

“I’ve been such a good girl, baby. What do I get as a reward?”

A smile spread across his face and every nasty thing flashed through his head.

“What do you want, love?”

You tipped your tongue out and licked across his lips then softly nibbled his bottom lip all while staring in his eyes.

“You. I want you, baby. I always want you—just you.”

He didn’t need to hear anything else. He crashed his lips to yours and took control of the kiss. He only intended for it to be a kiss, only intended for it to go so far. After a few minutes, he stood and lifted you into his arms. When you wrapped your legs around his waist his body made the decisions from then on. He turned and dropped you onto the massage table and quickly pulled off the dress you wore. He lost it when he realized you had on his favorite colored lace.

“Fuck!”

You spread your legs wider and bit your bottom lip. You were giving him access and permission. He couldn’t think, any possibility for logical thought was gone. He kissed you briefly then dropped his lips to your neck and sucked and teased the skin there. He knew you liked when he did it. You smelled incredible, a scent he hadn’t smelled in months, a scent that was making it impossible to control himself. His lips moved lower over your skin and latched onto your lace-clad breast. He sucked and bit your nipple through the material and enjoyed every mewl that fell from you.

When your hands hugged his head to you he sucked more forcefully.

“Yes baby. Oh god yes.”

He wrestled with the hooks of your bra and normally this would have been an easy task, but right now he didn’t have the patience it required. Gripping the material, he pulled it apart popping the clasps but freeing your breasts. He cupped them in his hands and feasted on each pert nipple for several long minutes. When he crouched between your legs he pulled your ass to the edge and stared at you.

“Don’t stop baby, please. Put your name on it.”

He growled out and grabbed a fistful of your underwear and ripped it clear off of you. Your moan of approval sent him over the edge of control. His lips connected with your sex and sucked. His intention was not to go slow, not to tease and not to waste any time. He needed this and he knew you did too. He slurped and devoured your flesh and relished in the unique taste of you. He’d missed your taste, missed the sounds you made when he did just what he knew would drive you crazy, missed how you reacted to him like a flame. At the root of it, he missed you. Your screamed signaled your orgasm. He was pleased you’d found your first release, but he had plans for many more.

He stood but before he could sheath himself you slipped off the massage table and to your knees. You pulled the towel from around his waist and came eye to eye with what you wanted. The look on your face spoke of how ravenous you were. You lowered your mouth over his length and took him fully into your mouth as far as he could go. He growled out again and held your head in place. His hips moved thrusting in and out of your mouth slowly at first but when goosebumps broke out across his skin he sped up. soon you were gagging and slurping with every snap of his hips. You were always good at swallowing every inch of him. Before he lost it he pulled you up and threw you over the table with your ass poking out to him.

They say the first touch is the sweetest but for him, the first feel of you around him was almost too much for him. He hovered over your back and letting the shake go through him. With each inch he slipped inside of you, you clenched around him. With a few more inches to go, he slammed into you making you scream out.

“Fuck Flo!” Your body shook through its second release. He was just getting started.

From the start he set the only pace he could, the only pace his body could tolerate—fast. He slammed into you with bruising thrusts that had purpose. He had to remind you who was daddy, and who truly owned this pussy.

“Fuck Y/N, you’re so fucking tight. Yes! This pussy missed daddy?” You nodded but he wanted to hear the words.

“Tell me. Did my pussy miss me?”

“Fuck, yes, it missed you, daddy. It missed you so much.” He pushed your head lower with one hand and gripped your hip with the other then jackhammered into you. your screams were loud, but soon they turned raspy and desperate. You were always the only one that could take all of him. The only one who came close to crippling him with pleasure.

He grabbed your thighs and twisted you around, so you laid on your back with your thighs spread wide. God, he loved this view. He pulled out and sucked on your clit for a few moments before he tasted you as you came right in his mouth. You wrapped your thighs around his head and rode the wave of your third orgasm. When he tried to untangle himself, you weren’t having it. He almost laughed, you wanted to get rough. Forcefully he obliged, pulling your legs open, pressing them back to the table. He lined up his throbbing cock with your core and locked eyes with you. From the look in your eyes, he knew you knew what he intended to do.

“Whose pussy is this Y/N?”

“Yours baby.”

“Whose?”

“Yours daddy. Fuck this pussy—own this pussy.”

He snapped his hips forward and connected your bodies to the hilt. He could feel every inch of you inside and the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head you loved it. From the pace and force of his thrusts, the massage table shook as if it were on its last legs. He didn’t care. He was voracious.

“This pussy is mine, mine, mine, mine!” his only focus was finding that release, he knew he’d taken care of you. Changing the angle, he held you, he turned you to your side and held your leg in the air but continued plowing into you.

He wanted to come so bad, but he couldn’t. It was something he’d experienced before. He was so backed up that physically and psychologically he wasn’t in sync. It was normal for training and competing and normal for the first few weeks after. He held tightly to you and held you in the air and continued pumping into you.

“Shit, shit!”

“How does this dick feel baby?”

“So fucking good.”

You kissed him and began bouncing on him using his body as the anchor. He groaned and leaned against whatever he found close by and allowed you to fuck him. His moans and grunts fell from him one after the other and he didn’t care if you knew just what you were doing to him. It was never a secret. After a few minutes, he rose his hips up meeting you halfway.

“Oh my god! I’m gonna come, baby, I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming!” He loved hearing those words. Using both hands he held you still and plowed into you and chased the release he’d denied himself for six months. The closer he got the louder he was, the louder he was the harder he fucked you. It was all a chain reaction that fueled and fed you both.

In a matter of minutes, he was having tunnel vision and knew he was close. He turned and pressed you against what he thought was a wall but was really one of the floor to ceiling windows. He didn’t care enough to stop. You helped him and rode onto him as he thrusted. It didn’t take long before you came again and pulled his long overdue orgasm from him. He shouted loudly as he came and filled you up with every last drop of the love he’d been saving for you.

A few minutes later when you both had come down a little from your release, he realized though he’d come he was still rock hard. He needed more. When you realized it, your eyes filled with excitement and a hint of tease.

“Can you take what you’ve unleashed?”

“I can take this dick anytime, anywhere, for however long daddy.” His smile was wide. He didn’t expect anything less from you.

“You’re daddy’s nasty girl. Let’s see if you remember how nasty daddy likes it.”

“Beast mode daddy?”

“Make sure you can take it.” You didn’t answer, instead, you kissed him and clenched around him giving the only answer he needed. It was going to be a long night.

TagList:

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#beast mode one shot #florian munteanu #florian munteanu fanfiction #florian munteanu x reader #florian munteanu x you #florian munteanu x black reader #florian munteanu smut #black fanfiction

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killjoysfromyesterday · 4 years ago

Text

day fourteen of @badthingshappenbingo (AND first bingo!! )

prompt: lost voice from screaming

word count: 785

⚠️please use caution of your own triggers before reading prompts on the board

also i’m sorry this one is very rushed and bad hhhh but i got a bingo :)

i used he/him pronouns for young poison, as i don’t think they would’ve had access to the idea of being non-binary in the city/knowing it was okay to use they/them pronouns at five years old. i hope that is not offensive

————-

it’s storming. the rainwater pools into the crevices of the asphalt, splashing and reflecting the lights on the buildings around them.

all the buildings are so dense; you’d think the closer to the edge of the city you get, the thinner it’d be, but it seems as if there’s one tight knot of civilization on the outer edge that’s very convenient to keep people in.

poison’s cold, he wants to whine but his mother told him to be quiet. she has him in her arms, tucked tightly against her chest.

they’re moving way too fast, poison wants to slow down. he’s hungry and tired, he had to walk most of the way until his mother finally carried him. it feels like they’ve been walking for hours, miles and miles away from their apartment, and poison’s not sure where he is anymore.

his mama’s not telling him where they’re going, she just woke him up in the middle of the night and helped him put his shoes on, and then they left. why hadn’t they told dad that they were going somewhere? poison wondered, but he was getting too sleepy to think.

he must’ve drifted off to the lull of his mother’s cautious, almost sly footsteps in the city alleyways, because he awakens to his mother speaking. she sounds afraid, whipping her head around. poison can see a few white figures creeping out of alleyways towards them, and doesn’t have much time to think because suddenly his mother is running, her arms tight around the little boy.

she’s yanked back and poison falls from her arms, scraping his palms and knees on the concrete. it’s too dark to see much, even with the streetlights, and it’s pouring rain.

and then his mother’s screaming his name and there’s the cold, gloved hands of dracs wrapped around his arms, pulling him up and backwards.

his mother’s met the same fate, struggling hard against the dracs who’ve grabbed her. she manages to grip poison’s hands, holding onto him.

he’s clinging to his mother’s hands as tight as he possibly can, kicking out hard against whoever’s trying to pull him away. it’s like tug-o-war, but this is no cheerful game.

a drac wrenches one of his mother’s hands behind her back, handcuffs clicking into place. poison’s clinging to her remaining hand with both of his now, using all of the strength he has.

her other hand is tugged away too, and poison stumbles forward, caught by the dracs holding him tight against them.

she’s screaming, crying his name, my baby, don’t touch my baby, and the distance gapes like a canyon. she lets out a wail that silences all of the dracs. she screams until her voice is raw, dragged unceremoniously between the two dracs.

poison’s yelling out at the top of his little lungs for her. why are they taking his mom? he wants to go home.

it’s getting hard to breathe and he tries to count on his fingers just like his ma taught him, the way she always shows him how to calm down. it doesn’t work and he’s crying again, knees pulled tight to his chest in the backseat. the drac who’s driving turns around to him and mutters something that sounds like “shut up, brat” but he can barely hear anything going on, he’s so scared and so alone.

where’s his mama?

poison’s cleaning up in the diner, trying to get some stuff organized. their personal belongings are sparse, but they have a few items: keepsakes from missions, polaroid pictures of the girl as a baby, paints and canvases, the expected things.

but as they tidy up their bedroom, they have something else: a box of the few belongings they brought with them when they left the city at age fifteen.

there’s two birth certificates: theirs and kobra’s, the only proof that they aren’t biological siblings. nobody knows, and they don’t plan to tell anyone anytime soon.

and then there’s a picture at the very bottom of the shoebox. it’s of a woman with brown hair, hazel eyes, and a distinctly pointed nose. she’s in some kind of kitchen, holding a baby on her hip. the baby looks just like her, down to the quirked half-smile.

poison stops.

their mother had tried to get them out of the city when they were five. she got caught, that’s why they went to the orphanage. but their mother must’ve known that poison was meant for the desert. poison was louder than the other kids; brighter, more colorful. well, here they are, twenty years old now. they’ve been in the desert for five years.

i made it, mama. i got out here, and it’s beautiful.

—————

#fun ghoul #cherri cola #danger days #destroya #dr. death defying #jet star #kobra kid #party poison #phoenix witch #show pony #bad things happen bingo #ttlotfk #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys

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stellarstacey · 5 years ago

Text

Eddie paced back and forth in front of the door. His palms were sweating and his stomach was in knots. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. He should just turn around, walk down the stairs to the exit and get into his truck and drive home. He should not take out his key and open the door and follow through with his stupid plan. Plans likes these get people killed...well maybe not killed..maimed? No plans like these end with friendships being destroyed. He should put his key away. He should leave. Like he has done countless times before. Or he could grow some balls and open the door...the key was already in the lock... All he had to do was turn the doorknob...

"In and out. Just like Afghanistan... Okay not so much like Afghanistan... In and out." Eddie muttered as he pushed open the door.

"Hey? Did you forget something?" Buck asked as he came down the stairs of his loft.

"In and out..." Eddie whispered to himself and Buck frowned in confusion.

"Wha..." Eddie cut him off and slammed him against the wall next to the door.

Buck blinked at him as shock flickered over his face.

"Eddie, what the hell?" Buck huffed as he tried to free himself from the wall but Eddie get him firmly against it.

"Just like Afghanistan... Okay not at all like Afghanistan." Eddie muttered to himself and Buck frowned.

"Did you hit your head? The fuck is the matter with you?" Buck asked roughly but the hint of pure concern shone through.

Eddie could feel his resolve leaving him and knew he had to act fast.

"We should have sex." Eddie blurted out as he smoothed out Buck's sweater, where he had just grabbed it.

Buck could only blink again.

"I'm sorry, what now?" Buck asked incredulously and slightly scandalized.

"Sex. Me and you. We should have sex. Sex... together. As in me and you should have sex...together. With each other...together. Sex." Eddie stated feeling like his brain had decided to vacate his skull.

Buck's eyebrow raised higher and higher at every word.

"Are you concussed?" Buck asked and Eddie felt the last bit of his resolve really start to crumble and pushed forward blindly.

"We work incredibly well together. In the field. Imagine what we could do in bed...or the shower... Or the backseat of your jeep...the bunk room at work...In an actual field..." Eddie caged Buck in against the wall.

Buck had gone completely still.

"In a field? Have you ever had sex in a field? With your pollen allergy that's just a disaster waiting to happen. Jesus, Eddie use your head." Buck snorted and Eddie felt his stomach start to relax.

"So we should. Have sex. You and me. Together. With each..."

"Other. Yeah you made that part crystal clear, man. But no we shouldn't. Have sex." Buck stated awkwardly and Eddie felt his heart plummet.

"Why?" Eddie asked trying to keep hold of his resolve.

"What do you mean why?" Buck asked confused and Eddie sighed.

"Give me one good reason why we shouldn't have sex." Eddie raised an eyebrow and Buck's brow furrowed.

"Well...because. Because. Well. We... There's... Here's the thing... Because... Just because!" Buck grumbled and tried to cross his arms but realized that Eddie was too close for him to bring up his arms.

"Wow...You can't even give me one reason can you? I'm not going to force this, man. But I want it. I'm letting you know that I want it. Ball is in your court now." Eddie said leaning back from the wall and walked out.

Eddie woke up to his bed dipping down next to him. The familiar scent calmed him the second it hit his nose.

"I hate you." Buck whispered and Eddie smirked.

"No you don't." Eddie stated confidently.

"Well, I should. You can't just tell someone you want to have sex with them. Who does that?" Buck huffed and Eddie looked over his shoulder to see Buck looking up at the ceiling with his arms behind his head.

"Eddie Diaz does." Eddie smirked and Buck snorted.

"Yeah well, Eddie Diaz is a dick." Buck muttered childishly.

"Want me to blow you and make it better?" Eddie couldn't help but antagonize.

It was a part of who they were...the teasing.

"If we...if we have sex. It changes everything." Buck stated and Eddie turned to face him.

"That's a bit dramatic." Eddie rolled his eyes.

"We can't be friends with benefits, man." Buck sighed and Eddie frowned.

"We wouldn't be. I... We'd...We'd be you know...together?" Eddie whispered and Buck frowned.

"And that would change everything. We'd have to disclose our relationship to Bobby and then the whole team plus our families would know." Buck sighed.

"So? My family loves you and the team wouldn't have a problem with it. You know that." Eddie frowned.

"And Christopher?" Buck asked and Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Would be our biggest fan." Eddie stated.

"Until, I screw up and you both leave. Or the universe pulls the same old routine of Buck can't have nice things and pulls the rug out from under me again but this time...this time I don't lose Abby or Ali...I lose you. I survived being crushed by a ladder truck, I survived embolisms and a tsunami but I wouldn't survive losing you and Christopher. Fucking put me six feet under at that point because I couldn't come back from that." Buck breathed out and Eddie brought a hand to Buck's neck.

"You ever think that those two relationships didn't work out because the universe was trying to tell you that you belong with me and not them?" Eddie asked with a smile as he rubbed small circles into Buck's collarbone.

"I'm scared." Buck rested his forehead against Eddie's.

"You're forgetting the most important thing in all this, Evan." Eddie brushed some of Buck's curls away from his temple.

"What's that?" Buck asked softly.

"I got your back. That never came with an expiration date. That came with a lifetime guarantee." Eddie swore and Buck's breath hitched.

"A field huh?" Buck asked with amusement and Eddie snorted.

"I was frazzled." Eddie grumbled.

"Eddie 'cool as a cucumber' Diaz was frazzled?" Buck asked with a smile.

"Cool as a cucumber? Seriously? Only you can make that saying sound hot." Eddie laughed and Buck smirked.

"That offer still on the table?" Buck asked and Eddie frowned.

"Offer?" Eddie asked and Buck rolled over until he was straddling Eddie.

"To blow me?" Buck asked as he nipped at Eddie's pulse point.

Eddie hissed in pleasure.

"Yes!" Eddie groaned as he pulled Buck's face up and kissed him.

Buck pulled away and tilted his head.

"So what the fuck happened in Afghanistan?" Buck asked amused and Eddie laughed.

#buddie #buck and eddie #eddie and buck #buck buckley #evan buckley #eddie diaz

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adhdeancas · 4 years ago

Text

Sunset Sound: Honey Bee

Chapter 17 is available to read on AO3 too :)

trigger warning: panic attack/anxiety attack

Dawn has not quite hit when Dean is suddenly blinded by a light. “Son of a- what the fuck?” They’re awake before they can notice, blind fear running in their veins. Dean scrambles for his keys, stomps Baby into drive, and they’re 0 to 80 in seconds.

The spotlight hits him straight in the corneas again and he swerves and almost runs into a fence lining the road. Cas jumps back into the front seat, tugs the wheel over and they crash through the barbed wire. “Cas, what the hell?”

“We need away from the road!!” Cas explains, holding a hand up to try to fend off the horrible glare. The spotlight fades as they hit forest, Dean swearing left and right as he guides Baby through tight swaths of tree trunks. They abandon her once it gets too much and make a run for it. The spotlight can’t keep up; it pans across trying to find Dean’s plaid in the overgrowth or Cas’s trench coat, but Cas grabs Dean and throws them both into a bush before it can. Dean spits out a leaf and glares at him. “You’re welcome.” Cas mutters back, except it’s breathless, because for some reason beyond the physical exertion, Cas can’t breathe. It’s then that he realizes he’d left the walkie talkie, their only connection to their friends, in the backseat of the car.

He takes in big gulps of air but it doesn’t seem to matter, or maybe those gulps of air do too much, because it feels like his head is floating. He squeezes his eyes shut and just holds onto Dean; he needs to know that he’s still there but the panic in his skull finds the image of him too much.

“Cas?” Dean whispers, and it sounds far off. “Cas.” Cas can feel Dean’s grip on his arms, pulling at his coat sleeves like he’s trying to reel him back in. “You okay? What’s going on?”

Cas shakes his head then nods. “I’m fine, I just- am having trouble-” he takes another gulp of air because he keeps running out, and his confusion mounts. Is this what running normally feels like, to humans? Is it usually so uncomfortable and debilitating? Perhaps his vessel is just woefully - as Dean would say - flabby. Out of shape.

“Breathing?” Dean gathers from Cas’s exaggerated gasps. The fear in his own chest calms down a little bit now he knows what’s happening. “Cas, it’s alright, look at me,” He puts a hand on his cheek, trying to convince Cas to open his eyes. “Cas, trust me,”

Cas finally does, of course. He takes a breath in and opens his eyes, and it’s a mixture of stunning adrenaline and comfort that goes through his body when he realizes he and Dean are sitting almost on top of each other within the poking branches of the bush. Dean pushes a stick out of his way so Cas can see his eyes clearly. “What’s happening?”

“You’re having a panic attack, doofus,” Dean smiles at him with his best bedside manner. “It’s fine, happens to me all the time. Just-” He grabs hold of Cas’s hand and raises it so Cas can see. “Up means breathe in, down means breathe out.”

“But what if-” Cas throws a glance up, focused completely on the wrath of heaven that could descend upon them at any moment.

“Since when are we scared of a couple dicks with wings? We’ll be fine. C’mon, have I ever let you down?”

Confidence leaks back into Cas at the reassurance, and a glint reaches his eyes as he says, “Well…”

Dean mimes out a sarcastic laugh and holds their hands up again. “Alright, asshole, breathe,” He lifts their hands slowly, Cas’s breath growing past what he’s comfortable with, then lets them down even slower. Over and over again until it’s all Cas is thinking about, and he knows his heartbeat has stopped hammering so fast against his ribs. It’s still there, the panic still bothers him, but it’s manageable, which he guesses is what Dean is going for. He nods at Dean in thanks.

“I’m okay. We can go.” Dean ignores him to do three more breaths, which Cas grudgingly follows. Then he highers himself into a crouch, still holding Cas’s hand.

Dean pulls him back onto the run and they sprint until they see a cabin in the distance. They make eye contact and agree; they can take whoever owns the cabin, if they need to. It’s Cas who pounds on the door and Dean who peeks in the window, which means he only looks after the owner answers the door and Cas has grabbed him by the throat.

“Corbett?”

Cas lets him go almost immediately, but the poor boy’s eyes stay wide. “Uh-D- Dean?” Dean steps up and puts a hand on Cas’s arm, pulling him back to try and make Corbett a little less on edge. It works a little bit; the nervous man withdraws slightly and rubs at his neck. “Dean… Winchester, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods encouragingly and steps in front to ease his way in the cabin. Cas has a hand on his back trying to push him in faster, still aware of heaven’s spotlights looking out for them. “Been a while, buddy. Mind if we-?” He pats Corbett on the shoulder as he just stands there and stutters and Cas and Dean both get to work drawing warding on the walls.

“What are you doing?”

“Sigils, to keep the angels off your back,” Dean explains quickly, glancing at the guy’s bewildered expression. “Dude, what are you wearing?”

Corbett looks down, offended, and puts his hands on his hips. “A robe- I didn’t expect visitors!” The robe is baby blue and it stops above his knees, and Dean raises an eyebrow at it. “Hey!” He throws his hands up. “Listen, I’ll change and all, but what are you doing here? And who is he?”

“Cas. He’s- well, you can trust him.”

“...why do I need to trust anyone?” Corbett says suspiciously. He walks over to his bedroom and reemerges wearing actual clothes, not comforted by Dean’s silence. “Do you guys want something to drink- water, coffee?” His politeness takes over by instinct, and he gestures his guests to his table. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

“Coffee would be great.” Corbett looks over at Cas and he nods the same. “Uh, we got angels on our trail.”

“And that’s… a bad thing?”

“I’m not on their good list.” Now it’s Corbett’s turn to raise an eyebrow from the coffee maker. Dean smiles awkwardly. To this poor guy, being on an angel’s shitlist probably isn’t a ringing character endorsement.

“It’s a long story; promise we’ll tell you some other time. But, uh, you mind if we lay low here for a while?”

Corbett shrugs, not sure he has much of a choice, but he plops down coffees in front of the three of them anyway. “Looks like we have some time then. But, um, Dean… how’s Ed?” The kid looks at Dean hopefully, flashing some puppy-dog eyes that even Sam would be jealous of. Dean looks at Cas for help, but of course Cas has no freaking clue what Dean’s conflicted about. He looks back at him without a care in the fucking world beyond burning his tongue on his coffee.

“He’s good. I mean, not- he’s- he was sad- he mourned you and all, if that’s what you’re asking.” The tips of Dean’s ears turn red and he changes the subject before he can shove his foot in his mouth. Last time Corbett talked to Ed, Ed was pretending to be in love with him. The key word being pretending. “Anyway, so, hate to break it to you but heaven sucks.”

Cas steps in then, helps soften the blow and explains with more eloquence than Dean could. Corbett takes the news surprisingly well, something about always figuring God was a dick (yeah, growing up gay in the Midwest will do that to you), although the fact that Cas was/is an angel threw him for a loop.

“So you don’t have, like, wings or anything?”

“I did. I do.” Cas frowns down at the table. After losing all but all of his grace, his wings are but a mangled decoration for him now. Especially being in heaven, not being able to fly around stings, it feels like he is moving in slow motion sometimes. Dean’s hand appears over the table and taps his, his fingers soft and consoling. He pulls back slowly and Cas wishes he would keep touching him. “I can’t fly now, not without my powers.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.” Cas smiles up at Corbett. The simple openness of this man is making Cas instantly fond of him. It’s a refreshing change of pace from hunters and ethereal creatures’ secretive nature. “It was worth it, though. I’m alive.”

“... you’re in heaven.”

Dean snorts, and Cas nods, amused. “I’m not here… naturally. Given the ability, I believe I would be able to traverse back to the mortal realm and live as… well, as a human.” He looks up and meets Dean’s eyes, who looks shaken by the information.

Cas could go back and live on Earth as just a regular old human, and Dean… Dean’s dead. Dean’s dead at 41 and that’s that. The thought makes his heart sink like a rock in his chest.

“Well,” Dean stands up and slaps a hand on the table, breaking the quiet of the cabin. “We should probably get going.”

“Wait.” Corbett stands too and grabs Dean’s arm, an action far more forward than he’s used to. “Dean, you gotta… please, tell me. What aren’t you telling me about Ed?”

Dean sighs, looking around the cabin for a possible exit. His eyes land on a stupid framed photo of Corbett and Ed, taken like a selfie before front-facing cameras existed. His stomach twists in a knot. How is he supposed to ruin this guy’s happiness? He thinks Ed is gonna show up someday and they’re gonna be happy and together and gay in a dumb little gay paradise.

“Please. Dean, the truth.”

The knot in his stomach twists further and Dean winces. He’s gotta tell him. Better that than the guy getting his heart ripped out when Ed finally shows up and doesn’t want him. He swallows and looks up at Cas, who’s frowning at him in confusion. Dean looks away. Better to look at Corbett. “Uh, listen, Corbett… Ed… he’s not in love with you.”

Corbett blinks. “Wha- no, he- he said-”

“Yeah, he lied,” Dean sighs and sits back down heavily. “Sorry dude, but…” He shakes his head. Corbett shakes his right back.

“No, he said he loved me.”

“I know what he said!” It bursts out of Dean before he can stop it, louder than he meant. He pauses and clears his throat, and the whole cabin is silent.

Cas puts a hand on Corbett’s shoulder. “I’m sure he meant what he said, in a way.” he says, talking out of his ass. He has no way of knowing what the situation was, but Corbett talks about this Ed man like they were close, friends, pals.

Corbett keeps his eyes fixed on Dean. Dean sighs and turns his head, looking at the young man again. “Listen, I’m sorry,” But he can’t get another word out before Corbett starts crying. He puts his head in his hands and sobs, and Dean and Cas look at each other helplessly. Cas pats his shoulder, but he shrugs it off. Finally Dean heaves himself up and squats down next to Corbett. He tugs on his hands gently, pulling them away from his face, and Cas imagines this is how Dean dealt with it when Sam cried as a child. “Corbett, man… Ed loved you, just not… listen.” He stops and Cas can practically hear the ‘shit’ in his head as he searches for the right words. “Ed loved you enough to tell you he loved you, just so you’d be able to move on. To save you.” his voice is steadier now, quiet and firm. Cas stills, just listening. “And maybe he doesn’t want to come up here and shack up and watch Desperate Housewives, but,”

Cas watches Dean’s train of thought trail away as he catches his eye. He holds his gaze, and Dean looks heartbroken. He looks insecure. He looks like he did that night in the barn, when Cas recognized his self-loathing without a second thought. Now, the expression causes Cas physical pain, and he wants to reach out and soothe him. Instead, he just stares as Dean continues talking without taking his eyes off him.

“I mean, he probably still wants to, y’know, have a beer or something. And that’s shitty, it’s- disappointing as fuck but… you gotta respect that.” He clears his throat and finally looks down. “Everything’s shitty right now.”

“Everything’s shitty.” Corbett agrees, sniffing. He was too lost in his own misery to notice the considerable tension in the room. Cas can’t get the image of Dean’s face out of his head, his words playing like a broken tape-deck over and over.

The rest of the goodbyes are said through a haze of Cas’s thoughts screaming at him, and it isn’t until they get back to the car, fuzzy small talk half-remembered, that Cas gets up the courage to say something. Still, he waits minutes into the car ride, because he doesn’t want to seem like he has been waiting to get into the car. The logic makes no sense but it controls him, and it makes his voice quaver when he finally says, “Dean?”

“Yeah,” Dean smacks his lips and glances at him once, fingers tapping the wheel to the beat of the radio.

“Why did you want me?”

Dean furrows his eyebrows and looks at Cas like he doesn’t understand the question. “Why did I…?”

“Why did you bring me- to go with you to the Garden.” Cas clarifies. Helpfully. Almost confidently, if he’s being generous with himself.

Dean gives him an incredulous glance. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t have my powers, Dean. There are angels you could have brought with you that are far more powerful. Or, if you wanted to attract less attention, there are plenty of hunters who could slip under the radar, who are more skilled in combat.” Cas tries not to let his self-doubt seep into the words. He’s not sure if it works, because Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“I dunno, because I didn’t want to bring those other guys,” he says defensively.

“Dean,” Cas pushes, insistent. His heart is speeding up in his chest and he feels like he might explode if he keeps going, but he has to. His momentum is already started, and the look in Dean’s eyes as he’d talked to Corbett is giving him strength.

“What!” Dean sounds annoyed now, but it’s just more defense. He’s starting to feel like he’s being cornered into doing something terrible, like telling the truth.

“Dean.”

“Because I like you?”

It’s even and it’s uncertain and it’s vulnerable. Dean is scared as hell, but then he looks at Cas and he gets terrified. A flicker of hurt passes across Cas’s face, and it’s so severe even Dean can’t miss it.

Cas feels like a child. He feels like he’s being spoken to like a child. He had expected… but that was too much. Instead of simplicity and vulnerability, he heard patronization. “You don’t need to do that Dean.”

“Do what? I do like you, man. We’re- friends. Didn’t think I needed to spell that out for you.” Dean laughs nervously, completely un-fucking-aware of what is going on right now.

Cas looks at his lap. “Claire has explained to me what ‘friendzone’ means, and I assure you, it’s unnecessary. It always has been.” Feeling is excruciating.

Dean sputters. He had not expected the word “friendzone” to come out of Cas’s mouth like… ever. “I don’t- I haven’t-”

“You’ve called me your brother multiple times.” Humiliation burns across Cas’s face.

“No, no, I don’t mean it like- I’m not trying to friendzone you…” Dean laughs, a little crazed that he’s actually in this conversation. More that he’s about to- “I just- I want you around… because I like having you around. I want you around because I like seeing you and I like your grumpy little jokes and I like your dumb info dumps about plants and I like watching movies with you you’re only watching to humor my dumb ass…” Dean trails off, the little bit of pink in his cheeks matching Cas’s. “Listen, Cas, you’re not like a brother to me. I mean, I love my brothers, but I don’t love them like that.” He swallows, looking at the road in front of them. It stretches quiet and unremarkable, like it has no idea the progress being made in this old hunk of well-shaped metal. “Like this.”

He keeps facing straight ahead, fingers tapping out of beat against the wheel now. Cas is dumbstruck. The car is filled with the heaviness of it. It’s finally out there. Dean loves him. Cas looks over at Dean, and lights throw his face into half shadow, and he looks beautiful. Cas reaches out and grabs his hand off the wheel and holds it in his own. Dean keeps driving. One handed.

tag list:

@dochunterwitch @justonecitizenoftheearth @gnbrules @purpe @castiel-is-a-cat @alienapparatus @damian-janus-pendragon

#sunset sound #chapter 17 #honey bee #deancas #destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #my writing #fix it fic

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teacupfulofstarshine · 5 years ago

Text

living in the real world (ain’t it fun) CHAPTER 7

cw: detailed panic attack, almost car accident, injury, fighting, unsympathetic behaviors

wordcount: ~3.3k

chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 // chapter 4 // chapter 5 // chapter 6 // read it on ao3!

Thomas wrenches the steering wheel to the side as hard as he possibly can. He’s personally amazed that it doesn’t break off. Shouts and screams echo from the backseat as the other three jerk awake. “What’s happening?!” Roman shrieks. Thomas feels his hands ache from the strength with which he grips the wheel and the other sides grip the seats and each other.

“GET OUT OF THE ROAD GET OUT OF THE ROAD GET OUT OF THE FUCKING ROAD!” the voice shrieks, and Thomas’s panic jumps through the roof like a spear through his chest. He turns the wheel so hard that the car slides sideways with a screech of tires and the scent of burning rubber.

“PULL OVER!”

Thomas manages to guide the car onto the shoulder and narrowly avoids crashing into the guard rail. He’s amazed that his car is still intact. He can hear all three of his sides breathing heavily in the back seat, and he twists around immediately. “Are you guys okay?!”

Logan is clinging to Roman’s arm, chest heaving, eyes wide. Roman is gripping Thomas’s headrest, and Patton has one hand braced on the ceiling and another braced on the window. “We’re okay,” Patton says shakily. “We’re still alive and kickin’!”

“What happened?!” Logan demands.

“THIS IDIOT THOUGHT IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA TO DRIVE WHILE SO EXHAUSTED HE CAN BARELY KEEP HIS GOD DAMN EYES OPEN! AND WE ALL ALMOST FUCKING DIED!”

Thomas slowly swivels to look at his passenger seat, and all three of his sides follow suite. There, curled up on the passenger seat, is a young boy wearing a black hoodie that almost swallows him. His knees are pulled up to his chest, which is heaving up and down in perfect sync with Thomas’s. He makes eye contact with Thomas, and Thomas feels anxiety roar through his body so strongly that his vision nearly blacks out.

“DO YOU WANT TO FUCKING DIE?!” the boy screeches. His voice is so deep that it sounds bass-boosted, and his hands are shaking where he grips his arms. “WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DO THAT?! WHY DIDN’T YOU LEAVE EARLIER?! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED YOURSELF, YOU COULD HAVE BEEN IN A COLLISION THAT WOULD HAVE KILLED EVERYONE IF ANOTHER DRIVER HAD BEEN ON THAT ROAD!”

Thomas is panicking, but he manages to keep noticing little things about whoever this is. His hair is dyed purple; Thomas had done that a few years ago, but it’s long since grown out. There are dark circles under his eyes, so thick and black that they look painted on. His hands move up to grip his hair, tugging so tightly that Thomas winces at the pain on his own scalp. His eyes are wide and wild with a purple gleam, and when Thomas glances at Patton his eyes and freckles are shining purple as well.

“YOU’RE AN IDIOT!” the boy spits. “YOU COMPLETE AND UTTER FUCKING - ”

“Language!” Patton says sternly - well, as sternly as he can when his voice is trembling. “I know you’re a little bit upset, kiddo, but there’s no need to swear!”

“A LITTLE BIT - WE ALMOST DIED!”

“Statistically speaking, you are overreacting,” Logan says, hands raised in a placating gesture. The boy just bristles even more.

“FUCK YOUR STATISTICS! WE ALMOST BECAME A STATISTIC!”

“What are you doing here, you foul fiend?!” Roman snarls. Thomas hears the shing! of Roman drawing his sword. He watches as the boy’s eyes blow impossibly wider and he chokes back a short, terrified noise. The panic in Thomas’s chest spikes tenfold, and he thinks back to all of the terror that he’s felt every time he’s seen Roman’s sword.

“SAVING YOUR SORRY ASS, PRINCEY!” the boy snaps.

“I don’t need your help, you villain!” The boy hisses loudly at him, and Roman recoils in shock.

“Who - who is this?” Thomas asks. “Wh - have you been here the whole time?”

“We don’t need him, Thomas!” Roman says, cutting the boy off before he can speak. “He does nothing but bring you down and cause problems!”

“He did just save our lives,” Logan says, but Roman shakes his head angrily and shoves his sword closer to the boy. Thomas feels the cold metal point press against his throat, and Roman frowns, rubbing his own throat as he pulls the sword back just enough so that it isn’t touching the boy’s skin.

“This villain is nothing but a scourge and a menace, Thomas! I have been fighting him ever since he first appeared in your mind, and I was so glad that he did not manifest himself to spread his vile lies and negativity. But now I see that there is an opportunity here. We can kill him and rid you of his horrendous presence once and for all!”

“That seems a little extreme -”

“I would not advise -”

“Roman, I think you’re taking it too -”

“No! I know what I am -”

Before anyone can react, the door slams open and the boy throws himself out of the car and over the guardrail, disappearing into the forest. Thomas feels a horrible burning tug in his chest as the boy hits the twenty-foot distance limit. It pulses in his chest, like someone is slamming their fists on a wall.

It’s a truly terrible feeling.

“We have to go after him!” Roman says. “We can’t let him get away!”

“He cannot get farther than twenty feet from us, Roman. We will not lose him in the forest.”

“Kiddo?” A hand touches Thomas’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Thomas turns around to face the three sides in the backseat. They’re all hyperventilating, just like him. Patton’s face and eyes shine purple, and Roman and Logan are practically at each other’s throats. Thomas feels sick to his stomach.

“Who is that?” No one answers him; Thomas slams his hand on the headrest to get their attention. “Who is that?”

“That is Anxiety,” Logan says quietly. “He is your fight-and-flight response, your stress reactions, your - your anxiety, to put it simply. He appeared around high school, which may be why he looks so young.”

Thomas blinks. “Why did you all yell at him?”

“He’s a villain! He’s the bad guy, Thomas, and I’m the prince! It’s my job to slay the dragons and defeat the villains and keep you safe!”

“We can’t just kill him,” Thomas says. “I won’t let you kill him. He’s a kid, Roman! He looked even younger than Logan!” Logan looks oddly pleased at the idea that someone might be younger than him, but Roman quickly derails the conversation.

“What are we supposed to do with him? Let him run rampant?”

“I think we have to start by finding him. We can’t figure out what’s happening with him if we don’t talk to him, can we?” Roman pouts, but Thomas is firm in his decision. “Come on, you guys. We gotta go get him.”

“Why don’t you try summoning him like you did with us?” Patton asks. Thomas tries, jerking his hand up and thinking about Anxiety, but he doesn’t come.

“It’s not working,” he says. “He - we know you guys can resist the summons . . . he must not want to be found. I guess we’ll have to chase him down on foot.”

Thomas has to crawl out the passenger side due to the way Anxiety is straining and pushing at the twenty-foot limit. The second Thomas closes the gap, even by a few inches, Anxiety is running forward again, pushing away from them as hard as he can.

There’s a slim black shadow in the forest, disappearing and weaving between the trees. Thomas pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight, but Anxiety is still too fast to be caught. “He’s your fight or flight reflexes,” Logan pants. “It makes sense that he would be fast.”

No matter what Thomas does, he can’t seem to catch up with Anxiety. His chest is burning with pain, not only from Anxiety pushing against the barrier but also from the panic attack in his chest and his lungs painfully trying to take in enough oxygen. After about ten minutes, Logan catches Thomas’s sleeve.

“Thomas, stop!”

“Wh - what? Why would we do that?”

“How are we supposed to catch that little rat if we stop running?!” Roman demands. Logan has his hands on his knees, bent over and panting. Patton all but collapses to the ground, wheezing; even Roman has a sheen of sweat on his face.

“Anxiety is one of Thomas’s sides, just like us. We know that he is bound by the same twenty-foot radius of distance that we are. As long as Thomas keeps moving, Anxiety will be able to keep moving. If we keep Thomas stationary in one place, Anxiety will have a limited range of motion, and we will catch him more easily.”

Thomas sits down on the ground, breathing heavily and leaning forward with his hands on his knees. “If I don’t have to move, I’m down.”

“The three of us should fan out,” Logan begins, but Thomas quickly begins shaking his head.

“No, no - guys, don’t - don’t all of you go, I - the limit is already burning - one of you stay, at least, please.” Patton sits up and opens his mouth, but Thomas touches his shoulder. “No, Pat, you should definitely go, you’re - you’re friend-shaped. You’re the least threatening of all of us. He’ll react best to you.”

“I will go as well,” Roman says. Someone must be able to vanquish the villain if he springs an attack!” Logan settles down next to Thomas.

“That is fair. I will sit here and try to talk Thomas through some breathing exercises to reduce anxiety.” Patton and Roman nod, dispersing quickly into the woods, and Logan reaches out to place a hand on Thomas’s chest. “Alright. Breathe in through your nose for four counts, hold your breath for seven seconds, and exhale forcefully through your mouth for eight seconds, like you are blowing out birthday candles.”

Thomas follows his breathing pattern, in and out and in and out, but his breathing stays quick and shallow and the ball of anxiety in his chest stays tight and knotted and mangled. “I appreciate it, Lo, but I don’t think this is gonna ease up until we find him.”

“Most likely.”

“What’s it like, when you guys are all . . . in here?” Thomas taps his forehead. Logan sighs.

“Anxiety has his purpose in your mind, as do Roman and Patton and I. As I’ve said, he handles your fight-or-flight reflexes, and he is responsible for your suspicion of things that are not exactly on the up and up. However, he has a tendency to go . . . overboard. He and Roman butt heads frequently because Roman sees him as an impediment to achieving what you want in life.”

“Is that why I felt so bad that night at the bar? They were fighting?”

“Yes. They do that frequently.”

“What do you and Patton think about him?”

“Patton sees him as a child that needs to be pacified, which may not be inherently false. He does have a tendency to throw . . . tantrums. I attempt to reassure him with facts and explanations, but he has a tendency to respond with less than optimal results. He has hissed many a time.”

“Have you guys ever just talked to him?”

“We try. He is not always receptive.”

Thomas frowns, but before he can speak again, a shrill scream echoes through the woods, and the terror spikes. Logan winces, gripping his chest and breathing heavily. “Oh, ow . . .”

“Who was that?”

“It was not Patton or Roman,” Logan says.

“Why doesn’t that make me feel better?” The trees and branches around them rustle, and Thomas jerks his head up. He struggles to his feet, pressing one hand over his pounding heart as Logan stands beside him. His phone flashlight turns toward the source of the noise, and it illuminates Patton, popping through the underbrush with stray leaves and sticks and debris sticking to his hair and his sweater. still glowing purple.

“Patton,” Logan sighs, relieved. “You don’t have Anxiety?”

“Nope, I couldn’t find him. When I heard the scream, I came to check on you guys!”

“We’re alright.” Thomas reaches out to begin pulling leaf litter and detritus off of Patton and out of his hair. All three of them suddenly gasp in unison as searing pain cuts through their shoulders, their wrists, their ankles.

“If - if you don’t have Anxiety,” Thomas pants, “then - then that means -”

More rustling from the woods, and Thomas moves through the pain to light up Roman, grunting as he hoists a squirming black bundle up over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. His sword hangs at his side, and he’s not wearing his red sash.

“Finally caught up with him, the varmint!” Roman throws whatever he’s carrying down onto the ground, and Thomas gasps as the wind is knocked clean out of his lungs. His phone flashlight drops down, revealing the child from earlier - Anxiety. His wrists are tied together behind his back with Roman’s sash, and his legs are bent at the knee to pull his ankles up next to his wrists. The sash loops around his ankles as well; Anxiety is virtually hog-tied. His face is streaked with dirt and mud and tears.

He struggles against his bonds, cursing loudly at Roman, who scoffs and nudges him with his boot so that he’s laying on his stomach. One foot presses against Anxiety’s upper back, between his shoulder blades, to pin him. Anxiety keeps wriggling, spitting curses at Roman with every breath he can get into his heaving chest.

“Roman, what the fuck?!”

“What? I caught him, like I said I would!”

“Why is he hogtied on the ground?!”

“To keep him from escaping, of course! He’s a villain!”

“Roman, untie him right now!” Patton says. Roman scoffs, but Thomas steps forward, feeling the weight of Roman’s foot on his back. He squares his shoulders and lifts his head, frowning, narrowing his eyes.

“Roman. Untie Anxiety, right now.”

Roman scoffs, but he drops to one knee next to Anxiety anyway. “Fine, if I must .” He reaches to untie Anxiety. Anxiety narrows his eyes, lunges forward, and sinks his sharp teeth into Roman’s hand. Thomas, Patton, and Logan all wince and clutch their hands to their chest as the pain flares through them; Anxiety flinches from the pain, but he doesn’t let go.

“OW! WHAT THE FUCK?!” Roman screams. “Let me go, immediately!” Anxiety does not, digging his teeth into Roman’s hand even more. “You insolent brat - get off of me - I’m trying to help you!” Anxiety hisses as fiercely as he can with his mouth full of Roman’s hand.

Part of Thomas thinks that Roman deserves it for what he’s done to Anxiety. A larger part of him thinks that he’s tired, and cold, and his jeans are damp from sitting in the grass. He’s in pain, and he wants to go home. Still pressing his hand against his chest, Thomas carefully kneels next to Anxiety. “Hey, there, buddy.”

Anxiety’s eyes snap to him immediately, angry and hunted and wounded. There are angry, pained tears running down his face, smearing the dark circles down his face. He’s breathing heavily, Roman’s hand clenched tightly in his jaws. “It’s okay.” Thomas pitches his voice low and soothing, as though he’s talking to a wounded animal.

“Wh - Thomas, what are you -”

“I’ve got this, Roman.” Thomas reaches the non-injured hand forward and gently rests his hand on Anxiety’s head. “I know you’re scared, but I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise. I know you’ve been hurt, but I’m not going to hurt you any more. I know why you bit Roman, but it’s hurting all of us - it’s hurting me.” Anxiety looks guilty at that. “If you have the connection that the rest of us do, it’s hurting you, too, isn’t it?”

Anxiety nods. “If you let Roman go, I’ll untie you and we’ll go home. Okay?”

Anxiety narrows his eyes suspiciously, with another muffled hiss, before he finally unclenches his jaw and lets Roman’s hand go. Roman scrambles away from him towards Patton and Logan. Patton begins to fuss over Roman’s hand while Thomas reaches towards Anxiety.

“Can I untie you, bud?”

“Yeah,” Anxiety rasps. His voice is hoarse and terrified; this close, Thomas can see that there’s no way Anxiety is older than twelve.

“Logan, can you come and hold the light over us for me?”

“Certainly, Thomas.” Logan holds Thomas’s phone over Anxiety as Thomas gets to work on the knots. They’re strong, tightly tied, but they aren’t intricate, and Thomas is able to unknot them with ease.

“I’m Thomas, by the way. This is Logan, and Roman and Patton are over there.”

“I know who you are,” Anxiety says. “And I know who they are, too. We live in the same head. We have the same goal.”

“And what would that goal be?” Roman calls.

“Helping you,” Anxiety says, looking at Thomas and no one else. Thomas quickly finishes untying Anxiety and gives the sash to Logan, taking his phone back. Logan takes the sash to Roman as Anxiety sits up, rubbing at his sore wrists and ankles.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Anxiety flinches away from him, curling in on himself like a wounded wolf.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry that I hurt you. You guys can go home now. I’ll stay hidden within the twenty-foot radius, and you won’t have to see me again. Sorry for all the trouble, or whatever.” Anxiety looks small and vulnerable, nothing like the dangerous villain Roman’s been painting him as.

“Great! Well, now that that’s all sorted -”

“Roman, no,” Thomas says. He offers a hand to Anxiety, who hisses loudly at him.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” he snaps. Something in Thomas breaks a little, because for all the show Anxiety is putting on, his fear and heartbreak is singing loud and clear in Thomas’s mind.

“I knew you were there the whole time. Even if we couldn’t see you, even if I didn’t know who you were exactly, I knew you were there. I felt that you were there. How long have you been here?”

“Since the beginning,” Anxiety mutters. “I manifested with the rest of them, but I hid the entire time. I know I can be difficult and all that. Wouldn’t wanna spoil your perfect fairy tale.” Roman looks guilty when Anxiety says that.

“You’ve been hiding alone the whole time? But - but it’s been so long, you - wh - how -”

“It’s fine.” Anxiety shrugs. “I’m used to being ignored and badmouthed. It’s not like it’s any different inside your head, after all.” All three of Thomas’s other sides look guilty when he says that. Anxiety wipes at his messy face with the long sleeves of his hoodie, and Thomas makes a decision.

He stands up, scooping Anxiety up in his arms. Anxiety writhes and squirms like a startled cat - “Whoa whoa what the fuck?!” - but Thomas holds him close to his chest.

“Thomas?” Roman asks.

“We’re going home now,” Thomas says. “We’re going to go home, and we’re all going to sleep. We’ll sort this out in the morning, okay? We all need a good night’s sleep.” Anxiety stops thrashing, holding perfectly still as Thomas readjusts his grip to hold Anxiety securely.

“You good?” Thomas asks, looking at Anxiety. He nods, quietly, gripping Thomas’s shirt tightly to make sure that he doesn’t fall out of his arms. “Alright. Patton, you know how to drive, right?”

“I know whatever you know, kiddo,” Patton says. “I can drive, yeah.”

“It’s late enough at night that no one will notice a ‘driverless car’. Patton, you’re driving. Roman, you’re in the passenger seat. Logan and I will sit in the back seat with Anxiety. We’re going home now, okay?”

Patton, Roman, and Logan nod. “Are you good with that, Anxiety?” He nods, jerkily, and Thomas nods, turning towards the road.

“Home we go.”

#starshinewrites #living in the real world (ain't it fun)#ain't it fun!au #platonic TLAMP #tw car crash mention #tw panic attack #tw injury mention

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