#i am dying to go to bed but my stomach is like 'hmmm i think actually i am going to keep you up' so here we are! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

atlafan · 4 years ago

Text

Lock the Door

a/n: college!Harry one shot because why the f not??????? I’ve wanted to write a good college!Harry au for aw while, and I’m happy with this. 11K of friends to lovers. (not proofread)

Warnings: Smut.

It was junior year of college, Y/N and her friends were thrilled to finally be out of the dorms. Even though they were still living on campus, they were in a student apartment, and incredibly thankful. Now instead of sharing a bathroom with hundreds of other people, there would only be four of them. The only thing was Y/N’s parents weren’t thrilled about the people she was rooming with.

There was her best friend, Liv, who her parents actually really liked. It was the other two roommates that made them feel uneasy. See, Liv really wanted to live with her boyfriend Chris, but they didn’t want to exactly live by themselves, and the student apartments for just two people were really expensive. They’d been dating since second semester their freshman year so it wasn’t weird that they wanted to be in closer proximity. Y/N also thought Chris was an amazing person. He and Liv never made her feel like a third wheel, it was an ideal situation. The three would have been fine to live together, but the university had certain policies in place. One guy was not allowed to live with two girls, they needed another guy. That’s when the topic of Harry came up.

“I know he’s not your favorite of my friends, but the other people he was supposed to live with are going off campus, which he can’t afford to do.”

“It’s not that he’s not my favorite, I just don’t know him that well.” Y/N shrugged. “If that’s the case, I think Liv and I should share a room…”

“Yeah, that works. Chris and I don’t wanna be on top of each other all the time, we’re just sick of going across campus all the time.” Liv says. “So, you’d really be okay with Harry living with us? You’ve said before you don’t really care for his lifestyle…”

“He’s just not the first person I would hang out with, but if it means we get this apartment, then I’m cool with it. We’ll get to know each other better if we live together, right?”

When Y/N broke the news to her parents they got into a big fight with her about it, but she assured them that a lot of other students did what she and her friends were doing. Living with boys really wasn’t that big of a deal. If anything it would give her practice for when she someday actually got a boyfriend that she would eventually move in with.

The four of them got coffee together the morning they had to have the housing application in. Harry didn’t say much, clearly not a morning person, but he seemed alright with the situation. He and Chris were good enough friends, and he was also excited to not be in a dorm next year.

“I just have one request.” Y/N says. “A lot of the apartments usually have one room that’s bigger than the other, from what I’ve noticed. I’d like for Liv and I to have the bigger room. Chris, I’ve seen your dorm, you literally have like nothing in there. Liv and I have a ton clothes and other things that we’ll space for…”

Chris and Harry look at each other and shrug.

“Alright, that’s not problem.” Chris says. “We should make a group text so over the summer we can see who’s bringing what. We need to figure out dishes and other kitchen shit.”

“And we’ll still need a mini fridge for extra shit, one of my friends was tellin’ me there’s not much room in the apartment fridges. I can bring the one I have.”

“I have a microwave.” Y/N says. “Happy to bring that too.”

“We’ll also need a chore chart.” Liv says. “Just because Y/N and I will be the women of the house does not mean we’ll be the maids. I am not going to be on my hands and knees cleaning the bathroom all the time. We should also pool in money for toilet paper and stuff like that.”

“Good idea, babe.” Chris kisses her cheek and Harry rolls his eyes.

That was is right there, the attitude that turned Y/N’s stomach. She thought Chris and Liv were a really cute couple, their affection didn’t bother her at all, but Harry seemed overly annoyed. All it was, was a peck on the cheek.

You all wished each other a good summer when the time came. The four of you group texted off and on best you could to make sure there was little miscommunication about who was to bring what. Since Harry was an international student, he would be moving in a week before everyone else. Y/N was actually happy about this because he would be there to help her move in. She’d be coming up the night before move in to get a good parking spot, and then her parents would come the next day with the rest of her things.

For the first time, she texted Harry outside the group chat when she arrived at her apartment. He opened the door for her only wearing a pair of shorts. Her eyes grew wide, and he notices.

“Sorry, it’s hotter than satin’s asshole in here, I hope you brought a fan for yourself.” He rubs the back of his neck, and you laugh.

“I did. That’s the worst thing, no A/C in these old apartment. At least it’s only hot like this for a couple of weeks, right?” He hums his response as she walks in. “To be honest I was expecting a mess…but it looks good in here.”

“Not much to make a mess with.” He shrugs. “I rearranged some of the furniture in the living area so it was less tight next to the kitchen. Got the TV set up too.”

“I can see that, it looks nice.” You smile.

“So…do you like need some help with your shit?”

“That would be great, actually. The microwave is pretty heavy.”

“Thank god you brought it with you. I’ve been dying for some popcorn.”

“Great, you can stink it right up.”

“Relax, I was kidding.” He rolls his eyes. “Take a joke, Y/N.”

Her mouth falls open as he walks out to her car. He opens the trunk and hoists the microwave out while she grabs her luggage bags that were full of clothes.

“I can bring that up for you. It’s an up and up, so Chris and I are on that level, and you and Liv will be up top. That was the bigger room just like you requested.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

Harry helps get everything else inside while Y/N goes to get a prime parking spot. Harry felt sort of awkward just standing around while she unpacked certain things for the kitchen.

“Jesus, it really is hot in here, I need to go change.” She wipes some sweat from her forehead.

Y/N goes up to her room and opens the two small windows, and turns her fan on to try to get the air to move. She comes down a few minutes later in just a sports bra and a pair of shorts.

“This is sort of awkward, but you help me with my bed? I’m having a tough time getting it up a little higher…”

“Not awkward…at…all.” When he looks at her he sees how little clothing she’s wearing.

“If you get to be shirtless then I get to dress like this.” She says, putting her hands on her hips.

“I didn’t say anything.” He smirks. “Besides, I’m sure we’ll be seein’ each other in a lot less as the year goes on.”

She shakes her head and follows him up. Harry’s able to get the bet up a few pegs so Y/N can slide the small dresser underneath it, creating more floor space.

“That’s perfect! My parents are bringing those plastic pins you can stack as like a makeshift dresser that fits in the closet tomorrow. Hmmm.”

“What?”

“Well, usually my mom helps me make the bed. It’s just so long, it’s hard to get a good grasp on the sheet.”

“I can help if you want.”

“You’ve done enough.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” He smiles. “After this though would you wanna get out for a bit? I feel like it’s cooler outside. We could go downtown for a slice.”

“Oh, I like that idea a lot. Pizza is a must right now.”

Harry helps you get her sheets on her bed, and she tell him she’ll fix the rest later. Y/N knew she wouldn’t need a lot of extra blankets tonight. She throws on a shirt and so does he, and out the door they go. They walk down town the local pizza place, and grab a booth after getting their slices.

“Nice and cool in here, huh?” He says.

“So much better.” She giggles. “Where are your other friends living?”

“They’re over on Russell Street. It’s kinda nice, I’ll have a place to go party, and then have a quiet place to come back to afterwards. Think it all worked out for the best.”

“Can you remind me again what your major is? I know Chris is Sports Management…”

“I’m an Art major…” He says quietly. “And yes, I know it’s going to be hard for me out there once I graduate.”

“Woah, I didn’t say anything.” She puts her hands up in defense. “I think that’s cool actually. What do you do? Paint? Sculpt? Draw?”

“Mix of all three actually. Basically if I can get my hands dirty, I will.” He smirks. “I just wanted to get a degree in something I liked doin’, but I do have a minor in graphic design just in case I need somethin’ to fall back on.”

“Oh, is that how you and Chris met? That’s his minor too.”

“Mhm.” He takes a bite of his pizza. “We had a couple of classes together and got paired on some projects, hit it off right away.”

“That’s great.”

“How did you and Liv meet?”

“We roomed together second semester freshmen year. Our other roommates both dropped out so we got paired randomly. She’s the best, I got really lucky. She was already dating Chris when we met.”

“The three of you seem close.”

“He’s really nice, always included me. They never made me feel like a third wheel which was nice. I mean, I have other friends, don’t get me wrong. I found things to do when they needed their alone time.”

“And you ever find any alone time?”

“That’s an awfully personal question, don’t you think?” She scoffs.

“Thought we were gettin’ to know each other a bit here…sorry.”

“It’s okay…um…I mean, there are guys I’ve been alone with…” Y/N clears her throat. “I use Tinder like every other college student, you know?” He hums his response and finishes up his slice. He leans back and sits with his arm strong across the back of the booth. “What about you?”

“Eh, I like to meet people in person, at like a party or somethin’.” He thinks for a moment, and leans on the table to be a bit closer so no one else around could really hear. “You’re pretty, Y/N, why do you use Tinder?” She blushes. “I mean, surely you could just meet someone out.”

“I…well, I don’t really go to big parties, mostly kickbacks.” He nods and finishes up his bottle of soda.

“You ready?”

“Mhm.”

They both walk back to the apartment, and he keys in. She goes upstairs to keep unpacking and to tidy up. She was trying to hang up some curtains, but she fell back from trying to reach to high. Harry hears the thud and rushes right up. He had a nicer short sleeve shirt on now, and a nicer pair of shorts.

“Are you okay?!”

“Yeah.” You laugh. “Just lost my balance. Do you think you could help me hang these up quick?”

“Sure.”

The curtains get hung and they look great with the twinkling lights Y/N strung up.

“Liv and I love these lights.” She looks at him. “You like nice.”

“Matt’s havin’ a party…do you wanan come?”

“God, with the amount of time I’d need to get ready you’d be late.” You laugh.

“I wasn’t plannin’ to leave for another hour, plenty of time to freshen up.”

“Sure, I could come out for a bit, thanks.”

He leaves her to get ready. She puts her hair up in a cute, messy bun, and touches up some makeup. Y/N finds a cute pair of shirts and a crop top to throw on and down the stairs she goes. Harry was pouring two shots of raspberry vodka into two small glasses.

“Here.” He smiles. “Wait, you drink, right?”

“Yes.” You giggle. “I can’t wait to turn twenty-one. Just a few more months.”

“Same here, February actually.”

“No way! Me too. When’s yours?”

“The first, yours?”

“The fourth.”

“Wow, that’s crazy.” They clink their glasses and off to the party they go.

Y/N drank way too much last night, and she knew her parents would be able to tell. They were there bright and early with the rest of her things. They also put Harry to work.

“You have a lot of shit, you know that?” He says, setting another box down.

“I’m well aware.”

Eventually Liv and Chris show up and it’s hugs all around. Y/N and Liv get a minute alone in their room, finally.

“So how was last night with just you and Harry?”

“It was good! We went out for pizza, he helped me a bunch with my things, and he took me to a party. I’m glad we had the time to get to know each other a little bit.”

“Me too. He can be kind of shy from what Chris tells me.”

“Apparently he’s an art major.”

“I wonder if he’ll hang any of his things up.”

“You know, he’s been in our room a ton already, but I didn’t think to go into his.”

“Well, let’s check it out.” They both go down and into the boy’s room.

Both sides were organized, but they could tell whose side was whose. Harry had his art supplies all over his desk, and had boxes of paint and brushes under his bed. He had a couple of things up as well.

“Looks good in here guys.” Liv says.

Y/N and Liv end up going out for lunch with Y/N’s parents, and then they go on a trip to the grocery store to pick up what they think they need.

“Alright honey, I guess we’ll see you at Thanksgiving, if not sooner.” Y/N’s mother says, giving her a hug.

“Please, be careful.” Her dad says.

“I’ll be fine. Let me know when you get back home. Thanks for everything, love you both!” She sighs as she closes the door. “Finally.”

Y/N and Liv go up to their room and continue decorating it to their liking while Harry and Chris get their gaming consoles hooked up to the TV in the living area.

“So…you got to know Y/N a little last night?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty cool so far. I was kinda worried, I didn’t think she liked me every much.”

“She just didn’t know you, that’s all. What did you guys do?”

“I helped her with her things, we grabbed a slice of pizza, and then I took her to Matt’s for a party. I think there were like three different guys that tried to take her home, but she turned them all down.” He shrugs.

“And what did you do?”

“She didn’t have a key yet, so I made sure she got back here, and then I slipped out an hour or so later to hook up with this girl that gave me her number at the party.”

“Well, thanks for getting her back here at least.” Chris chuckles.

“I’m not a fuckin’ asshole.” He nudges him playfully. “She did have fun at the party, I’ll probably bring her out again. You all can come any time. I feel like that place is gonna be my second home.”

Y/N and Live come down with all the things they like to keep in the bathroom and the boys look scared. For a student apartment it was a decent size bathroom, with a good size tub-shower. Liv opens the cabinets under the sink, and you hand her two boxes of pads and tampons.

“Yup, definitely livin’ with women.” Harry smirks and crosses his arms.

“If feminine products are going to bother you-“ Liv starts, but he cuts her off.

“Got a mum and a sister back home, periods don’t scare me. Was just simply makin’ an observation.”

“Good.” She grabs a small trashcan puts a bag in it. Y/N hands her the lid. “Listen to me very carefully, this is just for Y/N and I. There’s another small can for community use, but this is for her and I’s…”

“Say no more.” Chris says. “Just keep it under the sink and we won’t touch it.”

“I also would like some courtesy with shaving.” Y/N says. “I really don’t wanna see pubes around the toilet.” She crosses her arms. “If you make a mess, you clean it up.”

“I feel like the two of you think we’re savages.” Harry laughs. “I’ve been in a girl’s bathroom before, and I have to say, I think girls are way more disgusting.”

“Why were you in a girl’s bathroom?” Liv asks.

“I was asked to join someone in the shower.” Harry says bluntly. “And it didn’t last long because we both walked in and saw a fuckin’ bloody tampon on the floor. So we went to the men’s bathroom and it was spotless. And while we’re on the topic, you both have long hair, so if you don’t wanna see pubes around the toilet, I don’t wanna see hair in the drain.”

“Deal.” Y/N says. “Let’s move on to the kitchen, shall we?” The four walk out to the kitchen area. “If you make a mess in the microwave, you clean it immediately, don’t leave it for someone else.”

“If someone’s name is on something in the fridge, don’t eat it.” Chris says. “However, I would like to see us cooking together. Like if someone makes pasta, someone else could throw in a meat or veggie.”

“That’s a good idea.” Liv says. “If you make a mess in the fridge clean it up. Check expiration dates. Oh! Trash is a big thing. We all need to take turns with that. If you see it getting full, just take it out, don’t leave it for someone else.”

After spending over an hour on a chore chart and going over more house rules, the four feel satisfied.

A few weeks into the semester, and Y/N noticed that Harry wasn’t home a lot. He was either down at the art studio, or at his friend’s apartment. She also noticed he didn’t sleep there much on the weekends, but it worked out well for Chris and Liv so they could have the room alone when they needed. Y/N never saw Harry bring a girl home with him, and she was sort of relieved.

Living with two guys wasn’t as awkward as Y/N and Liv thought it might be. Everyone was really chill, and it was nice to cook together. It was like being in a little family.

One morning Harry woke up late for class, but desperately needed to shower. Y/N happened to be in there. Everyone usually showered at the same time, but Harry was in a rush and annoyed. Liv and Chris had already left for class. Harry was standing the hall, just in a towel, waiting for you to finish. When he hears the water turn off, he sighs with relief. When she didn’t come out right away, he groans.

“The fuck is she doin’ in there.” He knocks on the door. “Y/N?! I’m runnin’ late, and I need to shower!”

She opens the door immediately and they both freeze. Her eyes fall to the towel that was hanging low on his waist, and then up to him. Her towel wasn’t exactly as secure as it could be either. Her hair was just brushed out and dripping wet down her chest.

“I’m so sorry, why didn’t you knock sooner? I, uh, just let me grab my blow dryer…” She snatches it and scoots by him.

“I’ll be quick if you need to get back in there…”

“Thanks.”

Harry takes his very quick, and semi-cold shower, and gets ready for class. He had ab out ten minutes to spare. Y/N comes down the stairs, and slips into the bathroom to grab some spare tampons, and bumps into Harry on her way out, causing her to drop them.

“Shit sorry, I’m fuckin’ up your entire routine this mornin’.” He bends down to pick up what he caused her to drop and blushes when he sees that they’re tampons. He grabs them anyways and hands them to her.

“It’s okay, really.” She takes them and sticks them in her bag. “Um…well, have a good day Harry.”

“You too.”

“Y/N?” Harry knocks on her bedroom door late one night. She climbs out of bed and goes down the few steps to open it.

“Is everything okay, Harry?”

“Yeah, I think Liv and Chris fell asleep…and I really don’t wanna sleep on the couch, nor do I wanna go in there in case they decide to get busy again.” He huffs. He looked exhausted, he was at the studio all evening and just wanted to sleep.

“Oh! Well…okay, I could sleep in her bed if you wanna sleep in mine?”

He follows her up the stairs.

“I’ll just sleep in hers, we’re all close enough now. She doesn’t really have a leg to stand on to say much about it.” He yawns and takes his shirt off.

“Okay.” He watches as she uses the small step stool to get back into her bed. He waits until she’s scrolling on her phone to take his pants off, and he climbs into Liv’s bed. “I’m gonna turn the light off now.”

“Alright.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Similar nights to those kept happening, and Harry was starting to get aggravated, so he called for a roommate meeting to discuss it.

“I’m sick of not bein’ able to sleep in my own bed. I know I’m not here a lot, but when I am, I’d like to be able to just go to my room and go to sleep.”

“You’re right, Harry. I’m sorry.” Liv says, sort of embarrassed.

“I think you two should just share a room. It’s clear that’s what you want anyways.”

“But what about Y/N?” Liv looks at her.

“I feel like Harry’s been my roommate anyways.” She shrugs. “We share every other room with guys, guess I wouldn’t mind rooming with one either.”

“What if your parents find out?” Chris asks.

“It’s not like we’re gonna push the bed together and sleep next to each other like you both are probably gonna do. He’ll have his side, and I’ll have mine. I think it makes the most sense too.”

That afternoon everyone helps move things around. Liv gets situated with Chris while Harry gets his things the way he likes.

“You know secretly, I’m happy they didn’t ask for the bigger room. It’s way nicer up here.” Harry says, sitting down on his new bed. “You sure you’re okay with this? I don’t wanna take away your privacy…”

“I’ll just change in the bathroom more.” She shrugs. “Or, I mean, just look the other way if I happen to need to change quick up here and I’ll give you the same courtesy.”

“I know I’m not here a lot on the weekends, but for the times I am, I mean, uh, like do you ever bring anyone back here with you? If you could just text me a warning or somethin’ or put somethin’ on the door.”

“I don’t…I haven’t, um, it’s been a dry start to the semester.” She blushes. “I had my period, and then I’ve started to get busy with my classes…I’ve gone out a few times, but there’s also no one I’ve really wanted to hook up with. Don’t worry, if the occasion happens I’ll give you a heads up.”

“Cool.”

“Is that what you’re out doing on the weekends? Hooking up?”

“Sometimes…mostly I just end up sleepin’ at Matt’s. They have a futon for me there for when I get too drunk to walk all the way back here. You should come out to another party, he’s havin’ people over tonight if you wanna come. Let the lovebirds down there have a little privacy.”

“Good idea, yeah, that sounds like fun.” She gets up and goes into her closet to pick out a casual dress. “Is your friend Matt single?” She asks without looking at him.

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

“I don’t know…I think he’s cute, and he was really nice to me last time I was there. Gave me a bunch to drink.”

“Well, that’s just common courtesy when you bring a girl to a party. Get her all liquored up.” Harry smirks.

“Mhm.” She rolls her eyes at him, and grabs a blue dress from her closet and her jean jacket. “Do you think he’d be into me?”

“What’s not to be into?”

“Oh stop it.”

“M’serious! You’re really nice, and you’re cute. He’d go for you.”

“Thanks, Harry.”

Harry walks Y/N to the party after pregaming a bit at their place.

“Harry!” Matt says as he walks in. “And you brought Y/N again, hey.”

“Hi.” They smile at each other.

“We’re just setting a game of flip cup up in the kitchen, you guys wanna play?”

“Sure!” Y/N says brightly.

The night was a lot of fun. Harry found himself talking to some girl who was clearly trying to get him to go home with her, but in the pit of his stomach he wanted to make sure you got home okay.

“Let me just find my friend and make sure she’s all set, okay?” He say, leaning into the girl and she nods.

Harry searches for you. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Matt in a while either. He walks into the kitchen and stops short when he sees Y/N sitting up on the counter with her legs wrapped around Matt’s waist, and his tongue down her throat. He wants to say something, but he opts to just text her that he’s left with someone.

“She’s all set, let’s go.” He takes the girl by her hand and leads her out of the house.

She tells him where she lives and that her roommate was gone for the weekend so they wouldn’t be disturbed. She was a good shag, Harry was having fun, but just as he coming an image of Y/N’s legs wrapped around his own waist, instead of Matt’s popped into his head.

“Shit.” He groans and looks down at the girl underneath him. She smiles up at him and he smiles back.

He pulls out and throws the condom away. She frowns when he starts to get dressed.

“You don’t have to leave…”

“I know, usually I would spend the night, but…uh…I.” He sighs and looks at her. “Listen, I don’t really have a good excuse, I just wanna go sleep in my own bed, I’m sorry.” He leans in and kisses her forehead. “I had a lot of fun though.” He gives her a reassuring smile. “You have my number?”

“Yeah.”

“Text me anytime.” He winks, and leaves her there.

When Harry gets back to his empty room, he’s not entirely sure what it is about it that’s bothering him. Eventually he’s able to fall asleep, but he’s woken up a few hours later by the sounds of Y/N coming up the few steps to their room. She was carrying her shoes to not make much noise. She gently opens her dresser drawer to grab a large t-shirt and shorts. He looks away while she changes, not that he could really see her anyways with how dark the room was. He hears her get into bed, and the satisfied sigh she makes turns his stomach.

The light creeping in from the curtains punched Harry in the face. He sits up and see Y/N on her side facing him, scrolling on her phone. She looks up at him when she sees he’s awake.

“Morning.” She says quietly.

“Hey.” He stretches and gets up. Even though they’d been sharing a room for a while, she would never get used to seeing him in just a pair of boxers. “M’takin’ a shower.”

“Okay.” He stops short before going down the stairs.

“What time did you get home last night?”

“Um…like 3AM I think. I was surprised to see your shoes downstairs. I’m glad I caught them or I would’ve flipped the light on and barreled up here.” She laughs. “I thought you went home with someone.”

“I did.”

“Oh.”

“Didn’t feel like spendin’ the night.” She hums her response. “Did you hook up with Matt?”

“Yeah.” You blush. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, why the fuck would I care?” He crosses his arms.

“I don’t know…I mean I figured you knew what my intention was since I asked you if he was single, but if you don’t want me hooking up with your friends, I don’t have to again.”

“So if I really had a problem with it, you wouldn’t fuck him again?”

“If you had a valid reason, sure. I mean…it was a nice hook up, but not the best I ever had. It’s not like I need to have his dick again.” Harry had never really hard Y/N talk like that before, it surprised him. “Oh god, don’t tell him I said that…”

“What wasn’t good about it?”

“I…what?”

“Well, if it wasn’t the best you ever had, what wasn’t good about it? Come on, you can tell me?” He leans back against the wall.

“I didn’t get off.” She says bluntly.

“Oh.”

“And I had to fake it so we could be done.” Her cheeks grew redder.

“You sounded pretty satisfied when you got back…”

“I sighed with relief because I was exhausted and was finally in my comfy bed.”

“So you faked it.”

“Mhm.”

“Why not just tell him he was doin’ it wrong.”

“He was so drunk, Harry, I don’t think it would’ve made a difference. He passed out after, and I slipped out the door.”

“Wait, you walked back by yourself?” He frowns.

“Yeah.”

“If that happens again, just call me, okay? I don’t like that.”

“But you were with someone.”

“So? I’m always there for my friends, come on Y/N. What if somethin’ bad happened?”

“Okay, okay, I won’t walk alone again.”

“Good.”

“Go shower so I can shower, will you?”

“We could just save water and shower together.” He jokes, and she whips her pillow at him. “Oi!” He picks it up and whips it back at her, making her laugh.

Harry came home with paint all over his hands, and was scrubbing them profusely when Y/N came in through the door.

“Thank god it’s Friday, I’m beat.” You sigh and flop onto the couch.

“Me too, I think I’m gonna stay in tonight.”

“Oh?” She was shocked.

“Mhm.” He sits down next to her. “Might play some video games or somethin’. What about you, do you have plans?”

“As of right now, no. But who knows, my friends my text and say something’s happening.” She shrugs.

“We could hang out if you wanted.”

“What would you wanna do?”

“We could watch a movie.”

“Sure! That sounds nice actually. We should see if Liv and Chris wanna join. I feel like we never all hang out.”

Harry was annoyed, but not visibly. He really hated hanging out with couples.

That night the four get cozy on the couch for a movie. Chris made everyone drinks, and Y/N popped some popcorn. The girls sit in the middle of the couch while the boys take the end seats. Not that that mattered, because eventually Chris pulled Liv into his lap, and they got comfortable together. The wine Y/N had been drinking was making her sleepy, and her head dropped onto Harry’s shoulder, not that he minded.

She wakes up to the feeling of being carried up to their room.

“Harry?” He sets her down on her bed.

“Yeh fell asleep.” He smooths her hair away from her face. “Brought yeh up.”

“Do you…never mind.”

“What?”

“I don’t know…it’s stupid, never mind.”

“Y/N, would you just tell me what you want?”

“Well…sometimes I get a little jealous that Chris and Liv can just cuddle, and I didn’t know if you’d wanna have a platonic cuddle with me for a bit.”

“A platonic cuddle?”

“Yeah, but only if you want.”

“What does that entail exactly?”

“Well, you could lay next to me and I could just rest my head on your chest. No spooning unless I’m the big spoon.”

“Why’s that?” He chuckles. “Not that I don’t like being the little spoon.”

“I wouldn’t wanna give you a boner if I was little spoon.”

“Ah, right, because I have zero zelf control.”

“Do you wanna cuddle or not?”

“Yeah, alright.”

He climbs onto her bed and lays flat on his back so she can rest her head on his chest, just like she wanted. He puts an arm around her and rests his hand on her shoulder. What Y/N didn’t know was that Harry had gotten a booty call text, and was supposed to be out the door, but this was something that Harry just couldn’t say no to, so he texts the girl and apologizes, and tells her he’ll be over another time. He feels her nuzzle into his chest further. Harry realizes he very much likes the attention he’s getting from wine-drunk Y/N.

They both asleep like that, cuddled together on Y/N’s bed. Her eyes fluttered open, at first she was confused when she saw Harry, but then she remembered she asked him to cuddle with her. She didn’t remember getting so comfy she had fallen asleep. Both of his arms were around her, and she had a leg over one of his. His lips were parted and light snores were coming from him. Y/N desperately needed to pee, but she also didn’t want to disturb him. She notices his phone lighting up with texts, and her curiosity got the better of her. After all, it could’ve been an emergency.

Lindsay – Matt’s Party: are you serious? 12:04AM

Lindsay – Matt’s Party: you’re rly not coming over? 12:07AM

Lindsay – Matt’s Party: this is the 3rd time you’ve done this, H. I’m done. 12:15AM

Y/N sets his phone back down, and looks back up at him with a raised eyebrow.

He blew off some girl for me? She thinks to herself. He could’ve gone…maybe he didn’t really like her that much.

Harry’s eyebrows furrow and his eyes slowly open. He has the same slight confusion Y/N did, but then he relaxes when he remembers he voluntarily slept next to her.

“Hey.” He mumbles in a sleepy voice, one she had gotten quite used to and liked a lot.

“Hi.” The air suddenly felt awkward. “I need to pee.”

“Okay.”

“I didn’t wanna wake you up.”

“Okay.”

“So, I’ll just…”

She sits up slightly, and ends up straddling him to try to climb over him. Her head suddenly started hurting and she almost fell off. Harry grabs her by her hips to steady her.

“You’re like really clumsy.” He says to her.

“I’m aware.” She looks down at his hands. “I still need to pee, can you let go of me.”

His cheeks heat up and he lets go of her so she can continue trying to get off her bed. Harry was still tired, and he could easily go slip into his bed, but he liked Y/N’s bed, for whatever reason. So he rolls onto his side and checks his phone.

“Fuck.” He says when he sees the texts from Lindsay. He thinks to text her back and apologize, but he didn’t want to lead her on anymore because odds are he’d stand her up again. ]

Y/N comes back up a few minutes later, feeling much better after having used the toilet and brushed her teeth. She chuckles when she sees Harry still on her bed.

“What are you doing?”

“M’not awake enough to move yet.” He mumbles as she grabs some clothes from her dresser.

“Well, I have some homework I need to get done, so I’m gonna shower and then go to the library.”

“I’ll be at the studio most of the day, and then I’ll probably go to Matt’s tonight…”

“Okay.”

He watches her go back down the stairs and he sits up. The two had gotten into the habit of giving each other a play by play of their plans. Harry figured it was just common courtesy as a roommate, but maybe it was a little bit more. It was like they were an old married couple who slept on two different beds. Harry changes into some new clothes quick and goes downstairs. Chris was eating some breakfast as he grabs a Gatorade from the fridge.

“Mornin’, mate.” Harry says, taking a sip of his drink.

“Morning, thought you went out last night?”

“Nope, I stayed in with Y/N instead.” He shrugs. “I feel kinda bad, the girl was pissed…but I think it was for the best.”

Things were a tad awkward between Harry and Matt since Y/N slept with Matt and never really followed up.

“Did she ever say anything to you?”

“No.” Harry lies. “You hook up with girls all the time, why are you hung up on her?”

“I don’t know, she was a good fuck, I’d like to hit it again.” Harry rolls his eyes as bites down on his cup. “You haven’t brought her here since.”

“She hasn’t seemed interested.” Harry shrugs and turns to see Lindsay talking to her friends. They make eye contact and she flips him off. “Jesus.” He walks over to her. “Can we talk?”

“Why? Because you suddenly have the time?” She huffs.

“Please?”

“Fine.” They step aside from her friends.

“You know, you act like I didn’t even tell you I couldn’t come over…”

“One second you’re saying see you ten, and the next you’re saying not tonight. So what happened? Get a better offer?”

Yes.

“No, it wasn’t that…my roommate needed me…”

“Right, the girl you conveniently share a room with.” She crosses her arms.

“It’s only like that because our friends are dating.”

“What did she need from you then, Harry? Your dick?”

“No!” He groans. “It’s not like that with us, we’re just friends.”

“So then what did she need?”

“She got a little wine drunk, and she seemed like she needed me to stay, so I did. She didn’t know I had other plans when she asked me to hang out a little longer…” Not a total lie, not a total truth. “I really did wanna see you.” He puts his hand on her shoulder.

“I hate how crazy you boys make me, I swear. It’s not like you’re the only person I’m hooking up with…”

“Yeah, same goes for me.”

“I just thought we had a regular thing going, and that was like the third time you blew me off. If you don’t wanna-“ Harry cuts her off by kissing her.

“Let’s get outta here.”

She nods and takes his hand. They walk back to her place, and start to get busy. He was just about to go down on her when his phone rings. He pops his head up to grab it.

“You can’t be serious.”

“It could be an emergency.” He sits up and squints to see it’s Y/N. “Hello?” He starts fingering Lindsay while he’s on the phone with her.

“Harry?” She slurs.

“What’s up?” He rubs Lindsay’s clit and her head rolls back into the pillow.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but.” She hiccups. “Liv and Chris left, or maybe I just can’t find them, anyways, I wanna go home, and you told me to-“

“Where are you?”

“On Russell actually…uhhhhh, 19D I think.”

“Okay, I can be there in like ten minutes, can you hang tight?”

“Mhm. I’ll sit out on the steps for you.”

“Okay.” He hangs up and tosses his phone. “What?”

“You’re a nutbag.”

“Do you want me to fuck you or not? Yeh get me for ten minutes, how do you want it?”

Y/N was sitting on the front steps of the house she was at, waiting for Harry. She was slightly cold from the crisp fall air.

Harry: be there soon :) 1:30AM

She sighs with relief when she gets his text. She sees him walking up the drive and stands up and walks towards him.

“I’m so sorry if I ruined your night.” She stumbles as she walks over to him.

“You didn’t, I’m glad you called.” He hooks his arm around her waist to steady her.

“You smell like perfume.”

“I just hooked with someone, sorry.”

“You what?!” She starts laughing.

“I was in the middle of it when you called, actually.” He starts laughing. “She wasn’t too happy, but I made up for it. Although I deleted her number after I left, it was sort of a parting gift.”

“Sometimes I forget you can be just like every other guy.” She scoffs.

“Hey, I told her it was the last time before I left. She said it was probably for the best anyways.”

“Oh, well as long as she knows.”

“I thought you didn’t really go to parties like this often.”

“I don’t…but Chris got invited out so he brought me and Liv with him, and we all drank a lot. I don’t know how I lost them. I texted them both and told them you were coming for me.” She looks down at the heels on her feet. “I have to take these off, they hurt.”

“It’s too cold to walk barefoot. Lemme give you a piggyback ride.”

“Really?!”

“Sure.” He shrugs.

Y/N gets on his back, and he carries her the rest of the way home. When he gets her inside they see Chris and Liv on the couch.

“There you two are?!” Y/N yells as Harry sets her down. “Where the fuck did you two go?”

“Liv got sick at the party, so I brought her home, we’re so sorry Y/N.” Chris says standing up.

“Yeah, Y/N…this is the first time in over an hour I haven’t had my head in the toilet. Chris cleaned it up so it’s all good.”

“Well I’m sorry you got sick.” She starts unbuttoning her pants and scurries to the bathroom. “I have to pee so bad!”

“Thanks for getting her.” Chris rubs the back of his neck.

“It was no problem. I told her I didn’t want her walkin’ alone and to call me if she was in a place where that might happen.”

Y/N comes out of the bathroom and looks at everyone.

“Feel like I’m gonna pass out so I’m going to bed.”

“I’m gonna take a quick shower, I’ll be up soon.”

“Okay.”

“You two sound like us.” Liv jokes.

“M’just bein’ courteous.” Harry points out and goes to take his shower. He didn’t wanna smell like Lindsay anymore.

When he gets upstairs, only in his towel, he see Y/N sitting up in bed wearing just a large t-shirt and panties. Harry walks by her quick and hope to god his face isn’t red.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He turns to look at her.

“Would you come cuddle again?”

“Course. Now turn around so I can change.”

She playfully covers her eyes and he shakes his head as slides his boxers on.

“This is all I’m wearin’, hope that’s okay.”

“S’fine with me.” She yawns, and he turns off the light.

“Scootch over.” Instead she just rolls onto her side, facing the wall. “Thought you said no spooning.”

“Thought you said you had self-control.”

“I do…” He looks down and sees the t-shirt was now bunched around her hips and he could see the lovely curve of her ass in her cheeky panties. “Just don’t wiggle against me like a brat.”

“I’m never a brat.”

“Mhm.” He mumbles sarcastically as he settles in. He slips a leg between hers, and wraps an arm around her stomach. She adjust against him, just to get comfier, and they both settle.

“Goodnight, Harry.” She yawns.

“Night.” He liked the smell of her perfume much better.

“What the hell happened up here?” Liv cackles the next morning, well, more like afternoon, it was already noon. Harry and Y/N wake up and groan. Harry was still spooning her.

“Liv…no offense, but this isn’t your room anymore.” Y/N groans as she rubs the sleep from her eyes.

“I just came up to grab my sweatshirt that I let you borrow a couple days ago, but I can see I walked in on something. How long has this been going on for?”

“How long has what been goin’ on for? We’re just sleepin’.”

“Harry you don’t have any clothes on!”

“Not true! I’m wearin’ boxers.”

“What’s wrong with your bed?”

“I asked him to sleep with me, just sleep, well cuddle really.” Y/N speaks up. “It’s platonic.”

“Yeah, not all of us have a boyfriend to go to sleep with every night, Liv.”

“Well, pardon me.” She scoffs and grabs her sweatshirt. “You know it wouldn’t be a big deal if you two hooked up. I think it would make sense, and-“

“Goodbye, Liv, have a nice lunch with Chris’ parents.” Y/N says. “Hope you’re feeling better.”

“Much…and I’ll tell them you say hi.”

“Thanks.”

They watch as she goes back down the stairs, and then look at each other.

“Wanna grab brunch downtown?” Harry asks.

“God, that sounds amazing. Just let me jump in the shower quick?”

“Go for it.”

Harry waits for her to leave before getting out of bed. He removes the blanket and looks down at his morning wood. He was sort of glad Liv woke them up so Y/N didn’t have time to notice it poking her. Or maybe she did and just didn’t say anything or care. Either way he wasn’t going to say anything.

He gets dressed quick and waits for her in the living area. Once she’s ready they walk downtown to the diner, and get a booth for two. They both order coffee and water.

“Wanna split some hashbrowns?” She asks, looking at the menu. “I might get a veggie omelet.”

“Yeah, we could do that. That sounds good too, I think I’ll get the same.” He chuckles.

They both give their orders to the waitress.

“I hope Liv didn’t bother you, you can sleep in my bed any time you want. I kinda like having your wait on me.” She blushes.

“You mean your three weighted blankets aren’t enough for you?” He laughs.

“I do not have three…I have two, and no, they’re not.” She crosses her arms. “I don’t really think it’s that weird.”

“It’s only happened twice too…” He takes a sip of his coffee. “Your bed is way comfier than mine, so I think I’ll be taking you up on that more often than not.”

“Works for me.” She smiles. “I’m really glad we’ve gotten so close, Harry.” She puts her hand over his and it gives him goosebumps. “You’re like my best guy friend.” A punch right to his gut.

“I’m glad we’ve gotten closer too.”

It didn’t happen every night, but Harry and Y/N had gotten into a habit of cuddling and falling asleep together pretty often. There was just something soothing about it for the both of them.

“What the fuck happened up here?” Harry says coming home late from the studio one Thursday night.

“I’m so sorry, I have like two midterms tomorrow and I’m trying to study for both of them and I’m freaking out!”

Y/N had papers and books all over the place. Her laptop was open and she had music playing.

“How long have you been studying for?”

“Hours.” She groans.

“Well, maybe you need a break.”

“I can’t take a break! What if I don’t…what are you doing?!”

He was in the middle of taking his clothes off.

“Hi, I’m Harry, and I tend to get paint all over me, so it required me to change quite frequently. What’s your name?”

“Your sarcasm isn’t helpful. You’re supposed to tell me to turn around.” She pouts.

“Y/N.” He sighs. “You’ve seen me in next to nothing, and to be honest, I don’t really care if you look.”

“You don’t?”

“No.” He throws on a fresh shirt and some sweatpants. He sits down on the floor in front of her. “Look all you want.” He shrugs and picks up her flashcards.

“What are you doing?”

“M’gonna help you study.”

“You don’t have to. I’m sure there are better things you could be doing with your Thursday night.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, don’t you have some girl you need to go fuck?” Harry’s jaw drops. “I’m so sorry, that sounded meaner than it was supposed to. I didn’t mean-“

“But you still said it.” He shakes his head at her. “Is that what you think of me? Some guy that just fucks a ton of girls.”

“Well, to be fair, you do fuck a lot of girls, Harry.”

“A lot of guys do.” He huffs, and then he smirks at you. “You know what your problem is?”

“What’s my problem?”

“You don’t get fucked enough, no scratch that, you don’t get off enough. That’s why you’re so stressed. You get A’s all the time, you know this shit. You’re just tense because you can’t get there, and you share a room with a dude so it’s not like you’re gettin’ yourself there, unless you’re doin’ it in the shower.”

“Would you listen to yourself?” She laughs. “Can you please quiz me?”

“Thought I had better things to do?” He grins.

“Harry.” She sighs.

“Okay, okay.” He squints at the flashcard. “What is Andre Bazin’s main film theory?”

“Realism.”

“Correct, see, you know this.”

“That’s an easy one!”

“I still think you’re just wound up.”

“Would you like to do something about it?” She scoffs.

“I would, actually.” He puts the cards down.

“What? I was kidding, Harry.”

“Well…I’m not.” He sighs.

“You…wait, I’m very confused.”

“To be blunt, I’d like to have sex with you.” Her eyes grow wide and her cheeks flush. “But…I don’t wanna do anything that might ruin-“

“Go down and lock our door.” He’s stunned.

“Wait, really?”

“Do it before I change my mind.” She whispers.

Harry stands up and quietly goes down to lock their door. When he comes back up he sees Y/N bent over cleaning everything up off the floor. She puts everything on her desk, and turns her twinkling lights on. Then she turns the main light off, creating more of an atmosphere.

“You really wanna do this?” Harry asks.

“You’re like the hottest guy I’ve ever met, of course I want to…I just didn’t think you wanted to. You treat me like your little sister or something sometimes.”

“I…wouldn’t call the way we sleep the way I would sleep next to my sister.”

“You really do like grind right into me.”

“So you have noticed that.”

“Of course I have…I just figured it was something all guys did in the morning so I never said anything.”

“You’re on the pill?” He asks, stepping closing to her.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to use a condom?”

“Yes.”

He nods and goes into his desk drawer to grab a couple, he sets them down.

“Let’s do it on my bed, it’ll make less noise, yours will rock too much since it’s up higher.” She nods and goes over to his bed and sits down. He sits down next to her. “You’re positive?”

“Yes.”

He caresses her cheek.

“You’re shaking.” He says softly.

“I’m nervous.”

“Why? S’just me.”

“That’s exactly why I’m nervous. You’ve always made me nervous, Harry. I’ve just been good at hiding it.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because we have a really good, chill thing going here. And I like being your friend.”

“This doesn’t have to ruin anything…” He cups both of her cheeks with his hands. “Let me make you feel good, Y/N.”

“Okay.”

He pulls her in and crashes her lips to his. Her eyes flutter closed as he swipes his tongue across her bottom lip, and she opens up for him. He tasted just like the mint gum he chewed constantly. She was making out with the guy every girl wanted. Y/N knew about Harry’s reputation, but she also knew a different side of him. She knew the side of him that liked his head scratched to help him fall asleep, and the way he really did just want a banana and nothing more for breakfast, and the way his hands always smelled like paint no matter how many times he scrubbed them.

He pulls back from her to get some air, or so she things, but his lips connect with her jaw and then to just under her earlobe. She gasps when she feels him suck on her skin, but she loves it. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself, so she just grips at his shoulders, while his hands roam down to her hips.

In a swift motion, he sits back on the bed, and pulls her onto his lap so she’s straddling him. She rolls her hips down on his while they’re lips find each other again. He groans against her bites down on her bottom lip. He hands tug at the hem of her shirt.

“Can I take this off?” He says, panting.

“Yes.”

He lifts it up over her head, revealing a sports bra that was really pushing her boobs up. He pulls her close and kisses on the tops of her breasts while she continues to grind down on him. She was starting to feel how hard he was and it was making her wet.

“Just take it off.” She says.

He nods and lifts the bra off her. He moves to take his own shirt off as well before cupping her breasts in his large hands. He tweaks her nipples, making her head roll back.

“I’ve wanted to see you like this for a long time, Y/N.” He says as he wraps his lips around her, sucking one of her breasts into his mouth, and letting it go with a pop.

“You have?” She gasps as he does the same thing to other one.

“You have no idea.”

He pulls her close so they’re chests are flush and they go back to kissing. His hands slide down to the globes of her ass and he gives her a good squeeze. He shifts them to lay her down, and she wraps her legs around his waist, just like how he’s wanted for a while. He kisses down her neck, chest, stomach, and then hooks his fingers into her leggings.

“You’re sure?”

“Please, just get them off. Get my underwear off, just take everything off of me.”

He smirks and does everything she says. She was full exposed to him and it was a glorious sight to see. Every curve, every dip, every mark on her was beautiful. He kisses her left knee and works his way to her inner thigh. He looks up at her one more time and he gives him an approving nod. She grips the blankets when she feels his tongue on her. Her hips buck up towards him, but he uses his arm to press down on her waist. He gives her a few slow licks at first, and then flicks his tongue back and forth on her clit. She moans softly, and then grits her teeth when he sucks on her. Her hands fly to his hair when she feels a finger slip inside. He looks up at her again and she just nods yes.

His mouth works her clit while he pumps in and out of her, knuckles deep, curling his fingers up. She gasps and groans, desperately trying to stay quiet so Liv and Chris don’t hear anything. Y/N’s legs were shaking around Harry, and he loved it. Her back was arching, he could tell she was close from the way she clenching around his fingers.

“Oh, shit!” She gasps and claps a hand over her mouth.

Harry waits for her to finish riding for him to pull his fingers out. She watches as he sucks them into his mouth, and hers falls open. She blinks tears away.

“Are you crying?” He runs a thumb under one of her eyes.

“I just…um…that was intense is all.”

“Do you wanna keep going?”

“Yes.” She props herself up on her elbows. “Do you want me to, uh, return the favor?”

“Maybe another time.” He stands up and pulls his joggers down. “I really just wanna fuck you, if that’s alright.”

“Mhm.” She smiles. Wow, we haven’t even finished yet and he’s already talking about another time. She thinks to herself.

She watches as Harry slowly takes his boxers off. Her eyes grow wide when she see it. It was big, and thick. Suddenly her mouth felt dry. He grabs a condom from his desk and rolls it on with ease. He gets back on the bed, between her legs.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes, Harry, I want you.”

He smiles and kisses her quick. He looks down so he can line himself up with her dripping center. He slowly presses his tip in, and she can already feel him stretching her out. He accidentally slides in a little fast, though.

“Holy shit!” She moans loudly, and he presses his hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wild looking up at him.

“I know, okay, I know, but if you wanna do this you need to stay fucking quiet. I don’t want them to hear. Can you do that f’me, Y/N?” She nods her head yes, and he takes his hand away. “I didn’t mean to just shove it in like that, m’sorry.”

“S’okay, it felt good.” She giggles. He looks down between them.

“S’really snug…you’re so tight.” His words make her clench around him. “Can I move?”

“Please.”

Harry pulls out slightly and thrusts back in, and eventually he found a pace that suited the both of them. He buries his head in the crook of her neck, and hooks his arm under one of her legs, while her other leg was wrapped around his waist. Her nails were digging into his back, and it all just felt so fucking good. Her face was hidden in her shoulder to keep her moans and cries muffled.

“Takin’ it so well, Y/N.” He peppers kisses to her sweaty forehead. He drops her leg and uses both of his arms to prop himself up so he could really give it to her. The bed was shaking, but it wasn’t making much noise. “How’s it feel?”

“So good, so fucking good.”

“Yeah? Like havin’ me in you like this?”

“Yes!” She gasps as he hits her g-spot. “Oh my god.” She says shocked and then looks up at him. “Do…do that again.” He gives her another thrust right on the spot and her eyes roll into the back of her head.

“You’ve never come vaginally before, have you?” He grins.

“No.”

“Oh, baby…hold on tight.”

She grips his shoulders while he hits the spot over and over. Her teeth were clenched, trying so very hard not to make much noise, but when he hits it just right again, she lets go and cries out. Harry crashes his mouth to hers to swallow it best he can. She was writhing beneath him, having never had orgasm so strong before. Harry can’t last much longer after that, and spills into the condom. He collapses on top of her for a moment or two, just trying to catch his breath. He slowly pulls out of her and she winces.

“Sorry.” He whispers. “You…might be a little sore.”

“A little?” She scoffs. “I can’t believe you fit that whole thing inside of me.” She sits up and grabs her shirt. When she stands her legs feel like jello.

“Where are you goin’?”

“I have to pee, you went down on me, I’m not gonna risk getting a UTI. Just get into my bed, I’ll be back in a second.” He smiles and nods. He was happy she wanted to cuddle.

It stung when she went to the bathroom like she figured it would. She was thankful Liv and Chris didn’t seem to be awake. She fills a glass of water and brings it up with her. She takes a sip and hands it to Harry as she climbs into bed. He takes generous sip and hands it back to her to finish. He puts it on her desk when she’s done. They both sink down and she lays her head on his chest.

“How do you feel?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“Good, how do you feel?”

“Good…didn’t realize there was that much tension between us.” He chuckles.

“Harry, I don’t wanna be one of those girls, but what’s supposed to happen next…”

“We’re gonna cuddle and go to sleep like we usually do. Then tomorrow you’re gonna ace your midterms.”

“And after that?” She looks up at him, and he looks down at her.

“I think I only wanna be a one woman kinda guy…” She smiles up at him. “Would you wanna try going out on a date?”

“There’s a free skate happening down at the ice arena on Saturday night…any interest?”

“No interest in doin’ anything tomorrow?”

“Someone’s a bit eager.” She smirks.

“Alright, ice skating actually sounds good for Saturday. I have a couple of midterms tomorrow too that are gonna take a lot outa me.”

“How about pizza and a movie tomorrow night then?”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” He kisses her hair line. “What should we do about Chris and Liv?”

“Let’s see how a couple of dates go before we tell them anything.”

“Good idea, although, I’m sure they probably heard you.”

“I wasn’t that loud, and it wasn’t my fault if I was.” She swats at his chest.

“True.” He looks over at his bed. “This could work really well. Use my bed for the fucking, and then we have your nice comfy bed for sleepin’.”

“Yeah, and then there’s no gross wet spot to worry about.” She giggles, and he bursts out laughing.

“I didn’t hurt you or anything did?”

“No, not at all. It felt really good the whole time, I promise. It hurt when I went to the bathroom though.”

“M’sorry.” He sighs. “You were so tight, I didn’t really know how to be any gentler than I was.”

“It’s okay, really. You took really good care of me. I feel way more relaxed now. I think you were right about me just needing to de-stress before my exams.”

The two end up falling asleep, and it’s a miracle Y/N hears her alarm go off the next morning. Harry knew Chris and Liv would be gone already since they both have 8AM’s, so he gets up with Y/N to take a shower. They didn’t do anything sexual, but it certainly was an intimate shower. She thought about him all day, everything from last night replaying over and over in her mind. It was a wonder she could concentrate during her exams.

She orders the pizza when she gets in later and sets up the movie. She bumps into Liv after freshening up upstairs.

“Hey, haven’t see you all day. How’d your midterms go?” Liv asks, about to take a slice of pizza.

“That’s not for you!” Y/N yelps. “And they went fine, Harry, uh, helped me study last night.”

“Oh, good! And who’s it for?”

“It’s, um, for Harry, as a thank you for him staying in to help me last night.”

“Um, okay?”

“Sorry…in fact, I’m gonna go put it on his bed so no one touches it. What are you and Chris doing tonight?”

“We were gonna go to Charlotte’s place. Do you wanna come?”

“Nah, I’m exhausted, I’m gonna stay in, but thanks.”

Y/N: I’m bringing the pizza up to our room, I think we should watch the movie up here too…

Harry: are chris and liv home??

Y/N: for now, but I think they’re going out. I just don’t want them snooping

Harry: good call…I’ll be home soon btw, just finished one of my graphic design exams

Y/N: Yay!

Harry gets in, and goes right upstairs. He locks the door behind him. Y/N was sitting on his bed with her laptop and the box of pizza.

“Hey.” You smile.

“Hi.” He smiles back. “That still warm?”

“Mhm.”

“Think it’ll stay that way?” He asks, taking his shirt off.

“I guess we’ll find out.” She sets it on his desk, along with her laptop.

“Been thinkin’ about you all day.” He says, leaning down to kiss her. She lays back on the bed so he can get on top of her.

“Really?” He hums his response as he kisses on her neck. “I thought about you too.” He yanks her shirt up over her breasts and kisses on them. “Harry, I really wanna do this again, but I’m…too sore…” She sighs and he sits up. “But…maybe now I could return the favor.”

“Yeh wanna suck me off, baby?”

“Mhm.”

After one hell of a blowjob, Harry and Y/N cuddle up and crack open the pizza that was waiting to be eaten, and they start their movie.

“How do you think your exams went?” He asks.

“Good, I think I did really well. What about yours?”

“Piece of cake.” He scoffs. “Graphic design is so easy, I don’t know why Chris complains about it all the time.”

“He’s just not as creative as you are. I wish you’d hang more of your paintings up…”

“Really? I have some down at the studio I could bring home.”

“Please! I’d love it, and I’m not just saying that, I think you’re genuinely talented.”

“Thanks.” He kisses her temple.

“I have to say, I was nervous having a guy I barley know as a roommate this year, but it’s worked out way better than I ever could’ve imagined.” They both giggle.

“Mm, I’m sure your parents will be thrilled when they found out their fears came true.”

“God, I can’t even think about that.” She takes a bite of pizza. “I was gonna ask you to come home for Thanksgiving before all this happened, but now maybe that wouldn’t be such a great idea.”

“You were?” He gives her a thoughtful smile.

“Yeah…I didn’t know what you normally did.”

“I usually stay here and eat shitty food at the dining hall. I’d come home with you.”

“You would?”

“Sure.” He shrugs. “We’re tryin’ somethin’ new between us, but at the core we’re still friends right?”

“Yeah.”

“So then I’d love to come home with you for Thanksgiving either way, and I think it’s very nice of you to think of me.” He takes a bite of pizza. “Plus, then I can see if your family likes me at all.”

“Good point.” She puts the pizza box on the desk and nestles in closer to him. She looks up at him and puckers her lips. He happily gives her a kiss. “I like you, Harry.”

“I like you too.”

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut fic #harry styles smut #college!Harry #uni!Harry

3K notes · View notes

the-lady-of-stars · 4 years ago

Text

Feeling you

Din Djarin x Reader

A/N: I am writing some mega fluff as a warm up for the angst I’m gonna write later. This is my first time writing for Din so this is just me figuring out how to write his character. Please send in any requests for Din :)

Summary: You ask your boyfriend what he looks like under his helmet. Lots of soft Din plus a cheeky first kiss.

Night time had arrived, and you were laying with your head in Din’s lap as he sat on his cot. He was busy reading something off his holopad, mindlessly running his fingers through your hair. You gazed up at his helmet as he read, mind wandering to what he looked like underneath. You respected the way he followed the creed more than anything, and you’d never ask him to break it for you, but you still couldn’t help but wonder what he would look like underneath. Din had taken off all his beskar except his helmet, leaving him in nothing but a pair of sleep pants. Mind still turning, you reached up and brushed your fingers along the jagged scars that adorned his chest, trailing them over the puffy marks.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, mesh’la?” Din cooed, the soft tone of his voice amplified by the modulator. He put his datapad aside on the bed to focus on you, trying to figure out what was causing the gentle smile that sat on your lips.

“Just thinking,” you replied, smile widening.

“Oh? And what would you happen to be thinking about, hmm?”

“You.”

“Me? What about me, pretty girl?”

“Your face. What you look like.”

Din paused for a moment, a brief panic washing over him. Did you want him to give up his creed? He didn’t blame you. Who could ever fall in love with a man without even knowing what he looks like. Din tensed, self-doubt building up in his stomach. He knew you felt him grow tense due to the furrowing of your brows, your lips pulling tight.

“Din?” you sat up to straddle his lap, and stroked the side of his neck, the Mandalorian leaning into the touch.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you more, cyar’ika. You shouldn’t have to wonder what your own boyfriend looks like,” he spoke softly, a sad lilt to his words. Din looked down, not wanting to meet your eyes through the visor.

“Hey, no,” you shushed him, “Din, look at me, my starlight.”

Ever so gently you tilted Din’s head up to face you, eyes tender and warm.

“Din, I love you. I love you more than anything. I don’t care if I never see your face, that doesn’t matter in the slightest. Never has. It’s you I care about. You took me in, let me stay with you and the baby. You gave me a family Din, someone to come home to. You’ve always looked after me, kept me safe, given me your heart. That’s all I could ever ask for. You make me so happy, Din. So happy.”

Din felt his heart racing, beating so hard like it was trying to jump out of his chest and straight to you. You already owned it, he knew that. The tears pricking at his eyes just confirmed it.

“Thank you,” was all he could bring himself to say, the words barely audible through the shaky breath, voice wavering through trembling lips.

You smiled, an affectionate smile which stole the breath from Din’s lungs. Taking his hand, you delicately brought it up to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

He couldn’t hold himself back anymore, pulling you into his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

“I love you,” he whispered, as though if he spoke too loudly you would disappear into the night like a dream.

“I love you too,” you matched the quietness of his voice.

Din held you close, mind racing when an idea popped into his head.

“Play a game with me, Cyare?”

“A game?” you questioned, untucking yourself from his neck to look at him.

“Mmhm,” he hummed. “A guessing game. You tell me what you think I look like and I’ll tell you if you’re right or wrong.”

You laughed lightly, the sound making Din’s pulse speed up.

“Okay, sure. A game,” you reaffirmed.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. What do you think I look like,” he purred, an element of amusement to his voice.

“Hmmm, well- the hair on your arms and chest is dark brown so I’m gonna assume it’s the same up top. Correct?”

“Uh huh. Good job, beautiful. What else?” you could tell Din was smiling from the sound of his voice.

“I assume you’ve got an awful case of helmet hair. With that thing on all the time it’s gotta be pretty scruffy looking,” you smirked.

Din laughed heartily at that, chest shaking.

“Scruffy lookin’? Who are you calling scruffy lookin’? You’ve never even seen me and you’re insulting my hair?” Din reached up and rubbed his hand over the top of your head lovingly, messing up your hair. You cackled, wiggling away from his hand.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you laughed, “I’m sure you’ve got beautifully styled hair and absolutely no trace of helmet hair whatsoever. Wait- are you bald? You could be! Do you shave your head?” You got excited, a wide grin spread across your face.

Din couldn’t contain his laughter this time, tipping his head back as his shoulders shook.

“N-no, no I’m not bald, Cyare,” he finally choked out when he regained his breath, still snickering.

“Okay great, scruffy brown tufts of helmet hair it is then. Final guess.”

“Final guess? You sure? Going with helmet hair?” he beamed.

“Yup!”

“Yeah okay you’re right. I’ll give you that one. But to be fair there aren’t all that many products to keep your hair smooth under a bucket.”

You bothed laughed again before Din prompted you to guess his eye colour.

“I always imagined them brown as well. Like a dark brown. Am I right?”

“On the dot, Cyare. You sure you haven’t been taking a peek while I’m asleep?” he joked, pinching your cheek playfully.

“Ooh! What about facial hair! Do you have a beard? I’ve been imagining stubble but maybe you’ve got a goatee or something, I don’t know. But if we are sticking with the scruffy rogue bounty hunter look I’m gonna go with some stubble. Very sexy, if you ask me.”

The more you spoke the harder Din laughed, his hands gripping your waist.

“Sexy, scruffy rogue bounty hunter. Should add that one to my resume. I’m gonna take that as a compliment and say yes to the stubble- as tempting as it is to grow out a goatee.”

“Hey I think goatees are great, I won’t stop you,” you snorted.

“Well?” Din prompted. “Happy with what you’ve learned?”

“Oh definitely. I love whatever it is you’ve got going on under there.”

Din chuckled, leaning in to pull you into a Keldabe kiss.

“I wish I could kiss you properly,” he sighed. Suddenly Din froze, pulling away slightly.

“What is it?” you asked, noticing how hard he was thinking.

“I’ve got an idea,” he spoke. “Stay there.”

Din rose and began to turn off all the artificial lights, making sure you were swamped by the pitch black darkness of night. He covered the viewport with the small curtain, blocking out the light of the stars.

“Din, what are you doing, I can’t see a thing!” you called out.

“That’s the point,” he replied, making you jump from how close he had gotten without you knowing. “You can’t see me at all, right?”

“No, not in the slightest.”

“Great, so if I were to do this-” the next thing you heard was the hiss of Din’s helmet being removed, and a thunk as he set it down on the floor by the bed. You gasped, realising what he was going to do.

“Din, what-”

He shushed you gently. “Nothing’s keeping us apart now,” the sound of Din’s unmodulated voice wracked your body with goosebumps. He could feel your skin prick up beneath his hands as he lay them on your upper arms. “I can finally give you everything you deserve, and I don’t need to break my creed to do it.”

“Din-” your voice wavered, hands beginning to tremble. It was finally happening. Din was here in front of you, his face exposed, more vulnerable than he had ever been yet feeling so right. He trusted you so much, letting down his guard for you only. His hands slid from your upper arms to meet your hands with his, carefully bringing them up to meet his face. There was no resistance this time, no cold metal barrier to block you from the warmth of his skin. Your breath hitched as your fingers met short stubble, the gentle scratch pleasant, familiar despite being new.

“I’m here, Cyar’ika. I’m all yours, every part of me.”

Slowly you moved your hands to trace his features, running over his jaw, across his cheekbones, up to his brow. He was perfect. Everything you had ever dreamed. Your lack of vision made you more sensitive to every touch, more goosebumps pricking your skin as his eyelashes fluttered against the side of your thumb. Your final destination was his lips, tracing your thumb across his lower one, the smooth, plump skin trembling beneath your touch.

“Din,” you spoke for the third time, his name the only word you could muster. The word left your lips more as a sigh than speech.

“Kiss me,” he breathed, the words sending a shiver through both of you.

You couldn’t stay apart from him any longer, tilting your head to unite yourselves as one. His lips pressed smoothly into yours as though they had been made to fit, tenderly meeting each other with all the love in the world. You heard Din’s breath hitch, his hands wrapping around you to pull you into his lap. You cupped his jaw, thumbs stroking it adoringly. Neither of you even thought of separating, moving your lips together in a wordless declaration of love. After a moment you were both robbed of breath, having to pull away to pant against each others mouths, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed.

You didn’t move from that position until the next morning, spending the whole night straddling Din’s lap, making up for all the kisses that you hadn’t shared before. Your Mandalorian loved you, and he’d do anything to prove that until his dying day.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader

281 notes · View notes

kanene-yaaay · 4 years ago

Text

Tickle me, princey

Kanene’s note: This fic is basically: Virgil is a bratty Lee, Roman is a competitive Ler and none of them are going down without a fight xDD.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Lee!Virgil and Ler!Roman (Kind of. Because there is almost no tickles here, just teasing). Human AU.

* Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site!! ‘u’).

* This have about 2.500 words of Roman and Virgil just being teasy beans. ‘w’)b.

* PLEASE CHECK THIS AMAZING ART! IT’S INCREDIBLEE! <33

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! I didn’t proofread that one very well, so I will probably be correcting a few things later. Any advice is always very, very welcome!

* A versão em português brasileiro irá ser escrita, ainda. Eu espero! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Do something crazy today, take a good rest, be kind (especially with yourself) and drink water! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Roman cleaned his hands on his jeans before stretching his back and sighing in relief when a small ‘pop’ came from it. The pal from the nearby library was a cool person – not that he would ever allow the other to hear this, because, damn, people who called Roman cocky definitely haven’t met them yet – but equally precise in get on his nerves with as few words as possible, even though the florist didn’t care that much as his dramatics discourses tried to convince everyone he did.

Besides that, they was Patton’s friend and even more important, they made an accord with the Flower Shop’s owner and Roman was the one in charge to deliver their biweekly floral arrangement to the library’s decór. However, today Roman managed to win their discussion and therefore a couple of podcast episodes read by them (What? Their voice was quite nice!!).

Roman ignored the small ring of the door’s bell as he entered the Flower Shop, looking around to be sure there was no clients before taking his position behind the balcony, internally thanking how chill Patton was with his employees using phone during the shift as long there wasn’t no one near, especially as he unlocked his screen and a new notification popped in front of him.

Butterflies went immediately crazy on his stomach.

[Message from Panic! At Everywhere]

[P: Hey. So, are you still ok?]

Virgil kicked his blanket out of his bed, already feeling a tad of giddiness spread across his body, a small smirk finding its way to his face without him even realizing. Today was the day. Since when he and Roman talked on the last week about boundaries to be sure nothing had changed and decided Saturday as a good day for their session the one with purple hair couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander, picturing and re-picturing what would happen, even though Roman always insisted to never tell him his plans, wanting to keep everything as a surprise, which definitely didn’t help at all the excitement running on his veins.

Their session.

Their tickle session. It was only eleven in the morning and Virgil could already feel his skin tingle just by imagine Roman’s fingers grazing, dancing on it, carefully looking for all his weak spots both knew so well before coming with an entire new technique that would make the other (almost, barely, hardly) want to jump out of his skin so he could escape from the maddening tickly sensation.

He was going to love it.

Also, it didn’t help that he spent the previous night and its following morning consuming all his favorite tickle content, dying on the spot (and on the reblogs) and skyrocketing his lee mood to the mountains.

Nevertheless, he tried to play nonchalant as answered the other’s new message.

[Message from Dumb(o)]

[D: Yes.]

[P: Cool.]

[D: You?]

[P: Yep.]

[D: Glad to know, Blushy Bug. Try to not alarm all of our neighborhood with your squeals and giggles before I get there, okay? ~

D: And yeah, plu-e-ase, continue with your so delightful tags on your reblogs, okay, Tickle me Emo? I’m learning so much new information with that. If only I would have an opportunity to use all of them today…]

Virgil snorted, one hand trying to hide his face as he attempted with all his might to ignore the flames taking over his cheeks as the teases sank and the memories from the day he conquered this nickname emerged from the deeps of his mind. So, Princey was already so over his head with being the ler this time? Thinking Virgil would be hiding his face on the pillow, squeaking and tittering helpless? Well, he would have a big storm coming, then.

Virgil got up, his footsteps leading him to the clean desk in the room, moving some of the objects so carefully chosen in order to get the perfect picture. Every single makeup brush lined, gleaming under the lens of his camera, away enough so the viewer would be able to realize all their individualities but close enough to create an impact.

Two can play this game.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent an image]

Roman clicked on it, eyes going immediately wide as he quickly slammed the cellphone’s screen on his red apron, his gaze running from a place to another to be sure no one was near or had seen the conversation or noticed the way his smile went from an ear to another.

[P: Nah. I’m too occupied choosing the perfect tools for today… I mean, there are just so many options, ya know? I especially prefer the smallest ones, their bristles softly running on my ribs, tracing their way across my tummy to get to the other side… yeah. That is the good stuff. Or maybe we could be experimenting the biggest ones today, letting them tease that spot right under my chin, the softness engulfing all the nerves… ]

Roman took a deep breath, realizing the other still typing.

[P: Anyway, don’t make a big deal of this, ‘kay? I know your imagination can be very fertile but try to not alert Patton with all your blush and twitching. You know he is a curious guy and will want to know why you’re so smiley. ;)]

“Pai amado, (Dear God) he is going to kill me.” Roman crossed his arms, using all his will to no start wiggling them to nothing, a sudden urge to sing some nursery rhymes making him begin to humming quietly as attempted to gather enough concentration to type a proper, cool reply.

[D: Is that so? So, the big, badass Virgil Storm is excited to get all his tickly-tickle-tickles today? Is he excited to become a so helpless, so adorable mess of giggles and squeaks? To be teased and tickled until he can do nothing but give me those lovely snorts and wiggly-wiggles? ~

Awww. So cute. ~]

[P: Yeah, I am. So what? Wanna do something about that, Sir Sing a Lot?

Ops, I forgot you’re at work rn. Tsc. Such a pity. Well, guess I will have to kill some time by looking at your precious collection of feathers, see if I find something interesting there.]

[D: You just wait for when I get home.]

[P: :)]

Virgil laid his phone at his side, hiding his face on the mattress, kicking just like he was some teenager in love from those generic movies. The squeals bubbled out from his lips, smiles blooming. He knew he probably was just digging his own grave, but, ha, as if he would fall without a fight. Plus, imagining Roman trying at every cost to keep a straight expression while reading his texts and then struggling to continue his work just as if nothing had happened, with that cute, excited smile planted on his face made a proud wave of power – and joy - hit him and that was a bonus which was worth it.

Then his phone vibrated, indicating a new notification and a new flood of shivers as he unlocked his screen, freezing for a couple of heartbeats with the length of the message.

[D: A poem for my dear Knightmare. ~

Once upon a time

There was a wiggley-wiggly lee

That just a few pokes

Made him giggle with glee

Some scribbles here

Some scratches there

You can tickle-tickle

He is ticklish everywhere!

What, you don’t believe me?

‘That much cute he can’t be!’

Well, then allow me to demonstrate

All the beautiful sounds he can create!

Give a few prodding on his ribs

And a quick digging on his hips

Some brushes on his toesies and feet

And don’t forget about these helpless pits!

(And hey, psst, if you squeeze his sides

The cutie, squeaky, wiggly lee,

Will be squealing in a happy delight)

This neck is also asking for tickly-kisses

He always denies, always desire

Add to that some teasy whispers

And watch his cheeks be set on fire!

Once upon a time

There was a bratty, smug lee

That just a few tickle teases

Can make him a blushy mess

Just like now, you see!]

[…]

“Have a nice day. Thank you for coming!”

Roman waved to the client who got out from the Flower Shop, taming the smugness which threatened to take over his features as he realized that even though an hour had passed, no answer to his last text had arrived yet. He was perfectly aware of how weak Virgil was for any sort of rhymed tease and a whole poem – not his best, he had to admit – dedicated to him? He could almost see the other shrieking, hiding his red face on the pillow, lost in a mess of quiet peals of laughter and curses. His smile got even bigger, swelled in pride. And, well, if he couldn’t help it but push his luck a few inches further, his fingers already halfway to typing a small, itsy bitsy, new tease to his favorite emo lee, how could someone really blame him?

[D: Oh, sorry. Did I make the scary Virgil too much flustered to talk? Awww, I will miss your sassy remarks deeply and sing a ballad in your honor at the funeral. ~]

He snorted at the amount of time the symbol of ‘typing’ appeared and disappeared on the conversation, using the ten minutes he took to be answered to organize a few sales signs on the glass in front of the store, gaining a dance on his step as the one-worded sentence shone on his phone.

[P: Bitch.]

[D: I have no idea of what you’re talking about. Is that something I said? I feel wounded.]

But a new thing popped up.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent a video]

[P: :)]

It seemed like hours passed, even if he knew the downloading probably didn’t really take more than a few pieces of minute for him to hit the play.

The focus of the camera took a few seconds to adjust, the image trembling and shaking before going still, the crystal clear form of a small light brown, slightly spiked feather twirling between Virgil’s index and thumb locking his eyes on the screen. A quick, quiet sigh could be heard before the tickle tool descended to the palm extended on a desk, stopping by Virgil’s pulse.

The bristles grazed the skin there as the feather began to move on slow strokes, going from the left to the right, left and right, left and right… calmly making its way up, changing to small swirls as it contorted the form of the hand, giving to each finger a light tracing before concentrating on the palm, drawing a spiral which approximated inch by inch to the center. If Roman wasn’t so quiet, - even holding his breath, - maybe he wouldn’t be able to listen the incredibly low, contained huffs of laughter on the background, a soft snort escaping and making both hands tremble as the bristles hit the center of his hand, dancing around the spot for a bit.

When it stopped, the tool was placed on the desk and then the camera started to move, stopping on Roman’s so very well-known golden with silver details box. Its lid laid next to it, letting its entire content to be proudly shown. The explosion of colors from the most diverse large, small, pointy, fluffy feathers took over the frame, however, a tiny piece of paper placed on the exact center of them was what captured his attention. The lens zoomed and focused, making him able to read the quick message written there.

“:)”

And then the screen went black. The video was over.

Roman could feel his face being almost split in half by his grin, his fingers hitting the table top in complete frenzy since they hadn’t to hold the device anymore, curling and uncurling as the one who couldn’t just stay still started to bounce his right leg, ignoring the redness he felt crippling down his neck.

“Roman?”

He fully shrieked. Both him and Patton startled and jumped a few centimeters in the air with the sudden sound. The florist slapping his own hand on his mouth, trying with all his inner strength to stop the bubbly giggles which flooded non stop from his lips

“Sorry for the scare, kiddo,” the shine on his eyes free of any guilt as Patton bit his own knuckles proved the contrary, especially when the rest of an awed squeal escaped from his lips, only making the other to giggle harder, eyes closed, blush deepening and nose scrunched. “Aww, your giggles are so cute!”

“Shuhuhush!!” The Flower Shop owner just smiled fondly, withholding his comments and patiently waiting for the other to recompose himself. When Roman looked at least a tad calmer he decided to make his decision to talk to him clear.

“I’m glad you’re in a good mood, Ro! I just wanted to remember today’s shift is already over. I need a bit of time to organize everything before the painter comes so we can discuss the new design of the Flower Shop. Thank you so much for the ideas, by the way! I can’t wait for you all to see the result! It will be so pretty!!” Roman’s wide eyes were enough of an explanation of why he wasn’t ready to go yet, probably having forgotten about their last month conversation. Although, the surprised look was away in an instant, a shine taking over his glare before he softened, locking his eyes with Patton.

“Of course, it will be, Patty-cake! With my magnificent ideas and your good taste, I really don’t think any other result besides wonderful and perfection will be possible!” He squeezed Patton’s cheeks and his friend stuck out his tongue at him, winning a quick poke on his ribs that made him squirms and yelp, quickly tittering and waving the other with his hands.

“Now shoo-shoo, go enjoy your afternoon!”

A devious smirk gleamed on Roman’s expression for a second. “You can count on it, Padre.” But then it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Thank you, my mighty hero in a shiny armor! May the universe let our destiny align again in the future.”

“See ya, kiddo!” He replied, his tune also full of joy, watching the one with red hair going away, a happy bounce on his steps.

[…]

Virgil picked the phone in the first ring. “Roman, something happened?”

“Nope,” the purple lover sighed in relief, all the tension getting out of his body and being replaced by confusion, “nothing happened except that a handsome, incredible someone got out from his work earlier than expected and might be heading his home by now.”

That made Virgil shot up, biting his lower lip, butterflies freaking out. “No.” It was his whisper.

“Oh, yes. ~” Roman practically purred on the speaker. “any last words, my dear, defenseless Giggly Storm?”

Virgil just giggled and Roman had almost forgotten how that sound only was enough to spread an explosion of a warm, good feeling on his chest. “Aw, and here I was thinking I would have at least some challenge today. ~” He continued to tease.

Silence.

“Go check your messages, Princeypie.”

And then he hung up. Roman fondly rolled his eyes, running to check the new notification on their conversation.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent a photo]

It was Virgil, sitting on his bed criss crossed, one elbow resting on his thigh as he took the picture on the body mirror on the other side of the room, a strong blush very visible on his face half hidden by the device, wearing a short and Roman’s red crop top. A new message popped right under the photo.

[P: Get your butt here and tickle me, Sir Sing a Lot.’]

This emo was going to be the death of him.

[D: Aww, I don’t even get a smile?]

[P: You gotta work for those, Princey.]

Virgil definitely did not jump nor yelp as he heard the low, dangerous tune of an “evil” laughter echoes in the house coming from the living room, the sound of the front door being closed making his flight instincts kick in.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Virgil was already halfway to the most far away room where he could escape, trying to keep his reputation as he heard another set of footsteps quickly getting ground and following right behind him. Laughter and squeaks mixed in the air.

“Because I will.” Roman answered.

#Very teasy #Teases #Lee!Virgil #Ler!Roman #Virgil is a brat and Roman is one as well #Ticklish!Virgil #Sanders Sides tickles #Sanders Sides tickling #Kanene's Fanfic #Kanene's Art #Kanene's fic #Brief self tickles #Feathers #blushy bois #Writing this kind of fic is very fun and sdfghertcvgbhn kind of silly as well #Virgil: Tickle me// Roman: Okay// Virgil: *NYOOOM*#I still don't know how to tag this dfghjsdfghdcf #I feel like my writing is a bit weird nowdays but yeah I'm still proud of this!

109 notes · View notes

heartofsnark · 3 years ago

Text

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Seven): Flying Towards An Early Grave

Notes: Still posting my little backlog, I will warn in advanced, the next chapter is the heist (finally) AND IT IS A CHONKER, but for now have a little appetizer with some fun times, smut, and foreshadowing!~

Word Count: 10860

Chapter Warnings: heavy foreshadowing, food, blowjobs, groping, protected vaginal sex, car sex

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

V’s body is heavy as she gets to her apartment door, ready to curl up into bed and call it a day. She’s exhausted with adrenaline gone. She presses her thumb to the panel. The little intercom doorbell is also the lock, scanning and searching for SID validation. It takes a moment to scan, it seems to be lagging more lately.

Calling.

The intercom says it’s calling, why is it calling? She can hear the automated ringing and her lights inside are probably flashing. It only does this if the SID doesn’t match the apartment owner’s, assuming them a guest. V presses again.

Calling.

She presses harder.

Calling.

She tries her entire hand.

Calling.

She kicks her door, a heavy sound as her boot collides with it. That doesn’t help with the lock, but it makes her feel a little better. Just what she needs; bloody, sore, and locked out of her apartment for who fucking knows why? Her stomach growls as she pulls up the number for building maintenance.

“Megabuilding Maintenance, how can I help?”

“I’m locked out of my apartment,” V signs, her choker translator on.

“What do you mean?”

“The lock isn’t recognizing my SID.”

“Can I get your name and apartment number?”

V gives them the details and they say they’re sending a maintenance guy. All of the services floor is nearly shut down at the late hour, her stomach growling. No doubt the maintenance guy will take his sweet fucking time, so much for getting some decent sleep. She gets a burrito, a Nicola, and a little thing of ketchup from the machines. Sitting on the ground near her door, dumping ketchup on her burrito as she eats it.

By the time the guy arrives she’s finished eating, drinking, and is a little unsure what’s dried blood versus dried ketchup on her shirt. She hops to her feet when she sees the guy walking up, a massive case of resting bitch face. V doubts he wanted to be dragged out at three am to help unlock a door, but it’s not her fault the tech fucked up.

“You V?” he asks, voice gruff and annoyed.

“Yep.”

“Hard day?” His eyebrow raises, gaze focused on her blood stained flesh and chrome.

“Work.”

“Ah… I see,” he nods, “so, what's the issue with your door?”

Night City is one of the few places where one can just admit to being a mercenary for a living, even if it did earn her an odd look. V presses her hand to the lock button again and it once again initiates a call.

“Doesn’t recognize my SID.”

“Hmm, you are V, right?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Who the fuck else would I be? The building has a picture of me on file for fucks sake.”

“Hey, hey, nowadays with enough eddies anybody can look like anybody.”

“If I had an identity worth stealing, you really think I’d be living here?”

“Fair enough, let’s check something,” he pulls out a holo tablet, jacking it into the bottom of the intercom lock, “this will show what the lock is reading it as, try again.”

V keeps an eye on his tablet as she presses her hand back to the lock and the projected information starts to show. And for a moment she sees herself; her face, her name, her information, and all the shit Vik had to set up for her to have SID. Then in a blink of an eye it glitches out and the information shifts. She watches her nearly mugshot like photo shift into that of a man, with short dark hair and dark eyes. V [REDACTED] becomes Robert John Linder. Birthdate shifting from November 12th, 2056 to November 16, 1988. Birthplace shifting from Seven Devils, North Carolina to College Station, Texas.

Who the hell is this old man?

“Looks like it’s reading your SID chip as someone else's, strange, any chance you’ve been spiked by a ‘runner?”

“No, even if I was, not sure why they’d want to make my SID register to some senior citizen.”

“Weird, can’t think of how else this would happen? Seems like it starts to read your chip and then changes to this guy’s. Do you know him?”

“Don’t hang around old folks homes too much, actually. Just some random dude to me.”

“Hmmm.”

“I can promise you, I’m not a ninety year old cowboy man.”

“Somehow I noticed that, actually… looks like the guy is dead.”

“What?”

“Mmhmm, scroll down a bit and there’s the date his death certificate was issued,” the guy shows her, “you’ll probably need to have your SID looked at, see what’s wrong with it. For now, I can unlock it for you and have them add whoever this guy is to registered owners, so, you won’t be locked out until you fix it.”

“Fine, I guess.”

“But that does mean if this guy’s ghost decides to pop in for a visit, lock won’t stop him,” the man jokes, offering the first smile since he’s been here.

“Somehow I’ll handle it, thanks for the help, and if it’s not too much trouble can you forward me the details of that SID info?”

“Sure, no problem,” the maintenance man’s eyes glow and she can feel the very soft warmth and whirr of her neuroplant as it accepts the file.

She gives one final thanks as he unlocks her apartment and she’s finally able to step foot inside. Thankfully her door locks behind her and she makes a beeline for her shower, scrubbing blood and sweat from her skin; finding bruises, cuts, and flesh wounds she hadn’t noticed in the midst of fighting.

It takes her a little longer than expected to wind down for the night, the merc putting in her optic contacts and playing with the bot. Looking through its eyes, she has it twist and climb all throughout her apartment, making herself dizzy until she falls out of bed and bangs her head against the floor. Finally, putting the cute spider looking tech away when she feels the knot starting to form on her head. Then, setting her alarm and sleeping for the night.

V is still tired when her alarm vibrates beneath her pillow, waking her up as the sunlight streams in from her large window, warming her skin. She checks her phone, double checks the time and that Dex hasn’t sent the car for her yet. The young merc rushes through her morning routine; showering, brushing her teeth, dressing, and taking her medication with some Chromanticore in hopes of getting some energy back.

She’s out the door and has her mask on in a matter of minutes, phone buzzing with the message that Dex’s car is waiting for her. As she comes down the steps of her building she sees the same limousine and bodyguard waiting outside of it. But this time when he opens the door for her, there is no Dex, nobody. Chills creep their way up her spine, but she gets in nonetheless, sinking into the leather backseat as Dex’s guard starts to drive them away.

The guard is quiet, doesn’t explain where they’re going or why, V has a feeling he wouldn’t tell even if she asked. So, she doesn’t. Only the radio drones on, a mixture of news and occasional pop music from bands and singers she doesn’t know or care to know; an anouncer coming over the radio to speak somberly.

“Today marks the fifty-fourth anniversary of the attack on Arasaka Tower. Fifty-four years ago a group of terrorists stormed Arasaka Tower and detonated a bomb, which forever changed the history of our dear city. Devastating the lives of millions; thousands dying in the initial attack and more perishing in the aftermath as well. Today we ask for a moment of silence to remember those who lost their lives in this senseless act of violence so many years ago….:”

A beat of silence, barely a moment, then the high energy voice returns.

“Now, after this short music break, we return with the heartwarming story of Stumpy, the three legged puppy who’s gone viral after the use of veterinary cyberware has given the pup a new lease on life!~”

V rolls her eyes, sounds about right, barely a moment for something so somber. No real grief or empathy, time to move on to a cute puppy because that keeps people happy and listening. She watches the city around her change, spotting the Valentino graffiti starting to cover the buildings and that they’re entering Heywood. She sends a heads up text to Jackie, letting him know they’re not far from his house.

A short moment after, the driver is parking outside Jackie’s garage and she watches the older merc walking out. The guard opens the limousine back door and Jackie relaxes when he sees V, climbing into the seat next to her.

“Hey, V, you figure out what’s going on?”

“Was sort of hoping you had…”

“Asked T-Bug, said it’s a surprise.”

“Not sure I like Bug’s idea of surprises.”

“Hey, hombre,” Jackie calls out to the guard as he starts to drive them away, “mind telling us where we’re headed?”

They’re met with silence, because of they are. V nervously wrings her hands as she watches for signs of where they’re going based on the passing scenery.

“Has to be something to do with prepping for the job, just wish I knew what.”

“Speaking of which, you got the bot on you?”

“Yeah, brought it just in case and if Bug’s there she’ll want to take a look. Wonder if there’s any chance of keeping the Flathead after this?”

She knows Dex said it’s a single use toy, but...who knows, maybe she could somehow keep it afterwards.

“Why’s that?”

“Its cute.”

“You think a military grade combat bot is cute?”

“It's a little spider.”

“You find the weirdest shit cute, I swear.”

“It is cute!”

“It’s-” Jackie looks out the window, “shit are we in Corpo Plaza?”

“Maybe we’re just passing through?”

As if only to prove her wrong, the limousine parks outside a store on Senate Avenue, the bright sign says Jinguji. Even looking through the window, it looks entirely like a place that her and Jackie do not belong. Brightly lit, immaculately clean with fancy designer clothes on display.

“We’re here,” the guard tells them and the doors open with the press of a button.

V and Jackie share a look before getting out of the limousine, standing before the Jinguji store like deers stuck in headlights.

“Dex can’t be serious, Jinguji?” Jackie says, scratching at the shaved underneath of his hair.

“Looks…. Fancy.”

“Corp store, designer; a sock in there will cost you a few thousand eddies.”

“I know he says we need to play corpo, but… I don’t know, it feels weird.”

“I’m sure Dex knows what he’s doing. But, uh, you gotta take off the mask, chica.”

“What, why?”

“‘Cause its fucking Jinguji, they’re not gonna let you through the door looking like that.”

“You’re one to talk, you got a ketchup stain on your shirt.”

“Firstly, that’s blood. Secondly, you’re a wearing a jacket you stole off a dead guy last week.”

“Not like he needs it!”

“Jackie, V!” A voice yells out, drawing the merc’s attention into the doorway of the store, T-Bug in realspace, wearing a black netrunning suit, “would you gonks stop bickering and get in here?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the mercs speak and sign in unison, falling the netrunner into the corp store.

There’s a large lit up advertisement at the back of the store. Gold decor dripping down from the ceiling, plush white couches, and an ice bucket with champagne. To her surprise, there’s no other shoppers within the store. A man in a tailored designer suit sits at the desk, greeting the two mercs as they walk in.

“Welcome to Jinguji, an oasis of elegance!~”

V gives an awkward nod and wave. She’s not sure what else to do. She doesn’t belong here; she knows that much. A dirty black leather jacket under the bright lights and old raggedy boots on shiny polished floors. The merc wants nothing more than to run out of the store, some of the clothes she sees displayed are nice, if she’s being honest. A few bit tacky for her taste, but others are cute or sexy with dramatic flair, but nothing she would ever really have a reason to wear.

“Mind telling us why the fuck we’re here, Bug?” Jackie asks and the netrunner chuckles.

“To get into Konpeki, you two will have to look the part. Rather than blindly guessing what will fit, Dex is flitting the bill and getting you both some corpo threads,” T-Bug explains, taking a seat on on of the couches.

“Where is everyone?”

“Store is rented out for the next couple hours, discretion. V, did you bring the bot?”

“Got it in my bag.”

“Lemme see, got to make sure it’s in working shape.” V puts the bot down on the table, T-Bug opening the case and looking over the bot, running diagnostics that the merc can’t begin to understand,

“Right this way, you two, I’m sure we’ll find something perfect for both of you,” the man who greeted them, grabs their attention again, “but it would be easier, if I have a full idea of your features, miss.”

“Told you,” Jackie taunts and V elbows him in the side, slowly taking off her mask and she feels bare. And she knows people have seen her face before, but this is work and it just feels… wrong.

“Wonderful, so we’ll begin with the gentlemen, I think you’ll find we have a wonderful array of fine suits in our men’s department.”

The man, who’s fancy name tag says Zane, shows them a vast collection of suits. They range from slick classic black ones, deep navy blues, florals, brights, embroidered, and every color she can imagine. Its hard to imagine the big merc in any of them. She’s always seen him in muscle shirts or his favorite red and black jacket. His eyes seem to land on a red suit with gold detailing.

“Well-”

“Point is to blend in, not stand out, Jack,” T-Bug calls out, scolding him without having to even look at him or his choice in suit.

“Just black then.”

“Wise choice, sir, our tailors will get your measurements and get the perfect fit for you.”

Another employee guides Jackie to a fitting room and V feels the sudden urge to sink into the ground, Zane’s attention now solely on her. She scratches at her cheek and flips on her choker translator.

“Now, what about you? We have plenty of formal options in women’s fashion as well. A more androgynous business suit or perhaps a dress?”

She’s shown mannequins dressed in tight body con dresses with various necklines, materials, colors, and a few well fitted pants suits. Her eyes are drawn to the dresses, if she’s being honest. She has a rather small collection of skirts and dresses, for off days, but she never has a chance to wear anything more formal than a sundress or mini skirt over leggings. These dresses are dramatic, gorgeous; some with mesh inlays or cut outs.

But, like Bug said; they’re there to blend in, not stand out. This isn’t an outfit for fun but for work and if something goes wrong, the last thing she needs is this going to shit and having to battle in a tight constricting dress or too high of heels.

“I think a pants suit in black would be best; keep it simple.”

“Understood.”

V taken to a fitting room, given the chance to put on the ready to buy pantsuits in privacy. A stark white button up blouse, black blazer, and black slacks. And she knows immediately it will need to be tailored to suit her; the pants longer than her legs and the shirt loose around her chest. The tailor comes in after a moment and begins measuring, marking where things need to be taken in and raised. V left trying not to get embarrassed each time the measuring tape is wrapped around a part of her.

“Is there a way to make the blazer sleeves easier to roll up?” She signs once her arms are done being measured. The material is stiffer and harder to get tight around her elbows when trying; she wants her Mantis Blades easily used.

“Hmm, lets see, maybe it’d be best to use it more like an accessory rather than wearing it properly?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you could just wear it over your shoulders like a cape,” the woman drapes it that way across V’s shoulders.

“Not my thing.”

“Then you can carry it, like this,” the woman shows holding the jacket back over her shoulder with her fingers hooked in it’s collar. It looks alright, casual enough, though having a jacket and not wearing it still reads as strange to the merc.

“I’ll consider that.”

“It can also help keep you cool. Now, lets talk about makeup, hair, and shoes.”

V listens and nods as the woman gives recommendations; getting V a pair of low heeled black synthetic leather shoes. Then going into advice on hair; recommending french twist, a bun, or a low ponytail depending on how formal V wants to go. The woman recommends simple classic makeup styles and a few other tips for the merc to meet her full corpo potential. Finally, with measurements, adjustments, and everything marked; V is allowed to change back into her street clothes. She leaves the room, seeing Jackie already in his regular clothes again and sitting next to T-Bug.

“We have all the measurements down and will begin altering the clothes immediately.”

“Good,” T-Bug confirms with Zane, “remember we need them finished and delivered to The Afterlife by five.”

“I assure you, our tailors are already on it.”

“V,” T-Bug calls out when she sees the short merc, “got something for you.”

V sits down on the couch, watching as T-Bug sets out a pair of white hearing aids. They’re designed like her normal ones, just more boring.

“Hearing aids? I already have those.”

“These are special, optic camo. No corpo worth their salt has anything less than top of the line phonic implants, with press of a button or a thought, these will go invisible.. They’ll work just like your regular ones, but look like you’re wearing nothing. Try them out.”

She switches her blue hearing aids with the new ones, they fit well and she pushes the thought of turning the camo on. V catches her reflection in a mirror in the store, she can feel them, but see nothing.

“Perfect, no one will be any the wiser. This also means no signing or translator.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I know its not ideal, but it’s just the reality of it. Corpo types like this; lose your hearing, new implants. Vocal chords fried, get a new set in gold. Get paralyzed, new legs or entire nervous system. Go blind, new optics. They see you signing or using hearing aids, you’ll stand out like a sore thumb.”

“I get it.”

“No sweat, I’ll do the talking, V,” Jackie comforts her and then turns his attention to Bug, “So, what now?”

“We’ll go over the full plan this evening at The Afterlife, you two need to be there by five. We’ll talk with Dex and you’ll be in Konpeki by eight tonight, relic in hand before midnight strikes.”

“So we get to kick back and relax until five?”

“As long as you’re there by five and ready to go, I couldn’t care less what you do, Jack.”

“Said this place was rented out, right?” V asks, noticing a dramatic purple dress that reminds her of a certain tarot card reader’s favorite color.

“Yeah, why?”

“How much longer is this place reserved?”

“Another hour, maybe two and again, I ask why?”

“Ow, hell that for, chica?” Jackie looks up when V kicks him in the shin.

“Call Misty, dumbass. Buy her something nice, make a date out of it before we go on the job.” V tells him, remembering Misty’s concerns from the other night. It might ease her mind a bit to have a nice afternoon with Jackie, dress shopping and a fancy lunch in City Center. Just a chance to enjoy themselves.

“Dex is nice V, but sincerely doubt he wants to pay for Misty a new dress.”

“Oh no, if only one of us had scammed ten grand off of Militech, oh wait,” V says, pulling the Militech credchip from her bag and sees the twinkle in Jackie’s eyes.

“You serious, V?”

“Should get her a hell of a nice dress, maybe you a suit, and a nice fancy lunch; play corpo for an afternoon.”

“Shit, V,” he takes the credchip from her fingers, “what’d I do without you?”

“You two are going to make me puke,” T-Bug says, rolling her eyes while Jackie is already calling up Misty.

“Just wait until Misty gets here and the constant pet names start, you’ll really lose your lunch.”

“Ugh, more reason to get out of here, I’ll be taking the Flathead with me to keep in working shape.”

“Can I ask you something before you go?”

“Got more code you need me to check?”

“Not quite, had an issue with my SID chip last night, was wondering if there was a chance I was hacked?”

“You get spiked, jaina?” Jackie asks when he finishes chatting with Misty.

“Don’t know, couldn’t unlock my door last night, reader thought I was some old dude.”

“Hmm, SID hacks are tricky, we’re going to be using one for your covers in Konpeki. But they usually only alter your ID a bit and die after so many hours. Thing is, that wouldn’t really benefit anyone.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, I don’t think anyone would get much out of pretending I’m some ninety year old dead fuck.”

“I can jack in, see if I find anything in your soft.”

“Sure, if you don’t mind.”

V shifts her back to T-Bug, sweeping her hair off the nape of her neck and showing her neuroports. The netrunner pushes some loose strands out of the way and slots her personal jack into V’s biomon. A few moments pass and V can feel her cheeks flushing a bit, a weird feeling to having T-Bug directly touch her and jack in to her tech. This is the first time they’ve met in person, may even be the first time Bug has seen her face.

“Everything looks clear to me, SID is registering as yours, no signs of a hack,” Bug explains, jacking out.

“Weird, maintenance guy showed last night it was showing as some dead guy.”

“Strange, must be some sort of glitch.”

“Or you’re being haunted.”

“Haha, very funny, Jackie.”

“Hello… “

A soft voice calls out and V lights up seeing Misty poking her head into the fancy luxury store, looking every bit as nervous as V had been. Jackie is up and rushing towards Misty in a heart beat, pulling her into a hug and twirling her around, kissing her head.

“You’re here, mi carina.”

“Babe,” Misty says, giggiling as she’s put back down on her feet, then steps up on her tip toes to kiss Jackie’s lips.

“Gonna puke,” T-Bug comments low under her breath and V tries not to laugh.

“V, Bug,” Misty smiles at the two, “glad I got here before you two left out.”

“What’s up?”

Jackie walks Misty over closer to them, large hand on her hip as she rummage through her purse. After a moment, she pulls out three beaded bracelets. A mixture of beads in black, gold, and blue mottled with gold. T-Bug is already raising her eyebrow and V’s not sure how well Misty’s spiritualism will go over with the runner.

“These are protection bracelets. Lapis lazuli, black tourmaline, and gold sheen obsidian. They’re all meant to help with creating a protective spiritual barrier, it should keep you all safe from negative energies and frequencies.”

“Ay, you still in knots over this, mi alma?”

“It would just make me feel better knowing you have a little more protection, babe.”

Misty slides the biggest of the bracelets onto Jackie’s wrist and he gives her a soft smile, kissing her temple before starts to give the others to V and Bug. The young merc slides it on with a smile and T-Bug takes it in hand, with a less enthusiasm.

“Thanks, Misty, I appreciate it,” V tells her and elbows T-Bug in the side, earning her a glare, but the netrunner plays nice.

“Thanks…”

“I know it’s not much, but a little protection is better than none and should keep energies bright.”

“Right….”

“Well,” V cuts in before Bug can say anything else, “we’ll be getting out of your hair, have fun you two!~”

“Thanks again, V, see you two at The Afterlife.”

Jackie waves them off, Bug packing up and V putting her usual hearing aids in their case, away in her pocket. The runner and young merc leave the store, Dex’s guard already left a while ago, so V will have to either call her car or use the public transit. Come to think of it, she’s not sure how she’s going to kill time until its game time.

“V,” Bug stops her outside Jinguji before they go their separate ways for now, “gotta ask, you really believe in that spiritual crap?”

“No, but she does and it makes her happy, so, why not?”

“I guess, if she really thinks a bracelet is going to save us from Arasaka.”

“Won’t kill you to accessorize a little, Bug.”

“Whatever you say.”

They say their goodbyes and V is left thinking again about what she wants to do to pass the time. She could do a few short gigs, but her mind is preoccupied with the heist. Ultimately, V finds herself taking the NCART to El Coyote Cojo. Mostly just because she’s bored and maybe something or someone there will occupy her time. The bar isn’t too active at the early hour and she doesn’t see Mama Welles around.

“V!” Pepe greets her when she walks through.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Same old, same old. Jaquito is still out, Senora Welles is out shopping, but Jake is taking out the trash in the back if you want to say hi.”

“I think I might go and do just that.”

Playing grab ass with one of her go to lays seems like a solid way to waste her time. V walks through the bar and out one of the backdoors that open to the alley with the dumpster. Sure enough, Jake is there tossing away a trash bag. He’s around 6’5 about as tall as Jackie, muscular, with a head of ginger hair shaved down on the shades and a thick beard.

She throws her arms around his waist, feeling the muscle underneath his shirt. He teases his fingers over her forearms, the chrome of his Gorilla Fingers cyberware sending a soft chill through her skin.

“Hey, V, new chrome?” He runs over the chrome patterns in her arms.

She hums against his back in response, not wanting to move. But, he twists in her arms. He cups her face in chromed fingers, for a moment, his browns furrow in confusion.

“No hearing aids?”

She pulls away, enough space for her to sign.

“Camouflage ones, it and the blades are necessary for the gig.”

“Oh yeah, Jackie’s been talking everyone to death about this heist you two got planned. He better be damn glad no one here’s got loose lips.” His hands drop from her face and loosely wrap around her waist, fingers starting to graze over her ass.

“Can’t blame him for being excited.”

“Hmmm and you?”

“Nervous.”

“Figured as much,” he squeezes her ass, “you looking for a distraction?”

“If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be letting you grope my ass in broad daylight, now would I?”

A low dry chuckle echoes in his chest and he dives in for a kiss. It’s quick and rough, his beard scratching over her skin before he pulls away. She can’t help but giggle as he pulls her back into the bar, hand still shamelessly on her ass.

“Pepe! I’m going on lunch break!”

“Yeah yeah, go on.”

“C’mon,” Jake guides her out of the bar, “lemme at least buy you lunch first.”

“You actually trying to be nice today?”

“Something like that.”

V settles into his passenger side seat as Jake climbs behind the wheel. They pull away from El Coyote Cojo, driving around Heywood and finding a drive in to go through, Burgers, fries, and pop bought; Jake finds a relatively empty place to park meanwhile V has already begun taking the pickles off her burgers.

“So, you wanna actually talk about it?” Jake asks, taking a bite of his burger.

“Not much to talk about,” she signs with salt covered fingers and a mouthful of fries, “biggest job of our career. Nerves are natural.”

Not to mention the shady client, the fact they’re robbing Arasaka, the fact they’re robbing Yorinobu specifically, the fact they have to play corpo, that V will have to force herself not to sign, and that every fiber of her being is screaming that something is going to go wrong. Then she has the weirdness of her SID chip fucking up on her mind as well.

“Yeah, but you overthink, so I know that little brain of yours is spinning in a billion directions.”

V shrugs, “No more than usual, so, what’s been going on with you?”

“Not much, been thinking of quitting the bar.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, get to work the day shift so I can pick the twins up from school and spend some time with them. But, day shift in a bar basically means staring at a wall and waiting for Senora Welles to cut me a paycheck.”

“You don’t like getting paid to sit around and look pretty?”

“Not gonna lie, it’d be hard to find a boss as forgiving as Senora Welles.”

“Not every boss would let you take an hour or longer lunch just to play grab ass with me?”

“Eh, pretty sure if she knew what I was doing with her precious adopted daughter, she’d already have me fired.”

“Oh please, she’s known you longer than me.”

“Yeah, but she likes you more, you’re basically her kid and I’m her employee,” he pauses watching V roll her eyes, “you know, she’s been worrying a lot about you and Jackie, lately. She knows things are getting riskier with the merc work and-”

V quiets him with a kiss, not wanting to hear another word of this. She comes to him for a distraction. The kiss is messy and he tastes like greasy fast food, but she’s sure she’s not any better, pushing her tongue into his mouth. She cups his jaw with one hand, scratching over his beard and as he deepens the kiss, she drops her other hand into his lap. He’s already half hard in his jeans, pressing into her touch as she gropes him through the denim. Jake curses against her lips, breaking their kiss.

“You talk too much, honey,” she chastises him, a soft smile on her lips as she undoes his belt buckle, he lifts his hips, allowing space to pull his pants and boxer down just enough to get his cock out.

She pulls her legs up into her seat, on her knees so she can fully lean over the center console into his lap. V pushes hair back behind her ear and takes his dick into her mouth; not bothering to tease, swallowing around him. The taste of him on her tongue causes a heat in her center to stir, getting slick between her thighs as she bobs her head up and down. He groans as she strokes and sucks him, teasing her tongue ring along the head of his cock. The bitterness of his precum and the salt of his skin making her dizzy with need.

His chrome fingers slide across the expanse of her back, reaching out to grab her ass. He gropes and fondles her through her pants, the rough feeling of her jeans and panties being pressed against her sensitive wet folds. Jake curses as V alternates between sucking, licking, and taking him as deep into her throat as she can.

He tugs on her hair, bleached strands wrapped around chrome, pulling her mouth off him. Drool covering his cock and her lips. She pouts at him for stopping her, cheeks flushed and breathing heavy. He gives her a swat on the ass, barely hard enough to sting.

“Want inside of you.”

That’s all the explanation he gives and she pulls away, thankful that the windows of his car have steamed from body heat, she begins to quickly strip off her clothes. Its clumsy as she tries to strip down in a car seat, throwing her jacket off into the back, kicking off her boots, before yanking her pants and panties down in one fluid movement. She curses herself for not wearing a skirt or something with easier access. A part of her mind recognizes how stupid she must look, still in her shirt, bra, and her socks staying on after tugging off her pants. But lust has killed her ability to think, just wanting him inside of her. Jake has rolled a condom on, but otherwise has simply watched the flustered merc strip down.

V’s easily able to jump into his lap, straddling him and having her back to the steering wheel. She steadies herself with one hand on his shoulder, the other lining his cock up with her entrance, sinking herself down onto his dick. She’s slick enough that she takes him all in one movement, both cursing out at the feeling. The stretch of his cock inside of her and the tightness of her cunt around him. Jake digs his nails into her hips and bounces her on his cock, fucking up into her. He takes complete control, setting a brutal pace that leaves V reeling with every thrust. All she can do is wrap her arms around his neck and moan against his sweaty skin, accepting each harsh movement of him inside of her.

The tension inside of her grows tighter with every thrust, every smack of skin against skin like a strike of a match trying to grow a larger flame. She can’t think, can’t focus, every thought consumed with pleasure and a desire to be pushed over the edge. Bruises form on her hips where he hold her, where he uses her for pleasure. The chair of his cheap car creaks with each bounce and a few thrusts slams her lower back into the steering wheel, but she doesn’t care, couldn’t if she tried. She whines and whimpers against his skin, feeling her end nearing.

And then the tension snaps, orgasm hitting her fast and hard, she digs her nails into his skin, squirming and writhing as she moans out her pleasure. Mind a haze as she’s overwhelmed with her pleasure. He thrusts a few more times and she nearly chokes at the continued stimulation, the feeling of him fucking into her already sensitive cunt. Then he curses, bringing her hips down fully to meet his own one last time before he cums, spilling his seed inside the condom.

V rolls off of him and back into the passenger seat, hating the empty feeling Her skin is sweaty and flushed, as much she hates it, she needs to get her clothes back on. Fumbling to get her pants and panties out of the passenger side floorboard. Pulling them on and shoving her feet in her boots. V waits as Jake ties off the condom and adjusts his jeans, opening the car door and tossing the condom away into a nearby dumpster.

The Night City air feels cool compared to the heat of the car after fucking, she watches him light up a cigarette outside of the car and grimaces. He climbs back into the driver's seat, keeping the window rolled down and she makes a gagging sound as the smoke hits her nose.

“You coming back to the bar with me?” He asks, blowing smoke out of the window.

“No,” she signs, thankful the choker translator can survive sweat, “I’ll catch the train back to Watson.”

“Let strangers see you sweaty and fuck-dazed?”

“Well, it’s a good look for me.”

“Can’t really deny that, now can I.”

She rolls her eyes and grabs her jacket getting out of the car, walking away on still slightly wobbly legs. V takes the train back to Watson, fiddling with her holophone the entire way. The merc gets off at the stop closest to her megabuilding and makes her way to her apartment; lock recognizing her on the first try.

V checks the time and decides to get ready to go to The Afterlife. Those nerves she had managed to fuck away for a moment creep up on her all over again. She shakes her head not wanting to focus on her anxieties, she strips down and grabs a shower, cleaning off the sweat from her liaison.

The merc pulls her hair back in a small low-set ponytail and does her makeup to the recommendations of the stylist. She gets dressed and uses the new camouflaged hearing aids, she takes her mask with her too. Though she knows she can’t wear it into Konpeki, she’ll still be walking into The Afterlife. That thought alone twists her guts into nervous knots.

The Afterlife is the go to bar for the top of their game, Major Leagues mercs and fixers. It’s where the biggest deals are made, the easiest place to catch a drink and a job, but only mercs or fixers of a certain standard are allowed through its doors. Jackie brags about the place like it’s heaven for mercenaries. If they’re going to become regular fixtures of the bar after this, then she’d prefer to maintain her usual level of anonymity for fixers moving forward. She’ll drop the mask when they’re finally in corpo threads.

V slides on Misty’s bracelet as well, fiddling with the beads meant to provide some form of protection. Her mind goes back to Misty’s tarot card reading, while she doesn’t put much weight on it, her friend’s fortune telling often sticks with her. The Wheel of Fortune is sticking out to her; she could care less if the cards thinks she’s stupid or if she’s about to fall in love, the latter of which so ridiculous she can’t help but dismiss it. But the idea of conflict sticks out, fear of the heist going wrong has been heavy on her mind. Something always goes slightly wrong, no job is perfect. But this has the highest stakes she’s ever encountered.

V has new cyberware, the best possible tech and upgrades from Vik. She has Jackie, her best choom and partner in crime who’s never let her down. There’s T-Bug, her friend and brilliant netrunner who could bring half of Night City down if she wished. Their fixer is Dex, one of the best in regards to his job, he has everything to gain by having their backs covered. They have military grade tech and an inside look into Konpeki. They are going in under the best possible circumstances.

She has to remind herself, review this again and again, that if something goes wrong someone there should be able to take care of it. But, those nerves don’t fade even as she leaves her apartment.

The Afterlife isn’t far from V’s apartment, practically a hop and skip downtown. Barely five minutes pass before she’s under the roofed alley, nearing the club. Vivid cyan and purple graffiti across the wall, trash along the way.

“Porque ya tengo planes para esta noche!"

The voice is familiar, Jackie’s and V pressed her back to the side of the vending machine, he’s telling someone he already has plans for tonight. He sounds frustrated, like he’s on the verge of pulling his hair out.

“Virgen Santsima, ma! Te vas a enterar mañana,” a beat of silence, “también te quiero, ma."

The conversation ways on her, he’s talking to Senora Welles. Remembering Jake talking about her feelings, that the matriarch has been worrying herself half to death. And it sounds like Jackie has been on the receiving end of that worry for a while. V pulls her mask on and rounds the corner past the vending machine, stepping in front of the main entrance of The Afterlife. Her friend standing in the doorway under the harsh green light.

“Heh, about time, chica,” he greets, tucking his phone into his pocket, she catches the blue of Misty’s bracelet mingled with his usual gold ones.

“What’s going on?”

“Ehhh, y'know. She's worried about me - whatever. Can't help herself, y'know - checkin’ to see if I'm not rottin' in some dumpster… like most of the Welles boys. Been worse lately.”

“Why’s that?”

“Started climbin' our way up. Got more an' more knives out there, waitin' to stab us in the back. Higher stakes, higher risk. She can see that.”

“Look like you’re about to keel over.” V reaches out, touching the red blotches on his skin, stress and sweat inflaming his skin.

“Years of merc work, and yet, still sweat like a roasted pig when I talk to my ma. It's really startin' to wear on me. More tell her everythin's OK, more I feel like I'm straight-up lyin’.”

“Well, hopefully you had a nice date with Misty at least.”

“Went about as well as talking to my ma right now,” he scratches at the back of his neck, “for two women who don’t get along, they sure agree when it comes to worrying about me.”

“They worry because they love you, worse things in life than people giving a damn about you.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t matter none. Not anymore, Afterlife, here we come, baby!”

Jackie changes the topic and she can’t really blame him for it, rubbing his hands together and practically cheering in excitement. This is everything they’ve talked about, everything they’ve said they want. So, why does she still have a lump in her throat?

“Afterlife… we’re really here.”

“Does not get any higher, choom. And you know somethin' else? We fuckin' earned it, chica!”

“No point in standing around then, is there?’

“Ready to get your cherry popped?” he laughs leading her into the club, “Yeeeah! Come on!”

“Little late for that one, Jack,” she teases as they make their way down the stairs, a pair of double doors opening up for them. A short step down into a small hallway with mercs and fixers alike talking under the green glow of a sign bearing the club’s name.

“Place used to be a morgue - you believe that?”

“Really?”

“I know, right? Way before our time, that. When proper burials were still a thing.”

They come to another set of doors, through the small window V can see the true club main room beyond them. But a man stands guarding them, around Jackie’s height and a similar bulky build. Cyberware indented along his jawline and nose. His face is stony, eyes sharp when Jackie and V stop before him, then he puts a large hand out in front of him.

“And who might you clowns be?”

“Jackie and V,” the taller of the mercs says with a grin, “Dexter Deshawn is waitin’ on us.”

The bouncer gives them a look and V is glad for her mask helping hide her emotions. His expression is dismissive, looking down on them, making her feel all at once that she has not earned her place in this club. A baby merc, new to the city, barely six months under her belt and she’s standing at the Afterlife. How the fuck did she get here?

“Yo, Dex. Got two live ones sayin' they're here to see ya,” his optics glow as he calls Dex, “Yeah? All right, then. Says he needs a second or two. Go get yourselves drinks or somethin'.”

The doors open to a green and cyan lit club. Music louder as the barrier breaks away, people fill the room. Some sipping on alcohol and other’s puffing away on cigarettes; the smell of nicotine and booze wafting from the bar.

“Way ahead o' you, viejo,” Jackie laughs and leads the way in.

V follows him around the corner; the large bar coming into full view. It’s lit green, the same neon sign reading Afterlife at the top of it. A bartender in a blue button up slings drinks to the patrons. Floor to ceiling columns, like tubes, are places around the club each filled with water with a dancer twirling around inside with strategically place chrome clothing covering the most private parts of them. Everything is basked in that green neon light, despite being surrounded by mercs like her, she feels so completely out of place.

Jackie marches proudly across the bar floor, stride confident and unwavering.

“This is it… The heart o' Night City! That's it right there - beating. Hear it?” he proclaims as they pass by rows of half closed off booths, “Can you imagine? Susan Forrest, Boa Boa, maybe even Morgan Blackhand… All sat on those stools, fell asleep on that same bar.”

Jackie sits in one of the barstools, beaming and brimming with excitement. His eyes wide as he takes it all in, the place he’s dreamed of for all his years. V climbs into the seat next to him, placing an elbow on the bar, leaning her head onto her hand, as she shifts to face him.

“Doubt that puts us in the same league as them,” V teases, Morgan Blackhand brought down Arasaka Tower. They’re stealing a biochip, hardly the same thing.

“Oh, but we are. They just don't know it yet,” Jackie tells her with a wink and she can’t help but roll her eyes.

“We-”

V drops her hand when she realizes Jackie’s attention has gone elsewhere, an older woman walking past the two. She’s nothing unusual, older looking than most of the crowd here, sure but nothing immediately stands out to V. An older woman with long gray hair shaved on one side and a bright yellow cropped sweater, She marches her way across the bar and into a blue lit booth, moving past a guard.

“'Ey. See that old lady there?”

“Yeah, didn’t know grannies were your type,” V taunts him again, he’s always given her shit for her taste in older people, yet he’s ogling some grandma?

“Fuck off,” he playfully smacks her, but nearly knocks her from her chair, “that’s fuckin’ Rogue, best fixer in all o' Night City.”

“Thought Dex was the best?”

“Pff… Rogue was linin' up jobs when Dex was still shittin' in diapers, heh. Place belongs to her.”

“What can I getcha?” The bartender cuts in, hands down on the bar in front of them. She’s a woman with long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and a soft round face.

V doesn’t drink on the job, something she’s always stuck to. But, this is Jackie’s dream and she knows how he likes to celebrate. If nothing else, their banter has failed to undo her nerves, maybe booze will do the trick.

“You order,” she signs to Jackie and he grins.

“You drinkin’?”

“Special night, pick me something nice.”

“Two Tequila Old Fashioneds with a splash of cerveza and a chili garnish.”

“A duo of Johnny Silverhands, comin' up,” the bartender starts to put the drinks together, “somebody did their homework.”

“Guessing the dog ate mine,” V signs, confused because what the fuck is a silver hand?

“Age-old tradition. Drinks're named after our regulars,” she explains, putting the drinks down in front of the mercs.

“What’d I have to do to get a drink named after me?”

“Snuff it,” she grins, “ In mind-blowingly spectacular fashion, Mid-op'd be best.”

“Aah, what a beaut of a tradition!”

“Steep price for a drink, not going to lie,” V signs, letting her nerves speak for her, if only for a moment. Her guts are in knots, she can only hope the alcohol will untangle. All of the merc’s usual stress relieving tactics other than a weed brownie, have failed to do much of anything.

“Hey, everyone's gotta go sometime, right? Why not in style? Death’s nothing but the final flourish!”

“To hitting the major leagues,” she signs, holding her shot in the other hand.

“To becoming legends.”

She pushes her mask just up above her mouth, careful not to smudge her lipstick and they throw back their shots. Smooth but strong booze with a kick of spice from the garnish, a burn in her throat. Not her style, but she’s had worse. She pushes her mask back down, regarding the bartender, her nametag says Claire.

“So, who else can I drink here?” She still has no idea who Silverhand is, but maybe there’s a name she does recognize, reading the posted drink menu.

“All on the menu…”

“'Cept there's a spot missing. Morgan Blackhand, right?”

“Heh, true. Morgan's yet to make up his mind he's dead or still kickin',” Claire tells Jackie and V rolls her eyes.

“Think he’s still alive? It’s been years,” Jackie asks Claire.

“No way he’s still alive,.” The radio was just talking about the devastation of the tower going down, if that many folks were killed who were just near it, then there’s no way someone who was in the tower survived.

“Why not? Look at Rogue. Peeps from that era - a species unto themselves.”

“And one day we’re gonna be there too,” Jackie probably proclaims, “speaking of which, name’s Jackie Welles if you want to write down my recipe.”

“Sure.” There’s a playfulness in her tone, just going along with Jackie’s whims.

“Shot of vodka on the rocks, lime juice, ginger beer… oh, and most importantly - a splash of love.”

“Haha, I'll remember that.”

“Gag,” V signs just to see the glare Jackie levels her way, the playful smack of her arm.

“Okay, what’s your drink then?”

“Literally, the only thing I drink is like cherry cola with a splash of bourbon.”

“You know those are usually supposed to be reversed, the bourbon and coke.”

“Maybe so, but, and hear me out… cherry cola tastes better.”

“Heard you were Dex’s latest finds,” Claire tells them.

“Just biz, no big deal.”

“How'd you know?” V raises an eyebrow behind her mask.

“My job to know. Look around - how do you think meres earn their reps? Through gossip rivaling that of schoolgirls, that's how.”

“Mr. DeShawn see you now,” a booming voice rings out behind the mercs, turning around she sees Dex’s bodyguard. The first time she’s heard his voice.

“Love to hang, imbibe the vibe, but we got an important meeting,” Jackie tells Claire, getting up from his seat and V following suit, throwing some cash down on the bar.

“Break a leg.”

“This way,” the bodyguard tells them and the mercs falls in line behind him. He leads them around the bar, past the crowd and through a door towards the back of the club. The lighting shifting, more blue than green as they walk past another vending machine.

“Damn, holmes, you're huge... Work out?” Jackie asks, unable to stand the silence.

“Hmm.” A vague grunt as they pass through another door, the music fading as they get further from the main bar. But V can just hear the starting beat of some old dad rock, something about losing another day to pointless drudgery.

“Same here, y'know, in the ring. You do some kinda exotic shit? Kempo? Ninjitsu?”

Nothing as they turn another corner.

“Think you could take me, drop me?”

“Jackie…” Why must he sound like he’s picking a fight with the guy?

“In here,” the guard says, stopping and standing in front of another door.

"Este pinche tipo..."

The door opens and they’re greeted to the first room with warm lighting, though it just seems to be a storage corner. With a cabinet and vending machine. But to the left are barely see through walls of a booth that takes up half the room, through them V can just see T-Bug’s outline and leather couches.

They walk around, the front of the booth opened. A wrap around black leather couch goes around the back wall and left side of the booth. Dex sat on the back portion, talking into a holo about Excelsior and cold hard eddies. T-Bug sat to side, a table in the center of the room with the Flathead, Jinguji boxes, and shards placed on neat little index cards. There’s a small disconnect leather seat in the right corner, next to the door.

“Gotta bounce,” Dex hangs up, “well, if it ain’t Miss V.”

“Whole family in one place! Hah! Finally!”

“That’s one way to put it,” T-Bug teases and a shine of blue catches V’s eye, the netrunner wearing Misty’s bracelet. She can’t help but smile.

“A’ight, then… Set your butts down comfy,” Dex tells them. Jackie plops himself onto the larger couch next to T-Bug, comfortably spreading his arms over the back of it while V takes the smaller seat, putting her at an angle to see everyone. She stifles a laugh, seeing Jackie’s leg excitedly bounce up and down.

“Sweet booth, is it soundproof?”

“Jackie…” T-Bug scolds and V stifles a laugh.

“Now, now, Mr. Welles is right. We gon' be goin' over some sensitive material. But if it's all right with y'all, I'd like to start with a question for Miss V… Evelyn Parker - how'd you fare?”

All eyes on her, stomach still twisted in a vise, this is her chance. She’s got to tell him, but she doesn’t want Evelyn hurt. Some fixers will go to any length to get revenge on a client or merc who does them dirty. But, he’s got a right to know the shit she pulled.

“Intel was good, brain dance was exactly what we needed….”

“So, she just wanna see wha'ss good, or was there somethin' else?”

“Honestly?”

“Wouldn’t ask for anything else, Miss V.”

“She’s high risk as far as clients go. Shady as fuck, naïve as all hell, and genuinely thought she could make me another offer.”

“Another offer?” Dex’s brow raises about his sunglasses.

“Wanted me to cut you out for more cash, told her no, of course. But, wouldn’t do business with her again, if I were you.”

“Cut me out… shiiiit, now that’s rich,” Dex laughs, Jackie nervously laughing along, “Clients... never learn, do they?”

“You’re not pissed?”

“Lived in NC too long to blow my top every time some amateur thinks they can take me for a ride. Parker ain't the first and sure as hell won't be the last.”

“Fair enough,” V lets out a sigh, thankful if nothing else that Dex doesn’t seem prone to getting too mad at Evelyn. Maybe she’s being too kind, but she can’t help but think Evelyn is more naive than malicious when it comes to the offer. A stranger to the merc world.

“I do appreciate you sharin' this info, though, Miss V. You see, trust… …is essential in any partnership that's to be long-lasting and fruitful.”

“Figured you had a right to know, so, what’s the plan?”

“This.”

Dex gestures towards the shards on the table, V takes the one in front of her and slides it into her shard slot. UI and graphics lighting up her mask, a map pulling up on the tech.

“Me and Dex've already covered the fine detes. Ops wise, should be a stroll on the beach.”

“Elaborate, I wanna hear it.”

“A Delamain'll drop your asses at the front door of Konpeki Plaza,” a picture of the hotel shows, then two names, “You'll stroll right in thanks to your false identities. Then, with Bug's help, you'll breach the hotel's subnet…”

“Mine and the Flathead's help.” Images of the hotel’s interior and the bot flash by.

“Last but not least, you slip into Yorinobu's penthouse and klep the Relic,” his words bring up images of the heir and his suite.

“Goes without sayin' we do this on the hush - ideally no bodies, not a one.” The shard shows them The Relic and then blips out.

“You'll have T-Bug on comms for the duration. Time for your burnin' questions.”

“What’s our cover?” V asks, they’ve been told a thousand times they’ll be acting like corpos, but that’d be hard to do if they have no idea what their story is suppose to be.

“Hello, Ramón Victorino,” T-Bug looks at Jackie and then to V, “and you’re Hannah Conwell.”

“Ramón - yeah, OK. What do we say we're there for?”

“Biz as usual. Corpo arms deal. Case anyone asks, you there for a bogus meetin' with Arasaka's defense rep - Hajime Taki. Anything else?”

“How do we get in the penthouse?”

“Yorinobu's got barely any muscle. Hardest part'll be penthouse security. If we wanna disable, we'll need to neutralize Konpeki's dweller - elite ‘runner monitoring the hotel's subnet twenty-four seven. Only catch is there's no way to get in the dweller's den from the outside.”

“Hold on, how you want us to get inside a room you can't get into?”

“Trust me when I say whatever hitch you think up. T-Bug's solved it already”

“This is where the Flathead comes in. You'll have to get him in the ventilation shafts, guide him to the dweller and force the dweller to… take a break. Flathead'll stay there, jacked into the dweller, but thanks to that I’ll be able to roll out your red carpet into the penthouse.”

“Anything else?”

“Transports a Delamain?” She has no idea if the company has an ASL sign like most other corporations and doesn’t have time to think of one on the fly.

“Preemest cab company in all Night City… Nada mal,” hackie tells her.

“DeShawn don't ever work with anyone but the best. I consider Delamain just that.”

“Yeah, who needs creepy, nosy cab drivers when you've got a clean AI to get you from point A to point B in style?”

“And how he bags a permit to operate every year's still a mystery.”

“If everythin' goes as planned, Delamain'll drop you back here. If things get sticky, he'll head for the safe house.”

“Which is?”

“The No-Tell Motel. Quiet, no questions asked. Make our next move from there. But I'm flat certain that won't be necessary. Though, there is one more consideration for if it does.”

“What’s that?”

“Hate to put you on the spot, Miss V,” Dex explains, “but if shit goes sour, I’m gonna need to know who I’m letting into the hotel. Mask can’t go with to Konpeki, so I’d sure feel a hell of a lot better if I knew what was hiding behind that thing.”

“Oh… yeah, that makes sense.”

Even if she’d have Jackie with her when shit goes down, Dex is trusting her with this heist. The least she can do is trust him to see her face and not write her off or sell her out to The Herd if the chance arised. Not that she can see that happening anyway…

“Don’t even know why you wore the thing in, V,” Jackie teases.

“Well, there are other fixers here, didn’t want to give away my face…”

V carefully pulls off her mask, feeling exposed all over again, a new set of eyes on her face. The merc knows how she looks; five feet with a head of bleach blonde hair and big gray eyes. Not the picture one conjures in their mind when they think of a capable, strong, badass merc. Sprinkle in her disability and the reactions to her deafness; most people think she’s not a threat, weak.

“That what you’ve been hiding behind that mask? All that fuss, for what?” Dex laughs.

“Hard to take,” she stumbles over her English trying to sign at the same time, “be taken- seriously sometimes when you’re five foot nothing, deaf, and look like…”

“Gutterpunk Barbie,” Jackie cuts in to tease, earning him a sharp kick to the shin.

“Fuck off.”

“Trust me, Miss V, you pull off this job; ain’t nobody in their right mind gonna underestimate you”

“That’s the hope...”

“Any other questions?”

“I got a question. When do we get to the real reason we're all here?” Jackie asks, shooting a wink V’s way.

“Now's a good a time as any. Fresh talent gets thirty percent always, but I'm willin' to make an exception in your case. I'ma cut you a nice, juicy forty as a bonus for your honesty, V.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Ka-ching baby!~”

“Last thing, Konpeki's got a strict no-iron policy. Security gates, the works. So you dawgs'll leave your lead-spitters in the ride, take the Flathead inside in its case.”

“Got your suits from Jinguji on the table.”

“¡Chido!”

“Thanks, Bug.”

“So, not to count chickens, but when'll we see our eddies?”

“All depends how Ms. Parker unrolls herself or her role, but a week, two tops is my guess.”

“And what do we do in the mean time?”

“You sit tight, heads down, 'cause ol' uncle Arasaka be watching. Now, as that ol’ Greek dawg says, life's a banquet - so don't go thirsty, but don't get drunk, either,” he tells them as he leaves the booth, “Your chariot awaits outside.”

“My cue to delta, too. Gotta prep to jack in, be there when you come on comms. Any other issues, now's your chance,” T-Bug tells them, shifting her feet and something catches V’s eye. Delta V emblazoned on the netrunner’s boots, was that there before?

“Plan - your take?” V shakes the thought from her head, must be a brand or a runner thing V doesn’t know.

“Enough, I hope, to put me in a luxury Creton Villa from which I'll never set foot in cyberspace again.”

“Send me a postcard?”

“No offense, but I'm gonna burn any and all bridges - need a clean break.”

“Gonna take Misty’s bracelet with you?” Jackie teases, grinning because he caught it too.

“Shut up,” she tells him, rolling her eyes.

“Uh, just realized something, what’s gonna happen to our clothes? I don’t want to lose my mask…”

“No worries, put them in the boxes, we’ll have ‘em sent back to your places.”

“Alright then, lets get this show on the road.”

“Let's get to work, go ahead and get changed, Delamain is parked out front, uh, okay-”Bug starts to trip over her words when the two mercs start taking off their jackets, “you can use the bathrooms.”

“Eh,”

Jackie and V shrug their shoulders, the outfits are right there. Not much point in dragging them out to the bathroom. The pair shared a bedroom for the better half of six months, a room with one bed. They’ve seen each other naked plenty, boundaries destroyed a long while back.

“Why do I bother,” T-Bug rolls her eyes and leaves the booth, letting the pair change.

V kicks off her boots and takes off her socks, Jackie tugging off his jewelry first.

“So, you’re nerves still going crazy?” Jackie asks her as she tugs off her shirt, his own tossed off.

“What do you mean?” She tugs off her pants, both mercs soon standing around in their underwear.

“Can’t hide that shit from me, chica, been giving me twice as much hell as usual. You’re freaking out.”

“High stakes, Jack, of course I’m a nervous mess. Means I give a shit.”

She pulls the slack on and tugs on the white blouse, buttoning it up. The two of them putting on the corpo clothes, similar in look. Black slacks, white button up tops, black suit jackets, and Misty’s beaded bracelets for protection. Each perfectly tailored for their body types.

“Don’t sweat it so much, V, we got this.” He sticks his fist out.

“Sure fuckin’ hope so.” She bumps her fist to his.

Their street clothes are packed away in the boxes, V puts in her optic contacts and slide on her heels, then they start to make their way out of the booth. But, Jackie stops her with a hand on her shoulder and he taps his throat. She catches on taking off her choker translator, neck feeling bare and odd without the tech. With that they leave out through the club, Jackie carrying the Flathead case and the smaller merc keeps her head down as best she can. Her stomach still in knots as they spot the Delamain in the parking lot.

Her life is about to change forever; hopefully for the best. She’s on the cusp of having everything she’s wanted since she’s come to the city. The verge of earning the respect of everyone in this city and finally feeling like she’s someone, like she’s done something.

So, why does she feel like she’s about to puke?

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #johnny silverhand #silverv #jackie welles #t-bug #dexter deshawn #female v #aidan v becker #aidan becker #original female v

10 notes · View notes

hello-robin-goodfellow · 4 years ago

Text

SHAKESPEARE AND THE PRETTY SPEECHES OF A KING

@ardenrosegarden @amalthea9 @lioness--hart @princesssarisa @hmmm-what-am-i-doing @suits-of-woe @malvoliowithin @noshitshakespeare

I was once watching Brows Held High review of Laurence Olivier’s Henry V (1944), where the reviewer, Kyle Kalgreen, analized how it faired in the context of British World War II Propaganda Machine, as a Shakespeare film adaptation and in comparison to the Kenneth Branagh 1989 Film Adaptation.

There is a moment he pauses to analyze the most popular speech of the play, wich is the Saint Crispin’s Day Speech:

What’s he that wishes so?

My cousin Westmoreland?

No, my fair cousin.

If we are marked to die, we are enough

To do our country loss; and if to live,

The fewer men, the greater share of honor.

God’s will, I pray thee wish not one man more.

By Jove, I am not covetous for gold

Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;

It yearns me not if men my garments wear;

Such outward things dwell not in my desires.

But if it be a sin to covet honor,

I am the most offending soul alive.

No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.

God’s peace, I would not lose so great an honor

As one man more, methinks, would share from me,

For the best hope I have.

Oh, do not wish one more!

Rather proclaim it,

Westmoreland, through my host,

That he which hath no stomach to this fight,

Let him depart.

His passport shall be made,

And crowns for convoy put into his purse.

We would not die in that man’s company

That fears his fellowship to die with us.

This day is called the feast of Crispian.

He that outlives this day and comes safe home,

Will stand o' tiptoe when the day is named

And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

He that shall see this day, and live old age,

Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors

And say, “Tomorrow is Saint Crispian.”

Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,

And say, “These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.”

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot

But he’ll remember with advantages

What feats he did that day.

Then shall our names,

Familiar in his mouth as household words,

Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,Warwick and Talbot,

Salisbury and Gloucester,

Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.

This story shall the good man teach his son,

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,

From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be rememberèd—

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

For he today that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,

This day shall gentle his condition;

And gentlemen in England now abed

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

(William Shakespeare. Henry V: Act IV, Scene III)

Beautifull. Powerfull. Lie.

Because, as Kyle Kalgreen apoints, while the Laurence Olivier had to cut it to make Henry V more simpathetic, the original Shakespeare text and the Kenneth Branagh Film Adaptation have this scene following the Saint Crispin’s day speech, where the young king reads a list of the english man who died in battle:

Edward the duke of York, the earl of Suffolk,

Sir Richard Ketly, Davy Gam, esquire;

None else of name, and of all other men

But five and twenty. O God, thy arm was here,

And not to us but to thy arm alone

Ascribe we all! When, without stratagem,

But in plain shock and even play of battle,

Was ever known so great and little loss

On one part and on th' other?

Take it, God,For it is none but thine.

(William Shakespeare, Henry V: Act IV, Scene VIII)

The death nobleman are named, while the death common soldier is just ‘None else of name’. The death nobleman is ‘so great loss’. The death common soldier is ‘so little loss’. Contrary to what King Henry V promissed, not everybody who died fighting on his name in France will be considered his brother, remembered and mourned by him.

And them later, we watch the consequences of the reign of his son in the Henry VI trilogy of plays, and in Henry VI Part III, our new protagonist gives this beautifull speech about the blessing of a commoner’s life while sitting over a molehill:

This battle fares like to the morning’s war,

When dying clouds contend with growing light,

What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,

Can neither call it perfect day nor night.

Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea

Forced by the tide to combat with the wind;

Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea

Forced to retire by fury of the wind:

Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind;

Now one the better, then another best;

Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast,

Yet neither conqueror nor conquered:

So is the equal of this fell war.

Here on this molehill will I sit me down.

To whom God will, there be the victory!

For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too,

Have chid me from the battle; swearing both

They prosper best of all when I am thence.

Would I were dead! if God’s good will were so;

For what is in this world but grief and woe?

O God! methinks it were a happy life,

To be no better than a homely swain;

To sit upon a hill, as I do now,

To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,

Thereby to see the minutes how they run,

How many make the hour full complete;

How many hours bring about the day;

How many days will finish up the year;

How many years a mortal man may live.

When this is known, then to divide the times:

So many hours must I tend my flock;

So many hours must I take my rest;

So many hours must I contemplate;

So many hours must I sport myself;

So many days my ewes have been with young;

So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean:

So many years ere I shall shear the fleece:

So minutes, hours, days, months, and years,

Pass’d over to the end they were created,

Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.

Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely!

Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade

To shepherds looking on their silly sheep,

Than doth a rich embroider’d canopy

To kings that fear their subjects’ treachery?

O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth.

And to conclude, the shepherd’s homely curds,

His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle.

His wonted sleep under a fresh tree’s shade,

All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,

Is far beyond a prince’s delicates,

His viands sparkling in a golden cup,

His body couched in a curious bed,

When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him.

(William Shakespeare. Henry VI Part III: Act II, Scene V)

Also a beautifull and powerfull speech, if a bit revealing of a romanticized view of the poverty that Henry VI never lived. And also a lie, or, at least, a half truth for Henry VI himself.

By contrast to the Molehill Speech, here is the dialogue exchange between him and two keepers, in the next act:

Second Keeper

Say, what art thou that talk'st of kings and queens?

Henry VI

More than I seem, and less than I was born to: A man at least, for less I should not be; And men may talk of kings, and why not I?

Second Keeper

Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king.

Henry VI

Why, so I am, in mind; and that's enough.

Second Keeper

But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown?

Henry VI

My crown is in my heart, not on my head; Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, Nor to be seen: my crown is called content: A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.

Second Keeper

Well, if you be a king crown'd with content, Your crown content and you must be contented To go along with us; for as we think, You are the king King Edward hath deposed; And we his subjects sworn in all allegiance Will apprehend you as his enemy.

Henry VI

But did you never swear, and break an oath?

Second Keeper

No, never such an oath; nor will not now.

Henry VI

Where did you dwell when I was King of England?

Second Keeper

Here in this country, where we now remain.

Henry VI

I was anointed king at nine months old; My father and my grandfather were kings, And you were sworn true subjects unto me: And tell me, then, have you not broke your oaths?

First Keeper.

No; For we were subjects but while you were king.

Henry VI

Why, am I dead? do I not breathe a man Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear! Look, as I blow this feather from my face, And as the air blows it to me again, Obeying with my wind when I do blow, And yielding to another when it blows, Commanded always by the greater gust; Such is the lightness of you common men.

(William Shakespeare. Henry VI Part III: Act III, Scene I)

We can perceive here a condescending tone that King Henry VI has when he talks with two members of the people. He is surprised to see that they don’t believe in a divine right that gives him a “natural kingly aura”. They don’t see him as a superior, wise and benevolent saviour, but only as a man who once weared a crown, but now, without the crown, they don’t have any obligation to obey him.

And Henry VI can’t accept that.

Later, he is rescued by Clifford, Warwick and Clarence from imprisoment under King Edward IV’s rule. And when those three man offer him back the crown and title of king, he don’t refuse it to live the simple commoner life he described as more beautifull in the Molehill Speech. He accepts it. Even if he intends to let the actual work of ruling to Warwick, Clarence and Queen Margaret, he still wants the sense of superiority, the privileges and the confortable life offered by the title of king that he grew accustomed to since he was nine months old.

By justaposing those speeches and scenes, Shakespeare pulls us of the rug in our view of those two characters, who want the people to believe they are good, heroic and chivalrous kings, anointed by God himself, when in reality what anoints them is their money and their armies.

Intentionally or not, with those plays, Shakespeare was at the same being a precursor and subvertor of the Relatable Royal Trope, showing that those people with the title of kings are like us... but not really.

They feel sadness, fear, anger, love, envy and jealousie like us, but they are more rich, powerfull and privileged then us.And they don’t really want to renounce that power, because it will take away their sense of being superior to us.

To paraphrase Kyle Kalgreen:

Beware pretty speeches

(Kyle Kalgreen. Brows Held High: This Day is Called the Feast of Crispian, a review of Laurence Olivier’s Henry V. October 26th, 2018)

Specially if they come from a person that wears the crown of a king.

#history plays #theater #literature #tragedies #shakespeare #william shakespeare #will shakespeare #henry v #henry vi #the wars of the roses #bardolatry #brows held high #kyle kalgreen #cinema #laurence olivier

29 notes · View notes

chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone: Chapter 3

Title: Safe and Warm

Warnings: brief mention of child sexual abuse. Very brief.

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @tragiclyhip

“You should have gotten these looked at BEFORE you came home.”

She sits on his stomach; knee on either side of his body and a bottle of peroxide, package of cotton balls, a pair of tweezers, and a tube of healing ointment rest on his chest. With all of the kids finally settled for the night and the house tidied and every last plate, cup and piece of silverware in the dishwasher, it’s finally their turn to relax. A quick soak in the hot tub while sipping drinks; one last glass of wine for her and a coffee for him. Still damp bodies clad in bathrobes as they sat on the couch; eating ice cream straight out of the carton while relaxing in front of the heat and ambiance given off by the gas fireplace. All conversation steering clear away from anything job related. Talking instead about Christmas and all the things that still need to be done; present wrapping, last minute gift grabbing, decorating. The kids also have jam packed ‘to do’ lists; skating, seeing the tree at Rockefeller, sledding, visiting Santa and the reindeer at Central Park. Christmas Day is spent with just the nine of them; the kids playing with their gifts and spending time outside, a traditional dinner that they’ve become quite the professionals at preparing together. The following day they’ll travel into Queens and spend the day with Ovi and Riya and their little family; two ‘grandkids’ that will be loved upon and spoiled senseless. New Years is usually spent quietly at home; takeout and alcoholic beverages and entertaining the kids with board games. This year plans have changed; Ovi’s wedding at The James New York in Soho.

As exciting as the latter is and as much as he does enjoy his time in New York City -the happiness and excitement evident on his wife and children’s faces more than enough to erase any of his own discomfort- it will be nice to get home. Back to their slice of paradise; the sun and the sand and the privacy and the feeling of security that comes with owning so much land. They’ll have a second Christmas; an informal get together with friends with a cookout on the beach and a ‘Secret Santa’ gift exchange. Work will be put on the back burner; no calls or emails from clients returned until the kids go back to school, the bookstore in good hands under the supervision of the two college students Esme had hired a year ago. Business has been good; exceeding even her wildest dreams and expectations. Already a well loved staple in Cooktown; customers loving the wide array of books and magazines, the outdoor courtyard and the comfortable couches and chairs allotted for those simply there to relax. Reading their purchases or the kindles set up for free use and indulging in the variety of cold and hot drinks and baked goods. The treats are mostly prepared by Tanner who has become quite the little chef and baker; finding his ‘place’ in the kitchen and never happier than when he’s creating some kind of dish or dessert from scratch. He’s also in charge of biweekly book reviews; picking a title to read and then preparing a well written report to go along with it. He’s become quite the local celebrity because of it; fan mail arriving on the daily from kids all over town and those who may have visited during family travels.

If anyone had told Tyler thirteen years ago that he’d even still be alive, let alone living THIS life, he would have told them they were insane. Laughing off the notion at ever being a husband and a father again; too much of a mess and certainly way too much of a liability for anyone to ever take a chance on. It’s weird how quick things can change. How one chance meeting with someone as equally broken and damaged as you can change the entire course of your future. Looking at you in ways that no one has ever has; willing to take on the enormous amounts of baggage and seeing past all your faults and your rough spots and jagged edges and giving you a future you never imagined even in your wildest dreams.

“There wasn’t a reason to get them looked after. They’re just scratches; branches getting a hold of me when I was in the bush.”

“Some of them are pretty deep. And I know you tried when you were in the shower, but there’s stuff stuck in some of them. Dirt or wood or something. Aren’t they sore?”

“They’re SCRATCHES. I’ve had a hell of a lot worse.”

“They’re a mess is what they are.” She picks up the tweezers; eyes narrowing as she leans over him and plucks pieces of debris out of one of the wounds. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t things supposed to go down in the city?”

“They did. In Laos.”

“I thought it was going to be the same in Cambodia. You let me read what Anil sent you. I’m pretty sure things were supposed to happen in Phnom Penh? How’d you end up going from there into the jungle?”

“There was a change of plans.”

She smirks. “Obviously.”

“You know how it is, things don’t always go the way we want.”

“I’d say nine times out of ten, they don’t. Seriously though, your face is a wreck. You should have gotten this all cleaned up hours ago. BEFORE you got on a plane home. What if they get infected? You don’t know what’s in that jungle. They could have some crazy poisonous plant life or something. What if you got into something like THAT?”

“I think it’s safe to say we’d know something like that by now. What are you so squeamish about? You’ve seen me in worse shape.”

“Now THAT’S an understatement. Have you ever thought I just don’t like seeing you banged up and scratched up? Have you ever thought maybe I’ve had just about enough of all of that? Can’t I nurse you back to health from something else for a change? Like...I don’t know...the man flu?”

“You always complain when I get sick. That I’m too needy.”

“I have never once said you’re too needy. I have, however, complained about how whiny you get. How you come down with a head cold and act like you’re dying. How do you go through the things you have and survive what you’ve survived, and think a cold will be the cause of your demise?”

“Hey, those colds get pretty bad.”

“Worse than…” Pausing, she sits straight up and drops the tweezers onto the bed, then soaks a cotton ball with peroxide. “...you know what? I’m not even going to finish that sentence because that will only bring bad juju. Talking about all of that? Revisiting it? Nothing good will come of that. And we need good juju, don’t you think?”

“Are you drunk?”

“Who? Me? No. Maybe. Just a little. Is a whole bottle of wine for oneself considered drunk?”

“For normal people, yeah. For you…”

“Look, I had a rough day. In fact, it’s been a brutal FOUR days. And right now? Well right now, I should be getting laid. Or at the very least, have my husband going down on me. And what I’m doing? Playing nursemaid. And not in a fun, sexy way either. Not the kind of playing nursemaid that comes with little outfits and orgasms.”

He grins. “You ARE drunk.”

“I’m just saying, I had other plans for this evening and picking pieces of the Cambodian jungle out of your face wasn’t part of it.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Mmm...hmmm…”

“And I’d rather be doing other stuff too, but…”

“But the shit hit the fan and everything got fucked up and you ended up doing God knows what, doing God knows where. I’m not even going to ask how it went. I think I’m scared to hear the answer. It was obviously a dumpster fire if you went from the capital city of Cambodia to the bowels of hell.”

“There were a couple...snags.”

She returns to the task of investigating and cleaning the various scratches that mar his face and neck. “Anil let on everything went great.”

“Probably just didn’t want to worry you.”

“Was there something for me to worry about?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned. I’ve been involved in way worse things. It was pretty straight forward. Two easy hits.”

“First one went okay?”

“Exactly the way it should have.”

“Second one?”

“I thought you weren’t going to ask?”

“You don’t want me asking?”

“I don’t care if you ask. You just said you weren’t going to because you were afraid of what you might hear.”

“Do I have anything to be afraid of?”

“Esme, seriously? Do you want to know or not? It wasn’t THAT bad. I’m here, aren’t I? In one piece?”

She nods.

“It honestly wasn't that big of a disaster. Things got a little fucked up. The second one didn’t go the way it should have. I had to make some decisions; change some shit around. The Mark wasn’t where he was supposed to be. I had to find out where he was and I had to figure out how to make things work.”

“Well good thing it WAS you that Anil asked. Because it probably would have been a lot worse. At least you know what you’re doing; you can think on your feet and stay calm and focused. A change like that? That would have thrown other people off. They probably wouldn’t have been able to get the second guy. They would have been too frazzled. That kind of change would have totally thrown them off.”

“Are you speaking highly of me, wife?”

“I am. I tend to speak very highly of you. All the time. To everyone. Even when I’m picking pieces of Cambodia out of your face.” She grabs the tweezers and unceremoniously inserts the tips into a large scratch at the side of his left eye; yanking out a piece of wood. “And it’s a nice face, by the way. So I don’t particularly like you coming home all messed up.”

“Like I said, I’ve had worse.”

“I will give you that.”

They lapse into a comfortable, companionable silence; his hands resting on her thighs as she continues to work at disinfecting and cleaning the scratches and her fingertips rub wound aftercare ointment into his skin. And he admires her as she does so. That steely look of determination on her face; lips set in a thin line and her eyes slightly narrowed and her hands steady yet gentle. And she looks so beautiful in that moment; in the mixture of moonlight and the glow given off by the bedside lamps. Hair pushed into a messy ‘up sweep’; held together by various clips -colourful and unicorn themed, ‘borrowed’ from Addie’s room- and bobby pins. Her face freshly cleaned and scrubbed; bearing the lingering scent of the grapefruit and pomegranate body wash she’d fallen in love with months ago. Clad in what she considers pyjamas; a faded and slightly tattered plaid button down shirt he’d worn during their Colorado days that is enormous on her tiny frame.

It’s been just over twelve years. Since he’d first laid eyes on her; standing on his front porch in The Kimberley in her little denim shorts and that yellow tank top that clung to her like a second skin. He’d known right away that he was in trouble; feeling things he hadn’t felt in a hell of a long time when she so much glanced in his direction and offered a small, almost nervous smile. And it would take him nearly ten years to admit what she’d probably known not long after their initial meeting: that his heart was hers from the very first day.

“You’re beautiful.” He says now, and a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“Are YOU drunk?”

“I haven’t drank in five years. I’m truthful.”

“Maybe your eyesight is worse than you think,” she teases, and dabs a peroxide dampened cotton ball against the scratches on his forehead.

“Or maybe you just hate compliments. Even twelve years into things.”

“You know I don’t handle compliments well. Even now. I know that doesn’t make sense, considering we HAVE been together that long and you’re the master of compliments and sweet talk, but that’s just who I am. It’s just me.”

“I will break you yet.”

“You’ve been trying for over a decade. Same way you’ve been trying to make an honest woman out of me.”

“Come on, at least give me THAT. At least admit THAT was successful.”

“Fine…” she leans down to peck his lips. “I’ll let you have your small victories. You’re still going out tomorrow? With Tanner?”

He nods. “It’s our thing.”

“He’s so excited. He’s been talking about it non stop since we got here. Apparently he’s been writing a lot. He’s got A LOT to show you.”

“Yeah, he told me. Something about crazy dreams he’s been having. He’s so fucking smart, Me. Way smarter than I am. He’s got your brain pan for sure.”

“He is far more intelligent than I ever was at that age. His brain is just...I don’t know. It’s beautiful and it’s brilliant. And it’s kind of scary at the same time. I mean, he’s only ten. And look where he’s at. Not even a special school is a big enough challenge for him. He is so far ahead of all of those kids. What happens when he’s too far ahead? When that place doesn’t have what he needs anymore? Then what? He’s already reading at a high school senior level. And his math? His science? You’ve seen his marks. They’ve got him doing things that fourteen and fifteen year olds are learning. And he’s passing it all with flying colours. Soon they’re not going to have what he needs. What then?”

“We find somewhere else.”

“Where? There’s nothing where we are. And we’re not moving. We just aren’t. We’ve put way too much into that house and that land. And we love it too much. So do the kids. We can’t upset their lives like that.”

“We’ll figure something out. We’ll find something. Someone. There’s always a way, right? Isn’t that what you always tell me? Where there’s a will, there’s a way?”

“When I told you that I wasn’t expecting to have a genius child on my hands. And I know it sounds like I’m bitching. That it sounds like I’m not proud of him.”

“It doesn’t sound like that, Me. At all.”

“Because I am. Proud of him. He’s insanely smart and he’s beautiful and he’s just this incredible little being that I don’t feel I even deserve. But I’m scared. For him. Because he isn’t like everyone else. He never has been. And I know we should celebrate that and celebrate who he is and nurture it and encourage it. But it fucking terrifies me. Someone like Tanner out in the real world. Because he’s NOT like us. Or his brothers and sisters. Or ninety five percent of society. He’s sensitive and he’s kind and he has this huge heart. And I’m scared what’s going to happen to him. Just for being who he is.”

“He’s ten, Me. We have years before we have to worry about anything like that. It’s going to be a long time before he’s out of the house. He’s smart as hell, but you’re right; he’s not like everyone else. Maturity wise? He’s a lot younger. He’s not ten in a lot of ways. He’s going to be with us for a bit. Longer than the rest of them.”

“I just don't want him hating who he is. I don’t want him growing up and hating himself. He’s already told you that. About how he doesn’t like his brain and how it works. How he doesn’t like being different.”

“That’s mostly when he’s pissed that he can’t do the things that TJ does. Or because he’s so much smaller. He has his moments; where he wishes he was like his brother. Didn’t you have moments like that growing up? Wishing you could be someone different?”

“Of course. We all do. I’m sure you did.”

“Fuck, practically every damn day. He’s going to be fine, Me. He’s just a little boy. And he’ll be a little boy in some ways for longer. It is what it is. He’ll be okay. So will we.”

“You are so much better at this than I am,” Esme laments, and tends to screwing the cap onto the peroxide and moving all of the supplies and tools to the mattress. “You’re so much better with him. You have been since the very beginning. Who was the strong one when we got the diagnosis? Who was the one that DIDN’T go into a severe depression and the seven stages of grief? I mean, we suspected it and I STILL had a hard time. I’m his mother. And I struggled then and I’m struggling now. What kind of parent does that? FEELS that?”

“One that loves their kid more than life itself. Who worries about them and is scared for them because they know how fucking cruel the world can be.”

“You’ve just been so much better than I have. You’ve handled it better. Me? I’m just a mess. And not a hot one either.”

“I think you’re way too hard on yourself. You’re a good mom. You’re an amazing mom. Just because you’re having a hard time with this doesn’t mean you’re a shitty parent. Just means you love him.”

“I do. Love him. He’s my Nugget. And I hate that he struggles. That he doubts himself. That he shit talks himself sometimes.”

“Gee, I wonder where he gets THAT from.”

Smirking, she picks up the tweezers and points them at him. “Don’t make me stick these in your eye.”

“I’m just saying…” he plucks the instrument from her hand and tosses it onto the bedside table, then reaches up to push loose strands of her away from her face. “...he does get some things from you. And you do like to shit talk yourself.”

“I’m working on it.”

“For the last twelve years?”

“So I’m a slow learner. Slow and steady wins the race, right? Why are you like this?”

His calloused palms rest on the sides of her face; thumbs brushing along the tops of her cheekbones. “Like what?”

“So good to me. Why are you like that?”

“Oh I don’t know, Me. Might have to do with the fact that you’re my wife and the mother of my children. My SEVEN children. And maybe...just maybe...it has something to do with the fact that I’m wildly and crazily in love with you.”

“Still? Even after twelve years?”

“Even MORE after twelve years. More and more every day, actually.”

“God I love you,” she declares, then stretches out along his body and buries her face in the favourite place of hers; the warm nook between neck and shoulder. “I love you so much. More than I could ever tell you.”

Pressing a kiss to her temple, he wraps both arms around her slender body. “Ditto.”

She laughs at his response; placing a kiss to the sensitive spot below his ear and then pushes her fingers through his hair. It’s longer now. Often messy and often unruly; sides and back no longer shaved right down to the skin. She claims it’s her second favourite look of his; liking the fact that there’s something to ‘grab onto’ during more intimate moments.

He feels the tickle or her lashes as her eyes flicker closed, followed by the long, content sigh that she releases. And for several long minutes they lay in silence, one of his hands moving up to comb through her hair, the other slipping under the hem of her shirt; knuckles repeatedly skimming up and down her spine.

“Me?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is muffled against the side of his neck.

“Don’t take this the wrong way. I really DO like snuggling with you and all that. But right now? Right now I’m really horny and I really want to fuck.”

Laughing, she playfully tugs on his hair and pulls back to look at him. “Husband, you’re nothing if not brutally honest.”

“Wanna have sex?”

Grinning, she leans in to press a kiss to his lips. “Actually,” she says. “I do.”

****

They lay in a tangled mess of wrinkled sheets and sweaty limbs; listening to the wind that rattles the windows and the soft patter of ice pellets and snow against the glass. Both on their sides with her back tucked into his front; her nails lightly and repeatedly skimming along the forearm that rests just under her breasts. His breath is warm against the nape of her neck and she enjoys the different sensations against her skin; the juxtaposition of soft, moist lips and the roughness of his beard. He wears it much shorter now; neatly trimmed and groomed and a far cry from the ‘lumberjack days’ when they’d lived in Colorado. Back when his body was thicker; extra weight around the middle and his muscles more bulky. He’s much more defined now. Tall and lean and athletic; broad shoulders and wide back, a sharp cut to his waist and beautifully detailed abs.

Forty seven years old and he’s in the best shape he’s ever been; a near mirror image of what he’d looked like at thirty five when they’d first met. She remembers that day well. Glancing up from where she’d crouched down on the porch to shower attention on his dog and finding those blue eyes riveted on her; intense and electric and filled with both curiosity and thinly veiled annoyance. He wasn’t used to company, and certainly didn’t seem to like the idea of a complete stranger being brought straight to his doorstep.

Nik had told her just the bare minimum; ex special forces, a host of personal baggage and addiction issues, intense and withdrawn at his best. But word travels when you’re in the ‘circle’; the job a relatively tight knit considering the amount of people caught up in it and the number of countries that are serviced. She’d heard the stories; tales of fearlessness and brutality and exceptional skills. And while she’d thought Nik’s idea was ridiculous and that it would never work, she’d been intrigued as well; wanting to put a face to the name and to all the rumours and the whispers she’d been subjected to. Other than his towering height and those muscles that strained under the sleeves of his shirt and the host of tattoos and scars, he hadn’t been that intimidating; offering just a brief twitch of the lips in lieu of a smile, his hand engulfing hers when he quickly and willing shook it in greeting. There was something welcoming about him despite the lack of conversation; opening up a little as soon as Nik stepped outside and offering her a drink. Those eyes ever so slightly sparkling and a small smirk on his lips when she’d downed the glass of scotch; making a comment about being surprised a ‘wee thing like her’ could handle her liquor so well and then pouring her another. Even chuckling a little when she’d commented on his place of residence; modest and simple, a chicken probably a far better roommate than any human she’d ever shared living quarters with.

Things had actually started during the two day stay just outside of Dhaka; a high end hotel that Nik had procured for final team meetings and strategy sessions. Meeting up -by sheer chance and not by plan- at the establishment's bar; sharing both a table out on the patio and pitcher of beer and tray full of tequila shots. There’d also been a kiss. Or, as close to a kiss as you could get. When he’d walked her back to her room and they’d stood in the hallway; slightly inebriated and suddenly somewhat anxious and nervous around each other. Dinner had been casual and comfortable. He’d smiled and even laughed and teased her about being a total enigma; so small and delicate looking despite her time in the Corps and having such a reputation for being tenacious and no nonsense. They had shared stories of growing up in Colorado and Australia and he’d been relatively talkative; either encouraged by her own openness and chattiness or the mixture of the booze he’d consumed and the meds he’d taken. Yet suddenly they were both at a loss for words and things seemed awkward and uncomfortable, and she’d stuttered and stammered while asking him if he’d like to join her inside and then furiously blushing when he’d exactly accepted.

She can still remember what it had felt like; when she’d drunkenly teetered and stumbled when attempting to unlock her door and his arm had curled around her waist to keep her on her feet. His body had been warm and solid against hers; breath hot and moist on the back of her neck. His eyes had been locked on hers when she turned to face him, heart hammering in her chest as he leaned in to kiss her. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man. Even something so simple as a kiss. And it had been even longer since she’d wanted someone that badly; physically aching and desperate to feel his hands and his mouth on her.

But it had never happened. In a brief moment of clarity, he’d backed away. Doing nothing more than pushing her hair behind her ears before backing away.

“I can’t do this,” he’d said. “I can’t do this to you.”

They never spoke of that moment again. Not even when things had crossed that line in Dhaka. It’s been just over twelve years and neither have brought it up. It didn’t matter anymore; the awkwardness they’d felt, the glimmer of life that she’d seen in his eyes, the words that he’d uttered. Things had changed. Drastically. Marriage and children and a somewhat happily ever after.

His free arm slips between her and the mattress. Coming to rest along her collarbone; fingers splayed over the top of her right breast, thumb repeatedly brushing along the hollow of her throat. “You alright?”

Smiling, she pushes her fingers through his and moves their joined hands down to her stomach. “More than alright. You? You okay?”

“I’m good. Is that what you wanted? Did I live up to your expectations?”

“Exceeded them, actually. I continue to be impressed by you. Your track record for incredible sex is almost a hundred percent.”

He raises his head from his pillow. “Almost?”

“You keep forgetting about that time after Kyle’s bachelor party. When you were drunk. When you got off and I didn’t and then had the goddamn gall to pass out. On top of me. Your poor little wife that’s a foot shorter and at that time, over a hundred pounds lighter.”

“Not one of my finer moments,” he agrees, and presses a kiss to her cheek. “I haven’t made up for it? It’s been ten years since that. I haven’t made amends yet?”

“You’re getting there,” she teases, and then yelps and giggles when his teeth sink into her shoulder. “By the way, I think the neighbour knows you’re here.”

“You know what I’m surprised about? That the kids didn’t wake up.”

“Maybe they’ve gotten so used to it, they just sleep through it now.”

“Or maybe they’re hiding under their covers, totally traumatized.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t be so good at what you do. Maybe you shouldn’t be the king of multiple orgasms. Screaming ones at that.”

“You’d rather I didn’t get you off at all?”

“Don’t get carried away. We don’t need to go to THAT big of an extreme.”

“We can resort back to a pillow over the face. Or my hand over your mouth.”

“Remember that time in Dhaka? When the people in the next room complained to the manager about the noise? He was so embarrassed; when he came up to our room.”

“I do. And I remember the first time we went to Phuket. I never introduced myself to the people in the next suite, but they seemed to know my first name.”

“They were just jealous. I guess neither of them ever experienced really good sex. And speaking of which; we’re going to have to change the sheets before we go to sleep.”

“You can sleep on that part. That’s YOUR wet spot. On YOUR side of the bed.”

“You’re the one who made it happen. You should be the one to clean up the mess.”

He grins against the nape of her neck. “It’s a good mess though.”

“A very good mess,” she says, and then rolls over to face him; pressing herself tightly against his chest and reaching up to push her fingers through his hair. “You alright?”

“Fine. Why?” He skims her fingertips along the length of her spine; pausing to trace the tattoo that decorates the small of her back before moving back up again. “Didn’t it seem like I was alright? Did I seem like I wasn’t having fun?”

“I can tell something’s wrong. You’re different; during sex. When something is bothering you, you do things differently. Not in a BAD way. Just in a different way. You’re more aggressive. Rougher than usual.”

“You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No. You never do. It was perfect. YOU were perfect. It was just...different. You were different. I’ve been with you for twelve years. It’s one of the signs I’ve come to recognize; one of the things that change when something is bugging you.”

Tyler grins. “You’re good.”

“Are you going to tell me? What’s going on? You want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he admits, and then presses a kiss to her forehead before rolling over onto his back.

“I think you should.” Esme slides closer to him, propping herself up onto her elbow. “I think it’s good for you; talking about things that bother you. We’ve learned over the last twelve years, right? That things are better...that WE’RE better...when you don’t keep shit inside.”

Sighing heavily, he runs both hands over his face; wincing at the discomfort in both back and shoulder when he puts his hands behind his head.

“Is that what is? Pain? Did you get hurt? Do you need more meds? Do you…?”

“No pain. Just some tightness. I don’t need any more meds. I’m fine.”

“Did you take them while you were gone? ALL of them?”

“Babe, I’ve been taking them for five years. I wouldn’t fuck it up now.”

“I’m not saying you would. I’m just worried about you. I know something is wrong and I know it’s better for you NOT to keep quiet about it. So tell me. Please. Do your wife a solid and talk to her.”

“Didn’t I just slip you a solid? Twice?”

She scowls. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s nothing. Me. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“I’m sorry, but this is something involving you and I worry about you. Don’t do this, okay? Let’s not get back into old habits. I know you don’t want that. Just like I don’t want it. Tell me. Please.”

He sighs once more, briefly closing his eyes.

“Is it the job?” Gentle fingertips trace the roman numeral tattoo on the front of his right shoulder. “ Did something go wrong? Other than a change in venue?”

“No. Other than that, things went fine.”

“But it IS about the job.”

Tyler nods.

“I’m not a mind reader, babe. I’m good, but I’m not THAT good. Something DID go wrong, didn’t it.”

“No. Nothing went wrong. It’s just...the people...the Marks.”

“They didn’t die or…?”

“Oh they died. You don’t survive a gunshot in the middle of the forehead.”

“So other than the chance of scenery, nothing went wrong and both Marks died but..”

“It’s who they were. Why they had to be killed. Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“I do. Because it’s bothering you and I don’t want you carrying that around. That’s never a good thing; you burying things. So yes. I want to hear it. You didn’t tell me much before you left; just that they were pieces of shit and they needed to be wiped out. Other than that…”

“They were the lowest of the low, Me. You can’t get lower than these guys. And I’ve dealt with some pretty huge pieces of shit. These guys? Worst I’ve ever gone against. By far.”

“Worse than Asif and Mahajan?”

“Considering how personal they made things and what they were going to do to my family, no one is worse than them. But if I take the personal stuff out of it, these guys are up there.”

“That doesn’t sound too promising. I didn’t think anyone could come close to those two.”

“The guns and the drugs? That shit was bad enough. They destroyed a lot of lives; killed a lot of people. But the shit I found AFTER I got there? About these guys? About other things they were up to? It’s fucked, Me. It’s fucked and it’s sick and twisted and I don’t think you need to know about it.”

“Well I think I do. You don’t have to shoulder this alone. It’s better if you don’t. Just tell me. I have big shoulders. Well, maybe not LITERALLY. What did you hear? About them?”

“Babe…”

“Tyler, tell me. Don’t do this. Not if you have plans on getting laid the rest of the time we’re here.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh I would. I’m not afraid to pull out the big guns. So either you tell me, or you suffer. Simple as that.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Tell me.” She presses a kiss to his lips. “Please.”

“When I got there and talked to the guy who hired Anil, things got worse. The Marks were even bigger pieces of shit than I thought. They’d both been married a handful of times. And put each one of their wives in the hospital. More than twice. A couple of them even ended up dead. There was never any proof that these guys did it, but…”

“But it’s pretty obvious.”

Tyler nods. “And then I heard about the kids. Not just kids they didn’t know. But kids related to them. Cousins, nieces, nephews. Their OWN kids.”

“Just beaten on them or…?”

“No. Not just beating on them. That’s bad enough. But this?”

“Sexual stuff.”

“Yeah. Sexual stuff.”

“Wow..” she sighs heavily, a fingertip skimming along the chain he wears around his neck. “...that IS the lowest of the low.”

“It just hit home. HARD. Made me think of you and the kids. Made being away from home a lot more difficult. And it was difficult enough already.”

“I’m sorry. That you had to hear all of that. But for it’s worth, I’m glad it’s you that took care of them. Anyone else ran the risk of screwing shit up. At least when you do things, you finish them That’s a bright spot, right? That you DID get to be the one?”

“Yeah, I guess. Just fucked me up. Mentally. Made me think of our kids. I swear to God, Me. If anything like that ever happens to them...if I ever find out that someone has touched them like that? I will fucking lose it. I will snap and I will fuck them up. I will torture them in all the worst ways possible. The most painful ways I know how. And then I’ll kill them. With my bare hands. If anyone ever messes with my kids…”

“Don’t think about that, Tyler. Don’t torture yourself like that. I mean, I think about it too. From time to time. And how I’d go nuts and kill someone. But don’t dwell on it, okay? Because our kids are fine. They’re warm and they're safe in their beds. And they always will be safe as long as you’re around. You know I always say you make me feel safe and protected? Well you do the same for them. You always have. Don’t ever doubt that, okay? They love you and they trust you. And you’re an amazing daddy.”

“I just want them to be safe. That’s all I want. Them safe. YOU safe.”

“And we ARE. Safe. As long as we’re with you, we’re fine. We don’t worry about a damn thing when you’re around. So please…” Esme presses a kiss to his cheek and nuzzles the end of her nose against his ear. “...no more dwelling. You got it out; you talked about it. You don’t need to think about it anymore.”

Running his hand through her hair, he tangles his fingers in the dark tresses and gently pulls her head back; lips covering hers in a long, slow kiss.

“Mmm…” she murmurs into his mouth, then sighs happily when he pulls away. “...that was...nice.”

“That was very nice.”

“You think you have one more in you? I still have some expectations that need to be met.”

“I think I can manage.”

“Good.” She throws her arms around his neck and rolls onto her back, kissing him hungrily as she pulls him down on top of her. Nails digging into his skin and her legs wrapping around his waist; ankles locking at the small of his back and a devilish grin playing on her lips when he pulls back to look at her. “Husband, you need to make love to me again.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction

9 notes · View notes

unknown-cryptid666 · 4 years ago

Text

Michael Myers x Reader

May contain gore, sexual content, and kidnapping. Read at your own risk.

Chapter 14

"So, long story short, I know some body who can fake records from the day you were born as well as IDs." I looked at her. "Before I met you at our old job, I did stuff I wasn't fond of and he helped me out by making me several records of myself as a different woman every time. He told me that if anything were to ever happen again, to call him." "So we can get him new records so he can work?" She nodded and we looked at him. Michael was confused. "You're getting a new life Michael." I smiled. Kate called her friend and he came over. "(y/n), this is Noah." Kate introduced us. "Hi, cutie." "Hi, but I do-" I got cut off by Michael pulling me to him and grunting angrily. "Oh, I didn't know you had a boyfriend. I wouldn't have said that if I did." He looked at us then Kate. "You'll be creating a new record for him. That's Michael Myers." Noah's eyes widened. "You mean the Mi-" "Yes, but I really need you to do this for me. I want him to be able to help with bills and such. I don't want him killing people for money." "I can't change faces. If his face was seen by anyone he left alive or at Smiths Grove, people might know what he looks like now." They looked at Michael and he shrugged.

"Has anyone seen your face now Michael? Besides us." Michael thought for a minute. "I...Don't think..So." "Totally helps. He's not going to kill me is he?" They looked at us. "I don't know. He might." I said sarcastically and smiled. "Don't listen to her. I'm still alive, even after accidently finding out who he is. Now then, lets get to work." Noah nodded and we sat at the table. "So, I'm able to erase records and recrate them. I can give you a new identity as if you were born with it. I can give you fake parents, family, even a wife and kids. I can have them die for any reason to make your 'life' seem more realistic since disasters happen everyday. Regardless of what I put down, you have to go along with that story, especially when asked since hospitals and work places will have access to your records." Michael nodded. "How can you make his birth record go away? Even though we wont be using his real name, wont it be suspicious? Especially to Haddonfield?" I asked and Noah thought about it. "Hmm, true. It would be better to rewrite records for him from scratch. Alright, I'll get started."

While Noah did that, we decided to play cards in the living room. It took about four hours, but Noah came in with a few papers. "You can read right?" Michael nodded and Noah handed him the papers. "This is your new life. Your name, birthday, parents names, where you were born, when and how they died, as well as your wife, when and how she died." "No kids?" Kate asked him. "He doesn't seem like the children type. If he wants, he can say they planned for kids but that happened." "When you want kids, but she says fuck life and drivers her car off a bridge." "(y/n)! You're wrong for that!" Kate yelled and we laughed at it. "You have a birth record in Ohio. You're a far way from home. Anyways, before you attempt a job, learn your life." "What do I owe you?" Kate asked Noah. "Me not dying is enough. Oh, yeah. You two ever get married, you won't be able to use his real last name (y/n)." "Obviously Noah." Soon, Noah left and Michael was still looking at the papers.

"Your life must be interesting." He shook his head no. "Why not?" "You're not..In it." "Michael, I'm not supposed to be in that fake life of yours." "Still don't like it.." He mumbled. "Either was psycho boy, you're dealing with it. I don't need you killing people for money." He glared at Kate, not liking the nickname she gave him. (y/n) took the papers Michael was holding, to see his fake life for herself. "Olivia Vern, wife to William Vern, died in a car accident two days before her birthday. Cheska, mother of William Vern, wife to Mason Vern, died of a heart attack from work induced stress a week before their anniversary. Mason Vern, died later that week from depression. Huh, remind me if I ever need my life rewritten to ask Noah." "You'll never need that, you're such a pure soul." (y/n) looked at Kate while Michael laughed a bit. "Oh shut it psycho boy." (y/n) laughed and Michael glared at her. "It's getting late. I need to start looking for a job tomorrow. Night you two." "Night." Michael and (y/n) said at the same time.

Michael picked me up and started walking towards my room. "Put me down." "No." I sighed. "Don't throw me onto the bed you idiot." He smirked and threw me onto the bed. He turned off the light and got into the bed. "I'm not tired Michael." "I am." He pulled me closer. "I feel like you're not going to go along with those papers." "Nope." He said tiredly and fell sleep. I smiled as I heard light snoring. I played a game on my phone for a bit. I had a few days off from work. A few hours passed and I started getting tired.

"Ahh." Michael started to suck on (y/n) right nipple and play with her left one. "Michael, more~" He gently bit her nipple and left a trail of kisses down her stomach, leaving small hickeys along the way. Michael stuck two fingers inside of her while teasing her clit. (y/n) moaned, wanting more then just his fingers inside of her. Michael stuck his tongue in he-

"Hmmm." I was woken out of my sleep. "You're moaning." I looked at Michael and felt my cheeks become red. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Go back to sleep." I turned on my side. "Mhm." He pulled me towards him and we both went to sleep. Morning came and I woke to the sound of birds. Michael wasn't next to me so I got up and went downstairs. Kate had left because of work and Michael wasn't in the kitchen or living room. "Michael?" There was no answer. "That's weird." I checked the house and he wasn't in any of the rooms or bathrooms. I shrugged and sat on the couch, playing some games on my phone. Lunch came and I looked in the fridge. "I have to go out for shit." I sighed and grabbed my keys. I locked the house and drove to the store. "(y/n)!" "Tracy! Hey." "How's work?" "It's good." Tracy was on break, we don't see each other often. I'm either working or she is, so it's hard to hang out. "My breaks up, see ya." I waved as she went back in and I did some shopping. I got back and put the groceries away.

There was a small trail of blood leading from the back door to the living room. "And I somehow missed this." I sighed. "Michael!" I went upstairs and heard the shower running. I walked in and Michael looked at me. "Did you go on a killing spree?" He nodded and pointed to the counter. There was money. "Kate will kill you one day." He shrugged. I grabbed the money and his clothes. I put his clothes in the washer and cleaned up the blood. Kate got home a few minutes after. "Hey, how's Michaels job hunting going? Sticking to the script?" "Yeah, he got home an hour earlier." I lied. "Any of them decide to call him back?" "I think one of them might. Don't forget, he isn't the best in social situations." "True." We heard Michael walk down the stairs. He was only wearing his boxers. "Why is you're boy- did you two f-" "No, we didn't." I sighed. "You have extra clothes, go get dressed." He just stood there. "Oh, yeah, here." I handed Kate some cash and she looked at me. "Ask Michael." "He did not go out and fucking kill someone." I shrugged and walked off. "Michael you bitch! What happened to getting a job!" I could hear her yelling at him while he stayed silent.

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

Feel free to buy me an energy drink if you enjoy my content

#michael myers #romance #gore #horror #x reader

6 notes · View notes

fuwafuwamedb · 4 years ago

Text

Aruru Pt 2 (Hakuno, Gilgamesh, Enkidu)

Previously: 1

___

One story.

And then another story.

Then one more story, because ummum was staying up very late this evening to tell stories and she just wouldn’t fall asleep.

Aruru stared up at the woman, waiting patiently for the moment that her ummum would drift off and let her have time for fun. She’d made these plans carefully. She needed her ummum to just close her eyes and dream happy dreams about adventures and magic and family.

“Aruru,” her mother murmured, leaning in close.

“Night, ummum,” she murmured back, kissing her mom’s cheeks and watching those eyes hover to a close.

Ah! But this was ummum. She was really smart and had special, divine powers. She was like a goddess, able to sense everything before it happened. That was why she had to wait, listening to the sounds of the kingdom outside and to the few people that would shout into the night. She had to feel her ummum’s heart beating gently, just to make sure that she was entirely asleep before she did anything.

With that done, Aruru slipped slowly from bed.

She pulled on her best robes, the ones her ummum had made using her favorite two colors.

The jewelry came next.

She’d learned a lot about royal people from being in this place and royal people always had to wear their jewelry when meeting with diplomats and with other royals. They had to behave appropriately, standing tall and proud, answering questions honestly and proving themselves to be brave and powerful.

Everyone in the kingdom seemed to think her abum was the most powerful and smartest man in all of the universe. Even smarter than the gods too!

Her eyes drifted once more over to where her ummum slept.

Ummum would not like this. She was always talking about how dangerous it was to spend time with the king and she had those strange eyes when she talked about him. While she didn’t really listen to what her ummum said, the sight of all that water threatening to fall out of her ummum’s eyes was enough to have kept her from going to meet this man.

Until tonight, that is.

He had kissed too many ladies that were not her ummum.

Her teacher had said that kissing was meant for the person you marry, because otherwise it would hurt the person you marry and they would waste away into nothing.

Well, if he was kissing not ummum, then she needed to help him stop.

Immediately.

It was for the safety of her mom that she did this.

With a nod to the reflection glass, Aruru opened the doors to the hallway and crept out.

It didn’t sound like anyone was still awake.

There was the sound of the owls and the night animals, moving about in their frenzy of activities. She could hear the wind since they were high enough up in the air in the building. There were flickers of the flames in the torches as Aruru meandered the halls.

Now, where was that king?

He had been near her favorite garden, but the building looked bigger at night.

Maybe she should have investigated more.

The hallways were large, reaching up to the heavens above her and making it so that the stairs to get to the next floor were large and tiring to walk up. She had looked up at all the big statues and fabrics that adorned the walls, knowing that somewhere out there, there was a really tall person that went around and just hung things up for a living.

It sounded like a neat job, but their handiwork was even darker at night.

The warm and nice fabrics now hung high over her head, like great dark portals letting lions and nightmares into the room. She could see the statues, but their glittery claws and shiny teeth were now glinting in the light of the torches, their eyes following her as she walked passed them.

No, she ran by the end of the one hallway, slipping around the corner and panting slightly.

Her eyes looked to her left.

The sound that came out of her was a squeak of a scream, quickly covered by her hands as she looked deep into the garnet eyes of an anzu bird statue. The great lion’s head was baring its teeth, leaning in close enough that it could have taken a bite if it were real.

Real or not, she still fell on her rump.

She still felt her heart racing as she tried to tell herself it was okay.

Ummum was near.

Abum was near.

She was fine.

Monsters weren’t really real. There was nothing that was inhuman that lingered anywhere near Uruk. Everywhere was safe and sound, especially-

“What is this?”

She saw the flash of green and squeaked again, feeling her stomach churn as she tried to flee.

A pair of strange claylike hands were holding her though, pulling her back little by little.

“LET ME GO!”

“Hmm?”

“LET ME GO! LET ME GO!”

The being was huge, enormous. This was the one that hung all the tall things that she would never be able to reach. Their eyes didn’t gleam in the light like a human being. Their face was too smooth, neither a girl or a boy. They were too strange, too still.

Monster.

They were a monster!

She opened her mouth to scream when a door opened nearby.

Aruru froze.

She was locked in the hands of an absolute monster, one who was taller than the gods and the mountains and stiller than the earth and the deep blue skies. And then the person she had wanted to see so bad, the man she was needing to find to save her ummum from being sad forever, was standing right there, his smirk dying as he looked down at her.

Aruru yanked her arm out of the monster’s grip.

She kicked at them before rushing forward and wrapping her arms around her abum.

“Help.”

The word came out in a hiccup, her grip tightening on her abum.

A hand pressed lightly to her head.

“Enkidu, explain.”

“I don’t get it either,” the monster replied, making her glare over at them. “I came back to grab some things for Shamhat and found the little one scared of the statues.”

Aruru could feel her hair being brushed, a little bit of tugging making her wince.

“She didn’t dye it. I’d smell the strange chemicals.”

“Look to me.”

Her father lifted her chin, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks as he looked her over.

“…These are mine. What are you doing with these?”

“Ummum gave me this stuff.”

“Ummum?”

“Ummum is your wife. Your best wife…”

The man glanced to the monster again.

“…Do you not remember ummum? She has brown hair, brown eyes. She makes you eat all your food at meals and you have to make sure to study or she gets really upset and gets quiet because she didn’t have so many opportunities and she thinks you shouldn’t waste them.”

“Hmmm…”

“You know ummum’s ummum face,” Aruru argued. “The one she makes that’s like this!”

Aruru scowled, just like she’d seen her ummum do.

In response, the king snickered, those eyes lighting up.

“I know that look.”

“Good. Then let’s make the bad guy go away and then we can lay with ummum and sleep.”

“I think I have another plan,” the man mused. Aruru found herself turned around, marched up to the being whom stood in waiting. “Apologize for calling Enkidu a bad guy and for shouting when they had done nothing to you.”

“But-“

The flash of a look made her whimper, her eyes drifting back to the being that was now lowering themselves to her level.

“…Sorry…”

“Enkidu, did you hear something?” Her father drawled.d

“I, Aruru of Uruk, apologize for calling you a bad guy. You are tall and you look strange and you scare me, but Abum is here and Abum will keep me safe until Ummum gets up.”

“I scare you?”

Aruru felt herself nudged forward, a throat clearing making it clear she had to do something else.

“Am I really that scary?”

The monster leaned in, those strange eyes roaming over her face as they took her hands into their own.

“I am here to protect your abum and ummum. I am Enkidu, the friend of your abum’s.”

“Do not coddle this behavior, Enkidu.”

“May I have a hug?”

Aruru just stared at the being a moment before she moved to hug her father. Her eyes closed.

She shook her head.

“Tomorrow she will give you a proper morning hug,” the king told him. “For tonight, I have maidens to remove from my bed and a daughter to learn about. I imagine this conversation will take a while-“

“What about ummum?”

“She will come in the morning. After all, she has indulged you and your wellbeing to a deep extreme.”

There was something off about that, but a kiss to her forehead had her tongue tied and her mind easily influenced.

This was her abum, after all.

And he seemed to like her.

#drabble #drabbles

15 notes · View notes

omgjasminesimone · 5 years ago

Text

Masters of Sex Part 2

Bryce x MC

Follow up to this story as part of my 500 followers follow ups celebration.

Word Count: 2500

A week after Bryce and Casey’s hate sex session, Casey is approached by the last person she wants to talk to in the hospital hallway.

“Hi, Dr. Valentine, right? Can I talk to you for a second?” The pretty hospital pharmacist who slept with Bryce several months ago, who Casey thought was basically her boyfriend at the time, asks.

Casey gestures at the lab results she’s going over. “I’m actually really busy.” Casey claims.

“It will really just take a second.” The other woman insists, smiling gently.

Casey resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Fine.” She says shortly.

“Would you like to talk in the cafeteria?”

“Here is fine.” Casey insists, tapping her foot impatiently.

The pharmacist, Kelly, according to her name tag sighs. “Okay then. I just wanted to apologize. I didn’t know you and Bryce had anything going on, I definitely wasn’t trying to step into an existing relationship.” Kelly says softly, keeping her voice low so the doctors, nurses, and patients passing through the halls don’t hear them.

“You can have him if you want. Me and Bryce are done.” Casey replies, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

“Really? That’s not what he said when I ran into him at the gym yesterday. He said you guys were going to try to work it out.” Kelly reports.

Casey rolls her eyes. Why would Bryce send this woman here to talk to her? Did he think this was going to help?

“Well, I guess he got his wires crossed, because we’re done. So, feel free to continue to sleep with him.” Casey insists. Casey turns on her heel and walks away before Kelly can respond. She’s fuming as she heads to the on-call room where she knows Bryce is likely napping between surgeries.

She opens the door, and there he is, asleep on the small cot. She closes the door loudly enough to wake him up.

Bryce starts as he wakes, reflexively checking his pager before he realizes that’s not what woke him up. His bleary eyes drift up to Casey. “What-” He starts, but Casey quickly interrupts.

“Why did you tell the pharmacist that we were trying to work it out?” Casey asks, tone harsh.

Bryce furrows his brow in confusion. “That’s not what I told her. I said I wanted to try to work it out.”

“Why would you even tell her anything in the first place? Did you want her to report back to me? Make me think that all of a sudden you’re going to act like you’re in a relationship?”

“Why would I have asked her to talk to you? It clearly just pissed you off.” Bryce retorts.

“Then, again, why did you tell her anything?” Casey repeats impatiently.

“Because, at the gym, she asked if I wanted to come by her place last night. And I told her no, and explained that you were mad at me for the last time I hooked up with her, even though we weren’t officially together, and then I said that I’m not sleeping with anybody else, because I want to work it out with you.” Bryce explains.

Casey leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Well, don’t deprive yourself on my account. I’m done Bryce. Sleep with whoever you want.”

“I only want you. And I’m going to prove it to you.” Bryce responds with resolve.

“What do you think you could possibly do to prove that?” Casey challenges.

“Well, step one is the celibacy. And then…. I’m still working on the other steps to get you back.” Bryce replies, smiling tentatively.

Casey rolls her eyes, turning towards the door. “Don’t hold your breath.”

“Mark my words Casey, I’m going to make you fall in love with me, again.” Bryce calls after her.

...

“What the hell is this?” Casey asks when she steps into her room a week later.

“Isn’t it romantic Casey? Bryce filled your room with roses!” Sienna exclaims, collapsing onto Casey’s bed, which has been covered in rose petals.

“Who let him in here?” Casey complains.

“Come on Case, the guy had $800 of roses in a wagon, I couldn’t turn him away.” Elijah claims.

Casey picks up a rose from one of the many bouquets on her floor. “What a waste of money, he should have given me a Visa gift card.”

“Jesus, your heart is ice cold.” Elijah replies, shaking his head.

“I told him this wasn’t going to work.” Jackie adds, moving a bouquet from Casey’s desk chair so she can sit.

“I don’t even like flowers. Shows how much he doesn’t even know me. What am I going to do with all of these?” Casey questions.

...

“Jackie told me you didn’t like the roses.” Bryce says, leaning against the desk as Casey uses the head nurse’s computer to look up her patient’s symptoms.

“You shouldn’t have wasted all that money.” Casey chastises.

Bryce shrugs. “I’m not worried about the money. I’m a surgeon after all.”

“A surgical intern.” Casey retorts.

“Same thing.”

“Very different salary.”

Bryce laughs at that, smiling at her. Casey quickly looks away. Damn him and that perfect smile.

“Did you throw them away?” Bryce asks, rising from his leaning position when he sees Dr. Avery coming down the hall. He’ll have to head off to assist with her hernia repair surgery soon.

“No, Sienna made them into potpourri balls. You know she’s crafty. Sold them at the farmer’s market. She made like $200.” Casey answers.

Bryce laughs again. “Did she split it with you?”

“Yep, $100 richer. But that could have been $800 if you’d just given me the cash.”

“But I’m not trying to buy you Valentine, I know you’re priceless” Bryce replies with a wink before walking away.

...

Casey wakes with a splitting headache in an unfamiliar bed two weeks later. She glances at her bed mate. Shit. It’s Henry Johnson. A psychology fellow from Edenbrook. She’d gone out to Donahue’s the night before, danced and flirted with Henry, and when she was drunk enough, went home with him.

She vaguely remembers the sex. Unremarkable. Nothing like with Bryce.

Double shit, Casey thinks as she sits up, looking out the window. Of course, Henry has to live in the same apartment complex as Bryce.

It’s not that much of a surprise, a lot of the hospital staff live here because they heavily advertise at the hospital and offer a slight discount. But it’s bad luck none the less.

Casey checks Henry’s clock. 8:10 AM. Bryce should probably still be at the gym from his morning workout. She’ll just sneak out really quick, and not even have to see him.

Casey slips out from under Henry’s arm, sliding back into her dress from last night. She catches her reflection in Henry’s bathroom mirror. Make-up from last night still on and smudged, her curls looking a mess. She sighs, preparing herself for her walk of shame.

She gets into the elevator, glad to see no one else in it. She impatiently presses the button for the lobby. But the elevator stops on the 10th floor, and of course Bryce Lahela is standing there.

He seems surprised to see her, but quickly schools his expression as he steps into the elevator.

Casey can’t believe her bad luck.

“Long night?” Bryce asks. He tries to say it with levity, but there’s underlying jealousy and anger there. Casey rolls her eyes.

“I don’t owe you anything. We’re not together. I can sleep with whoever I want.”

“I never said you couldn’t.” Bryce responds, somewhat testy. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. “What kind of pie do you like?”

Casey looks at him incredulously as the elevator reaches the lobby. “Pie?”

Bryce nods. “I’m baking you a pie today. That’s step 3. The way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach.”

Casey walks out of the elevator, heading for the T stop. Bryce follows. “Why are you doing this? I told you we’re done. Maybe one day we can be friends again. But as far as a relationship goes, I’ve clearly moved on.” Casey gestures to her outfit from last night.

“If it was any good, you wouldn’t be sneaking out of his apartment at 8 in the morning.” Bryce insists. Casey can’t really argue that point, so Bryce continues. “We’re good together Casey, and I’m going to prove it to you.”

Casey ignores that, splitting off from Bryce to head up the street. “I don’t like pie!” She calls over her shoulder.

“Liar, everyone likes pie!” Bryce shouts back.

...

The next day, Casey walks into the kitchen after her shift and finds her roommates all eating cherry pie around the kitchen table.

“Bryce brought it over a little bit ago.” Sienna informs Casey as she pulls up a chair.

Jackie cuts Casey a slice, handing it over.

Casey chews thoughtfully.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Elijah questions.

“Hmmm...It’s not bad, but not amazing either.” Casey decides.

“Come on Casey, you can tell he worked so hard on this. Don’t you see the indentations in the crust?!” Sienna presses.

Casey shrugs, taking another bite. “He shouldn’t quit his day job.”

...

3 weeks later, Casey comes down with a nasty, highly contagious bug. She doesn’t want to infect her roommates, so she checks herself into a hotel south of Boston. She’s absolutely miserable, and pretty sure that she’s dying. She’s almost fallen into a fitful sleep when she feels a hand pressed against her feverish forehead.

“Ahh!” She screams, rolling away and fighting to get from under the twisted covers.

“Casey! It’s just me!” Bryce reveals, hands raised in a non-threatening manner.

“What the hell Bryce? What are you doing here?” Casey asks when her heart rate has slowed down.

“I heard you were sick.” He replies simply.

“How’d you even get in here?”

“Hotel concierges don’t ask a lot of questions when you just say, hey, I’d like an extra key to this room please, Casey Valentine’s.” Bryce answers.

“That’s terrifying.” Casey mutters.

“Well, in her defense, I look extremely non-threatening.” Bryce insists.

Casey rolls her eyes. “Why are you here though? I’m in this hotel quarantining myself so I don’t get anyone else sick.”

Bryce waves off her concerns. “I have an extremely strong immune system. Haven’t been sick in like 15 years. So, I came to take care of you.” Bryce reaches to the nightstand. “Here, take these.” He hands her some medicine. “And drink this.” Some Gatorade.

Bryce gets up from the bed, moving over to the couch and opening a textbook he pulls from his backpack. “Now get some rest. When you wake up, I’ll make you some soup.” Bryce instructs.

“You really don’t have to do this.” Casey insists, eyes drooping from the sheer exhaustion of being so sick.

“I want to. Sweet dreams Casey.”

...

3 days later, Casey has recovered. And she hears from one of the surgical interns that Bryce is sick. She knocks on the door of his apartment. It takes him a while to answer the door, wrapped in a blanket and looking absolutely miserable. His expression immediately brightens when he sees her though. “Casey! What a pleasant surprise!” He greets, stepping aside so she can come in.

Casey can’t help but give him an ‘I told you so look. “So, I guess your super immune system failed you?”

“This is some bug you caught Casey. Takes a lot to take me down.” Bryce insists, slowly lowering himself back onto his couch.

“Have you eaten anything?” Casey questions.

“I can’t keep anything down.”

“I know, but you have to eat something anyway.” Casey insists, pulling some warm vegetable broth soup from her shopping bag. “I also brought medicine, and fluids.” She reveals, sitting beside him and handing him the soup.

“.... Did you think this would be the circumstances that would get you back to my apartment?” Bryce asks, chuckling weakly, but that quickly turns into a rumbling cough.

“I had thought the only thing that could get me back here is more hate sex, but I owe you one.” Casey quips.

Bryce laughs, taking a few small spoonfuls of the soup. He sets the soup to the side, leaning down to rest his head in Casey’s lap. Even she doesn’t have the heart to shoo him away when he’s so sick, especially when he’s sick because he took care of her.

“Sweet dreams Bryce.” She murmurs as he falls asleep. She turns the TV on mute, watching it with subtitles.

…

A few weeks later, Casey collapses to the floor of the supply closet as soon as she closes the door, tears wracking her small frame. She can’t believe she lost her. She ran so many tests, desperate to find why the young girl’s cell counts were so low. But she ran out of time, the child dying while Casey held her hand.

She knows who it is when the door opens, her suspicions confirmed when he gets onto the floor beside her and gathers her into his strong arms. She cries into Bryce’s chest, clinging to him desperately.

“Shh…. what’s wrong?” Bryce tries to comfort when her sobs show no sign of subsiding.

Casey just shakes her head, hugging him tighter as she continues to cry. Eventually, she’s all cried out. And then she tells Bryce about losing her patient.

Bryce wipes her tears away with his calloused thumbs, smiling sadly at her. “Do you want to know what I do when I lose a patient?” He questions.

Casey nods weakly, and Bryce stands, pulling her to her feet as well. He takes her hand, and gently leads her out of the supply closet, into the stairwell, and then up to the 6th floor. He walks her though the hallway and stops in front of the window of the nursery.

Casey looks at the newborn babies, all different shades and sizes. She can’t help but smile when she gazes at them, all bundled up in blue and pink hospital gear.

Bryce steps up to her back, speaking quietly behind her. “When I come up here, it reminds me that life goes on. It’s horrible to lose a patient, especially a young one, but you have to remember that you did all you could. And you’ll learn from this. And hopefully be able to save the next one. There’s always a chance to start over new Casey.” Bryce concludes.

Casey leans back into Bryce’s embrace, observing the room full of new beginnings.

…

After thinking long and hard about it, 4 days later Casey sends a text.

Casey Valentine: Do you want to get dinner? So we can talk about starting over new?

Bryce replies seconds later.

Bryce Lahela: Name the time and place, I’m there.

Tags: @octobereighth @akrenich @lovehugsandcandy @regina-and-happiness @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicesarehard @lizeboredom @desiree-0816 @hellooliviaolivia @dreaming-of-movies @friedherringclodthing @weaving-in-words @fairydustandsarcasm @goldenjellyfish12 @pessimystic-fangirl @mimikoasahina @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl @god-save-the-keen @caroldxnvxrs @cora-nova @emceesynonymroll @choicesgremlin @anxious-arliah @cordoniasmost @lahelable @ohsnapitzlovehacker @pixeljazzy @blk-girl-emoji

#bryce x mc #bryce lahela x mc #choices fanfiction #500 followers follow ups #open heart

143 notes · View notes

doc-pickles · 4 years ago

Note

Hmmm jolex request! Two from the list: “You’re not safe here.” and “You’re shaking”

Okay so thiiiiiiiis is a second part to this one shot which kinda dives into Jo’s husband storyline that we see in the show. But it’s AU so it’s a bit different. I’m working on the third and final part currently so be on the look out for that!

And I promise to stop posting in the LITERAL middle of the night, it’s just when I feel the most productive and I don’t feel like waiting until morning so SORRY.

i’m also procrastinating HARD on hesitate, do not mind me at all

“Alex!”

Jo had barely opened the door to the hotel room before Alex had pushed it open further and slipped past her. He closed the door quickly, turning the main lock and the deadbolt before turning back to Jo.

Her face was gaunt, as if she hadn’t been eating regularly. (Or hadn’t been able to keep anything down, Alex thinks) Despite her thin face, Jo’s stomach was now obviously showing the fact that she was pregnant. The small curve made Alex bite back a sob, realizing he hadn’t been able to see Jo everyday to watch her grow.

“Alex you have to go,” Jo paced across the floor, her hands running through her now short locks. “You can’t stay here, it’s not safe. I need you to be safe and you’re not safe here.”

“No.”

Her feet stopped her, Jo’s head popping up to stare Alex down. She had told him in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t going to be responsible for him getting hurt by her past. She had been hiding out in a hotel for almost three weeks now, thankful for school ending just a week before everything had gone to shit.

Jo had done this before. She had skipped town, she had changed her name, she had lived in hotel rooms. She had dyed her hair and lied about her past, she had reinvented herself. But never before had she had someone, two someone’s, to worry about. Because above all, Jo was careful. She never slipped up, never let her guard down… until Alex. And that, well that scared the shit out of her.

“I’m not leaving you Jo,” Alex stepped forward, his hands coming up to rest gently on Jo’s shoulders. “I love you and you’re gonna have my baby, so no. I am not leaving. I don’t care if I get hurt, I care too much about you to let you do this alone.”

Jo watched Alex, took his serious expression in for a moment before collapsing into his arms, quiet cries leaving her. She wasn’t sobbing like she had been when she left the loft, she’d had enough of that. She’d spent years crying over lost love and abandoned opportunities at her husband’s hand, but she was not going to let him take this life she was creating with Alex from her.

“I’m sorry I ran, it’s the only thing I know how to do,” Jo whispered, her eyes avoiding Alex’s as she watched his fingers splay gently over her stomach. “I… I don’t want to run anymore, I want to go home with you. I want to live a normal life with you, I want us to raise our baby together. Just… I’m a little messed up, I might need some help every once in a while.”

Jo finally looked up then, eyes meeting Alex’s as she fixed him with a serious stare. She had been hurt, thrown around, beaten down and stomped on. But Alex… Alex was different. He wasn’t like anyone she had met before. She felt safe with him, a feeling she had never grown used to long enough to be able to make sense of it.

“I’m never leaving you, baby,” Alex whispered, his hands rubbing Jo’s back gently. “I am never leaving you two again. Let’s go home, you’re shaking and I want to get you tucked into our bed as soon as I can.”

Jo let Alex grab the few belongings she had dragged with her, eyes scanning the hotel room she had made a temporary home one last time. She was done running, done making home in hotels and shaking with worry that each day would be her last. She had Alex and their baby and a future and that small glimpse of hope was more than enough to keep Jo going.

“Let’s go home.”

#greys anatomy #alex karev #jo karev #jo wilson #jo x alex #jolex #jolex fic #alternate universe #infjtt #pieces of you #nina writes #nina answers

14 notes · View notes

nlights37 · 4 years ago

Note

1, 2, and 3! 😘

YOU’RE ALIVE! FIC AND WORK HAVE NOT ENDED YOU! (YET?) To celebrate lemme get all up in this questions:

1. Favorite place to write.

Usually laying on the floor because I’m a fucking freak. I don’t know why. I really don’t. But it’s what works the best. Sometimes I write at the kitchen table but on the floor, that’s where it’s at, laying on my stomach, getting my neck all weird and achy because of the angle.

Seriously. I wrote Beautiful Creatures laying on the floor of TinyLights room, hiding from everyone else with the cover story of ‘getting him to sleep’. At two in the morning? Yeah he had been LONG asleep by then but it’s a full damn house and hard to get much time alone until I go to bed. And that’s my special private time with Mr. Lights to practice smut things hahahahaha.

2. Favorite part of writing.

I am going to paste in my answer to this Q that I just did for @burninghecate because yes, the rumors ARE true, I am a lazy bitch:

That is an awesome question. And it’s a little hard to answer because there are a few steps in the process of taking an idea from a little brain nugget to your fully-formed word child.

But my favorite, favorite part, hands down, is when you hit that flow. It goes like this - you get that idea, that banger, that one that’s gonna bring all the comments to the yard, the one (if you’re me) that makes you crack up from the dialogue you’ve already got running through your noggin, and then you sit down to write, and it’s like you’re channeling some fucking otherwordly conduit, man.

Sometimes it just GUSHES out of you, like water from a tap, just this steady flow of word after word and even as you’re typing it it’s almost an out of body experience. Like you can go back and read it later and be amazed at what you’re reading because in the moment it’s like this fugue state, you’re just *writing* and honestly, it’s like an endorphin high.

If I can hit that point in a fic, that’s when I know it’s gonna be a good one. When it’s like that golden zone you’re in where you don’t even really have to think, the words are already dying to come out, it’s just like turning on a faucet. I wish it was like that more often, but that’s my absolute favorite.

3. Least favorite part of writing.

Hmmm probably some of the fandom navigation, if I’m being 100% honest. There starts to be this unspoken set of expectations, these rules to follow that you don’t really know about until you’ve broken some, I guess :) And in my younger fandom days technology was a little different and I had more time, frankly, so I could do a lot more online interaction than I’m currently capable of most days.

But now, oh, you wrote a fic? You gotta pimp that fic, if you want to get people to read it. It’s not enough just to post a fic, anymore. Gotta have a least one social media account, although that’s the bare minimum. Got a Twitter? Okay, but you also need to have a tumblr. Gotta make sure you follow xyz. Gotta tag it just so. Gotta be in with this group, or that group, gotta spend x amount of time interacting or you don’t clear all these hurdles for something that used to be just so fucking easy lol.

My problem comes down to time, usually. The free time I get, I spend writing. I love interacting with people on social media of all kinds, but I can only do it in small doses more often than not. I have people IRL who depend on me to do things, and in the past, I have squandered my time doing online things instead of the things that need my attention IRL. So, now that I’ve returned somewhat to social media I’m trying to do better with balancing my time, which means I have to really pick and choose what I do and when.

I love writing. I love when people dig it, and I love sharing it, and at the end of the day I’m usually just trying to write something that makes you feel better after reading it. I just get a little frustrated, sometimes, by the extra things that have to be done in this cursed year 2020 to get someone to read and give you feedback on someting you’ve shared.

Thank you for the lovely asks, @stilesssolo - I am literally counting down the days until I can finish up at least two more chapters on the current fic I’m plugged into and read some Jonerys Jobros excellence!

#writerasks #jonerys #jon x daenerys #why are these posts so long #even I don't know

8 notes · View notes

vanchlo · 5 years ago

Text

The Assistant /Chapter Twenty-Six, “Old Faces”

Catch up on reading or start from the beginning HERE! :-)

Thanks for reading! c:

SNEAKY PEEK TIMEEEEEEEEE!!!

Something inside of my chest falls and for the first time in weeks, my thoughts are flooded with her. And I’m worrying about her, missing her, and wanting to hear her voice. I’m feeling all of the things and thoughts I’ve done such a great job at suppressing for the last few weeks.

Because before, only the alcohol could, but I couldn’t do that anymore. I knew she’d be disappointed. And once that thought wormed its way into my brain, I couldn’t entertain it for more than a minute. And so I dumped out the bottles and threw them in the bin.

Now, I feel myself fill with regret at that because once again I want to drown the feelings.

Because I’m hurting thinking about all of the hurt and pain she’s feeling.

“Awww, my little baby on her first day of school!”

“Oh, would you stop?” I groan in annoyance. But I can’t get rid of the smile pinching my cheeks.

“You’re looking like a lawyer already, Boops!” Skye comments as I stop in front of her at the island. She sets down her Winnie the Pooh mug and just smiles at me. It’s a rare occurrence. “And don’t you start saying that I can’t call you that. I’d say it’s rather fitting for a day like this.”

“Fine. Only today you can call me that old nickname that’s been dead for decades,” I reply before looking down at my outfit. “I’m not too overdressed, am I?”

“No, I think you look very nice. And you should dress to impress, they say.”

“Mmmmhmm,” I respond, flattening the patterned long-sleeve blouse I wear. Black jeggings cover my lower half.

“Are you excited?” Skye’s question hits me as I reach for a glass from the cupboard. I watch the golden orange juice splash into it.

“Yeah, I really am. I know I’ve already been down this road, but I feel so much more confident and excited this time around.”

“Well that says something,” she replies and I nod at her answer. The slice of bread sinks into the toaster as I set down the jar of jam with my other hand.

I grab a plate and scoop the rest of the scrambled eggs onto it that Skye left for me. “I’m dying a girl’s hair rainbow today, so there’s my big bang,” she comments enthusiastically with her sky-blue eyes twinkling. I smile at the excitement in her voice.

It finally looks like we’ve found our callings, I think to myself. A second later, I almost cringe at myself, but at the same time, I’m grateful for the happy thought.

“So most of your classes are online?”

“Yeah, but I have this one that I have to go on campus for. It’s one of the important ones,” I reply before a bite of scrambled eggs passes my lips.

Ding!

Dragging my phone across the counter, I look at my lit-up screen. A new text appears on my screen to join the others.

Asher:

Good luck on your 1st day back!!! Hoping everything goes well and you get nice teachers!!! Take deep breaths!!! Dont forget to tell me how it went :)

Sophie (Boss):

Wishing you a great first day back, Becky! We’re all so proud of you and we can’t wait to see the great things you do! Good luck!

Robbie:

Proud of u for going back Ree. Keep ur chin up. I cant wait 2 hear all about it. Excited 2 hang out with u and dad this weekend back home. Love u sis.

Daddy:

Happy 1st day of school 2 my big 25 year old! I hope ur 1st day back is gr8 Boops. Good luck! Take ur time & ask ?s. Call when u get home. I want 2 hear how it went. Love u! xoxo

A smile creases my cheeks as I read the words. I hear his familiar voice inside of my head, and warmth radiates through my chest. It makes me ache for one of his hugs and forehead kisses. I swipe right on my Dad’s text and click on the space to enter my own text.

Thanks so much, Dad! I’m really excited, but nervous. I feel like people might know I’m the dropout… But luckily I only have only one face-to-face class, and the rest are online. I hope that you are feeling better. Let me know if you need anything. I can’t wait to see you this weekend! Love you, Daddy! Xoxoxoxo

The lecture hall is smaller than I remember, and less run down. Hmmm, maybe my experience is actually going to help me to not be so afraid and intimidated, I think to myself. After walking up several stairs, I choose an empty table in the middle of the hall. Students mill around talking and checking online course content and Snapchat. Their chatter fills my ears as I set down my violet backpack and sit down. I place my laptop in front of me, along with a fresh notebook, my planner, and my little bag of pens and pencils. As I boot up my new laptop, the seats around me fill up. It’s not long before the professor takes a seat at the table at the front. His graying hair is tied into a short pony at the back of his head. The class quiets down at his arrival, but there aren’t many of us in the cohort. Around 50 or so.

Looking up behind his horn-rimmed glasses, a smile sparks behind his thick gray beard. “Oh, don’t mind me. We still have a couple of minutes until class starts, and I’m sure this bloody computer will take that and longer to start up,” he quips, and my classmates and I reply with laughter. “If everybody’s here, we can at least start with introductions. Shall we?”

“I’m Professor Alcott and I’ll be your guide for Criminal Law this semester. It’s great to see a group of smiling faces eager to dive into the nastier side of law. I practiced full-time for around 25 years until I arrived at this university. I thought I’d like to guide young minds into the law world, and so here I am. I still practice occasionally when I’m not teaching. It fulfills my craving to be back in the courtroom when I’m not in the classroom. Now, who would like to go next?”

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

“It sounds like your first day couldn’t have gone better, Boops.”

“Yeah, I actually think you’re right, Dad,” I reply, sinking lower into the welcoming sheets of my bed.

“You don’t have to say it like I’m not usually right,” my dad jokes back with a weak laugh. My smile falls at that, wondering if I’ve ever heard a hearty chuckle absent from his voice.

“I-I’m not, don’t worry . . Are you feeling any better, or are you still having those um pains you were talking about?” I ask tentatively, worry and care sewn into my words.

“I’m okay. They come and go,” he replies softly with few words.

“Are you going to go to the doctor like I’ve been begging you?”

“Yes, Becky. I have an appointment for tomorrow morning. Just like I promised

you,” he replies with emphasis in his words. I try to find the fear in his words. But either he’s doing a great job of masking it, or it’s simply not there.

“But you cancelled the last one, Dad.”

“I didn’t mean to cancel it, Becky,” he sighs. “I made it and found it got in the way of work. I forgot to reschedule it. I’m sorry.”

“I know, Dad. I just want you to get looked at. I don’t want something to be wrong,” I say quietly, feeling the fear creep up my throat. But I try my hardest to push it back down, because I can’t let it in. I can’t worry about my Dad anymore than I already am. I have school now and my job. I just can’t.

“I know, sweetie, and neither do I. Everything’s going to be fine, my love. You needn’t worry,” my dad tells me in his soothing deep voice. The same voice that lulled me to sleep with bedtime stories, explained maths homework to me whilst I cried in frustration, and told me it was okay when I dropped out of law school. He’s always been there to tell me it’s going to be okay, and now I know I need to be the one telling him it’s going to be okay.

I just hope that I’m telling him the truth.

Madley looks just the same. But it doesn’t.

New shops have opened up. Old ones have closed down. New developments have sprung up. Patches of woods have been cut down. The city park has a new playset instead of the one I grew up on. My former primary school has a new addition. Roads were redone. New ones were made.

I made the drive easily, knowing it like the back of my hand by now.

But at the same time, it’s hard. Because I have this off feeling sitting heavy in the pit of my stomach. And I can’t name it, or make it go away. It’s been there all morning, and I can’t figure out how to get it to go away.

It grows as my footsteps sound on the sidewalk leading to the front door of the house I grew up in. Shoots of grass inch through new cracks in the cement. The daffodils wilt against the steps leading to the front door.

The feeling in my gut flares, making me stop. I take a second to look harder. The cream paint that’s defined my childhood home is peeling in places. The grass hasn’t been cut in a while. I can’t remember the last time I saw it long, and not neatly cut. Patches of prematurely fallen leaves scatter the usually clean walkway. The glass window panes on the top half of the door are smudged and dirty. I don’t get another second to look harder, because the front door opens and a smile waits for me.

Perhaps my favorite one.

“Hi, baby girl,” my dad coos, letting go of the door. It creaks before closing as I watch my dad pad down the steps and wrap me in a hug.

I exhale into my dad’s chest clad in one of his typical Nike jumpers. Letting go of my suitcase, my arms find their way around him by instinct.

“How was your trip?” he asks in his deep voice. His scruffy cheek falls onto the top of my head, and he holds me against his chest.

“Good, thanks. The usual,” I reply. I squeeze him and try not to notice how my arms go around him easier than the last time. I just try to find comfort in his familiar smell of the same laundry detergent he’s used for 30 years.

“Good. Robbie just got here. I’m finishing up lunch right now, it’s almost ready,” he informs me.

“Oh no, don’t leave Robbie around food cooking on an open flame,” I joke, feeling one of his large hands comb through the hair at the top of my head.

He laughs and mine echoes his. But I’m afraid that they’re both forced. Dad releases me from the cocoon-like hug, but not before planting a kiss on my forehead. The same kind of kiss he’s given me since the day I was born. Always the forehead.

“We better hustle then,” he quips, stepping to the side to pick up my violet suitcase. I smile at him and he mirrors it as he holds the door open for me.

“I think something’s burning!” I hear Robbie exclaim in a confused tone.

“How do you even survive on your own?” I answer, toeing off my shoes in the entryway. I push them to the side with my foot to sit on the red rug. Beside Dad’s white Nikes green from mowing the lawn. Robbie’s black vans.

“On microwavable ramen, hot pockets, cereal, and chicken nuggets. Duh,” Robbie replies, garnishing an eye roll from me. But he can’t see it.

The same brown plaid couch stares back at me a few feet away in the living room. My dad sets my suitcase down by the wooden stairs a few steps in front of me.

“You just stir it, you goon!” my dad tells Robbie, padding through the living room in his classic Levi jeans. “Did I teach you nothing when it came to cooking, or did you tune out that day?”

A Chelsea vs. Arsenal game plays softly on the telly. But its only viewer is the In-Fisherman magazine sloppily laid on the couch.

“No, I’m pretty sure I was stoned that day,” Robbie replies softly with a wry chuckle. My dad sighs and clucks his tongue at my brother.

“Any day now, Ree!” Robbie shouts to me. But I hardly hear him, because my thoughts are wound up in the uncharacteristic pill bottles I see on the side table. And the brochures that I can’t make out from this distance. I recognize a few as take-away. One has lots of words that I can’t read, but it makes my heart shrink regardless.

“Hey, everything alright?”

I look up and watch Robbie walk into the room. His pale skin the same shade as mine peeks out from the trendy holes in his blue jeans. He pushes his black button-down aside to pocket his hands. A familiar Marvel shirt peeks out from underneath.

Swallowing, my lips part, “Did Dad tell you what the doctor said?” I ask nervously, keeping my volume low so only he hears.

“No,” Robbie responds quietly. And I hear it in his voice. Because it’s the same thing I just heard in mine.

“Rob,” I mumble, looking him in the eyes. I feel something pass between us, and somehow I know that he’s thinking the same thing as me.

I look up at the ceiling, trying to will the tears away, but it never works. Because I’ve tried it so many times in the last few days as I worried why my dad didn’t tell me what his doctor said on Tuesday.

“Lunch will be ready in a few minutes. Why don’t you lot go and wash up?” my dad announces, and I nod automatically. But I know I can’t go upstairs and wash my hands in the sink that I have for the last 20 years. And that my dad does every day.

Before I know it, the fall sunshine is welcoming me back. I don’t hear the door close with a metallic smack. All I hear are soft footsteps and the sound of sobs leaving my lips. I blink and feel Robbie’s arms go around me.

“I’m scared, too,” he confesses, tears choking his words that echo my silent ones.

“I’m so afraid that he is, too,” I reveal into his neck that soon grows slick with my tears.

“Did you notice how he looks?” Robbie asks into the crown of my head, his lips moving against my hair. I feel his warm tears meet my scalp.

“Mmmhmm. He’s so pale. And he’s lost weight.”

“Yeah, and he tries not to show it, but he’s tired,” Robbie adds in. His chest shakes underneath me and I hear him hiccup from the crying. “I dunno if he’ll even eat. It looks like he hasn’t been recently. There’s like nothing in the fridge, Ree. We need to buy him groceries. It looks like he hasn’t left the house in days.”

All I can do is nod, and I do. Because the tears are too thick, and what am I even supposed to say? How do I put these terrible feelings into words, much less ones that make sense?

“I know, Ree, I know,” Robbie coos soothingly.

But somehow it brings me comfort to know that Robbie is feeling all of the same things and having all of the same thoughts as me. Stupid twin intuition or not, I just know. And at the same time, it makes my heart squeeze harder in pain.

“Kids, come on!” We hear our dad call from inside the house.

I leave Robbie’s arms and find his tear stricken face looking down at the ground. I brush the hair out of his eyes; the hair the same dark chocolate color as mine. His eyes the same ice blue as my own meet mine painfully. I swipe my finger under them to catch the tears. His fingers wrap around my hand and give it a squeeze.

“Let’s go eat lunch with our dad,” he mumbles, his voice still shaky.

I nod and squeeze it back. The same hand I’ve been holding ever since before I was born.

My partner in crime for life.

My twin.

“Go and splash cold water on your face, it’ll help. You can always say that I splashed soap in your eye.”

“Yeah, and how’s that going to sound if that happened to both of us?” he questions, pulling me by the hand into the house with a laugh. I make sure to close the door quietly before following him up the staircase. The sound of our dad’s whistling carries up the stairs and to my ears.

I savor it.

I never want to forget the first music I ever heard, and the one that never fails to calm me. Next to his soothing voice.

My daddy.

The rest of our day was better, but worrying about my dad was always at the back of everything. Silent, yet nagging. It interrupted all of the moments.

The laughing over a plate of home-cooked food.

The jokes and stories that passed the time of washing dishes.

The traditional walk around the block.

Our visit to the local library’s book sale.

Dad’s usual drive around town filling us in on everything we’ve missed.

So and so died.

She had a kid.

They got married.

They’re building this there.

That bloke went to jail.

It disrupted watching reruns of Doctor Who on BBC.

It returned after a cozy mid-day nap at dad’s elbow, strong as before.

It nagged at the back of my head when the phone would ring.

It sat in the circles of Robbie’s eyes when they locked with mine.

It filled the empty spaces between our conversations.

That question sat at the back of my head and in the pit of my stomach all day. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask it. Because I couldn’t confront the possibility of hearing the answer I dreaded most.

“Boy, you make one good pizza, baby girl,” my dad smiles as he stretches his arms to the ceiling.

I nod, slapping an automatic smile on my face. It doesn’t stay long when my eyes carry over to his plate holding the third slice he couldn’t eat. Another detail I noticed that’s unlike him. Because I can’t stop noticing them, and each one hurts more than the last.

Before I can stop it like all of the other times, my vision grows blurry. I feel my throat take after it and I couldn’t swallow if I tried. I lift my eyes over to Robbie across the small kitchen table, and it takes a second. But he feels me looking at him and hesitantly makes eye contact with me. He nods after a second. Watching the tears fill his eyes makes the first one fall from mine.

I sniffle out of habit and see my dad turn to look at me out of the corner of his eye. That parent hearing, that intuition. Heat rises to my cheeks and I hear my name leave his lips. Then he turns to look at Robbie and sighs.

“Dad, I can’t pretend anymore. I’m sorry, but I can’t. We can’t,” I say, my voice breaking at the beginning and staying that way. Tears shadow all of my words, and they only grow worse when I feel Robbie grab my hand under the table. “I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay because we know that it isn’t,” I finish, finally taking the next dreaded step. I look my father in the eyes and find in them the answer I’ve been searching for all day long.

His ice-blue eyes, the same color as mine and Robbie’s, stare back at me. They too are full of unspent tears, but it doesn’t last long. Soon they are falling down his cheeks stubbly with graying hair. His long, tan fingers comb through his hair the same shade as that of the hair on his children’s heads. Gray streaks speckled throughout fall from his fingers when he lets go. He clenches his hand into a fist that hits the table. Dad stares it before he lets it relax.

Looking back up, my heart lurches when his eyes reconnect with mine. Because I know what he’s going to say, and I don’t want to hear it.

“I have prostate cancer . . Stage 2. That’s all they know right now.”

Dropping Robbie’s hand, the kitchen chair moves back with a whine. I put one foot in front of the other before my hand is opening the door. My resolve falls when I reach the last cement step, and my legs can’t go any further. My butt lands on the step and I fall into myself. I feel the tears spill from my eyes and coat the legs of my jeans. Loud sobs leave my lips as my entire body shudders with each one.

No. No. No. No. No

No, not my daddy.

Why my daddy?

Why my daddy who had to put up with an awful wife for years?

Why my daddy who gave his children everything they wanted?

Why my daddy who gave so much to everybody else?

He gave so much and did so much and this happens to him.

No. Not him. It has to be some mistake.

I can’t lose my daddy.

I lost my grandpa and then Harry.

I can’t lose another person I love.

I can’t imagine not hearing his voice on the other side of the phone. Or not getting his hugs that seem to fix everything. Or hearing his whistling or god awful singing.

I can’t live without my dad.

Sniffling, my fingers search blindly for my phone. Finding it in my back pocket, I turn my head slightly to look through blurry eyes. Unlocking it, I press on the app I look for. My fingers race across the screen with each number. Then, the name inside of my head shows up on the screen.

Harry

My thumb wavers over the phone icon. I swallow and feel another tear hit my cheek. How is it that I haven’t heard your voice or seen your face in almost 9 months, and yet it’s the only one I want right now?

I close my eyes and feel my forehead return to my knees. Pressing a button, my phone locks with a clicking sound. My arms wrap around my knees pulled to my chest, and I feel every tear. And every thought.

Until minutes later when a pair of arms wrap around my shoulders and pull me into their chest. I let my head fall onto them as it shakes with a sob. And then another pair of arms wrap around us. I feel a kiss to my forehead before the stubbly cheek tickles the top of my head.

“I’m not going anywhere, kids. I s-still need to see you lot get married. I need to watch you kick ass and become a lawyer. And walk Ree down the aisle, and make sure Bee names his firstborn son after me,” my dad cries, pulling his two children into the confines of his trembling chest. Robbie and I laugh, and our dad’s weak one echoes our own. “I’m gonna fight this. I might need your help, but I’m not giving up that easily. Your old man’s not a woosy.”

Laughs surround our tears as I hold onto my dad and my brother. A large part of my small world.

“I’m not going anywhere, dad,” Robbie gets out with tear-soaked words.

“And neither am I, daddy,” I echo, nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck.

I peek my eyes open and find Robbie on the other side of my knees. His head is lying on dad’s other shoulder. He reaches a hand across and intertwines his free hand with the one not wrapped around our dad. Unspoken words pass between us. After a few seconds, I know that the words we just spoke we promised to not just our dad, but to each other.

We ask questions and he answers. He’s known for only a day or two. The appointment last Tuesday was for a checkup like he said. They were able to do the biopsy later in the day. We cry into each other, feeling the same fear and pain. Uncertainties sit in the air between us as the sun sets behind the oak trees in front of us. The scene in front of me couldn’t look any different from a night of my childhood.

More than anything, I wish I could go back to one of those days. Ice lollies on the front steps sitting on dad’s jiggling knee. Him trying to get me to laugh. By his fingers tickling my ribs. His face contorting into funny faces. Or his imitations of characters I watched on the telly. His wrinkles and gray hairs gone. As well as his cute little beer belly. Mom calling for me to get in the bath with Robbie from inside the house. The Rolling Stones playing on the radio inside. Sounds of neighbor kids mingling with the music, as well as dogs barking. But we stay there and watch the shades of the rainbow paint the sky.

Although I know that I can’t go back, I let myself sit in that safe memory for a moment longer. Because sitting on my dad’s strong, tan knee in that 4-year old moment, everything was okay. And I want to enjoy that for a few minutes longer before I have to return to reality. Before I have to start living in a reality where things won’t be okay for a while, because my daddy isn’t okay. And because of that, neither am I.

I don’t know when I will be again.

My footsteps echo on the tile floor. Each one makes a sound with its own name, like in the Dr. Seuss books my mum would read to me when I was a kid.

Plop.

Klopp.

Dopp.

“Would you bloody leave already? I’m sick of seeing your bleeding face,” a voice quips from behind me.

I turn to find Myles following me. He titters with a smirk covering his stubbly face.

“Oh, would ya shuddup?” I return with a shake of my head, combing my fingers through my hair, but not much hair greets them.

“I thought you were done putting in these late nights,” he comments, his steps echoing my own now.

Pushing open the door to the supply room, I step up to the copier. “Nah, I still have sum stuff t’ finish up. Gotta prep fer my case that starts Monday,” I answer him, punching in my code on the touch screen.

A long ‘ah’ leaves his lips as he rummages in something behind me. Probably knicking some more of the nice pens before they’re gone.

“Well, I’m not a workaholic like you, so I’m leaving work before 5 on a Friday,” he tells me, assuming that I care. I chuckle, shaking my head at his pompous words. The copier sounds back at me, and takes the paper away with a woosh. “Please don’t bloody sleep here again. I don’t wanna have to hear complaints from the cleaning staff. And I don’t wanna have to pay you more than I have to.”

“I pay meself, ya cheeky bastard,” I scoff, turning to find him grinning as he stands with a foot out the door.

But his smile falls and along with it comes a squeeze on the arm from him. “Really, Hare, if you need to sleepover here I don’t mind. I know it wasn’t a nice joke . . I’m glad to see you’re doing better, though. Meaning, not as many empty bottles in your bin,” Myles continues softly. My amused expression falls when the seriousness arrives in his tone. “Yeah, I noticed ‘em, mate. Glad they’re not there anymore. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working. Keep at it.”

All I know to do is nod. He returns it and I watch the back of his blonde head walk away. I sigh, picking up the stack of papers waiting on the tray. I grab the original and rummage in the drawers until I find a binder clip. I fasten the papers together as I take my time walking back to my office. It’s even a little quieter than a few minutes ago. When I glance at my watch, I see why. It’s 5 o’clock on the dot.

Myles is gone.

Amelia is too.

Mick’s office door is dark and closed.

So is Rory’s, to no surprise, because he probably went out for drinks with My.

Rose is still working hard behind her closed door that classical music trickles out of.

Pete nods at me as I pass him in the hallway with an empty mug. Probably on his way for a refill.

But another person is still here. I see him before he sees me, but when he does I follow him to the shiny metal sliding doors.

“Ya aren’t anxious t’ get a start on yer weekend like e’rybody else? Or did somethin’ in IT break an’ ya gotta fix it?” I ask, stepping onto the elevator.

“Not really. It’s supposed to rain all weekend, so what’s the fun in that?” Asher replies, stabbing a random button. By now, I know the drill.

Push a random button and we have that long to talk.

About her.

“Good ol’ Fall rainstorms,” I comment, and he nods silently.

I hum a tune as the elevator dings with each floor we pass. And he doesn’t say a word, and yet neither do I. Because the point of these secret meetings is for him to talk. And for the most part, I just listen. It’s a silent understanding by now, or so I think.

“Yer makin’ me nervous not sayin’ anythin’,” I say, trying to laugh and offset the awkwardness. But it doesn’t help. And neither does the distraught look on his face when he meets my eyes.

“I need to tell you something,” he confesses quietly.

“Well ya, tha’s kinda tha whole point o’ these secret elevator meetin’s,” I smile, trying again to liven up the atmosphere. But he doesn’t smile, or crack a joke.

The smile I was toting around falls, and my mind swarms with thoughts.

Scary ones.

Worrying ones.

Questions.

Worst-case scenarios.

“Asher, i-is Becks okay? Did something happen?” I hurry, the words tumbling from my lips.

“Yeah, she’s okay, Harry. I guess you could say that.”

“Well, ‘s she hurt? Did she get inna accident? Break a bone? What ‘s it?” I ask, question after question spilling out.

“No, none of that,” he answers, shaking his head emphatically. “She’s fine, physically.”

“Then what?!” I continue, prodding him for answers that he won’t give up.

But the last part of what he says gets me. It hints at what he’s about to say, and it doesn’t make me feel any better. It doesn’t pull a relieved sigh from my lips like I wish it could, but it’s not like that.

When the gleaming metal doors slide open on the first floor, nobody is waiting there. Asher doesn’t give me time to look if anybody is coming, because he presses another button. Now, I know it’s serious. Pushed another button for extra time. Something happened.

“Asher-.”

“She called me crying last night,” he begins. His voice is quiet and he sounds like he’s trying to keep the emotions out of it, but they’re heard in every word. “Her dad found out he has prostate cancer, and she’s a mess. I dunno how to help her, or if you could either. But I just hate seeing her in pain and upset,” he reveals, the words loaded and dark.

I feel my back hit the railing on the wall, but I didn’t know that I was backing up into it. Something inside of my chest falls and for the first time in weeks, my thoughts are flooded with her. And I’m worrying about her, missing her, and wanting to hear her voice. I’m feeling all of the things and thoughts I’ve done such a great job at suppressing for the last few weeks.

Now, I feel myself fill with regret at that because once again I want to drown the feelings.

Because I’m hurting thinking about all of the hurt and pain she’s feeling.

“Yeah, I know whatcha mean,” is all I can say, because how the fuck do I put these thoughts into proper words? “Did she say anythin’ else ‘bout his diagnosis? Stages? Surgery? Chemo?”

“It’s still early, she doesn’t know a lot yet. I guess nobody does. He only just told her and Robbie last weekend. She’s trying to figure out how to rearrange her life to help take care of him,” Asher explains. I nod because that’s what you do when you don’t know what to say.

I don’t get a chance to ask any more questions, because the doors slide open again. A red-headed gentleman steps off 17 and I decide to step on. Looking over my shoulder, I meet eyes with Asher. “Thank you, Asher . . I mean it.”

He nods and I return it before turning around and walking back to my office. Goodbyes past between Rose and I, her long blonde curls dancing on her shoulders. Thunder clouds boom overhead and seconds later, I hear the rain begin falling onto the skylights. It makes the sounds from another Dr. Seuss book.

Splatt.

Boom!

Dibble Dibble.

Dopp Dopp.

Country music pours from Pete’s office, bringing a confused smile to my face. But it only stays for a second, because my thoughts return to Becky. I sigh, twisting open my office door. I stop in my tracks when I hear my Fleetwood Mac ringtone filling my office.

But it stops, and only then do my feet awake. Rushing over to my desk, I drop the stack of copies next to my computer. Forgetting them and working on prep work for my case, I shuffle through the mess on my desk. I lift up papers. Move books. Toss pens aside. Rearrange folders and pads of paper. And then I find it. The screen is black as it’s cupped in my hand.

But in a matter of seconds, I awaken it and see who I missed a call from. The breath in my lungs stills and my breathing halts. My ass hits my chair with a sigh, and I wheel around to face the window. Angry storm clouds await me as rain falls hard against the foggy class. Tapping my temple with my finger, my thumb sits inches away from the screen. I debate whether to call the person back or not.

Why would I?

How can I?

Should I?

I don’t have to decide, because the voice of Stevie Nicks spills from my phone’s speakers. And the image of that person’s face fills my screen. Their smile. Their magical eyes. Without hesitation, I slide my thumb across the screen. And press it to my ear.

“Hullo?” I say slowly, barely loud enough to hear myself. Because I can’t believe it.

“Harry?” the voice replies. A question frames their familiar accent, but something else does too. Thick tears.

“Becks . . are ya okay, love?”

#the assistant #pa harry #harry styles #harry styles au #fanfiction #wattpad #fanfic #writing #harry #lawyer harry #lawyer au #harry au #one direction

26 notes · View notes